Kat froze in front of Arra and tried to process what was happening. The tall knight - one of two, she now noticed - had vaguely elven features and horns. Horns? His plating seemed to emit a red light, and the same subtle glow surrounded his skin. Atronachs! Kat had never seen a conjurer up close, thank Stendarr, but was Arra one? Just what powers was she hiding? Kat's stare had to tell her this thought, but everything about Arra was turned inward.

Out of nowhere Kat smelled a sense of urgency and looked back too late. Endelle had the knight clutching his chest, but for all her effort, she was unarmed. The mortals had precisely zero weapons for every two on the other side, and the whole set was pointed at them. There were shouts of surprise and despair back and forth.

The otherworldly warriors let their weapons drop like a single soul. Arra began to speak.

The glassy-eyed girl's tone more than her words guided Kat to another place, one painted in blood even to human senses. It was a tale of love, struggle, fear and betrayal, far too real to be real. The others listened to Arra's strained story in dreamy silence. After a lifetime of relayed agony, her voice failed. With her cheerful shell and smooth ivory face, she couldn't be a single year older than Ventus. The age of a sister to Kat! And she had lost more than Kat ever dreamt of having.

Endelle went and hugged her. So did Kat, werewolf or not. For a little while the room was united in the mourning of times lost. The knights were gone from this plane, disappeared politely at some unremarkable moment, and their glow with them. The group stood as statues in what could have been a simple cave. The only light was a dim ray from some opening far above. Brighter than all the hope in the world, but not by much, Kat thought idly. Her apology would not give Arra her home. Or Vincano, whoever the namebearer was. Right now it made no matter, he was the most important person on Nirn and that was enough.

Suddenly a claw twisted Kat's insides and made her double over. It dawned on her that she was starving. In fact no one seemed to have eaten in days. Kat gently nudged Arra's shoulder with a shaky hand. The mage's eyes, now dry unlike everything under them, looked into Kat's. Endelle gazed down from her heights too, and even Vokun looked on with one of his unreadable expressions.

"Mu vodahmaan kip ahrk tinvaak. Nis lahney... Nis lahney voth ni kip ahrk tinvaak..." Kat stammered through her teeth as the claw developed into a pickaxe on her temples.

She somehow got everyone to perform various degrees of following. They marched back through the tunnels towards food and a continued life. Or at least the lump of bread in the backpack. In the main hall Kat turned to the others and spoke her mind.

"Kriidi aal ni kos het. Ful. Zu'u laan orin mindoka fahdoni. Pah do mu."

He stood. Brushing himself off, he stood with a confused grimace on his pale face. For a moment, he didn’t remember where he was. Stone all around, broken tables and shelves with dusty linen on them… And then it all came back to him. Arra running, the scratch on her arm, his memories. He was in no rush, but walked slowly down the steps, thinking. He couldn’t concentrate, his mind chaotic and filled with thoughts of poison and death. 

Vokun shuddered. What has he become? He remembered who it was he used to be, an intelligent Dunmer mixing up potions to help, to cure diseases. A lonely Dunmer who knew how to create things out of simple bone and wood to use or sell. One mortal Dunmer, using simple illusions to gain septims and fire tricks to gain more. One handsome Dunmer, turning to darkness and potions of poison. He was a monster, just like any other. Though he felt as if he were more than that, because man was monster, and monster could be man. Vokun wasn’t evil, he never was and never wanted to be… So then, what was he? Far from wise, maybe intelligent, but far from wise. He tilted his head at the word that was suddenly spoken into his thoughts.

“Vokun.” He heard the broken and sad voice of a Breton call. The Vampire glanced over, the confused grimace still on his face no matter his thoughts. He must have gotten to the bottom of the steps without noticing. He slowly made his way over, his footsteps echoing behind his eyes. He glanced at the Daedra, confused at where they had come from, though they didn’t seem hostile. Vokun didn’t attack, too tired, too confused… 

And so he sat, listening to Arra’s tale that seemed to come from nowhere. He couldn’t imagine such a beautiful mortal having to go through all of this, and surviving. He felt as if it made her more attractive, though she broke down near the end of the story. Vokun sensed the Daedra behind him depart, and he was surprised back into reality by a gust of air and blonde hair move past him. Endelle was hugging Arra, and after a minute, Kat did as well. Vokun didn’t move forward, didn’t embrace the Breton no matter how much he wanted to. He stood still, and spoke in a tired but very serious tone.

“Mu fen ni straag.” The words Vokun spoke were only received by Arra’s ears, and that was all that mattered. He turned as Kat did, and spoke a word of agreement to the Imperial’s last statement.
“Fahdoni.” And he nodded, before stumbling to the ground, splitting the skin on his right elbow. His thoughts swam as he pushed himself up again, placing his palm of his left hand over his forehead, and following the others up the stairs.

