A Holy Rest (Open)

As the sun had begun its morning journey over the eastern sky, Alaric had called for a break in their so-far unbroken flight from the city of Windhelm. Their black cloaks were too suspicious, they needed to change if there were to make it back to Falkreath. His new garb, a hooded set of monk's robes and an amulet of Julianos, would surely do the trick. No ine in their right mind would ever suspect a poor defenseless Priest of Julianos and his guard of anything beyond charitable. He laughed as he thought back to the first time he had tried this escape.

"That must have been over thirty years ago!" he mused "That old coot never saw it coming either! Next thing he knew he was sent to Sithis with a dagger in his back! Blessings of Julianos upon ye! Ahahaha! Priceless, sister, just priceless!" He remounted the horse, immediately assuming a meek and unassuming posture, a posture fitting for a monk whose only line of defense is a 'young and inexperienced' cat. He thought he was playing his role rather well. He had even given Dar'savi a set of fur armor if she wanted to change.

His horse reared as a group of bandits ran onto the road. It was times like these that he hated not being skilled in Illusion magic, something that in this case might be remotely useful. The leader of the troupe spoke up, "Give us all yer gold and valuables, and we'll gut yeh nice and quick!"

Alaric could barely contain a chuckle at the gall of the bandits, but decided to take it as a complement on their acting skills. "Oh my." He said without emotion or inflection, "Bandits. Whatever shall we do?" He lifted his right hand as if to shrug in defeat, but it was immediately filled with a crackling flame. "How about... send you all to see Sithis?!?" The fiery ball flew from his hand, landing in the midst of them and exploding in a massive bout of fire! Three lay dead, the blaze killing them on impact, while two more ran around in a futile attempt to put themselves out. One however, the leader of the group, stood in the middle, a ward having protected him from the blast. "My, my! What have we here? A fellow practitioner? Pity you didn't just die... you'll surely wish you had... Sister! Claim him for the Void!"

Dar'savi smirked under the cowl and shot an arrow at the leader, nailing him in the knee causing the bandit to fall to one .Jumping off her she pressed her daggers against his throat "You boys chose the wrong people to rob" with that she closed her daggers in a scissor-like motion killing him instantly as the only thing keeping his head on was skin at the back of the neck.

The mess they had left behind was sure to attract more attention, so Alaric spurred hi horse onward, away from the bloody bandity mess... He took a swig of one of his emergency potions; now was no time to be caught with his robes around his ankles. He had to be ready for anything.

The sun was in the middle of the sky when he saw it, the little farm house at the top of the hill. It would be perfect! No one would ever think to look here, not even with the bandits! It was off the road a good ways and you had to look for it. Besides... who would come to a little farm looking for notorious killers?

"Blessings of the Nine upon ye!" he told the young Nord woman, following up with a slight bow. "We have been travelling for many days and have just barely escaped a troupe of bandits this morning. We are exhausted. Could we perhaps rest here for a while to recoup our strength? I know the Divines would bless you!"

"Yes, ma'am all we want is bit of rest to recover for the day, we shall leave by nightfall" Dar'savi said ready to offer other methods of convincing like money or work.

Alaric's back soon rested on a bed in the surprisingly large farmhouse, his including of Talos in the divinity seeming to have the effect he desired. He was almost hesitant adding that. Even among the Nords you could never tell who wasn't against the White-Gold Concordat, sure there were more against it than for it, but those for it would turn you in as quick as any of the other races.

In the shelter of the house, he felt his strengths begin to return, and his hunger strengthen. He had meant to feed on the Shatter-Shield girl, but they had been... interrupted. She still laid dead in the Nordic burial hall, but with all of her blood intact. 'No matter... I'll just grab a bite of one of the couple's cows tonight. That'll slake it...'

The smell of frying meat soon filled the air, one of the young woman's attempts at thanking "My husband will be so happy!" she had cried, shooing him into the guest room to rest. "I'll have a dinner ready for you and your companion in a little while. Thank you again!"

