John
*The hooded Nord who spied the group of guardsmen from a distance continued looking on at the scene, analyzing each of their faces and demeanors. Then, he smirked. If most of the guard were like the majority of boys and girls that he was seeing here, he might have a chance. Still, there were a couple that stood out to him. One being the older looking fellow, at least looking older due to his large beard, who stood tall at the front of the barracks. That one looked like a proper boulder in comparison to the other small pebbles strewn about the place.* 

*Halvar departed as silently as he came. He would return to this place later, probably to spot out the captain. If he was gonna pull his strings with the guard, might as well make it their leader so he has their whole organization in his pocket, he thought to himself.* 

*Halvar's next stop in his silent walkabout town was the temple. Wherever that was, and whoever that temple was dedicated to, Halvar needed to find it. He had heard those Vampire hunting Dawngaurd preferred to commune in those hallowed halls when not on the task. If that rumor proved to be true, then if there was a Dawngaurd presence in Morthal, it could be found here. And, if there was a Dawngaurd presence here, that needed to be dealt with before anything else.*
Joseph
As he sought the temples of the city, he would find that most of them were unprotected by Dawnguard, save for one. It was a Temple to the Old Ways, the ancient Nordic Pantheon that had experienced a resurgence since the end of the Civil War, and the spread of the actual Old Ways from the ancient shamans of Dawnstar and Windhelm. Upon viewing the temple, Halvar would notice a two men positioned outside. Two Dawnguard soldiers, equipped with silver and coated head to tough in lethal, elite, well-made armor. Their services to the people of Morthal were slim, compared to most other Holds, as they had played little part in the Movarth affair. The people of Morthal trusted the Dawnguard, but had no lasting love for them, as vampiric presence in the area had been few since his downfall. 

And yet, they stood, protecting the Hall of the Dead and the whispering chants within.
Eddie
Meanwhile, some ways away from the Temple, along the docks, seated on a wooden chair with a pipe in her left hand and a totem necklace in her right, one of the priestesses that had left that temple sat. Patiently scanning the waters, as if she was seeing something beneath the surface, but was unwilling to vocalize it. She remained utterly silent, like a shadow in the broad daylight, what with her overlapping grey shawls and brown fabrics, and her elderly face overshadowed by beads and braids and tattoos. 

The woman observed and observed, her eyes ever moving, and if Halvar looked long enough, he might even notice her gaze cross over him. But, it was a passing thing, ever shifting, as though she were a blind woman merely moving her eyes about. 

Whatever the case, the Temple was guarded, and it had many keepers.
John
*Halvar clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction. So, the Dawngaurd were here after all, and it seems they've fashioned this "Temple of the Old Ways" Into a base of operations in the town, or something along the lines of that. Regardless, so long as they were here, Halvar knew it would be difficult to operate without prying eyes and ears trained to follow his trail. The Dawnguard must be dealt with first, but their fall must be a subtle one so as not to put their entire organization on alert.* 

*His eyes did not fail to notice the elderly lady who looked as though she was connected to this same temple sit and scan the waters. If she was connected to vampire hunters directly, she was one to be cautious of. The shadowy vampire shifted about himself, keeping his profile low and blending in with whatever was around him in order to avoid taking too much notice of him.* 

*Still, he wanted to watch her for a moment or two longer, to see what she could be capable of. His gaze briefly shifted back to the Temple, and Halvar wondered what he could do to gain access to some classified information, such as what connections this temple has, or what threats the Dawnguard here are facing and how they plan to go about dealing with those threats.*
Eddie
The entrance to the Temple seemed to be the only one, despite its size. It was a multi-layered building, but not necessarily multi-floored. It was reminiscent of the structure of the rest of the town, but given a more steeple appearance with its highest point overlooking the entire marshland settlement, aside from the Jarl's Longhouse. The singular entrance was guarded, but it seemed anyone could come and go, from the local Conjurers and Mystics, to the most common of men and women. 

The longer Halvar observed, he would soon notice the old woman get up, place her hands deep within the fabrics of her burly dress, and made her way across the docks, back toward the temple. She paused to greet the guards, nodding to them politely, before entering.

There were windows high up on the temple, to let air flow in and out, large enough for someone to fit through or peer into the temple from.
John
*Halvar had dabbled rather deeply in the arcane arts since his rebirth as a child of the night. As a young and proud Son of Skyrim during his mortal life, he shared the enmity of most of Skyrim's children had towards the schools of magic. It was unnatural, it was cowardly, it was evil, only the weak and untrustworthy would consider to resolve any problem with anything but a face-to-face clash of steel. It was more honorable and just that way. Halvar believed it all as a simple Nord.* 

*But, the fate of the rebellion, and his dark ascension revealed to his once narrow and ignorant mind the truth of the matter. Power is to be pursued if victory is to be achieved, as victory only cares for the more powerful, no matter what form or shape that power takes. Power is power, and Halvar knew that if he was to conquer his foe, he could not be above using any form of power at his disposal. Thus, he grew a keen interest in practicing certain magics to aid his adjustments with his new life of undeath.*