Arra's story shook Endelle. Every word was making her tremble, the very opposite of what she is. Compassion was pumping through her heart and in her blood. The details were clear and touching. She was a victim of all this. The yound Breton only wanted peace and safety and now she was dragged into this grand conflict that is so surreal one could think it's a dream.

Out of instinct, she walked up to her and hugged, to show her the mentionned peace and safety. Kat joined in. The wolf's blood pulsating in a warm rythm. She straightened up, the smell of death near. The vampyre was there, creeping. Quickly letting go, Kat rallied the group to head upstairs. She was hungry.

Endelle forgot her transformation happened last night. She must've been dying to eat something. The Nord remembers the hunger, mostly because it's ever present. The first weeks are painful, if not borderline driving to insanity. The apprentice needs to eat, or she won't be able to control the second transformation.

Arriving at the entrance where the group set foot, Kat mentionned that she wants to get to know her new friends. That word struck Endelle. Could she really consider those people friends? All they have done is fly together to meet Paarthurnax. In any case, she needs to make up a story to cover her past. Her bandit years are behind her. She doesn't have a silver tongue, but they don't know anything about her, so any story could pass. Maybe she will just try to dodge the question.

The only food Kat had turned out to be bread. And in a minimal quantity. Passing her turn, Endelle shook her head in a friendly manner. She knew what the newpup was going through, she needed as much as she can. Kat didn't truly knew what she agreed to that night. A pact with the Daedra. A restless sleep, an unending hunger, a taste for flesh. All of that out of a selfish decision from Endelle. To keep her away from solitude, from loneliness. She never had a family, bloodkin or not. All she ever had were rivals, ennemies, competitors. Maybe was the time to make one?

She was feeling sorry for the kid. Nothing could take her out of this deal. Endelle had weeks to make this decision. Kat only got a couple of minutes. Grabbing the pelts that hanged from Kat's pack, she made little seats in a circle around what looked like the remains of a low table. Erosion did it's work. The group gathered around, with the chunk of bread between everyone.

Replacing her ever annoying lock of hair behind her ear, Endelle gave them a visual inspection.

Starting from the left, Kat. The young woman was sitting still, eyeing the piece of bread. Her black hair was thought provoking, bringing back memories from last night. Something could be said about the duality between the two, yet the ressemblances seemed to shadow over them. They are both in need of something. Honor? Pride? 

It's hard to tell. Her traits are familiar of the northern territory, but it was different. The kid was definitely mysterious.

"Hi laan teyye, ruz fos los hi?"

The words came out the Nord's mouth in a playful tone. She could hear something in the background. Like it was coming from outside. A faint whistle in the wind. Endelle wondered if Kat could hear it. The senses are very acute when sharing the wolf's blood, but they are hard to interpret. The blonde haired woman had souvenirs of her early days. All the noises, all the scents, all the everything, it was just too much. The whistling was growing, appearing to come closer. 

Could it be Liis? Or was it an ennemy?

Numb. Arra asked herself how she was, her answer was numb. A blank slate with no feelings. Confused and not knowing how to feel. But that was because she didn't understand these people.

She sat on one of the pelts, her legs curled close and face gazing down. They accepted her, they wanted her here, no questions, nothing mattering. This isn't High Rock, but maybe, that was good? She sighed and got over herself, wiping sore eyes. She would be alright here. It's alright to like here.

She watched them eat for a minute, realizing how they were in need of a city to buy supplies. That would be something she could easily afford for them, none of which looked like they had much, what coin would hunters and outcasts make?

Outcast meant her too, though.  It had for a while now.   Her red-brown hair swayed as she shook her head.

The young conjurer took a deep breath and quietly cleared her throat. They would talk as friends, it seems. Her mouth tugged unpleasantly, what more did they want more to say?

She felt she told enough story for days, so instead she asked Kat where she was from. There was some talking back and forth between bites of bread. Everyone had somehow relaxed in this tomb of the dead that smelled of dust, decay and more dust.

Everyone sat around like they'd known each other for years. And maybe it was the hugs, or that the bread tasted surprisingly good, but she smiled.

She looked at the Dunmer, not with scorn or uncaring this time, but as an equal.
"Mu los fadon." She said to him with a nod.  This was a time of forgiveness and making amends.  Though he had made her skin crawl, she couldn’t hold anything against him anymore, against any of them.

There were sounds outside, Dragon sounds. But Liis had a certain sound...this wasn't exactly it. Arra jumped up and moved to the door, her purple clothing as bright as it had been before. But she shirked back from opening it again. She still had on the cloak she made, so the Breton pulled it tight for the outside.

Kat tore into the bread. It felt dry, cold and hollow, just like herself, but the sensation of having something between her teeth almost made her laugh of delight. She nibbled one excruciatingly tiny bit at a time, guarding the precious loaf with both hands.

Endelle asked playfully about Kat's origins. Arra repeated the question. Why, no harm in telling them.

"Zu'u kiin ko ahrolle se Jerall. Lotbormah do bormahi lost bron."