Feeling a little warm, he rummaged in his pack for some clothes. A few minutes later he stood in a blue tunic with a light brown, knee-length vest and matching boots, ready for moving quickly or if attacked, still able to surprise with his vast knowledge of the arcane. He walked out of the room and meandered into the kitchen area. "Anything I could do to help? I'm no good at cooking, but I can tend the fire or slice things if needed." The young woman nodded at the dying coals and he began prodding them with the iron poker nearby, occasionally sending a small spurt of flames to 'encourage' them to respond...

"Yes a warm fire would be greatly appreciated" Dar'savi said with a nod "and thank you for offering us meal we have come a long way and still have even longer to go"

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!” he cried – dashing through the underbrush as he struggled to keep up with Rithle’s speed. He wasn’t a conditioned warrior like her, and the staff he was forced to carry certainly didn’t make things any easier.

There was a roar behind them and the vicious snapping of branches as a towering daedra forced its way through. Nistac ducked his head, hand clasping over the leather of his helmet, just as scorching fireball whizzed by. It struck a tree to their immediate right instead, engulfing it in white-hot flames as the two sprinted on by with a mad xivilai on their tails.

“Do we have a plan?” he asked, his free hand searching his satchel for some helpful potions. “Please tell me we have a plan that doesn’t involve dying!”

“Yeah,” she bit out through clenched teeth, still keeping her pace, “keep running!”

Rithle made a noise almost like a hiss, jerking her head to the side just in time for an oncoming fireball to sail past and leave her with just a few singed hairs. Her chest was just starting to burn – she might have a chance to outrun the thing. Her main concern was Nistac – twit could hardly get past her, let alone the raging monster behind them.

A light shone in the distance, a beacon of hope that she could only pray was a guards' watchtower. The grass seemed to get taller; thicker, perhaps? If the xivilai started a bonfire in the middle of it all they were doomed.

“Help!” she yelled, her lungs still in good enough condition for her to speak. “If there's anyone – we need help!”

Alaric's ears pricked up as he chewed his overcooked beef. Something sounded almost like... well, shouting! "Excuse me..." he murmured, rising from the table and moving to the window in order to see if he could find the source of the noise. He strained his ears and head it again, this time a clear 'help!' resounding across the fields. "I'll be back..."

He rummaged through his bag, grabbing his circlet and a few other necessities. He was ready in only a minute, and he went to the door, his eyes switching to their natural hunter's vision when he saw them. Two redguards being chased by... "By the Nine! A Xivilai!" He was in the saddle faster than you could say the, 'Black Horse Courier', and was spurring his mount toward the fire-wielding daedra at a break neck pace.

"DUCK!" was the only warning he gave them, a mighty ice storm flying from his hand toward the daedric beast. He longed to study one, but now, in this particular environment and with these circumstances was not the time for his college studies. He lifted his hands toward them and sent two healing bolts of energy toward the pair, his skill in restoration magic alloing him to manipulate stamina levels as well as the health of an individual. He only hoped he wasn't losing his touch and that the golden lights would reach them.

Nistac dropped to the ground, chest meeting the dirt hard as the air was knocked from his lungs. Instinct kicked in – remnants of his heritage – as he rolled to the side, avoiding a head-flattening stomp as the xivilai took the destructive magic with impunity. Its ashen skin was briefly illuminated as the spell seemed to melt into its skin, imbuing it rather than harming it.

The Red-Nord widened his eyes – thinking back to a book he once read. Weren’t some daedra highly resistant to magic? Perhaps this was one of them. He scrambled to his feet, backing up hurriedly with Oakflesh in one hand.

“I don’t think magic works well here,” he nervously observed as a bluish glow washed over him. He quickly tossed his sister a poison – evident by the meticulous color-coding and brief symbol drawn onto the glass. It displayed a bolt of lightning, a snowflake, and a fire with a skull in the background – hinting at its intended use. “It’s up to you Rith! I don’t think my spells will be of any help until you get a good cut on him.” Not to mention that other mage - the poison would surely make him a lot more potent in terms of damage.

He drew his mace, mouth dry with fear. He’d have to go in and support her – surely he could distract it at least. Maybe it'd also buy the mage some time for something flashy. The xivilai took a swing at him as soon as the Red-Nord was within striking distance – and he quickly moved back, unable to pull up a proper ward due to the staff occupying his left hand.

