Before the Storm

[Mandor of Archen]

The scent of burning flesh filled the air. Where the clan house once stood, there was nothing left but flame and ash. No-one had been spared, not even the children. Corpses littered the ground, laying wherever they had fallen as sword and spells ended their lives.

The rumours of purges had seemed so far-fetched to him. Surely their own brethren were incapable of such cruelty. The High Elves, the Thalmor, had struck while the men were out on a hunt. What had been a thriving community was now reduced to a handful of survivors.

Lord Mandor, Treethane of Archen, clenched his fists at his sides. This was the third such scene he had been summoned to in as many weeks. HIS people were suffering, and there was nothing to be done about it. The Aldmeri Dominions' influence was spreading...
__________

Spreading all the way to Skyrim. The young bosmer had taken shelter from the bitter cold in the Gray Quarter. The New Gnisis Cornerclub, a place filled with Dunmer and the occasional Nord. It felt good to be around cousins, better with a glass of Sun's Dusk ale sitting in front of him.

A faint smile touched his lips as he lowered his glass. His mind filled with thoughts of the forest, where the smallest of trees was nearly fifty feet tall. The Xylo River, grey-green, slowly winding it's way through the lush vegetation along it's banks. Thoughts of his family, his court, his friends and fellow hunters. Of Archen.

The journey from Solstheim had been a relatively quiet one - he was the sole passenger aboard the Northern Maiden, aside from her small crew. While the Nords had been friendly, he had been in no mood for small talk. A bosmer in Skyrim was a rare sight; one clad in Skaal armor was even rarer. The scrape of wood on wood roused him from his thoughts, as someone slid into the chair across from him.

[Alecto Mordane]

"I hope you don't mind if I join you."

The question was academic on some level, as the stranger certainly already had. He was a Breton by his pale skin and sculpted features, with a pinched nose and a pointed chin beneath a thin beard that any Nord would scorn. He was strangely dressed, with a black, hooded tunic like the clothes of a mourner, with tightly bound leather gloves on his long, thin hands, and an Amulet of Akatosh (http://elderscrolls.wikia.com/wiki/Amulet_of_Akatosh) fashioned of polished ivory. His eyes were sharp and acid-yellow.

"This is, in my experience, the most interesting establishment in the Eastmarch. And you are quite possibly the most interesting person to have walked through its doors in quite some time."

[Mandor of Archen]

"Am I?"

Mandor looked over the other man, his jet black eyes taking in his appearance. He hadn't considered his own - his scarred face was covered in a layer of scruff, his head clean shaven save for the dark swath of hair running down the center. His armor, stalhrim lined with plush white fur, had been a gift from the Skaal of Solstheim, along with a fine greatsword crafted of the same unique material. It shone faintly in the dim light of the inn.

He took another swallow of ale, settling his glass between his hands. "I simply wished to be around my own kind, and the Dunmer are cousins to the Bosmeri. It's a rarer sight to see one such as yourself amongst the common folk, is it not?"

[Alecto Mordane]

Alecto set his own tankard of ale on the table and answered Mandor's question with a wave of his glove-bound hand. "Oh, I'm no one of consequence. Just an itinerant mage plying my trade in an ungrateful land. But I was referring to your armor. As I recall, there is only one tribe left in Tamriel who still know how to find and shape the ice-metal of the ancients. And they guard their secrets jealously from outsiders."

The Breton mage took a measured sip from his tankard. "Which makes you either a very talented thief, or a man with special connections. As I said, interesting. I don't suppose you'd care to share the tale of how you got it?"

[Mandor of Archen]

"I helped in the recovering of a lost member of their tribe," Mandor didn't feel the need to make mention of how he recovered the village blacksmith - the fact that it had been a plot by the Thalmor had simply made the endeavour more satisfying. "That member happened to be a smith, and this armor was my reward."

Raising his glass to his lips, he drained the rest and gestured to the bar keep for another. "I doubt you've chosen to talk to me about my exciting adventures in Solstheim. Or my sense of style."

[Alecto Mordane]

"Not entirely," the mage replied. "I've no desire to waste your time, so here it is. My name is Alecto Mordane. I am researching ancient and lost arts of conjuration and enchantment from ruins all over Tamriel. I've explored Ayelid sanctuaries, Dwemer cities, the tombs of ancient kings in Hammerfell... In all of them, I've found it useful to have a man or mer at my back who knows how to use a sword."

Alecto tipped back his tankard again and wiped the froth from his beard with the back of his hand. "This is not work for a typical sell-sword. Those are a septim for a dozen. It's always been my experience that when it comes to protection, you get what you pay for."

[Mandor of Archen]

A fresh glass was placed in front of him by a mirthless dunmer. Mandor nodded his thanks, then returned his attentions to the mage before him.

"True. Exactly what would this quest entail?"

A random dungeon run wasn't something he would normally be interested in - the prospect of looting ruins, fighting undead creatures or Dwemer automatons for a small amount of gold or random treasures just seemed foolish. Somehow, he felt that Mordane would scoff at such an idea. There was something different about the Breton who sat before him.

[Alecto Mordane]

Alecto smiled thinly. "Some miles west of here is a cave called Duskglow Crevice (http://elderscrolls.wikia.com/wiki/Duskglow_Crevice), so named because it's easy for a passerby to mistake it for just a crack in the mountain ice, but the caves beyond the entrance are quite extensive. It used to be a haunt for bandits and skooma-runners, but quite recently something has driven them all away. Some say it's a new form of undead, and that they've been crawling up from caverns beneath Dwemer ruins."

He folded his long, thin fingers around his tankard. "If they are connected to the Dwemer, there's no telling what secrets they could hold. I need to get a closer look at them. But I don't know their capabilities. If they're as a hardy as Dwemer animunculi, I'll want someone with your talents along. I know this might seem a pedestrian task, but quite frankly I'd need to see you in action anyway before embarking on anything more involved. Pay shall be commensurate with the danger. If you're interested, I would even be willing to enchant some of that beautiful Stalhrim for you as a bonus."