Kat knew little of Ysmar Oakenfist, and less of Ysmar Coalbrow. Father had always referred to the patriarch by his birth clan. Young Kat had reflexively filled in the blanks of the story with an image of her father's ambitions. Jorn Coalbrow: a stern man, strict officer of the town guard, and shiningly proud of his nordic heritage. Of course father was never a member of the Companions of Ysgramor, but that scarcely stopped him from recounting Ysmar's many victories as if they were his. Mother would look on and shake her head with a soft smile. The northern fixation with violent honour was just a lovable quirk to her. Oh, mother, how was she now? It had been ages since Kat had allowed herself to think of her.

Arra broke her out in time. "Jer do Bruma? Zu'u bo til ont. Brit."

The harsh mountains could certainly be beautiful if one rarely saw them. In Cliscur you got used to land taller than wide. "Jer ahrk brom. Nii hevno sahsun, kip los gut ahrk mal. Nuz geh. Brit."

The girl from Dwynnen had been tormented enough. Kat turned to Vokun instead. The man still unnerved her to the peaks and back, but could that be her own inexperience? She was not familiar with elven faces and did not pretend to be.

"Vokun. Hi lost kiin ko Falkreath, vahzen?"

The scratchy whisper came slowly. "Nid, to zu'u sov eruvosse til." He looked at the floor. "Zu'u kiin ko Solstheim."

Solstheim? The farthest corner of the map, not quite Skyrim but not Morrowind either? Kat was not sure whether to believe him. "Nun tol hi lot wunduniik." The hooded head fell silent, but Arra spoke to him kindly. And well she might. If she wanted his problems, Kat would not interfere. Arra could defend herself.

That left Kat her new mentor. The werewolf was just strange. Kat should not have joined her on so little knowledge and now it was too late. She could feel the barest whisper of regret - if she ever got to be alone again, it would take over. But for now she had the strength to play along. Forcing herself to be straightforward, she ventured a guess.

"Ahrk hi, Okriim-Miin? Luftiil fun hi kriaan pah laas. Losei sovrahzun?"

Endelle frowned, but her face quickly regained its usual seasoned passion. "Egnah zaak nirsesivaas. Zu'u ni krii muz vobalaan do krii. Uridde do bronjunne lost alun rinis ahrk Vul-Zeymahmaar pah meyye voth krasaar ko klov." She scoffed at the last part like it was a badly behaved horse.

Voluntary manhunting. And by her own rules too. How had other nords not locked her up long ago? But Kat needed to know more, it was literally a question of life and death.

"Ruz... vaas muz los balaan do krii?"

"Nunon nust wo ni aavlaas zey." The tall woman swept the ceiling with her eyes and added a smirk. No one laughed. Endelle continued, now almost solemnly. "Reistig tol hi mindok osos vol muz wo saraan dinok. Uv nid, vos frey: tafirre, vokul vahlokke, brunikke." She tapped her fingers thoughtfully. "Ahrk naan wo piraak paaz faraan."

It was clear now. Never mind Vokun, never mind magic - until a less friendly dragon than Liis turned up, Endelle was the main threat. Kat cursed herself for trusting the compliments and the hugs. She gave Arra the quickest possible alarmed look. The two could never drop their guard and they had to work together. And sorry for being a beast.

There was a presence in the air again. Not one with desperate urgency, but a distant creature coming closer fast. Soon a hissing wind fell out from the top of the hearing. It had two parts. Arra heard it too, went to the door, and called to the others. Two dragons had landed.

The new arrival was no bigger than Liis, but his appearance surprised Kat. He was smoothly plated, shiny as malachite, and spindly. If Liis brought up images of a white hawk and Paarthurnax of an old bat, this one resembled a big beetle. Kat knocked herself in the head. Had she just thought a huge living dragon could be something other than surprising? It was no use, the mind refused to enter a state of alarm.

As the group gathered under the glare of three metallic eyes, Kat felt a tingle in her nose. She sniffed curiously. Needles stabbed the inside of her head and her mouth filled up with the ghost of hot steel and rust. But the attack was over as soon as it began, leaving a vaning glow of twisted sweetness on the fresh air. She recoiled and recovered.

They ate. Vokun took the bread gratefully, and took minuscule bites out of it from time to time. They conversed and sat next to one another, unlike before. It seemed they had grown closer somehow. Vokun felt some odd sense of welcome around these people, and it was as if a crushing anvil had been lifted from his chest. His thoughts still somewhat swam, though the conversation helped to ease that. The grouped shared where they had come from, and it wasn't long before they inquired about Vokun. 
"Vokun. Hi lost kiin ko Falkreath, vahzen?"
The word Falkreath brought gentle pain to his mind, so he answered slowly. He was born in Solstheim. She seemed surprised, but that in itself was no surprise. Solstheim was an odd place. He thought back to the barren ashlands and the scent he was so accustomed to, the variety of strange creatures hunted often by the tribalistic Rieklings, and the stained, cold Moesring Mountains that divided the island of bleak grey from the imperfectly pure snow. It was a peculiar place, but it was somewhat home to the vampire. "Nun tol hi lot wunduniik," Kat said to him, interrupting his thoughts. He fell quiet to think again, before Arra spoke, saying that the two were friends. Vokun nodded back, feeling just an inkling of hope. 