*The Nord slinked back behind a wooden wall, and conjured a rudimentary spell he had been working on for several years. Far from a masterwork, but it would suffice for a situation like this one. It was of the Illusion school, and as Halvar allowed the spell's effect to flash over his body, his external vampire features would become suppressed. His black hair would turn a shade more to an auburn brown, his ominous yellow eyes faded into a calming gray-blue, and the skin around his face and neck would turn a shade more flush.*

*Looking at his reflection in a puddle, Halvar grinned. He no longer saw the horrible visage of a vampire, but that of a simple mortal. His mind strained slightly, as Halvar was no fan of using this spell due to the degree of mental concentration required to maintain the spell effect. But, if he were to get close to trained vampire hunters, a convincing disguise was all too necessary.* 

*The Nord shuffled, as he made his way into the temple with a gait of an ordinary townsman. His hood and mask were let down, so that the guards standing in front would see his disguised face as his real face and think nothing of him as he strode in to follow the old priestess inside the temple. Upon his entrance, if the guard allowed it without stopping him, Halvar looked around, taking in the surroundings of the temple's interior.*
Joseph
Cornelius and the other guard remained stoic and silent as Halvar approached. They looked at him, as well as other entering the temple, and said nothing. They were skilled, but not skilled enough to see through the glamour of a well-placed illusion spell. After all, they did not have Arkay's light shining down upon the temple, blasting away any monsters of the night. 

Halvar was free to walk past them, and the guards remained at the entrance.
Eddie
Within the temple, Halvar was subject to all of the old totems and ancient ways that he could have only dreamed about, when his Stormcloak Generals might have spoken about Shor, Tsun, Orkey, and all the other Nordic Gods that had been abducted into an Imperial, Southern religion. The Temple was a haven for mystics and chanting whisperers, as the arcane energies in the air was *Palpable* For Halvar, especially as a vampire sustained by the powers of undeath. 

It was old magic, gracing the Temple with ethereal, eclectic sorcery that the people of Morthal had come to accept. Their town was always mystical, and attracted wild folk, and their previous Jarl Ingrid the Elder, was definitely a boon to the town's magic practicing populace, even if she herself was not one. When Jarl Ingrid the Younger came to power, she provided even more safety to those who practiced, and now, the Temple was the epicenter of worldly powers. 

The Temple itself had an extension on the back, behind the mural, with two doors on either side of the mural that allowed entry into its recesses. If there were any documents, any evidence of the Temple's dealings and control over the town, it would be there. 

Or perhaps, Halvar would see all the power he needed, with a single preacher's demonstration of faith.

High Priestess Unirala, standing before a congregation of people, in front of a large mural of Stuhn. Stendarr, in the Imperial Pantheon, but here, he was the God of Ransom. Before him were thousands of prisoners of war, chained and stranded in a desert of blood and metal, screaming up at Stuhn for sanctuary or freedom, only to have the chains of the God wrapped about their throats, waiting for Ransom to Come. 

The old woman, looking at the crowd, began to rise. 

Her back unhunched, and her neck lengthened, and she seemed to take on the silhouette of a young, tall woman, rather than a old hag. Her face and wrinkles remained the same, as her old, withered hands reached up to the air, and her eyes, once seemingly blind from Halvar's observations, were a vibrant, nearly glowing silver in the light of the flames and sunlight entering the temple. 

The Priestess's voice boomed over the congregation, "Be Welcome, Children of Kyne. Be Welcome, Children of Shor. Be Welcome, Children of the World." She allowed her eyes to travel, her gaze consuming those in her audience, from Nords to the few Imperials, fewer Redguards, and even fewer Bretons, and finally, Mer. Her gaze upon them was subtle, and witheld all judgement. They were in her Temple, and seemed to be apart of her congregation, however heretical that may be to the old Nordic Faith. 

She looked out to the crowd, and then, her eyes *Locked* Onto Halvar. Her lips pursed into a button, before spreading into a broad grin as she preached, "May the Gods look down upon us all, and allow us the chance for Valor. For Glory. May we all pray, in order to reach the blessed lands of Shor's Hall. May we all pray, to seek the battlements and merriment of Sovngarde."

As she said this, a wave of energy fluttered over the crowd. The chanting mystics along the walls of the temple had casted a spell via their hymns, glistening the individuals within their presence. 

Halvar, if he was keen of eye and mind, would notice the effects of a Courage Spell, but with far more subtleties, far more care and precision. It was not overt control, but instead, a mixture of calm and courage, to make someone's body and mind calm, while their heart and soul raged with the bravery of a Nordic War Hero. 

"Feel the blessings of the Gods, feel the might of their glory, pray for their guidance in times of hardship, and know that all deeds done well, must be in their name. We are the sons and daughters of the Gods, and we must prove ourselves, if we wish to make them proud. Bow thine heads, and pray, for strength, passion, and victory."

The woman bowed her head slightly, but her eyes did not close. Those in the congregation seemed excited, yet calm, and clasped their hands as they bowed their heads, praying to the Gods of the Temple. 

Meanwhile, Unirala watched Halvar, her smile remaining, and her eyes wholly focused. 

Until, they weren't.