Dar'savi told the couple at the cabin to stay inside as she followed her brother outside. Before she could ask her brother what it was he was already off charging headlong to the daedra Prompting her to run after him. Once she was in range, seeing that her brother's spell seemed to make the ashen man more powerful, the khajiit dipped her arrow in her deadliest potion, on that could kill a man before he could uncork an antidote, Knocking the the dripping arrow, she took careful aim and fired. the arrow sailing for the daedra's exposed torso. Once the arrow struck the Xivilai in the chest she approached her brother.

The xivilai was hardly fazed, it looked, and it simply kept moving, hurling fireballs at them. From what little Nistac told her, she knew they were on an entirely different level than most of the other daedra. It would take some work to bring it down. Impossible, between the two of them - but now they had reinforcements.

Rithle whirled on her heel with a wild kind of grin and drew out her axe, emoboldened by the sudden wash of magick - whose, she didn't know - over her. If her heart had been pumping hard before, it was now palpitating violently, her blood rushing as she surveyed the oncoming threat. Oh, she had been waiting to get her hands on something other than those stinky, brittle scamps for a long time...

The first tendrils of adrenaline racing through her, she banged her axe against her shield once to rid herself of the trembling before rushing in. The Redguard-Nord made for a quick underhanded slash at the xivilai's legs, a warcry escaping her.

"This is exactly why I needed to study them!" he shouted at himself as the beast absorbed the magicka fueling his spell. Just because he was old didn't mean he knew everything, a fact he resented at times like these. An arrow whizzed by his head and struck the daedra in the chest, but it didn't really seem all that bothered by it, not when Alaric had basically given it a power boost without knowing of it's abilities. "Nice of you to join us, sister," he said jokingly "but it is going to take a lot more than that to take it down. Apparently I need to pay a visit to the college soon and do a re-touch on my species of daedra... I just powered it up with my spell..."

A look of utter disgust spread across his face as he gazed upon the creature,"My, my! The ugly ones are out today! First that troll-faced bandit and now some beast which looks like it has been on the receiving end of Mehrunes' Razor. Tsk... Tsk... Does having just a little bit of class not matter to anyone anymore?" Alaric's voice was loud and sure to carry to the creature, for whom he was ready, a ward already selected and a little present from home picked out. He could tell that the younglings were out of their league. While he didn't know much about this specific creature, he could hold his own, and on top of that, trash talk transcended all communication barriers... of that he was absolutely positive...

"Well that worked nicely!" His voice was partially drowned out by the large fireball crashing against his ward. It barely had time to recharge before a second made contact. "Well... I'm glad I practiced THAT technique!" He felt the mana returning to him, the cost of holding the wards being significantly lessened, almost to the point of non-existence. "Why don't you two get out of there! Preferably sometime tonight?"

The blue fire scorched the ground around the portal to Oblivion as Alaric called into its very depths. An icy behemoth emerged with blocks of ice for a head and one fist and a javelin of ice for the other. It must have been more than nine feet tall. It was an Ice Atronarch, a powerful one at that, capable of taking at least three or four spells from the creature at a minimum. "Send your neighbor back home and protect the younglings!"

Dar'savi smiled at her brother's wit. Even if it was hit or miss it was welcoming in situations like these. Dar'savi them moved into the forest and used her claws to scale a tree. She then moved through the treetops using them for cover as she rained arrows upon the daedra

“Running wouldn’t do us any good,” he shouted over his shoulder.

He leapt back – narrowly avoiding a strike. Despite the still lingering ferocity in its offense, the Red-Nord could see it was beginning to weaken. Each swing of its bulging, muscled arms was more sluggish than the last. The Khajiit’s poison – though not potent enough to kill it outright – was slowly taking effect. Surely the lactic acid from physical exertion was building in exponential amounts now; the xivilai must be burning on the inside.

If the Khajiit’s poison was doing its job – Rithle’s must be too. He dropped his mace, favoring the speed over properly sheathing it. With hands crackling with electricity, he sprayed lightning onto the daedroth, making sure to angle himself in such a way to minimize friendly fire against his twin. The xivilai faltered in the face of electricity – momentarily stunning it.