Kat turned her attention to the other Wolf, and Vokun shook his head slightly. There were two now. It was different, yet somehow the same. Kat still had her personality, though things were different. She was dangerous. They were all dangerous. Who knew they would have to band together, this mismatched group? Who knew they would get along? Vokun doubted they would completely, it would still be quite the rocky trail. 

He sat back, rubbing his scarred grey hands and paying half attention to the conversation. The fire did more damage to him than he realized. Maybe he didn't bleed, but it did hurt. Vokun thought back to when he was first learning how to control it, how little pain it brought to summon fire at the tips of his fingers back then, before he grew weak to it due to vampirism. He had been complemented on his abilities, encouraged to make it burn brighter, stronger. Who knew that encouragement could leave scars? He was still somewhat resistant to it, of course, but in the battles his violence brought such an adrenaline rush that he almost seemed completely immune to the hot orange that vampires fear so viciously. Despite seeming immune, he was still weak, still a vampire. His hands were frail from his battles in the past. Trembling, dusty, and burnt. It wasn't until now he realized how much his fire magic injured him. It would be smart to discontinue use of it. Vokun was sure he could hold his own without fire. 

Vokun looked up as Endelle finished speaking, and glanced towards the door as he caught a movement. Arra was standing by the door, and called out to the group. Liis had landed, and apparently the one-eyed dovah had brought another. Vokun stood, donned his hood, and made his way out into the bright outdoors. 
The new dovah was an interesting wine-bottle green with golden tinges blending into the color of his smoothed, curved scales. Vokun didn't look the new dragon in the eyes, but did notice that he had two, unlike Liis. The dragon was hardly any smaller than Liis, but he was definitely lesser. The group stood under their gaze, waiting. Vokun felt the sun beating on his back, through his garb, just enough to make him feel uncomfortable.

Conversation felt unnatural, Endelle and Vokun knew it. Kat and Arra were the only ones eager to learn about eachother, but at least it gave Endelle more information on the others. So Kat had Nord heritage, despite her peaceful nature, a warrior was residing in her. Vokun came from Solstheim. Back in the tribe, there was a Dark Elf. What was his name already? Something like Inervyn, or was it Inarvyn? He came from Solstheim too. His description of Solstheim was rather pleasing to an hunter's ear. Tales of beasts that wandered the land, and the Rieklings. Too bad the Dunmer had to die, he was a pest and a monster. When raiding villages and the like, he always had a filthy pleasure of torturing those who had been captured. At first, Endelle thought this was a one time thing, but as years passed, she realized he was just sadistic. One night, she snuck in his tent, pretending to be drunk. He was surprised, but seeing an opportunity to have fun, he closed the tent and turned off the lamp. The next morning, the Dunmer was found crucified to a tree, lacerations all over his body. He had been under torture all night, his voice muffled by a mouthful of cloth.

Then it was her turn to answer. Kat seemed to be the one interessed in her.

"Mercenary"? That word made her cringe. Sellswords are the exact scum she was hunting. Despisable, greedy and with no ethics. The only treatment they deserved was the one they were inflicting. Kat did not seem to comprehend that part, but Endelle did not mind explaining to her. Attempting humor, Endelle made a joke that did not bear the expected results. Putting humor on her to-not-do list, she clearly explained that she was not killing innocent people. This also did not work. Maybe she was better off not talking at all.

Dragon Ex Machina, Liis and his companion landed outside of their tomb. Arra, as eager to jump into danger as always, goes outside first. Following Kat and Vokun, the hunter closed the door behind her. Her limited clothing relative to the temperature always made her look impervious to frost. The new arrival was no other than a dragon. This one seemed a lot more aerodynamic than Liis or Paarthurnax, with his smooth scales. Liis presented him as Wuldrelsu. 

Seeing as no one talked, she raised her voice.

"Mu praag ketak. Zun ahrk kip."

The words came out sharply and abruptly. They really needed to restock on resources. Seeing as how there was two dragons, we could double the speed at which we could gather materials and men. Advancing at the head of the group, she turned around to face them. They will need to split up to be as efficient as possible. Pointing at Arra and Vokun, Endelle speaks.

"Hi ziin yah kip. Pogaas do nii, zu'u kent nahkip med pah brod."

She then turns around and faces the young werewolf. A veil of sadness covers Endelle's traits, only visible to Kat.

"Mu ofaal zunne. Zu'u vis mindov hi atrukke."

After making sure everyone understood their tasks, everyone climbed on the scaly lizards. The takeoff was brutal, like usual. Seeing Skuldafn shrink in size made Endelle how much happened in so little time. In the span of 24 hours, Kat became a werewolf, Arra summoned Daedra to which Endelle almost died to and they all ate like they were friends seeing eachother for the first time in years.

