Yenkry had indeed fallen to sleep, a quiet and motionless one. It had been days since her last nightmare, but as she slept, her brain began to reorganize her memory of the day. She realized that this Kaldmit fellow was important to her, the orc, well, staying away from him. The Elves; No probems yet. The innkeep; who's he again? With all this imformation, and crazy things happening, the was only one thing that seemed to be pervading her mind constantly: Where was her daughter? She would figure it out, even if it took her multiple cycles of the moons. It had already been two cycles, so why not more?

Thurin seemed pleased to see Nelithuun take his axe in hand. He raised a hand to gesture his departure back to the cave. His return certainly wasn't a hasty one, as the wind had picked up and blew against him.

He approached the mouth of the cave and faintly heard someone call out, so he picked up his pace. However, entering the cave proved to be more challenging than expected, as he was assaulted by a waft of what smelled of rotten vegetables. Thurin clutched his stomach and pressed on. Snapping his fingers to snag any attention he could get, he wrote "Wo zaan?" in the air with flames.

Thwack. Thwack.

Ralund hacked at a thin birch tree with the Nordman's axe that Nelithuun had offered him. Its intricate, iron head bit deep into the bark. He shook his head to fight off memories of the headsmen who would decapitate traitors to the Dragon Cult just as effortlessly.

He and Nelithuun gathered firewood in silence with little but the howling of the wind to keep them company. Ralund kept his guard; worse things than wolves haunted these frozen wastes at night.

They trudged through snow banks back to the cavern mouth with the firewood in hand. It would be enough to last the night.

But when Ralund stepped inside, the firewood in his arms clattered to the ground.

Clunk. Clatter.

The cave was empty. The party was gone.

The Falmeri language was a muddled mix of traditional Aldmeri and Dwemer, with some Atmoran slang for good measure.  When speaking amongst themselves, Falmer spoke too quick and their accents were too thick for outsiders to fully grasp complete sentences. 

At least that how it used to be in the days when Falmer and Ayleid kings conducted trade.  Ancestors, it must have been at least a whole human generation ago, when the king would trade foodstuffs for good Atmoran bonds.  Make that two generations ago. 

The sisters who taught Veabris their language over the time it took to bring them back to Lindai.  They, like their kinsmen, had always been treated differently than the Nedes.  hardier, bigger, and famous for the blood of fellow Mer on their hands, they were an oddity for sure.  

They were never put to work like the Nedes, either.  Their owners enjoying showing off the exotic possessions.  Because of this, any that were kept usually retained their name, clothes and culture.  Some more courtier than servant.

A disgusting, retching sound was heard from the direction Veabris had come from.  Hissing whispers and scuffing feet echoed from the shadows, more eyes and more faces made their presence known.

“Yah!”  The Falmer in the light said with a jerk to the shadows who, upon hearing their orders, promptly disappeared only to return moments later with a figure in-hand.

They returned carrying the Orc, one Mer for each arm and another supporting from behide.  He was unconscious, but appeared unharmed.

 “Ogiim?”  The lead Falmer’s head turned listlessly with a wicked grin smeared over his face. “Wo daar Ogiim?”

“Zaami.”

“Hi pogaan zaam het?”

The Ayleid replied that there were four more.

He pulled a dull, rusted blade and pressed the tip to Veabris’s face.  The rest watched.  Ten, no fifty, no a hundred invisible eyes glared.  Impossible to know how many made that chill run down the Mer’s spine, impossible to tell what weaponry they held as the sweat and pressure built.

"Tinvaak lo, 'drogsezaam', ahrk zu'u vey slen."  He flicked the blade, cutting a thin line.

More returned with the two beast folk, both properly muzzled with cloth, and unconscious as well.  It wouldn’t be long before the Falmer grabbed the rest.

“Ni zaamiil, Pellan.”

Heartbeat pounding in ears, no way out.  No chance to run. 

Their lives would be irrelevant if it came down to a choice.  The scaled thing showed no signs of sanity or compassion, while the furred thing showed no ability to do more than stand in someone else’s sun.  By his very nature, the Orc would go his own way.  As much as Veabris wished to follow Merid-Nunda’s plans, the Orc remained unneeded.

The rest the Falmer had not found just yet.  The large Atmoran was an unknown, the Innkeeper the cause of their current problem, and the fellow Ayleid a liar.

Personal safety was the only valid concern now.  The others would take care of themselves.  Getting out, getting away the only course of action.  The rest were nothing.  Worthless, lesser, nothing.

Time itself stilled.  All watched, all waited for the other to react, to slip or miss a single breath. 

And then something broke.

