Sorry this has taken such a long time, I've been extremely busy at work and
haven't had time to do much else. Oh, and a certain friend of mine got me
back into Diablo2 on the weekends- you know who you are.
I was reminded I have been neglecting this story from Rumpelteasza's
review. That's very much Rump's- such a nice review gave me cause to
continue again.
Hope you all enjoy this chapter.
V
CHPT 5: Highway
Kirathe closed his eyes and concentrated. Amongst the noise of the rain and night creatures he heard his enemy. If he were quick enough, surely he would be able to finally claim the life of his incessant foe that had been repeatedly attacking him off and on for hours.
Kirathe moved his hand with as much speed as he could muster and slapped his neck. His terrible opponent had escaped again; the pesky mosquito buzzed away, very much alive, and ready to attack him again soon no doubt.
Kirathe frowned and rolled over in his great cloak. He was hungry, cold, wet and miserable. After leaving Balmora with the assassin, they had travelled for days in the terrible weather of the Bitter Coast.
After receiving very little conversation from his accomplice, Kirathe had fallen into a subdued melancholy and simply continued on in relative silence, following the assassin, and completing instructions whenever she barked out orders.
Kirathe realised whatever minimal sleep he hoped to achieve from a night spent in bug infested swamp lands was now out of the question. He sat up in his cloak, tried to peel his sodden shirt away from his chest and looked menacingly up at Navireth, who was currently sitting on top of a log leaning against a nearby tree stump. Her hair was being whipped around her face by the swampland breeze, but she seemed to ignore the biting cold at whim. Navireth smirked at Kirathe's obvious discomfort and ignored his accusing stare.
"Morning sunshine!" she pronounced jovially.
"It's neither morning nor is their any hope of seeing the sun."
Navireth's grin grew larger, "Well, Princess, its as bright as its gonna get today, so let's move out and get some blood pumping into those delicate hands."
Kirathe stumbled to his feet and tried unsuccessfully to brush the mud from his arms and legs.
Still smiling Navireth spoke up loudly, "But first a lesson!"
Kirathe had time to look up from brushing himself down, before a fist connected with his jaw and sent him falling to the ground and the mud. Kirathe rolled to a stopped, pushed himself to his knees and looked up. Caught halfway between anger and astonishment he blinked the dirty water out of his eyes as it ran down his now very muddy face.
Navireth calmly walked over and squatted near him. Her expression was again cold, "I told you that blade was my brothers. I told you to respect it." She paused briefly and looked away, then slowly turned and studied the sodden dunmer. She whispered menacingly, "Next time you decide to sleep in the mud, make sure the sword isn't with you!"
She stood back up and walked towards the log she had spent the night sleeping against. She bent over and retrieved the sword from the top of the log, which she had taken during the night and safely placed out of the mud.
In the meantime Kirathe had stumbled to his feet and brushed what little mud and debris from his clothes that he could. He angrily resigned himself to spending the day walking in dirty uncomfortable clothes. Kirathe's jaw ached and he repeatedly flexed it in the hopes to ease the pain. He felt a slight painful pop each time he opened his mouth.
When Kirathe reached out to take the offered sword he thought he saw a slight grin on his tormentors face. As Kirathe moved to take the blade he moved his hand to the handle, and then at the last instant quickly grabbed Navireth's wrist. As quick as he could he moved and grabbed her elbow with his other hand. In that instant Navireth knew what he was going to do, but by that time she was too late.
Kirathe fell backwards into the mud holding onto the assassin. Using weight instead of skill he pulled her down with him, twisting his body so she would land face first on the ground. Navireth dropped her brother's sword and growled. As they fell she stuck her other arm out to break the impact, but the surprise attack had done its job.
As Kirathe once more lay in the thick sloppy mud he smiled as the assassin who lay next to him lifted her head. Navireth had landed on her stomach so everything except her back and head was now as equally dirty as Kirathes.