The ride on Liis was rather silent. And boring. There were lots of clouds and very few views of the ground below. Although, a specific smell was giving away where Liis was taking them. The fact that Endelle told Liis where to go also helps. Slowly descending, Liis glides off. Upon landing, the two women jumped off the dragon's back. They are now sitting south of lake Honrich. The fresh water breeze gently throwing blonde and black hair around.

"Nu fod mu naalein, piraak hi lanne?"

The tall hunter started walking towards Riften, the smell of the fishery guiding her. She felt at home, near her bandit days. Maybe the tribe was around? Endelle doesn't know if those were great or bad news, but for now Kat was safe, and it's all that mattered.

She was told to take the Dunmer, Vokun, and get food while the hunter wolves got weapons. Endelle had already walked away, so her questions of how long to be gone and what to get wouldn't be answered. But she had one which needed to be.
“Kolos kip?” The Breton asked.
Kat thought quickly as the Nord called to her and told Arra to go north to Windhelm for food.

The Breton made her way to Wuldrelsu, the new Dragon. She looked him over carefully, realizing how smooth he was, and how hard it would be to stay on. He bended to let her and the Dunmer on, and she hosted herself up right behind his head. Her legs grasped tight around his heavy neck and her arms held the horns on his head. Vokun mounted some ways behind on Wuldrelsu's shoulder blades.
She shuffled into place before quietly asking “Fen hi laan nokur?”

Liis rose up into the grey sky, which meant it was time for them to go as well.
“Alok! Bo wah Hofkah do strunjun!” She yelled. The green dragon taking off with power, circling once to speak some words with Liis before both dragons flew in their opposite directions.

“Kolos nust?”
“Sedin. Bo Gravunlom.” Vokun replied over the wind.

They landed at a destroyed, snow covered building east of the city stone; as they dismounted, the Dragon said he would wait in the hills, but return when they called his name from here.
Following the snow laden path, they reached some farms outside the city. Arra read the name “Hlaalu” on one, and told Vokun to buy wheat there, and also get leather hides while she continued walking. Khajiit traders set up tents next to the stable, she used the opportunity to buy a proper traveling cloak with a hood, which she put on.

The gates opened, and she entered the city of snow and stone. All the Breton saw was shades of grey rock and clouds warmed by a fire's glow. The gently falling snow melting on her cloak. She adjusted her circlet and then the hood that was over it, took a breath and started walking.

After asking a guard, Arra headed to the stall of a woman who introduced herself as Hillevi Cruel-Sea to place a large order of food. Next, she visited the blacksmith and made a special order of him, the details spoken low. With raised eyebrows, he agreed, and she paid him up front.

All the ordering was done, now she would simply have to wait until it was all ready, which would take a day or two. Candlehearth Hall seemed the place to wait. She ordered some soup and wine from the woman behind the counter and took it upstairs.

The hearth in the middle of the floor warmed the room, a candle lit atop it. The place smelled of rock and Nord, the air musty. A Dunmer woman sang Nordic songs to allow her presence without prejudice. A grave looking Nord sat out of the way in his steel armor, tankard in hand, eyeing any who looked well-off.  Lastly, an Imperial man sat writing quietly, and Arra decided to sit next to him.

She listened to the conversations in the room. First, she heard talk of the Civil War, the Stormcloaks had recently taken a fort, while the Legion gained ground elsewhere. This war was indecisive; this war fought and died for by man, over the god of both. Tiber Septim, Talos. The God of Man and War. She wondered what he thought of that.
This city, being the heart and hearth of Nordic belief and culture, and seat of the titular Bear of Markarth, gave her, as a race dubbed Manmer, a sense of unease as she tightened the hood around her face.

“Munfahliil, geh?” asked the writer, offering his hand to shake.  “Zu’u Adonato Leotelli.”
“Geh…” she was more concerned with what she now heard across the room, a drunkard giving the Dunmer woman trouble, then with small talk, but her hand idlely moved to shake his.
“Do alokgolz? hi ni med hiivmun.” Adonato continued. Not noticing.
“Geh.” She bent her head around him to watch the others as she answered.
“Ahrk hi het? Daar los tey. Hi bo fah ... yuvon? Nid, nid het. Het hi lingrah?”

Arra did not answer this time, instead she stood up. She was smart enough to know not to pick a fight, so she tried something else instead. She leaned against a wall nearby, took out her sword to look it over for dents, and eyed the Nord. A friend of his pulled him away, knowing not to cause a stir with travelers. She heard that man, Adonato, say something about what happened being intriguing as she rented a room to finally rest in a bed again.

