Shadows of the Sixth House - IC

[FoxWyrd]

The Ministry of Truth - Last Seed 22, 3E 422

You didn't know why you were sent summons to Vivec, but you were, and the person who sent them being even more unusual. Berel Sala has harshly advocated that the city of Vivec be placed under martial law and all except for the Temple Priesthood and the Ordinators be sent away under threat of death. Word hasn't traveled much about why, but everyone has their theories about it. Some say he's concerned about an assassination attempt on Archcanon Saryoni, others think it has to do with the recent troubles near Molag Mar, but nobody knows for certain what his reasoning is, only that his crusade to close off Vivec has created tension all throughout the city and throughout Vvardenfell District as a whole.

When you arrived at Vivec, you were quickly beaten down by the Ordinators. It was as if you had kicked a hornet's nest and a thousand angry, buzzing hornets swarmed you, and when you woke up, you were in some cave. Somewhere away and the Ordinators here--the Inquisitors--have taken turns torturing each of you one-by-one day-in, day-out. They've broken bones, punctured holes, maybe even pulled teeth or cut off digits, as well as of course the magical tortures they've employed, but no matter what you said, they wouldn't stop--they'd just toss you back in the cell with the others who had received these summons.

You probably don't know how long its been. Days...weeks...maybe even months, but today is different. Today you hear fighting in the corridors and screams of pain and gasps for air gargled by blood. Maybe today will be the end to this torment. As the time goes on, the fighting draws nearer and nearer until you see a group of Ordinators covered in blood splatter approach the group of you, the leader of which looks at the others, "These are the ones he sent us for. Sadryn, take the others and scout the area--no survivors. I'll fill these ones in."

One of the other ordinators takes point and leads them off. The one remaining pulls off his helmet to reveal dusty-white hair matted with blood and a face with a long scar going from his right eyebrow to the left end of his lips. He looks at you all once over, inspecting you, examining you, and generally sizing you up. "I'm Alvos Arethi and I'm here on behalf of the Grandmaster. I know you have a lot of questions, but there isn't much time so we need to get through them fast before my team gets back and we leave this place, so let's get to it," he says, looking over his shoulder at the other ordinators. "Let me start though by saying that we're here to rescue you though."

[Spore]

Habasi does not know what she did wrong. Khajiit is innocent of this crime! I want to know where my raiments are. And my companion, Sakhtar.

Habasi is a female Khajiit of small frame, her eyes are milky blue, she appears to be blinded though she moves as confident as one would while seeing. I yearn to see the moons again, by Ja-Kha'jay! If you are here to free us, I bless you with the guidance of Jone. She murmurs a small prayer in Ta'agra and blesses her rescuer.

Spoiler

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Casting Guidance on Alvos. Habasi starts the game shaken due to lacking her expensive ornaments.

[Xanyo]

The tall barbarian in the cell slowly stands from where he had been sitting in silence. His hair is a blonde, though it's dirty enough that it's hard to tell. One side of his face is encrusted with dried blood, which cracks as he speaks.

"I was told," he begins with a raspy voice and sour tone, "That the Grandmaster was the one who ordered my arrest. The Nine only know why."

He pauses to cough hard, clearing his throat. He continues speaking, his voice clearer now.

"Bloody politics, is that it? Knives in backs and poison in goblets?"

[Parlortricks]

There had been much fight in Varis when he had woken up in the cell. At first, it seemed to be more like confusion than anything, especially with the Outlanders he had been forced to share his space with. Clearly, there had been some sort of a mistake. It was… Humiliating. But his interactions with the guards became more and more heated – though in Dunmeris, of course. The first time they took him and tossed him back, beaten and bloody, was when most of the fight was gone.

Since then, the Dunmer has just been sitting in whatever he has deemed the most comfortable corner, his breathing labored. Everything hurt. His head hurt, his face hurt, his chest hurt. Sleep, now that was a luxury. Escaped into his own head, he didn't really pay much attention to whatever was going on around him. It took him long, much too long, before all the screams and sounds of battle reached him.