No one spoke a word in the next few moments as they lay in the mud looking at each other. Suddenly the assassin spun her body in the mud, kicking her leg out and catching Kirathe on his shoulder with her boot. Kirathe yelped in pain, but quickly turned and crawled towards Navireth. In the mud his progress was slow, but Navireth's back was turned from spinning her body. She looked over her shoulder and saw the dunmer was making his advance.
As she once more spun in the mud to face him, Kirathe lunged and tackled the assassin, again pushing her to the mud, this time she landed on her back. The assassin slammed her knee upwards into Kirathe's groin and felt Kirathe's grip tighten and heard the wind quickly whoosh from his mouth from pain. Still on her back, she then grabbed his clothes around his chest and kicked upwards, sending the dunmer flying over her head to crash to the ground behind her.
Knowing that Kirathe would be unable to move from the assault, but dirty and angry she rushed towards her prey. Kirathe was lying on her back, groaning loudly and rocking in agony, but Navireth simply jumped on top of him, straddled his waist and started to rain hard punches into his face.
Through the fog of pain, Kirathe had instinctively raised his hands to his face to protect himself, but enough of the assassin's punches connected that he started feeling the warm embrace of unconsciousness.
It started to rain harder, but neither of them noticed. Kirathe's nose and mouth had begun to bleed yet still Navireth continued to rain blows down on the hapless dunmer. Her pent up rage and emotion from the loss of her brother had surfaced and without realising it she had begun to cry as she hit him.
Kirathe struggled to stay coherent. The weight of the assassin prevented him from moving and the constant punching drained what little strength he possessed. He tried to yell, but the resulting noise sounded like a meek mumble. At last the blows began to weaken as Navireth started to tire. At this stage Kirathe had no idea how long she had been hitting them, it seemed like hours and mere moments at the same time. Kirathe relaxed his body while his mind passed into a hot grey void.
Through the numb red of her venting rage Navireth realised what she was doing. She stopped mid-swing and looked at the groaning dunmer beneath her.
Navireth continued to sob as her hands fell to her side. Rain mixed with the stream of crimson running from Kirathe's face. His eyes were closed and head lolled to one side as he quietly groaned and coughed.
Navireth brought her hands to her face and cried into them, oblivious to Kirathe's blood on her hands.
It started to rain harder as the two sat dirty and muddy; the slightly smaller assassin atop the battered dunmer.
Navireth gained control of her emotions and looked down at him. The Dunmer was breathing slowly with his eyes still closed, a thin trickle of blood still seeping from cuts on his mouth. She felt slightly guilty at battering him as bad as she had, but also a lot better for having released her pent up anger.
She sighed and moved her hand to brush some hair that had fallen in Kirathe's eyes when she heard movement behind her, she turned her head in time to see a horribly disfigured Argonian leap out of the surrounding undergrowth and crash tackle her to the ground.
The Argonian had growled when it attacked, but the growl had gurgled from its throat, as though it was underwater. When it sat atop her, Navireth saw why. The Argonian seemed to be melting. One eye was missing and half of its cheek had been ripped away. Rips were protruding from its chest while its skin and scales were slimy and rotten. There was a deep dark red gash in its throat where slime and hot sickly wind was escaping. A sound not unlike laughter issued from the thing as it grinned into the assassin's face.
The assassin gagged as she caught the putrid sweet smell of decay from the thing's breath and she caught the smell again when she tried to push it off her and her hand punctured through it's rotting chest. When she pulled her hand free it sprayed black and badly smelling chunks of flesh and coagulated gore onto her self.
The strength behind this obviously reanimated corpse was surprising, but Navireth had little time for contemplation as the horrific thing bit down onto her collar. She felt the sharp teeth rip through her skin and snap her collarbone as the groaning monster continued its attack.