She awoke in the early evening wanting to rest more but needing a walk. After walking down the steps, her foot found a patch of ice not there before. She landed hard on her behind and palms scraped the glassy surface. She heard laughter, the Drunkard and his friend made themselves known by tripping her as she got up. Her hands pressed into the stinging ice, but this time it melted at her touch. Before she had time to ready the fire spell growing in her hands, a voice from behind told the Nords to leave.
“Hi kril, ni praag aaki. Nunon nust ni mindol. Zu'u Brunwulf Stin-Felniir”
He gave Arra a hand up. Her hood had fallen back, her face clearly seen and hair behind her ears. He put the hood up for her with the care of a father, telling her to be careful here as to not get hurt. 

“Kogaani, Brunwulf.”

Now she would need to go find the Dunmer.

Kat watched Endelle dish out orders without hesitation. She had taken the army thing for a second nature. Did she fear opposing the dragons like her apprentice did? Any thinking person would, but what a manslayer might fear was the wind’s guess. And Kat had to figure that out, or be the nord’s prized pup forever with Arra in their teeth. Her stomach summoned a cold strangling sphere. The first step was always to hold back the tears. The second was to stay attentive.

Endelle wanted to split the group up. Arra asked where to buy food. For the soldiers? Kat had never needed such amounts, but if one wanted lots of tolerable rations quickly on this side of the Darkwater, there were only so many places. Endelle said it just as Kat reached the conclusion. Windhelm market. There was no contesting her on this knowledge. Kat could but hope the other expedition would reach Cruel-Sea’s stall safely, Ulfric’s city being what it is. ”Fun Hillevi tol zu’u pruzah”, she managed before Endelle gravely told her to come.

Arra, playful as ever, spoke something to Wuldrelsu. The plate armour dragon shook the ground with a roar of ”Niid!” before sheepishly stopping mid-yell. Liis gave him a look longer than necessary. Then they were airborne.

Liis snapped at the clouds, brushing a pair of mountains with a wingtip each. The land was pulled back from beneath the passengers to reveal an expanse of air with another sheet of land at the bottom. It was still so utterly unlike anything else that Kat failed to fear. After a nondescript period of holding on, the transport landed. Birches and dizziness were all around.

There was no mistaking the sprawl of houses at the end of the narrow lake. Kat had seen it before, from the edge of the woods. Wandering hunters and loggers had confirmed what was sometimes mentioned at home: lawless Riften belonged to the thieves. Not poor hungry outsiders seeking something to send home, but hardened crimelords with bounties on their heads by the Jarl and by each other. Kat shivered. Maybe those were the people Endelle was taking her to. It would be self-slaughter to ask.

The intense creamy light made the horizon painful to look at. Was it always that bright?

”Nu fod mu naalein, piraak hi lanne?”

Kat thanked the divines her jolt faded away without so much as a change in posture.

”Hi aak fod hi laan. Pah paaz nu.”

The answer was so untrue any madman worth his walls could see it, but Kat desperately needed to smelt her thoughts. The messy chunks clogged her head without getting any softer. She marched onward and tried putting on father's everyday look of casual vigilance. It was rehearsed yet respecting, not like Endelle's shield of steel. And she was equally bad at mimicking both. If they were to lead an army, that would have to change...

The hunters reached the southern entrance of Riften, an arch between humble walls. The simple wooden door opened haltingly. On the street inside, a tall fat drunkard spotted the two and burst into a slurred cackle with "Temple of Mara" in it. Endelle’s step got stiff and it looked like she might take his throat as a trophy, but whatever it took, she resisted the urge. They walked on in their leathers, bows on their backs, into the city of crime.

They were to split up. Vokun and Arra to gather food, Kat and Endelle to gather weapons. As the Breton conversed with Kat about where to go, Vokun stood beside the new Dovah, slightly in the shade of his mass. The wolves would go to the fishy crime-stained capital of the Rift, the Vampire and Breton to the frigid winters of the City of Kings. Over the wind, he replied to Arra's question about where the others would be going. 

The flight there was pleasant, despite the chilling winds. Vokun had to keep his head somewhat down to keep his hood from flying off and revealing his face to the light of day. He watched through clouds the ground race past below. It was some kind of peaceful, but also unsettling. The thought of falling made him hold on tighter to the dragon, but he still couldn't help but gaze down.

It was soon he noticed they were landing, and hopped off and rolled as he hit the ground before the dragon did. The Dovah would wait in the hills until hearing his name called. Vokun glanced at the pretty Breton as they set down the path. She looked over at him as they reached the farms outside the city, catching him staring without acknowledging it. She told him to buy wheat from Hlaalu Farm and leather hides where he could, handing him a coin purse. He wondered what the hides would be used for before nodding and going on his way as she continued walking. 
The farm was just like any other. Cozy yet a bit away from the comfortable side. Vokun approached the farm without paying much attention to it. He instead absently inspected the brace around his right forearm and wrist, unloading and loading. It was a nice idea of his, the wristbow. He didn't make it himself, however. Being a Vampire, he had slain multiple Vampire hunters that saw him as a threat, and took a crossbow or two from the bodies. He took a liking to the things, and got the idea of a smaller, more compact version used for closer combat.