Varis looked up, lifting his face from his knees. It took a moment for his gaze to focus on the approaching figures, their golden armors identical to that of their captors, a stark contrast against the walls of rock. Their faces bearing the same, frozen visage of Indoril Nerevar, once a hero but now just a reminder of all the pain. The fresh blood all over them did not really make them look any better.

He eyed the one who removed his helmet, one who introduced himself as Alvos Arethi. A suppose rescuer. His gaze went around the prison cell as well, actually listening to what the Outlanders said this time. It hung on the Nord for a moment longer, an idea that Varis very much did not want to be a part of, but one that did have an ounce of possibility with it. Perhaps, if this rescue had happened earlier, Varis would have jumped from joy and practically leaped into their arms. But now it almost felt like this could have been yet another way to twist the knife in the wound.

"…Ordinators slaying Ordinators. What proof have I of you not being heretics?" The Dunmer spoke in his tongue, voice as gravelly as a lifetime of breathing in volcanic ash would make it – clearly a Vvardenfell native! No matter what he had suffered at the hands of the Ordinators, they still were Ordinators. That alone did not give him the permission to escape with a bunch of potential rebels who slaughtered all the real Ordinators.

[DoctorFaust]

The thin Imperial sitting cross-legged on a pile of straw hadn't been reacting as the sounds of fighting grew louder, but he still twitches in fear at the first sight of the Ordinators. But when their leader removes his helmet and announces their intentions, Nikodemos' face breaks into a pathetic smile and he scrambles his way to the bars.

"Please, yes, get us out of here," he wheezes through cracked lips. "All of my writs were in order, so I don't know why this was done to me."

[FoxWyrd]

The Ministry of Truth - Last Seed 22, 3E 422

Alvos looks at Varis and says sternly, "Life is about choices and this is a time when you need to make the right one. You stay, they'll kill you. You come, you might have a chance at getting out of this alive, but staying is certain death. Your call."

He looks to the others and sighs. His old eye betrays a lifetime of suffering, of pain, of sacrifice, and there is a wetness in it that he quickly blinks away. "Vivec isn't safe anymore, for any of us, or anyone. I can not tell you more--not here at least--but I can tell you that if you stay, you will die. It isn't a chance or possibility, but instead a certainty. There is a cancer within this city and it will soon fall, just as Molag Mar did, and though my brothers are doing their best to fight it, our only real chance of survival is to escape. If you doubt my words, I ask you look at each other and see what has become of you all in the care of my brothers."

He looks over his shoulder at the dead ordinators and sighs again, shaking his head as he turns to face you all again, "Please--I don't know why Grandmaster Sala called you here, but I do know that whatever his purpose, he genuinely believed it necessary, but look around--my brothers have become marauders driven mad by fear that this place will be as Molag Mar became and they are right, but they don't realize that it isn't you who are the evils. Now I encourage you prepare yourselves, my men will be finished shortly and when they are, we will be teleported to our outpost at Almurbalarammi. I will not force you to come with us but know that this fighting sounded several alarms to my brothers in the Order of Inquisition below and that they will arrive ready to kill anyone and everyone. I encourage you decide quickly if you're with us or if you'd rather take your chances with the Inquisitors."

[Lionheart]

At the ordinator's words, Caius stands from the corner in which he'd been lounging. Since his imprisonment he'd been stony, even silent towards the others. He'd been here before, and knew that no amount of pleading or scheming could help them,only outside assistance.
He ignores the Dunmer in the cell, speaking in their savage language, and shakes his head at his fellow Imperial's pathetic pleading. He stretches his back and acknowledges Alvos. "Don't need to ask me twice dunmer. I've made this deal before. You break my chains, you've got my arm. Give me a polearm, and lets go."

[Spore]

The cat woman looks surprisingly calm in the face of certain death. We have to take our chances, proud dark elf. If we do not trust our saviors, we can still unite against their will, and at least die under the open skies. she says for everyone to understand.

[Xanyo]

Dušan is silent for a little bit, then makes his decision.

"I shall fight whom I must," he declares resolutely, "Get me out; I'll lend my aid where I can. Do you know where they stored our belongings?"