Veabris bolted.  Ran as fast as two feet could carry a person.  Towards the way out.  Away from the Falmer.  Run. 

A rock slightly wetter than those around it. 

A slip.

A fall. 

A fail.

Lying before the leader, a failure.

Nelithuun had fallen behind Ralund, and quickened his pace when he heard the clatter of his firewood. He arrived to find Ralund, frozen, and everyone gone.

"Kolos los nust?" Nelithuun asked. He didn't expect Ralund to know, but maybe he did.

"Faasnu," Crunzugr said, but the Elf didn't respond.

The only response he could hear was the shuffling of feet -- too many. Damn, thought Crunzugr, knowing he'd do l given away his position. No, it wasn't his speech but the grossly loud retching... Not that it would do much help, being how weak he was from not getting a decent meal. Slipping his dagger out and readying it, he shuffled to the wall close to the edge of the entrance deeper and waited as quietly as he could. He knew they knew he was there. If anything moved that wasn’t elf-like, he would certainly try to bring it down before who or whatever they were got to him.The shuffling had oddly quieted down, so he started paying more attention to the muted words. They were hard to follow. The voice was the mixture of a growl and a high-pitched hiss -- definitely not that elf’s. He knew her voice  when she answered, though.

“...Zaam…” he definitely heard. He couldn't quite process what was going on. He grew concerned when the elf’s voice suddenly cut off. The growly whine continued again. What was going on? He though to himself. He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard fast shuffling -- too close! He cursed his carelessness. A slight movement of air was his only signal to act. He gripped his dagger so the hilt was at his thumb and the blade toward the ground - he stabbed blindly at whatever was there. He lost his balance as the blade rattled against the cave wall. Missed! The movement was so quick. He saw a gangly hand grab his arm while the other grabbed his trachea, pulling it down swiftly to meet the floor of the cave. He tried to growl, but his air supply was cut off. He was getting light-headed and was dazed from the impact to his head. Struggling to keep his head up proved difficult,  a strike to the back of his head put an end to the struggle entirely and he blacked out.

Kaldmit was at the mouth of the cave when he heared the shuffling of feet behind him. As he turned to see who it was, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head and he fell forward. When he looked up he saw an elf-looking creature before he saw the creature lift the butt of it's sword and he blacked out. He woke up and he looked around, seeing Yenkry, he went to talk but he saw that he was muzzled and tied up. He looked everywhere else and he saw Veabris.

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Yenkry had been muzzled before, so when the humchbacked elves kiddnapped her, she was compliant. Although, they did hit her upside the head, so she had passed out, having now no idea what was going on and where they were going. When she woke up, it was not a sight that many should live to tell about.

Yenkry had been muzzled before, so when the humchbacked elves kiddnapped her, she was compliant. Although, they did hit her upside the head, so she had passed out, having now no idea what was going on and where they were going. When she woke up, it was not a sight that many should live to tell about.

Thurin peeked cautiously around the edge of the cave, as he had been pacing, waiting for Ralund and Nelithuun to return, and he saw that they did. They looked on edge, so he could only assume that they had seen the lack of members in the cave. In order to not startle them, he lit a small floating flame in front of them and guided it to him.

As soon as he had their attention, he wrote "Mu fen siiv un fahdonne" in the air. But were they actually friends? No, they were just acquaintances, a small, haphazard group of adventurers roped into a seemingly insane quest. Right...?

After he revealed himself, he walked into the cave and cast a small ball of flame to use for light. The sudden disappearance of the rest of the group gave him chills. Where have they all gone? Were they taken? If so, by whom? He shook his head, realizing that he was worrying too much about people he'd only just met. Thurin stepped further into the lightless abyss at the other end of the cave, watching and listening carefully for anything unusual. He stopped and lifted his hand toward the other two, gesturing for his axe back before he continues down.

With a hand clamped to Veabris’s scalp, the Mer felt the Falmer pull their captives over the rough, uneven cavern floor.  They were brought to the other side of the cavern room.  Like one large bubble with a belt around its middle, the part they came from had massive height, but dropped off rather quickly on both sides, giving the appearance of it being small.  Yet, between the glowing flora, magicka-created lights, and the prominent firepit, the true size of the cavern beyond the belt could be clearly seen.  Unlike the side they were in before, this side opened up immensity, with stalactites reaching down from an unseeable roof, like fingers outstretched to meet the meters-high stalagmites rising sharply from the ground.

The pale mer began to slow their pace as they reached the firepit, allowing the one who spoke with Veabris to walk well ahead of them and speak with a figure on the other side of the pit. Veabris and the others were dragged before the light of this same pit, placed down with the gentleness of an Ogre.  This seemed to stir the others if they weren’t awake already.