Vokun had taken the time to draw up charcoal plans for the weapon, and invested in the help of a smith to craft it. The red-haired man flexed his hand slightly, thankful he had fixed the sensitivity, and stopped in front of the door to the farm leaving the wristbow loaded.

He was sure to be an odd sight to see, but it seemed he was to everyone. He knocked politely on the wooden door, and waited for a few moments. A wealthy-looking Dunmer answered, looking at the Vampire with a certain amount of distaste.
"Fos los nii hi praag?"
"Suril, aan lot waarth." 
Vokun spoke to him the amount in barrels, and he nodded in agreement. They took a while discussing payment, and Vokun sat inside with the man as they did so. The vampire paid half up front and told the Dunmer that he would pay the rest after receiving the wheat. 

When he was finished, he left the farm and went to the city. He walked slowly, though the walk there wasn't much, just more snow and rocks. He'd seen a lot of that lately. He stopped in front of a Khajiit caravan for a moment. It had only been a day or so since he met with the group, and so much had already happened. Not to mention seeing dov, and conversing with them. He stood, baffled for a moment, but continued walking when the Khajiits eyed him with suspicion. Time flies, and it flies fast. Much like a dragon. Vokun shook his head, doubting his memory. He had to be on Skooma, or Moon Sugar, or something. He must just be in Windhelm for business, selling more potions after waking from an intoxicated coma. But Windhelm was never good for business, with the racism. 

He turned right as he entered Windhelm, aiming to head to the Gray Quarter. Vokun heard someone slur from a distance, and his hairs stood on end at the tone. 
"Hi ruth sadun-karaak. Bo zek wah Vulsoven!"
Even from a distance, Vokun could tell the man stank of ale. From a glance, Vokun noticed a metal tankard in the man's hand. The Dunmer kept walking, and the man got noticeably angry.

"Genun osos fir fah hin deinmaar, sadun-karaak!" The drunkard said, throwing the tankard at the Vampire. It connected with the back of his head, bouncing off and hitting the ground with a clang. Vokun stopped and turned to face the Nord as he was engulfed in the growing darkness of nightfall.

"Dreh hi laan krif, s'wit?" Vokun hissed, readying himself. The man grinned and stepped forward, happy to get a reaction. Without giving any warning, and thinking he was clever, the drunk swung his fist. 
Vokun grabbed the man's forearm with his right hand, brought a closed fist into the left side of the Nord's face, and pushed him back. Rolff, as the man was known, brought his arms up shakily but determined. The racist Nord swung again, and the Vampire took the hit. Another swing, and Vokun deflected it hard with the outer side of his right forearm, then punching the drunkard square in the chest. With the drunkard out of breath and Vokun caught in the moment, Vokun stepped forward and slammed his right fist into the bottom of the man's jaw, springing his wristbow and sending a dart straight up into the Rolff's skull. It killed the man almost instantly.

Rolff's brother soon exited Candlehearth and saw the same sight as the guards. Being already drunken and mopey, he fell to his knees with grief. 
Guards surrounded Vokun as he stood, staring at what he had done, perplexed. Confused. The guards couldn't get a word out of him. His thoughts swam in the blood of that racist drunk, his hands stained with it. The guards forced him away from the body, and Vokun aimlessly tried to release himself. But soon the guards overwhelmed him with their brute force, and that was the last seen of Vokun Dalkmah that night.

As per usual, Riften was rather intoxicated on the evening. Even the guards at the gate were a little bit slow. Fortunately, Endelle planned on meeting someone who's reasonable. Not a friend, far from it, but someone who can understand the Nord's predicament. The drunkard aproached her and made advances, which weren't pleasing. If Endelle didn't want another Whiterun situation, she'd have to keep a low profile. Ignoring the man, she kept walking towards the Bee and Barb Inn. From the corner of her eye, the hunter noticed Sapphire, harrassing a man. She never changed in all this time. 

The inside of the inn was familiar, she would drop by here, sleep well for a night, and take off. Bandits don't have the taste for fine beds. Or just beds in general. 

It's also here she got arrested for the first time. If she had a feeling of nostalgia for this place, she also had a bitter taste in her mouth. Scanning the place subty, she saw who she came for. Mjoll was sitting at a table, far from the rest of the drunkards, seemingly talking with Aerin. Riften's Warden didn't even noticed the duo, compared to the rest of the tavern, where all heads were turned towards the strangers.

After the initial interest, everyone went back to their drink. Great, they look normal. Endelle grabs Kat's wrist. She accidently scratches her skin with her nails rather rudely and drags her somewhere where they can't be seen. Kat is reluctant at first with an ounce of panic in her gaze. With her other hand, Endelle does a "Shhhh" motion. She hands her pupil a dagger and points towards Mjoll.

"Kuz daar. Fun mek kosa ahst teyn wah vasikorun mindin gein omaar."

