Diana
"The ones who do just that, yes I agree. Slaughter them like animals because that's all they are."

*Veezari sheathed his silver sword, sliding his shield onto his back to hang there as he looked at Zasana*
"Long as you kill them too, I think I'm gonna be fast friends with you. Sadly I think my traveling is going to have to wait. Whiterun isn't close as I'm sure you're more aware than I am. I'm native of Cyrodiil, not Skyrim."
Peter
"I'm from here... Theres a... Sort of plantation that a Vampire runs. A vineyard. A lot of Dunmer refugees ended up there. I left... I couldnt take it anymore. It's against Boethiah, and the other Two."

*He looked him up and down.*

"Blackwood? Bravil? Leyawiin? I heard thats where most argonians live there."
Diana
"I'm sorry you had to leave. I'd have done the same thing. Can't stand any vampire."

*Veezari started to pack up his camp, still talking as he busied himself with the tent and campfire supplies*
"So how'd you do that? The duplication. Got a ring or something?"

*The Argonian asked, his legion armor sort of clinking against the metal bits of the tent kit*
Peter
"It's not that she was doing anything wrong... She was draining the blood from the dead corpses of those who died there, they all agreed on it. She was actually quite pleasant. But she cant have the biggest New Temple congregation in skyrim while being one of Molag Bal's. It's against everything the temple stands for."

*He pulled out the sword. It's strange radiance lit his face red. It didn't seem... Evil. Intimidating, powerful was closer.*

"The Duplici Gladio. An artifact of Boethiah. It allows me to create copies of myself, 5 is the most I've tried. I can't control them, though."
Diana
"Well just because everybody agrees to it doesn't make it any less horrid to think about. Can't let their corpses rot in peace?"

*Finishing up getting his camp together, he stuffed it into his pack and placed it onto his back, behind his shield*
"Pretty useful sword. My own was gifted to me by my Father. And my armor is an old unmarked legion armor. I still don't even know why my father had it, but it's mine now."
Peter
"Can't imagine he was a guard. Or in the Legion."

*The rasp of his voice was going away. He actually had a very soft, quiet voice. It came out as he began to trust people.*

"I suppose... She makes the best wine in Tamriel though. Nothing compares."
Diana
"No clue. I'm tracking down their killers before heading home to solve problems back there. Back in Bravil."

*He adjusted the straps that kept his shield on his back before eying Zasana*
"Oh? You'll have to introduce me to that drink sometime. I'm no fan of vampires but I love a good wine. Bloodwine is one of my favorites."
Peter
"Bravil..."

*He took a very long pause and then smirked slightly.*

"You... *Want* To go back there? I mean no offense, but that might be the worst place on Tamriel that isn't Alinor for someone who isn't an altmer."
Mary
"Call me sentimental. Thalmor don't scare me. What scares me is nobody standing up to them."

*Veezari moved to check the corpses of the vampires they had just killed, rummaging through their belongings and pulling off a few coins and a dagger or two to sell later. Nothing much, considering they just had robes on from the looks of it*
"Vermin. At least these."
Peter
"These feral ones never have anything interesting. Maybe then Den leaders. That dagger might buy you lunch one day, though."

*The way he spoke. Homely? Something like that. He did grow up on a farm.*

"Stormcloaks will. Maybe then they'll treat our kind right. Me and you."
Mary
"It'll be sold to the nearest vendor for sure."

*He wiped some of the blood off of the two daggers he found on the vampires and stuffed them into his pack, looking at his newfound companion*
"You would hope. But what happens when the imperials are gone? Stormcloaks nor the Imperials like my kind. Racism runs deep, regardless of who you are. Hopefully, this fighting helps them see a bigger picture."
Peter
"Never will. Its a cycle. Everyone hates everyone."

*Bleak but correct. Things likely would never change. He was wearing the armor that was the spitting image of Dunmer Racism. Ordinators.*

"Ivarstead isn't far, if you wanted to go there in the morning."

*He removed his bag, and took a collection of sturdy looking sticks out.*
Mary
"Considering I just packed my camp up, sure. We can make for camp come sunrise."
*Veezari sat down near a stump and shoved the vampire bodies over towards a secluded spot so they didn't bother him during his sleep*


"I'm not very familiar with Skyrim as much as the Colovian landscape. Ivarstead is closer to Whiterun correct?"

*He asked, inquiring about the geography of the place*
Peter
"It's close, around the Throat of the World. It's at the foot of it."

*He put his pack on realizing they weren't making camp.*