Suddenly the weight of the thing was removed as the dead Argonian was lifted from her body and tossed to the ground next to her. Navireth opened her eyes to see Kirathe advance upon the Argonian. The dead creature looked up from the ground and gurgled; the noise an awful approximation of a hiss. Without breaking stride Kirathe severed its head with a wide slash from the Dai-katana. The thing fell motionless to the ground.
Kirathe turned and faced the assassin. She was still lying on the ground, holding her bleeding collar when Kirathe walked towards her and pointed the sword at her face, its tip before her face close enough so the decaying blood from the Argonian dripped from the end and landed on her chin.
After a few moments Navireth looked up into Kirathe's face. He stood impassive holding the sword. His face still bled slowly and his left eye had swollen shut. His mouth was slightly frowning and his good eye bored into hers. The rain continued to fall down his face removing more mud and blood.
Navireth's expression turned emotionless; a mirror of Kirathe. Her mind quietly raced to find a solution to this problem, though none presented itself. Just as she was about to attempt to roll to her right as quick as possible, broken shoulder or otherwise, Kirathe pulled the sword away and stepped back a pace.
Kirathe cleaned the sword on his shirt as much as possible it then sheathed it. He paused briefly and then reached down and offered a hand to Navireth.
"Let's move on Assassin."
------------------
When the gangplank was firmly secured and the passengers began to disembark an agile but strangely off colour Bosmer jumped from the small ship onto the docks. He then emptied the meagre contents of his stomach into the water, to the annoyance of the merchants working around him and the amusement of his friends disembarking behind him.
Bendar laughed loudly, in part due to his friend's seasickness and part due to good humour at returning to his homeland.
Solstheim would always hold a special place for the huge Nord, and he had been anxious and excited in the closing hours of the trip across the channel from Morrowind.
"Come Zaareth, we get provisions for a short journey, then I'll take you to Thirsk, for the best medicine for seasickness you will ever fine!"
Zaareth looked up apprehensively at his friend with a fearful question in his eyes. His friends responded with a slap on the back, "Mead!" Bendar boomed and then laughed again.
Zaareth turned a slightly darker shade of green and stifled another eruption from his stomach. He slowly got to his feet and shook his head at the back of his huge friend. Bendar had turned to greet their companions who had disembarked and were slowly gathering the small amount of possessions then had brought with them.
"Brrrrrrr! It's cold!" Exclaimed Sarynia as she jumped up and down in an attempt to stay warm.
Luien, former barkeep and now suddenly unwilling adventurer dropped a leather travel pack at the centre of the circle of friends and began to open it. "Well, you're lucky someone had prepared for this miserable place at least!" he puffed through exertion. Luien reached into the bag and rummaged around, retrieving a small and thin white overcoat. He pulled the thin garment out and handed it to the shivering mage.
"What's this Lui?"
"Something to keep you warm."
Sarynia lifted the thin garment and looked at it incredulously, "It's paper thin! Hows is this supposed...." She trailed off, suddenly aware of a faint blue glow to the garment, and recognising the signs of a subtle enchantment woven into the garment. "Its enchanted... a resist frost then I'm assuming?"
As Luien finished buckling the travel bag, Sarynia adorned the long coat. It covered her arms and came with a hood to protect the head. It came with no means of fastening at the front, but was long enough to reach to her calves and hence she was able to wrap the garment around herself. She smiled at the group of friends that was curiously looking at her, feeling the immediate lack of cold as though she was sitting in front of a warm fire.
She softly groaned in appreciation, "Lui, you're a Saint!"
Luien then looked at the Nord and the Bosmer. "We'll just have to make do with what we have. The bosmer shrugged, unabashed. He was dressed in hard leather with a heavy fabric tunic and gloves with a fur-lined cap. The huge Nord however, had remained in his pants and vest, arms bare and completely oblivious to the freezing wind.
Luien looked at Bendar and shook his head, "Nords..." he smirked.
Bendar stretched and scratched his shoulder. His heritage prevented him from feeling the cold, and the well being that came from returning to his snow-covered lands coupled with the clean crisp fresh winds from off the Solstheim mountains made him anxious to begin.