They passed over him, finally, and closed, her arms coming together as she clasped her hands.
John
*Upon first witnessing the array of totems and murals displayed to honor the Old Nord gods, Halvar had to mentally fight back and hold down the wave of memories that threatened to flood his mind and break his concentration on his arcane disguise. They were memories of better days, and somewhat better times, but he chided himself to stay focused on the task at hand. Still, the mixture of the clearly strong magics that were emanating through this hall, combined with his own nostalgia from his family having been worshippers of many of these very same gods, was almost enough to make the vampire dizzy. Still, he held firm and kept his mental and physical focus.* 

*Upon looking around at the scene of the temple further, he realized he had stepped in just in time to witness the worship congregation, and any feeling of respect for the temple or nostalgia were turned to disgust as he saw what were clearly outsiders to the Nordic people freely mingling and bringing in their foreign influences to what should be a faith sacred for the Nords. He didn't allow himself to get overly worked up about it, as he reminded himself that he was now devoted to one of the true gods, and the traditional Nordic gods were no different than the sleeping Divines. Still, it was disheartening to see yet another facet of traditional Nord culture bastardized and molested by the damnable Empire.*

*Halvar allowed that spike of anger to disillusion himself away from the temple's displays, and refocus on the objective at hand. Behind the impressive mural dedicated to Stuhn were two doors that presumably led into the restricted backstage of the temple. Halvar smiled, as his target now seemed only a few short steps away. That was, until he was stopped by the sudden feeling of the magics in the temple suddenly swirling around the epicenter that was the same woman he saw scanning the waters earlier. He could almost taste the magic weaves she was harnessing around herself to bestow upon herself supernatural beauty as her words sent forth these waves of her magics into the flock of sheep that admired her. Halvar, being conscious to these magical weaves, only allowed a small part of them to enter his mind, just to get a taste of what she was casting upon her followers without succumbing to it.* 

*So, she was an illusionist, just like himself. Except, she was likely not only more skilled in illusion, but magic arts in general given how advanced in years this woman looked to be. Halvar was just about to remind himself to just be extremely cautious around her and move on to his objective, before her silver eyes fell upon his. Halvar felt a shiver crawl up his spine, as her silvery gaze was now locked upon his own, and the two figures looked each other over for what felt like an hour as she continued her sermon.*

*Halvar's stomach twisted, and he almost broke his disguise before refocusing. Had his mission in Morthal already been compromised? This lady seemed to be a flawless master in the field of illusion, and she seemed to be in some sort of... Ascended state at that. It really would be no surprise if she saw right past his illusion like a sheet of parchment against a raging storm. Halvar chose to maintain his composure, doing his best to blend in with the crowd around him. He bowed his head in a mimic of prayer after a moment, as he shifted around to do his best to get out of her immediate line of sight.* 

*In fact, Halvar did find himself quietly mumbling a prayer, but it wasn't to Stuhn or Kyne or any of the sleeping gods.* 

*"Father of Coldhabor, I beseech you. This monument defies you, and opposes your glory. Look at the weak, null gods they revere. Look at the foul light that they harness and strive for. Look at how this house is protected by those who would slaughter your children. I ask you to guide me, and let your vengeful son be the hand of ruination upon this temple, and the agent of defilement." It was a very quiet prayer, the words indecipherable to all but those would would be right next to him and keenly listening in on his voice.*
Eddie
The woman remained silent, bowing her head passively. 

As for Halvar's whispered prayer, she made no comment... But, it would seem, that her powers over the congregation, despite Halvar's already prior resistance, was even more nullified against his mind. The Gods provided power to their worshippers, and even the Daedra, with limited influence over Mundus, had their ways of providing sanctuary to their disciples. 

Though, of course, the peace he would feel, at the powers of the Mystic being shunned, would quickly turn to visions of domination. Visions of control and annihilation of their little, inferior temple. The visions quieted as quickly as they came, to remind Halvar of all the promises Molag Bal could provide. 

Thus, when the moment of silence ended, Unirala looked up, as did her congregation, and she smiled. "Blessed be the day when Sovngarde's doors open, children. The War at the End of the World shall not be our last, should we remain strong, and righteous in our path." 

The elderly woman nodded to the audience, and the magicks of the hymn-speakers along the sides of the temple ceased. The Priestess stepped away from the mural, and allowed the people to remain, as another preacher got onto the stage. A younger man, with nicer robes and garments, and a burly beard. Through the whiskers around his lips, he began to utter sermons, while Unirala turned her head to the crowd, before her eyes flicked to Halvar. 

The corner of her lip upturned a little, into a grin, as she turned, and wandered into the back of the temple.

If Halvar chose to move, he would notice that not a single person would notice him. At first, it was reasonable. He was a stranger, he was not being loud or rambunctious, but as he watched the younger preacher, who looked each of his congregates in the eye, when it became Halvar's turn, the man...*Did not see him*.

If he moved, or shuffled about, none would hear him. 

And in the back of the temple, the High Priestess waited. 

Would Halvar understand the invitation? The Demand? The *Command*? 

He could either delve deeper into the rabbit hole, or simply leave.

None would choose for him.