His face is set, certain. Now that he's actually looking up properly, his eyes are visible to be a brilliant blue. He shows no fear, though with a Nord, that doesn't mean he isn't afraid. He starts stretching what he can, warming up and banishing the stiffness of laying immobile in a cell.

[Spore]

If someone needs a few restoration spells, my mentor taught me well. She looks at the beaten up faces all around her, focusses on herself and a swirling pale light mends some of her wounds.

Spoiler

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CLW on self: (1d8+5)[13]

[DoctorFaust]

Nikodemos stands up properly for the first time in days, his knees clicking audibly as he does. "I would say that anything is preferable to death, but our treatment at the hands of the other Ordinators has dissuaded me from that idea. Still, I will join you for as long as I can before my employers track me down and have me return to service."

He nods along with the Nord's words. "I would probably be the least effected by not having my equipment, but nevertheless, I would like them back if you could."

[Parlortricks]

Even if Varis wanted to put on the air that he was in control as he glared at the other Dunmer, it was impossible to argue. He hadn't been able to talk his way out of the cell before, so if Ordinators rushed to the scene and he was still there… Well, it wasn't going to end well for him. The young Dunmer's gaze started drifting downwards, his eyes averted from Alvos. Trusting someone in this kind of a situation was crazy, but he'd never even have a chance if he didn't take what was offered to him.

His eyes shot right back at the Ordinator when he mentioned Molag Mar, even his mouth opening a little as if to speak up, but no sound came. Clearly he thought otherwise about bringing up the subject. But Alvos, he seemed to know something.

Varis' movements were slow and deliberate as he moved his arms in a position where he could even attempt to push himself on his feet, using the wall for support. Pain, it sure was still there, and moving around wasn't making it any better. Only the last remains of his Dunmer pride made sure to not let out a whimper when surrounded by so many Outlanders, but he was still gritting his teeth.

[Spore]

Let Habasi help you. The Khajiit puts her paw on the dark elf's side and waits a few moments. If he doesn't pull away immediately, she starts to heal him too. Habasi understands if you don't trust Khajiit. But see this gift as an investment into our freedom.

Spoiler

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CLW of Varis(1d8+5)[7]

[Parlortricks]

Varis pulled back as if out of reflex – whether it was just because he didn't want to be touched by anyone, much less a Khajiit, or because he was sore enough to find it painful and he wasn't prepared, who knew. But the act of shifting was enough to make him wince, a sharp exhale through his teeth sounding like a hiss. That swift movement, like a stab in his ribs.
"Kh- Watch it, cat!" He growled, proving that he could at least speak a language they all shared, even if accented.

[FoxWyrd]

The Ministry of Truth - Last Seed 22, 3E 422

The Ordinators return and the one leading them, Sadryn, speaks, "Master, the area is secured but we don't have much time."

Alvos looks at him, "Secure any and all stolen belongings. Drathila, as soon as he returns, begin the teleportation."

Sadryn and the others scurry off to get the belongings and Alvos looks at you all. "We'll have your belongings shortly. I encourage you to think comforting thoughts--I know it's hard right now--but if this is your first time experiencing teleportation, it can be a bit rough both physically and psychologically. Now is the time for any last questions."

[Lionheart]

Caius smiles for the first time since his imprisonment, showing his white teeth. "No questions from me boss, I just want to get out of here."

[Spore]

Khajiit would think they would prevent teleportation in the Ministry. Habasi ponders looking at the traitor "Ordinator" quizzically.

[Parlortricks]

"Khajiit thinks wrong," Varis coughed, talking still feeling strange to his aching throat that had done a lot more screaming than talking these days, honestly. It was much easier – and useful – to stop an individual from using such a spell than to try to prevent it in a certain area, after all. He turned his gaze towards Alvos again, still uncertain of whether or not this man truly was an ally.
"…The Daedric Shrine. Is it… Secured?"