"Shall we travel to Thirsk first?" the Nord asked hopefully, thinking off the famous Tavern.
"No, first we'll give our papers to the Commander of the Frostmoth Garrison and visit the temple shrine." Replied Sarynia.
"We don't want to be stopped on every leg of this trip because some meathead Imperial bully has nothing better to do than stop every traveller he comes across using the weak excuse of possible tomb raiders or bandits." Luien chimed in sourly.
Zaareth agreed with a sly grin at the former barkeep and cracked his knuckles, a habit he picked up when anxious. "A small donation to the temples shrine might grease the politics of this place as well. A few healing scrolls or minor spells might be useful if we do run into any trouble, and some loose coins might gain us the favour of this lot."
"What do you mean?" asked Sarynia.
Luien looked at the small Bosmer thief, then back to Sarynia. "Let's just say that this place is so far away from normal society to not follow all the rules of trade of normal civilised society."
Bendar laughed and hefted his axe again to test the edge with his thumb, "He means this place has been known to be more corrupt than a Khaajit's dice game."
In one fluid movement the huge Nord spun his axe and sheathed it in the gigantic leather pouch strapped to his back. The effect was impressive and came from years of practice. Sarynia grinned and stepped forward, slapping the Nord playfully on his arm.
"Well, lets go befriend these officials with coin or with scary axe handling then!"
Bendar grinned while the young Bosmer spoke just loud enough to be heard, "Let's see if they have something for seasickness as well."
Luien shook his head, whilst the Nord laughed loudly. The unusual quartet strolled towards the towering stone gateway of Frostmoth Fort.
After they had disappeared inside a lone figure seemingly intent on fixing nets stood up and brushed its pants of any dust it had accumulated whilst squatting on the docks. It kicked the old net aside and looked at the entrance to the fort. Covered in a dirty full-length oilskin merchant cloak, the figure looked out from under the voluminous hood. As it looked on, it sighed and placed its hands on its hips.
After a moment it activated a highly powerful chameleon amulet, and all but disappeared from view. The only visible part of the figure was its shadow as it hurried towards the stone keep.
CHPT 5: Highway
Kirathe closed his eyes and concentrated. Amongst the noise of the rain and night creatures he heard his enemy. If he were quick enough, surely he would be able to finally claim the life of his incessant foe that had been repeatedly attacking him off and on for hours.
Kirathe moved his hand with as much speed as he could muster and slapped his neck. His terrible opponent had escaped again; the pesky mosquito buzzed away, very much alive, and ready to attack him again soon no doubt.
Kirathe frowned and rolled over in his great cloak. He was hungry, cold, wet and miserable. After leaving Balmora with the assassin, they had travelled for days in the terrible weather of the Bitter Coast.
After receiving very little conversation from his accomplice, Kirathe had fallen into a subdued melancholy and simply continued on in relative silence, following the assassin, and completing instructions whenever she barked out orders.
Kirathe realised whatever minimal sleep he hoped to achieve from a night spent in bug infested swamp lands was now out of the question. He sat up in his cloak, tried to peel his sodden shirt away from his chest and looked menacingly up at Navireth, who was currently sitting on top of a log leaning against a nearby tree stump. Her hair was being whipped around her face by the swampland breeze, but she seemed to ignore the biting cold at whim. Navireth smirked at Kirathe's obvious discomfort and ignored his accusing stare.
"Morning sunshine!" she pronounced jovially.
"It's neither morning nor is their any hope of seeing the sun."
Navireth's grin grew larger, "Well, Princess, its as bright as its gonna get today, so let's move out and get some blood pumping into those delicate hands."
Kirathe stumbled to his feet and tried unsuccessfully to brush the mud from his arms and legs.
Still smiling Navireth spoke up loudly, "But first a lesson!"