After that, Endelle smiles and tilts her head on the side, like a good puppy. She proceeds to walk out of the Inn, trying to look as innocent as possible. Let's see if Kat can do simple intimidation, or negotiation. Let's see if she is a talker or a fighter. In both cases, being a werewolf is a plus. Fighter at heart? Being a killing machine can't be bad. Talker? If she doesn't like fighting, the beast will do it for her. Endelle kept telling herself that, in hopes of making her feel better about what she did to Kat.

Meanwhile, the tall Nord walked around the public market, where most of the trash sold there wasn't sufficient. Brynjolf was still there, selling snake oil. The Guild was still in trouble. She laughed. Endelle approached the thief, shoving an ignorant buyer aside.

"Tovit hi tul yuld?"

Brynjolf's face adopted a curious look after seeing the woman. She was familiar to him, yet, he could not put a name on her face. After a few seconds his face lightened up and parted his mouth.

"Ani-!"

She did not let him finish speaking. She jumped on him and slammed her palm against his mouth.

"Daar ni los faani unslaar. Zu'u fen ofan hi yuld fodos hi funrah Eorlund."

The thief's eyes sparkled like never before. The simple mention of coin excites him. He stands there, waiting for the gold to rain on him. The hunter slowly starts explaining.

"Nu zu'u piraak nii, nuz zu'u vis daal wah ahmiki fodos hi fid nii."

He looks slightly let down, yet, hearing about Endelle coming back makes him smile. Eugh. Thieves. He nods and waits for the message.

"Zu'u praag zunne."

Brynjolf quickly scribbles the message down and smiles again. The deal was sealed. Yet again, Endelle is a situation that displeases her, but she has no choice, does she? She goes around the market once more and decides to go down near the ratway, where she'll be waiting. A hooded man approaches her from behind. She smelled him as soon as she stepped in this disgusting city. As he picks up the speed to catch up to her, she jumps down on the lowest level of Riften. The man keeps following her until she stops. A noise ressembling metal sliding on leather makes Endelle's body twitch.

She turns around and punches the hooded man in the face. He attempts to stab the woman, only to be stopped by another hand, crushing his fingers and extorting the blade from him. The hood falls back to reveal the face of a killer. She smirks, revealing her sharp teeth and her eyes, burning with eagerness to fight. The assassin topples around as she grabs his head and throws it against the solid stone wall.

A crimson drop falls on the wooden planks bellow her. The iron smells assails her nose. Her mouth is watering and her heart is pumping faster and faster. Pushing against him, she opens her mouth and bites the man's shoulder. Meanwhile, the killer panics and tries to fight against her, attempting to push her. Her grip gets tigher with each attempt. She slits his throat with the dagger and rips a portion of his shoulder with her mouth. The assassin faints and she throws him in the water, spitting the piece of flesh she had in her mouth. Endelle's face is covered in blood.

She now sits down in front of the gate that leads into the sewers, picking her teeth to remove the fleshy bits remaining.

Arra's eyes blinked twice. It wasn't the holding back tears kind of blink, it was simply blinking.

She really didn’t know how to feel about the whole ordeal that was yesterday. She tried blaming everyone she could think of that was involved in the smallest way, which included herself. Blame was easy, that's why it's called on so much. But blame would do no good now. Blame wouldn't change the murder, it wouldn't make him less guilty. Feeling sorry wouldn't make him ever be seen again, yelling at anyone wouldn't fix the problem.

The Vampire was gone, basically dead now.  Looking Dunmeri, the Nords might just kill him for his crimes.  And if they find out what he really is, was, he’d be dead for sure.

Her thoughts drifted to Endelle again. What she would tell the woman, how she could explain it. Arra couldn't predict what she'd say, and that made telling her dreadful.  The Breton failed.  She took charge of the mission, and now the other was dead.

But thoughts like that she pushed away, promising herself she will deal with them later. Right now, she still has work to do in this place, this city that all Gods but one seemed to have given up on. This cold, grey city filled with so much hated, the snow will never fall bloodless, the sky would never look painless.

In her blind movement throughout the streets, she now found herself standing outside of Talos’s chapel.  On a whim, she entered.

Candles and brazes lit up the stone walls and Stormcloak banners.  A row of more candles around a enormous statue of Talos him, with his shrine placed carefully in front of it,

A house of the Divines was where one was always told to go when life wasn't working out. Though Talos wasn't her favorite of them, any guidance would do at this point.  Even from someone whose legacy has caused so much death in the last 40 years.

There was a lot to consider, sitting there on one of the benches. Chief among those things was who would she be returning to the others. It wasn't that blaming, but she still felt if her leadership was better, or she stuck to following others, today would be different. Maybe she forced herself to act in control, like she was ready for Endelle's orders. Maybe she pushed Vokun too hard.
Maybe none of that is true, and she's just searching for reasons.

Standing up, Arra stood before the shrine to say a silent prayer. Talos wasn't her favorite, no. But he may be just what she needs right now.