The mage’s recently summoned atronach capitalized on the opportunity. Nistac watched in awe as the summoned creature slammed its icy fist into the side of the daedroth’s face with a painful crack. How anything could have stood after that blow was simply amazing to him. The next hit was caught by clawed hands, and the sound of sizzling could be heard as the xivilai’s fist erupted into flames. It screamed something in its own language – whatever it was, the Red-Nord could not understand it. A curse perhaps. The atronach was stopped dead in its track, but conversely – so was the xivilai.

An icy spear suddenly jutted out from the daedroth’s thigh – forcing it to an abrupt kneel. With all of its strength – it held on, both hands grappling with the frost atronach’s in a stalemate of brute strength. Nistac held his fire – magicka temporarily drained from his body. He didn’t dare rummage through his satchel just yet – he wasn’t sure if he could risk a moment of unawareness.

Grimacing, he caught his twin’s eye – a tacit suggestion clear within them. You’ve got a chance – kill it while it’s down!

The message didn't go over her head.

She was breathless - less from the effort and more from the excitement, having been trying to capitalize on every blow dealt by her fellows with vicious hacks of her own. Even so, the situation was still ludicrously dangerous, and she ought to have been concerned over the exhilaration she felt in place of fear.

Some grand providence saw it fit that she'd gone yet untouched, its fireballs aimed elsewhere, its blows grappled by the ice atronach. Perhaps it was due to the intereference of others, but the fact was that she was still kicking, and it seemed only a physical blow would ensure the xivilai did not remain the same.

Rithle moved quickly, letting her weight give her momentum as she brought her axe down on the beast's neck for a heavy-handed chop. So far weakened by the others, it could do little to dodge or stop the blow. The blade of the weapon made a fleshy crunching sort of sound as it went through bone and skin, or whatever made daedra.

There was no blood in that last blow, for by the time it came to bleeding, the xivilai had already begun to fade away.

A slow clapping filled the air followed by Alaric's voice in a not-quite sarcastic tone, "I must say, the two of you put on a good show... have you tried the Bard's College?" he chuckled a bit, "Let's be serious though... why in Oblivion were the two of you being chased by a Xivilai? I know you didn't conjure it, at least not with your own power, for that is beyond even me."

He wiped his hands on his side as he approached them, immediately taking in their appearances with a more than normal pause. "Forgive me, for I seem to have forgotten my manners... I am Alucard, and that feline in the fir would be my associate, Kari. We are Vigilants of Stendarr. We were resting when we heard your cries. You are lucky we were nearby, there have been reports of devils in these hills, Vampires and Werewolves in particular."

"Vigilants?" he repeated - a bit of hesitance in his voice. Tell them the truth? Or could they take them in for associating with daedra? He gave Rithle a hopeless look, uncertainty in his eyes. "Er, well... I'm Nistac - and this is my sister: Rithle Joy-Killer. Nice to meet you."

He paused for a moment, taking off his helmet. Nervously, he rubbed the back of his neck as if contemplating how to answer.
"It's not our fault," he said. "We weren't summoning anything - I'm no conjurer. It just... appeared while we were on the road. And... well, you should know the rest."

Dar'savi dropped from the trees behind the group "It''s a pleasure though I must ask why would a daedra was her in skyrim of all places?" she asked

Edward had been observing from a hilltop, vigilants of stendarr he hadn't hunted those in a while Falion and the others would be so pleased with him. The vigil of stendarr was the covens worst enemy and had been pursuing them for a while, if he could get close then maybe he could get the drop on them before they got their wards up.

He approached the group while looking around for nearby dead bodies. The first thing that was odd was that there were only two vigilants usually there would be three or four, and the second thing is that one of them was a khajit. khajits usually would not be part of them and some of them even worship shegorath.
" Whoa that was a big daedra you just took down i knew the the vigil was powerful but that was amazing" he said putting on a fake voice, if he was lucky they would think he was just a harmless young man.

(Sorry dude(tte?), but no one is going to think he is harmless when he is wearing Necromancer robes and approaching supposed vigilants of Stendarr. Just going by the charrie sheet default, since you didn't post any different.)

"Yes, yes it was, and thank you so much for your help, it was very helpful and helping. I think you perched up there on the hill sitting pretty may have distracted it a bit." He was in full stereotypical Altmer mode, nose in the air, haughty, you name it, he was doing it. "That is, assuming it wasn't just looking at you to pass the time, but for a command?" Alaric was wary, he didn't know from where this young man was, but he was obviously a practitioner of magic. He carried no visible weapons save for a staff, another sign that he was a magic user, so why did he hang back? Any mages worth their salt would have been down there trying to get a look at the less than typical daedra.