Kirathe had time to look up from brushing himself down, before a fist connected with his jaw and sent him falling to the ground and the mud. Kirathe rolled to a stopped, pushed himself to his knees and looked up. Caught halfway between anger and astonishment he blinked the dirty water out of his eyes as it ran down his now very muddy face.
Navireth calmly walked over and squatted near him. Her expression was again cold, "I told you that blade was my brothers. I told you to respect it." She paused briefly and looked away, then slowly turned and studied the sodden dunmer. She whispered menacingly, "Next time you decide to sleep in the mud, make sure the sword isn't with you!"
She stood back up and walked towards the log she had spent the night sleeping against. She bent over and retrieved the sword from the top of the log, which she had taken during the night and safely placed out of the mud.
In the meantime Kirathe had stumbled to his feet and brushed what little mud and debris from his clothes that he could. He angrily resigned himself to spending the day walking in dirty uncomfortable clothes. Kirathe's jaw ached and he repeatedly flexed it in the hopes to ease the pain. He felt a slight painful pop each time he opened his mouth.
When Kirathe reached out to take the offered sword he thought he saw a slight grin on his tormentors face. As Kirathe moved to take the blade he moved his hand to the handle, and then at the last instant quickly grabbed Navireth's wrist. As quick as he could he moved and grabbed her elbow with his other hand. In that instant Navireth knew what he was going to do, but by that time she was too late.
Kirathe fell backwards into the mud holding onto the assassin. Using weight instead of skill he pulled her down with him, twisting his body so she would land face first on the ground. Navireth dropped her brother's sword and growled. As they fell she stuck her other arm out to break the impact, but the surprise attack had done its job.
As Kirathe once more lay in the thick sloppy mud he smiled as the assassin who lay next to him lifted her head. Navireth had landed on her stomach so everything except her back and head was now as equally dirty as Kirathes.
No one spoke a word in the next few moments as they lay in the mud looking at each other. Suddenly the assassin spun her body in the mud, kicking her leg out and catching Kirathe on his shoulder with her boot. Kirathe yelped in pain, but quickly turned and crawled towards Navireth. In the mud his progress was slow, but Navireth's back was turned from spinning her body. She looked over her shoulder and saw the dunmer was making his advance.
As she once more spun in the mud to face him, Kirathe lunged and tackled the assassin, again pushing her to the mud, this time she landed on her back. The assassin slammed her knee upwards into Kirathe's groin and felt Kirathe's grip tighten and heard the wind quickly whoosh from his mouth from pain. Still on her back, she then grabbed his clothes around his chest and kicked upwards, sending the dunmer flying over her head to crash to the ground behind her.
Knowing that Kirathe would be unable to move from the assault, but dirty and angry she rushed towards her prey. Kirathe was lying on her back, groaning loudly and rocking in agony, but Navireth simply jumped on top of him, straddled his waist and started to rain hard punches into his face.
Through the fog of pain, Kirathe had instinctively raised his hands to his face to protect himself, but enough of the assassin's punches connected that he started feeling the warm embrace of unconsciousness.
It started to rain harder, but neither of them noticed. Kirathe's nose and mouth had begun to bleed yet still Navireth continued to rain blows down on the hapless dunmer. Her pent up rage and emotion from the loss of her brother had surfaced and without realising it she had begun to cry as she hit him.
Kirathe struggled to stay coherent. The weight of the assassin prevented him from moving and the constant punching drained what little strength he possessed. He tried to yell, but the resulting noise sounded like a meek mumble. At last the blows began to weaken as Navireth started to tire. At this stage Kirathe had no idea how long she had been hitting them, it seemed like hours and mere moments at the same time. Kirathe relaxed his body while his mind passed into a hot grey void.
Through the numb red of her venting rage Navireth realised what she was doing. She stopped mid-swing and looked at the groaning dunmer beneath her.
Navireth continued to sob as her hands fell to her side. Rain mixed with the stream of crimson running from Kirathe's face. His eyes were closed and head lolled to one side as he quietly groaned and coughed.