Wincing eyes opened quickly and soon swept the whole of the cavern.  Tents were neatly aligned in rows, with enough personalization to show just how long the Falmer had been staying here.  Chitin chimes and Ancestor totems, drying herbs and family weapons, on close inspection each tent could tell you many things about those who dwelled within.

The leader conversed with what could be seen as a robed woman standing tall.  A crest of white feather adorned her head, with beads and bits of cloth hanging off of it.  Veabris knew her in an instant, a Priestess of Auri-El.  And she too, could see the beads hanging off the Ayleid’s own white hair. 

Her face was highlighted by yellow, nearly glowing makeup, lines of it sweeping high above her eyes and down around her cheeks. She turned her gaze to the others, the wild Orc and two beasts from far way, acknowledging them in turn.  The one who had looked to be their leader stood in respectful silence, blank-faced yet still judging his catch while the priestess’s soft, dark eyes fell again to Veabris.

“Va latta, rielle ye sunna, sila sepredia.”  She said, almost a question in her tone, waiting for an answer. 

“Va sepredia, Auri-El emero nou wend.”  The Ayleid replied with bitterness and head bowed.

“Suna ye sunnabe.”  A smile painted her lips. “Nu, kyndgua, hi bo het?”

“Mu siiv goltsepraal.” said Veabris, eyes turning to the Orc for affirmation.  “Mu Wunduniikke.”

“Daar golt aan zofaas praal, ahrk zeymahzin med hin...”

“Zu'u tinvaak hin rot us hi.”  The star-eyed mer replied.  “Hi vonun nol Rahiil, Sonaak do Kun ahrk Lok.”

She took a step towards them, beads tapping together with her graceful movements.  Her snow-like face was resolute yet her expression unchanging.

“Zu'u Ayenyll, sonaak wah thur Auri-El ahrk monah wah ok kiirre het.” At this she looked upon the faces of her own, a hint of pride and care in her addressal of them. “Zu'u hind mu tinvaak nau hin daal.”

Escorted by the same mer as before, they were bought to a clumping of stalagmites in a rough circular form, spaced much too close together on all but one side to fit through.  A makeshift holding cell.  A single guard kept idle watch over them.

Fingers idlily picking at and tracing the gravel below, Veabris also watched.  They hadn’t been treated like prisoners, not yet.  More like wary guests left in another room so the hosts could speak to each other about it.  But never prisoners.  And that single thought gave the golden mer a bit of relief.  But now everything lied upon every word they next spoke, and every action they next made.

Taking a single glance at the patchwork gang, the Ayleid’s fingers pinched at some bits of pebble and flicked it away.  “Faaz ruth.”

Kaldmit woke up in a different cave than when he passed out. He looked around and saw Veabris in front of him. As Kaldmit tried to speak, he felt the resistance of the muzzle on his snout. Faaz nah ruth! he thought and started to look around for his weapons. As he looked around, he tried to break out of his bonds. But in doing so, his tail swung across the floor and it hit something hard and metalic in the room and it fell making a big clang.

Idle hands picked at the rock that was beneath all of their feet.  Veabris had kept to the edges for the amount of time they had be left in the stalagmite circle, not taking much consideration of the others unless they had something worthwhile to say.  Which according to the last two days, they wouldn’t.

The elf was oddly calm about this predicament they were in.  Technically they could all be killed or worse at any moment, but that wasn’t given much thought.  Something instead at the forefront of the mind was language and religion.

On the one hand, Veabris did not speak Falmeri proper.  While Ayleidoon and Falmeri were more or less dialects of the same language, they had involved independently of one another and now both could speak whole conversations the other can’t understand.  So far, the interactions have been understandable, but just having the power to completely hide their intentions behind slang and rhetorical figure made the Cyrodic mer anxious.

On the other hand, they followed the teachings of Auri-El, which meant no sacrifices or rituals to perform on hapless “guests”.  Followers of Him would be rather tame against different races and religions, and would explain the care and seriousness they took in this current matter.

A good deal of time passed before another Snow Elf appeared.  In that time Veabris meditated and prayed silently, one eye shooting open every now and again to check if the others gawked or stared or whatever reaction they would have. 

When the elf did appear, she pointed at the Ayleid while talking to the guard, and quickly enough the guard let her go by.

She was much taller than Veabris, that was clear to see as she hesitantly stepped in.  Beads swung off her ears and her violet eyes remained fixated on her goal.  A hand stretched out of her cloak and locked around the other elf’s arm.

“Shanta.”  She beckoned, a hardness to her voice.  It was time for the interrogation.