[FoxWyrd]

The Ministry of Truth - Last Seed 22, 3E 422

Alvos turns to Varis and nods to answer his question. "We secured it after we were forced to retreat from Molag Mar--the few of us who could--most of my order didn't make it out alive--at least not alive like you and me. When we sent for reinforcements, Grandmaster Sala offered none and sent our messenger back with a bitter response," he says before finally pausing for a deep breath. "If we die at Molag Mar, we die heroes. If we abandon it or in any way retreat without having recovered it, we live as oathbreakers."

Alvos looks down at his feet and shakes his head, kicking the ground and sneering ever so slightly before he looks back at Varis, "He wasn't there. He didn't see what the Sixth House had done--how we were doing the best we could to quarantine the area, but the Sharmat's influence was too much. Every day, there'd be another carrier of the Divine Disease and every day, we'd be forced to put them down, but the the pilgrims revolted. They fought back."

He looks at all of you, "We couldn't stop them--not all of them, for while a single cliff racer can not kill a dragon, a thousand can. And we tried and tried, but we couldn't, and when the Divine Disease worsened and spread--they began to turn. All of them turned. So many of them--even the..." his voice trails off as he speaks and his gaze becomes empty and distant.

"Listen, I don't know what Grandmaster Sala's intentions are with you all, but I know that we can't stand idly by. Molag Mar was a message; it was the Sharmat saying unto us all: Nowhere is safe. Now we need to get to the Shrine--it's the only place we've been safe from our brothers who have forsaken us as Oathbreakers--and it's where we can regroup and organize a plan. I know this is a lot to take in, but we need all the bodies we can get and given the Grandmaster sent for you, there's a reason and we're going to find it."

[Spore]

Breaking your word is a bad thing but I am unsure if it is worth dying without a purpose. The moons guide our fate but free will shape our destiny. I am curious what you mean by Sharmat but I have learned about the disease infesting these lands before I came to these lands.

Habasi closes in on the teleporting party: I am afraid your words don't make much sense to us.

Spoiler

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Really unsure how much we know about either Corprus, Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House.

[Parlortricks]

Varis gritted his teeth as he listened, an expression of unease on his face. Even if the others didn't understand, he certainly did. Of course, the story might have been a lie – and perhaps it would have been better, if it were. Right now, he couldn't tell, and he was forced to give the Ordinators the benefit of the doubt. The weight of it all was so much the Dunmer couldn't bring himself to look into Alvos' eyes the further he got, his gaze drifting towards the floor.

He did glance at the Khajiit, once she brought up that she didn't quite get all the terms. Outlanders.
"Dagoth Ur," Varis grumbled and spat on the ground beside him. Further explanations could wait, if they still were needed. Hopefully at least that name rung a few bells. He turned to Alvos.
"Does the Redoran Council know about this? We are sworn allies of the Temple and would do anything we can to eradicate that which is the Sixth House, we–"

Though help from House Redoran didn't seem that likely, considering the story this far.

[Spore]

Habasi understands you do not trust us but we feel that this is the wrong time for secrecy. the Khajiit quips at the Dunmer speaking his own language. Don't you agree, my friends?

[FoxWyrd]

The Ministry of Truth - Last Seed 22, 3E 422

"I don't know what the Redorans know or don't know, but I know they're still loyal to the Temple," Alvos says.

The Ordinators return with your gear and dispense it to each of you.

Alvos continues, "Get your gear on and we'll teleport out. Drathila, prepare for teleportation."

[Xanyo]

Dušan is quick to reclaim his gear, throwing on the cloak and shouldering his pack. He doesn't waste time putting on the light armor among his gear, electing to shove it in with everything else. His personal clothing, too, he stows: there would be time for that when they were clear. He claims his greataxe with a grin, hefting it and feeling its familiar weight. Spells have their virtues, but so does good solid steel.

"I'm set," he confirms gruffly, "Wouldn't want to linger here."

[DoctorFaust]

Nikodemos likewise shrugs on his cloak and the few other magical trinkets he owns, but does try to get his armor on. He doesn't bother to get everything set right, but he does make sure to pull the cowl and mask high up on his face to hide all his new scars.

