<div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Arcadia's Cauldron</span></div><br/>The bubbling of the various potions cooking in the Cauldron's back rooms had a wry smell to the establishment tonight. Like honey melding with the essence of something strange. Luckily no patrons were currently in the shop to smell it, aside from Jo'Shaar that was.  Standing behind the counter wasn't Arcadia, however, it was her daughter Nessa. The brunette in her early twenties stopped what she was doing with sorting the supplies to stare his way, a smile coming over her lips as he made his requests. She was the one he mostly dealt with, as Arcadia herself was beginning to age, Nessa more often then not looked over the shop.<strong>"Pigs Blood? By Kyne, that's a strange request."</strong>She mused with a giggle.<br/><br/>Regardless of her reaction, Nessa seemed to pull the list that had accompanied her new shipment, comparing it alongside what was probably the merchant's in recording of what she currently had in stock. After but a moment, the lady sat them down and turned her attention back to Jo'shaar.<strong>"It's used in a number of recipes, and seems I have quite a bit in stock actually. I won't ask what you plan to use it for. You've been a good customer since coming here, and quite the help around the shop on occasion. If you say it's for the Jarl, that's who I'll bill it to."</strong>The young Alchemist said with a smile, holding up a single finger as she gave him a wink.<br/><br/><strong>"One moment, let me fetch it from the back."</strong>Nessa said, turning on her heels to disappear inside the Cauldron's stock room. It took the lovey imperial but a moment before she appeared again, though now carrying a small crate filled with crimson phials. Setting it on the counter, Nessa then produced a small piece of parchment that she began to scribe the bill upon.<strong>"Just need you to mark this with your sigil, Jo'shaar; then we'll be all set."</strong>She remarked, looking up to him again. With someone under the Jarl's charge giving their Sigil, he'd be required to pay on their behalf. By his own laws.<br/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Dragon's Reach</span></div><br/>Jarl Frothar seemed exhausted with the exit of Lucretia and her companion. Quickly, he downed the last of his tankard, looking for one of the servants. It wasn't any time at all before Nalie stepped up in their stead, trying her attempt at flirting more information from the man. Frothar smirked at her question, not a smirk of mirth, more the grim half smile of a man in a bad situation.<strong>"I can tell you it's not what you think it is."</strong>The Jarl started, shaking his head for a bit before he tipped back another large swig of the liquor she'd just poured him.<br/><br/><strong>"It looks like one of the eight; but it's not. Items like these appear only in our most darkest legends, stories of priest that didn't worship the dragons of man. Farengar told me about them when I was a child."</strong>It would occur to Nalie then that she couldn't remember the mask because it wasn't one of those she was thinking of. She'd recall from the drawing mythic lines running through it, and her time back in the Thalmor would rush to her. Those were Daedric Runes; and strong ones at that. The item was certainly forged here, but it was unlikely it was forged by a Nord. And if it was, then these were men were hearts far more black then Sovengarde would ever welcome.<br/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">The Bannered Mare: Ru'Ashka's Room</span></div><br/>The Siren screamed as Ru's spell tore through her, the lightening shocking her even as the added blast seemed to throw Lethander back. His sword clanked to the ground while he shook his head, light areas of his fur cloak being scorched from the blast.<strong>"The witch will regret it!'</strong>The Siren cried, in a voice echoing pain as his form seemed to slither into wispy vapors. With that, her presence was no longer felt. Though words forged on the wall behind her. They weren't crude, but were misshapen like the visage of something which had written with steam.<br/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Sister's should not fight their kin. <br/>We await for you to join us.<br/>Let these people know their place. <br/>Help us let them realize that the empires of man have come to an end. <br/></span></div><br/>Lethander stumbled a bit more then, catching his footing before he held himself up on the table. At the words now on the wall, his eyes flashed to Ru with some concern.<strong>"Do they know ye?"</strong>He asked, though it wasn't placed with any suspicion. Truthfully, it was doubtful that the Dominion here would know who she was. However, it was quite likely they would have noticed the half-breed's presence within the Hold. Though spliced blood, she was still one of them in the Dominion's eyes. She was mer, and they would try to use her against the men here.<br/><br/>Lethander frowned after but a moment, and retrieved his sword.<strong>"Come with me back to Dragon's Reach? Ye can explain what happened here better then I. Storms are forming. And I fear they'll swarm faster then we think."</strong>He said with a grunt, before stepping to the door; casting an eye back to the woman whom had just possibly saved his life. The Siren was a half corporeal creature from the lower planes. It was unlikely that the Captain's sword alone could have killed it.