Navireth brought her hands to her face and cried into them, oblivious to Kirathe's blood on her hands.
It started to rain harder as the two sat dirty and muddy; the slightly smaller assassin atop the battered dunmer.
Navireth gained control of her emotions and looked down at him. The Dunmer was breathing slowly with his eyes still closed, a thin trickle of blood still seeping from cuts on his mouth. She felt slightly guilty at battering him as bad as she had, but also a lot better for having released her pent up anger.
She sighed and moved her hand to brush some hair that had fallen in Kirathe's eyes when she heard movement behind her, she turned her head in time to see a horribly disfigured Argonian leap out of the surrounding undergrowth and crash tackle her to the ground.
The Argonian had growled when it attacked, but the growl had gurgled from its throat, as though it was underwater. When it sat atop her, Navireth saw why. The Argonian seemed to be melting. One eye was missing and half of its cheek had been ripped away. Rips were protruding from its chest while its skin and scales were slimy and rotten. There was a deep dark red gash in its throat where slime and hot sickly wind was escaping. A sound not unlike laughter issued from the thing as it grinned into the assassin's face.
The assassin gagged as she caught the putrid sweet smell of decay from the thing's breath and she caught the smell again when she tried to push it off her and her hand punctured through it's rotting chest. When she pulled her hand free it sprayed black and badly smelling chunks of flesh and coagulated gore onto her self.
The strength behind this obviously reanimated corpse was surprising, but Navireth had little time for contemplation as the horrific thing bit down onto her collar. She felt the sharp teeth rip through her skin and snap her collarbone as the groaning monster continued its attack.
Suddenly the weight of the thing was removed as the dead Argonian was lifted from her body and tossed to the ground next to her. Navireth opened her eyes to see Kirathe advance upon the Argonian. The dead creature looked up from the ground and gurgled; the noise an awful approximation of a hiss. Without breaking stride Kirathe severed its head with a wide slash from the Dai-katana. The thing fell motionless to the ground.
Kirathe turned and faced the assassin. She was still lying on the ground, holding her bleeding collar when Kirathe walked towards her and pointed the sword at her face, its tip before her face close enough so the decaying blood from the Argonian dripped from the end and landed on her chin.
After a few moments Navireth looked up into Kirathe's face. He stood impassive holding the sword. His face still bled slowly and his left eye had swollen shut. His mouth was slightly frowning and his good eye bored into hers. The rain continued to fall down his face removing more mud and blood.
Navireth's expression turned emotionless; a mirror of Kirathe. Her mind quietly raced to find a solution to this problem, though none presented itself. Just as she was about to attempt to roll to her right as quick as possible, broken shoulder or otherwise, Kirathe pulled the sword away and stepped back a pace.
Kirathe cleaned the sword on his shirt as much as possible it then sheathed it. He paused briefly and then reached down and offered a hand to Navireth.
"Let's move on Assassin."
------------------
When the gangplank was firmly secured and the passengers began to disembark an agile but strangely off colour Bosmer jumped from the small ship onto the docks. He then emptied the meagre contents of his stomach into the water, to the annoyance of the merchants working around him and the amusement of his friends disembarking behind him.
Bendar laughed loudly, in part due to his friend's seasickness and part due to good humour at returning to his homeland.
Solstheim would always hold a special place for the huge Nord, and he had been anxious and excited in the closing hours of the trip across the channel from Morrowind.
"Come Zaareth, we get provisions for a short journey, then I'll take you to Thirsk, for the best medicine for seasickness you will ever fine!"
Zaareth looked up apprehensively at his friend with a fearful question in his eyes. His friends responded with a slap on the back, "Mead!" Bendar boomed and then laughed again.
Zaareth turned a slightly darker shade of green and stifled another eruption from his stomach. He slowly got to his feet and shook his head at the back of his huge friend. Bendar had turned to greet their companions who had disembarked and were slowly gathering the small amount of possessions then had brought with them.