[Parlortricks]

Varis glanced to the side. Molag Mar was a subject that wasn't supposed to be talked about, but he wasn't high ranking enough to know if its fate was known to anyone outside the Ordinators. At the very least, it seemed like he should go and confirm the story with his own eyes and relay back any information that he might gain.

And of course he gave the cat a good, long glare along with some grumblings. Asking him to speak to his fellow mer in a language that everyone understood, whine whine…

The Dunmer hadn't worried about his gear while he had been preoccupied with, oh, what was basically torture, but now that he saw it being brought back to him, he was quite relieved. Losing everything he had wasn't a talk he wanted to have with those who provided said gear to him in the first place. Getting dressed up wasn't as much of a relief, however. Still in pain, Varis had to take it quite slow as he started strapping the light chitin armor on him, all those twists of his body sending a sharp pain through him. Hardly the best job, considering that the rest of the group was hurrying along as well. He finished by retying his hair so it would be more comfortable underneath his helmet, which he then pulled over his head.

[Spore]

Habasi dresses herself in a slow and almost ritualistic manner. First a shirt that was enchanted with some fortification of speed that would take time to align itself with her body. Then a simple but elegant yellow robe with short sleeves and a shorter than average skirt, perfect for free movements during combat. Over all of that, she dons her hide armor and casts a spell* onto her necklace before donning it.

After all that, she picks through her backpack and sits down quietly, eating a sweetroll. When someone looks at her strange, she claims: You think of nice places for teleportation, Habasi eats comfort food. before digging in.

Spoiler: Spellcraft DC 17

Show

Habasi casts Oracle's Burden

[Lionheart]

Caius' smile grows wider as his equipment is returned. He pulls on his breastplate and gives his treasured bardiche a couple of swings to make sure it's still as well-balanced as it was when the Dunmer took it from him.
He's not really been following the conversation, the internal strife of the dark elves doesn't concern him. It does seem to him that moving elsewhere among them might not be the best idea if there's likely to be more battle within their ranks.

He inserts himself into the conversation with a smile, choosing to ignore the strange khajiit on the floor. "I can't pretend to understand most of what you're talking about, but I think our best option would probably be Pelagiad. As an imperial citizen, I think the legion should really hear about this sooner than later. If the Dunmer can't handle things among their own, then we'll just have to step in and do it ourselves." He remains smiling, but there's an edge in his words. This was a province of the empire, and it was clear that they were currently failing in their responsibilities to govern and maintain the peace. "As usual."

[Parlortricks]

Varis did glance in the cat's direction as it all of a sudden decided to start munching on dessert. The helmet masked his eyeroll, but his grumblings might have suggested that he had an issue with it – but then again, what didn't he have an issue with when it came to the Khajiit? Already one was munching on sugar the second she got her grubby paws on her stash…

And he totally wasn't jealous of her fancy clothes. Must have stolen them. Clearly.

Varis gave a quick check to his weapons before affixing everything related to them in their rightful places, trying to keep to himself when the outlanders talked about their outlander things he wanted no part of. But it was impossible to ignore, his ears picking up on the words and the agitation just growing stronger inside him until the Dunmer broke his silence.
"Of course you don't understand, Cyrodiil! He hissed at the Imperial. Someone certainly was getting their wish of having Varis use a common tongue among them, though that tongue seemed a bit clumsy in his mouth.
"The dogs of your empire do nothing of value. Know nothing of value. Stick their noses where they don't belong and make mess of things without offering anything in return. Do they patrol the Ghostfence, the Ashlands? Brave the Blight and slay the beasts? They do not. They sit in their barracks, getting fat and lazy."

There was a moment of pondering, before he continued.
"Fatter and lazier," the Dunmer corrected his previous sentence, continuing to glare in the Imperial's direction.
"You are slow in the mind and hard of hearing. Our destination has been set. Almurbalarammi."

[DoctorFaust]

"Your sacred institutions have no issues with the Cyrodiil doing their work," Nikodemos remarks. "Anyone with the skill and honor are welcome among the Foresters. I was one of them, despite being an outsider."