Alaric glanced around, observing their surroundings. His night vision was still working, but his clothes weren't quite dark enough for his tastes 'In the bin they go... I refuse to be caught like this again.' "So why didn't you help? You are obviously some sort of mage, so why didn't curiosity, at the very least, get ahold of you and bring you down to get a closer look? I know I'd have wanted to learn more, as would any of my other associates at the college, or around Skyrim for that matter."

"Well we all have our secrets don't we VAMPIRE." he said to them.
he noticed as soon as he got close: the slightly fang like tooth, the pale complexion. Even under his hood he could see.
"Oh bravo vampire disguised as vampire hunter, you can fool these buffoons but not me."he sneered at him
"So the question is what Organisation are you fro?." he asked him
Ed then put away his staff and took out an almost identical one only this one had fireball in it.

Dar'savi drew her daggers ready to strike "None that you'll hopefully worry about" she stated glaring at them with her own night vision. "One may say we are simply a group of 'problem solvers'."

Rithle took a step back.

Vampire? Fuuuuu-

And the one to catch it was wearing necromancer's robes, too.

She didn't really give a damn what the undead did in their free-time, but parading as vigilants didn't exactly spell honesty - they were probably involved in some type of illicit activities. Not that they didn't do business with the Thieves' Guild every now and then, but this gave her a bad feeling. Maybe it was the weapons being drawn.

The Redguard-Nord was vaguely relieved she hadn't put away her axe after that fight, keeping it ready and waiting in her hand as she used her shield-arm to catch Nistac by the shoulder and pull him backwards, away from the possible psycho face-off. He had better start potion-chugging - if there was a fight, they needed to be prepared.

"Oh, yes, just accuse me of being a vampire because I have pale skin. You're obviously a backwards fool who has never seen a person that has been dedicated to the service of the divines, a ceremonial blessing that will make even the darkest Dunmer white as the snows of Winterhold. Why don't you accuse me of being a disgusting Thalmor agent just because I'm an Altmer while you are at it, since all you seem to need to make an accusation is one little piece of information which has nothing to do with anything." He sneered in the darkness, he knew that no one could see much, other than Dar'savi and himself of course, and casting magelight or candlelight in the night would only serve to prove his own point. He was in his element now, none had found out his secret in the last several decades, his sword-like tongue and constant feeding on animals keeping the vampirism beat back.

He saw the necromancer bring out a staff, his constant dabbling in enchanting allowing him to discern its 'heated' nature. He wasn't scared, he knew his minion still lingered in the shadows, ready to strike whenever needed, and he had been dabbling in the arcane far longer than the longer than the thick-headed moron with which he now dealt. It was high time to use his tongue to turn the others to his cause. "And these 'buffoons' as you have called them, are no doubt smart enough to see when they are being played, in other words, when an obvious necromancer is attempting to turn civilians against a holy order in order to further their own nefarious agendas by throwing about wild and unfounded accusations..."

Alaric saw his sister react violently to the nord's remarks, almost blowing their cover in the process and could barely keep himself from wincing. But he could do this, he'd been doing it for years... he just hoped the two younglings would side with him, he didn't think there was anything wrong with them, it just seemed like they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. "Kari, stand down! There is no reason to sully ourselves with the blood of the ignorant and hot-headed just yet. As for you, deceiver, we told you already, we are holy vessels and the arbiters of the light. You would do well to remember that fact, especially since I, being dedicated to them, speak on behalf of all the divines..." He placed perfect intonation into his words, a certain elegance that threatened, but at the same time, could not necessarily be called a threat. He just hoped his honeyed yet dicing tongue worked its proper magic...


(This thread takes place LESS than 24 hours after "Shatter the Shield". This means that he would not be showing signs of vampirism, especially not in the dark where no one would even be able to see his features. He is also not wearing a hood. He is wearing the same outfit as Sven plus an enchanted circlet, which I described and gave a link to. Think before you post and/or outright announce major plot elements please.)