The screams were shrill and piercing, bouncing off the cold dead walls like a glancing arrow. The reverberation of other people's horror fell harsh upon Bandivar's ears. Cold and nearly naked with only a pair of damp hewn breeches to cover himself, he lay on the otherworldly stone floor of his cell, shivering and alone. He tried so desperately to focus on the sound of water droplets landing in the ground to distract himself from the screams and wails of those being tortured nearby. He had no idea where he was or how he'd gotten there, or even how long it had been since he first realized he'd been imprisoned. With each passing knock on the stones or creak in the wrought metal around him, he felt a sharp stab of terror in wondering if it was some sadistic fetcher coming to torture him next.

Suddenly, a figure appeared, and the lock of his cell door turned with a clatter that sounded to him like an explosion.

Bandivar's eyes shot open, and sunlight washed over him. The nightmare was over; Coldharbour still haunted him in his dreams, more than he cared to admit. He lifted from the bed. He felt a brush on his leg, and turned to recall that he was not alone. Her face covered by a wash of red hair, a beautiful Bosmer woman lay beside him occupying the remainder of the single-person bed. Bandivar could hardly help but smile as he saw her, Millenith the Smith, with whom he often spent time at the forge with, working and bonding. Last night was different, somehow; they had never been more than friends, and yet after only a few mugs, here they were. It wasn't the alcohol, Bandivar knew, but rather the loneliness. Mill was much like him; quiet, reserved, perhaps even shy, but strong-willed and strong-hearted under the surface. The two of them took to one another when she certified him as a smith and were fast friends. Now, he wasn't sure what they were.

As he swung his legs over the bed, she stirred. He didn't speak as he ran his hands over his face to wipe away the grogginess. Outside, the sounds of Davon's Watch carried through the window. "Good morning," she said, lifting form the bed to rest on her elbows. "Sneaking out?"

"Something like that," Bandivar said lowly, turning to give her a slight smile.

She grinned, but the awkward tension in the air was hard to ignore. Bandivar never understood the free spirit humans had, always bunking with one another at the slightest whim, but he had to admit there was a sense of liberation about it in the moment. Still, when the morning came, the feeling of uncertainty was hard to shake. And yet, amidst it all, he could not for his life figure out why it mattered. Mill sat up, covering herself with her arm as she turned the other way, her back to her suitor. Bandivar diverted his attention to getting dressed.

He was just buckling his sword belt when a knock came at the door. Mill was dressed by this time, and so she moved around him and left the bedroom to answer it. Though he could not see, he heard a male voice speak his name, and so he peered through the bedroom door to see who it could be. The man at the door spotted him and extended his hand, which held a letter. Taking it curiously, Bandivar unsealed the waxen stamp of the Ebonheart Pact as the courier took his leave.

Bandivar Morvayn,

Your involvement in the defense of Davon's Watch made an impression on me. I extend the spine of regret to inform you that Lieutenant Gabron, whose life you helped defend in battle, has died of his wounds. With his scales gone dry, I have been awarded a battlefield promotion. I have a special assignment that could use your talents. I have asked a few of the veterans of the battle to meet me at the camp to the north of Lukiul Uxith; please join us as soon as you are able. Time is of the essence.

--Lt. Sings-No-Song

"Looks official," Mill said, folding her arms and looking on curiously.

Bandivar sighed. "It is. Would you mind helping me with my armor?"


The midday sun hung high over the Stonefalls. A diminutive Pact camp encircled a small lake, where a handful of soldiers were washing their boots and sitting down for chow. Bandivar knew the men weren't here for a combat mission, or else there would be more of them, but he couldn't imagine what else they might be doing in this part of the Stonefalls-- Lukiul Uxith lied south, and Fort Virak to the north, and the lands inbetween were mostly untroubled. He had met Sergeant Song, as he was called by those who knew him, not long ago in the defense of Davon's Watch just a few miles east; he was a stiff Argonian, always having something to say about the Black Marsh tradition. He held nothing but contempt for Bandivar at first-- likely because he was Dunmer, he reasoned-- although that melted away once they faced combat together.

Bandivar approached the camp astride his senche lioness, who loped with a casual confidence that none of the soldiers dared challenge. Despite the ferocious reputation that followed the creature, Else appeared comfortable and at home beneath her Dunmer rider-- armor, packs, and all. When they reached the command tent-- one of only four tents in the camp-- Bandivar dismounted with a clatter of armored plates and approached.

"Morvayn," spoke the Argonian from behind his table. "Please, come in and sit."

Stepping into the tent and glancing around, he saw that Song was not alone. The Pact soldiers in the tent, seemingly engaged previously in conversation with one another, turned and excused themselves as Bandivar entered. "Congradulations on your promotoion, Lieutenant," he said in greeting.

The Argonian frowned-- or so Bandivar thought, for he had difficulty telling sometimes. "It is not a celebration for me. It means only a greater load upon my back. That is why I have summoned you here; I have a mission and I urgently need your assistance."

Bandivar approached the table and pulled out a chair, taking a seat. On the table was a detailed map of the Stonefalls, and a few scrolls that were rolled up and tucked behind a few books. A mug sat near Song's hand, but it appeared empty. "How can I help?" asked Bandivar, deciding to be patriotic.

"I shall explain shortly," he replied. "You are only the first to arrive. I am awaiting three more with whom we have shared the bond of combat."