"Brrrrrrr! It's cold!" Exclaimed Sarynia as she jumped up and down in an attempt to stay warm.
Luien, former barkeep and now suddenly unwilling adventurer dropped a leather travel pack at the centre of the circle of friends and began to open it. "Well, you're lucky someone had prepared for this miserable place at least!" he puffed through exertion. Luien reached into the bag and rummaged around, retrieving a small and thin white overcoat. He pulled the thin garment out and handed it to the shivering mage.
"What's this Lui?"
"Something to keep you warm."
Sarynia lifted the thin garment and looked at it incredulously, "It's paper thin! Hows is this supposed...." She trailed off, suddenly aware of a faint blue glow to the garment, and recognising the signs of a subtle enchantment woven into the garment. "Its enchanted... a resist frost then I'm assuming?"
As Luien finished buckling the travel bag, Sarynia adorned the long coat. It covered her arms and came with a hood to protect the head. It came with no means of fastening at the front, but was long enough to reach to her calves and hence she was able to wrap the garment around herself. She smiled at the group of friends that was curiously looking at her, feeling the immediate lack of cold as though she was sitting in front of a warm fire.
She softly groaned in appreciation, "Lui, you're a Saint!"
Luien then looked at the Nord and the Bosmer. "We'll just have to make do with what we have. The bosmer shrugged, unabashed. He was dressed in hard leather with a heavy fabric tunic and gloves with a fur-lined cap. The huge Nord however, had remained in his pants and vest, arms bare and completely oblivious to the freezing wind.
Luien looked at Bendar and shook his head, "Nords..." he smirked.
Bendar stretched and scratched his shoulder. His heritage prevented him from feeling the cold, and the well being that came from returning to his snow-covered lands coupled with the clean crisp fresh winds from off the Solstheim mountains made him anxious to begin.
"Shall we travel to Thirsk first?" the Nord asked hopefully, thinking off the famous Tavern.
"No, first we'll give our papers to the Commander of the Frostmoth Garrison and visit the temple shrine." Replied Sarynia.
"We don't want to be stopped on every leg of this trip because some meathead Imperial bully has nothing better to do than stop every traveller he comes across using the weak excuse of possible tomb raiders or bandits." Luien chimed in sourly.
Zaareth agreed with a sly grin at the former barkeep and cracked his knuckles, a habit he picked up when anxious. "A small donation to the temples shrine might grease the politics of this place as well. A few healing scrolls or minor spells might be useful if we do run into any trouble, and some loose coins might gain us the favour of this lot."
"What do you mean?" asked Sarynia.
Luien looked at the small Bosmer thief, then back to Sarynia. "Let's just say that this place is so far away from normal society to not follow all the rules of trade of normal civilised society."
Bendar laughed and hefted his axe again to test the edge with his thumb, "He means this place has been known to be more corrupt than a Khaajit's dice game."
In one fluid movement the huge Nord spun his axe and sheathed it in the gigantic leather pouch strapped to his back. The effect was impressive and came from years of practice. Sarynia grinned and stepped forward, slapping the Nord playfully on his arm.
"Well, lets go befriend these officials with coin or with scary axe handling then!"
Bendar grinned while the young Bosmer spoke just loud enough to be heard, "Let's see if they have something for seasickness as well."
Luien shook his head, whilst the Nord laughed loudly. The unusual quartet strolled towards the towering stone gateway of Frostmoth Fort.
After they had disappeared inside a lone figure seemingly intent on fixing nets stood up and brushed its pants of any dust it had accumulated whilst squatting on the docks. It kicked the old net aside and looked at the entrance to the fort. Covered in a dirty full-length oilskin merchant cloak, the figure looked out from under the voluminous hood. As it looked on, it sighed and placed its hands on its hips.
After a moment it activated a highly powerful chameleon amulet, and all but disappeared from view. The only visible part of the figure was its shadow as it hurried towards the stone keep.