Feigning death.

Smoke rises from Tanglehaven, more than usual, thick black ink stains the skies as the smell of fire drifts through to Vulkwasten. A few of the common folk are seen running towards the source of the dark column of smoke. A singular building is burning, and the people there are rushing to and fro with buckets filled to the brims with water. Desperately trying to extinguish the flames.

The fires intensity flashes the first few buckets into vapor as the two forces collide, a sulfurous scent hangs near the burning building and greenish yellow smoke lingers low on the ground. As the fire reels back in retreat from the liquid onslaught the sulfuric scent grows stronger and the smell of charred flesh takes its side.

((Before continuing this RP, I would like to make a note that Vulkwasten and the outerlying areas are flooded at the moment; A rift opened up and pretty much threw a ton of ocean water and aquatic life into Vulkwasten, so the place is under water at the moment.))

((Thats fine, lets make it prior to the flooding setting it apart from whatever happened, I'm still on hiatus. soooo i have no clue what is happen.))

((The flooding is over, for the most part, if you'd like to set it at a present time.))

Heavy footsteps approach as a helmeted figure appears on the road. Gleaming blue armor of Imperial fashion is accompanied by white trim on metal plate, with a tabard resting over the chest. a heaving battleaxe on the back, and two daggers on belt loop. Smelling lightly of citrus. Fashionable.

With a trademark grunt, the figure makes a dead stop in the road and immediately turns to their satchel. A bag, supported by a leather strap resting over the left shoulder. Buckled around and set on the right hip. Flipping the cover up, the figure fumbles around before pulling out an assortment of parchment. With a thin stick of charcoal, the figure begins to scribble something onto the surface of the paper.

After a long pause, the materials are set back in their satchel, and the figure approaches the building. Little is made in the way of inquiry; the figure simply stands there, watching the fire.

((Sure present it is.))

The smoke drifts with the winds, licking at the trees nearby staining them with the sulfuric scent as it dances among the green. As the figure approaches the citizenry part slightly making way for the armored person. A bosmer girl approaches her, stating "The smell of a burnt flesh rides this smoke. Someone had died in there. You're from the Vulkwasten guard right? Maybe you could help us identify them?"

The Bosmeri flinches as she asks this, clearly intimidated by the armored figure. Innocent enough, the bosmer moves to tug on the figures arm, hoping to break their concentration and draw it to her.

The guard initially does little in the way of response; he, or she, seems more intent on watching the fire as the seemingly unscrupulous haze drifts through the line of trees, out of view. With a superficially languid nod, the figure finally clutches a stare at the Bosmer before grunting, yet again. This time, however, the figure raises hands over head and begins to lift the heavy Imperial helmet resting atop the furnished armor. As the helmet is removed, it is halfheartedly stuffed into the figure's satchel, albeit with only partial success; the helmet is evidently protruding from the bag.

The figure looks around with a still gaze before locking eyes on the Bosmer once more. This guard, possessive of vivid, orange eyes, slowly lifts her right hand and scratches her cheek. A scar on the left cheek is apparent, as well as several smaller abnormalities around the chin and lip. Fresh cuts are notable, as well; the teeth markings of an animal lie torn around each side of her cheekbones, causing a reddish hue among otherwise even, golden skin. Looking past the seemingly overgrown blonde hair, she also possesses heavy burn marks around the entirety of her neck. Lastly, she is adorned by a frustrated countenance. Actually, frustration is rather apparent on her expression.

"Oi. Has the body been relocated to a safer distance?" The womer speaks with a hushed tone, an apparent contrast from her otherwise vivid features and apparel. "If so, then yes. I would like to see it. However, I am..quite curious. How, in all of the damned Valenwood, did this fire start?"

The Bosmer girl's expression seems to lighten as the Guard removes her helm. "Some of the people who were near when it started said that sulfur could be smelt. And a metallic smell, a mixture of steel and sulfur or something like that. There was a bright flash too, according to one of them." She glances over at the blaze, her face crumpling up as the mix of sulfur and seared flesh assaults her sense.

She starts to speak again, this time with with a little more backbone. "The person...Body hasn't been pulled from the fire yet. The heat is too much for anyone to get close."

The other Bosmer scramble with their buckets nearby trying to move the water as fast as possible. Everyone seems to be helping, even children run with full buckets, albeit slowly due to their lack of strength. The greenish yellow haze drifts lightly through the village, seeming to dry the skin the moment it makes contact.

"Some failed experiment, I suppose. Well, it seems as though they've already paid their price for harming the Valenwood, then." The womer quirks a brow towards the building, an apparent look of disapproving countenance smearing her features. "Well, then. Is the fire nigh under control? I'd wager't to be over in a right snap, if everyone keeps working the way they are." Despite the seemingly enthusiastic statement, the Altmer's expression seems to be stifled from a look of concern.

"Hrm. There was a storm along Vulkwasten, a few days ago. A conjured one, from the town's limits. I don't suppose it hit here? If so, surely the fire'd not spread too far, with e'erything being so gods' damned soaked." As she speaks, the mer begins to dig through her satchel before pulling out a waterskin. Uncorking it, she takes a quick sip and proceeds to replace it in her bag. "The Magister was down near here while she conjured it."

As the haze makes its listless way towards the guard the bosmer nearest her moves quickly to avoid it, as if afraid of it. She shuffles back eyeing the haze as she gets closer again. Speaking whilst tiptoeing towards her. "This fire started before that storm, it had been burning for a long time. We've been trying to fight it nonstop for the last day and a half. Someone said that it might be centered underground."

The haze drifts closer, enveloping a bush slowly, as it does so the bush seems to dry out, looking like it had been in a drought in reapers march. The bosmer, flits away to avoid touching it. "Ouze take the mer who burned if this is their fault." She adds, venom dripping from her words.

An elderly Altmer woman hobbles down the bridge behind the pair, her cane rapping on the stone with each advance. Her bare arms exposed she bears remarkably familiar symbols to those who have seen them. Dark and Jagged burned into her flesh almost.

"Shite. This doesn't seem very safe. If underground..surely that's not right. There's no way they could've dug underground without having the damned Valenwood coming after them. Those houses are made'f live trees. And the grass, shite. Any mer with sense'd know that the damned forest'd rain all the Oblivion it had on him, dare he uplift the stuff." The woman exhales little else apart from a rather flustered sigh, pulling a hand up to brush through her hair. Pulling it out from behind the plate on the back of her armor, she allows the stuff to fall around her sides before nodding. "Very well, then. Dead, now."

After a quiet moment, the woman quietly turns her head to address the approaching Altmer woman. Retaining a quirked brow, she silently awaits her approach.

The elderly altmer had pale golden eyes, with a crimson stone in a small semi circlet on her forehead. Her frail frame hunched over the cane, showing her life was drawing near its end. She must be at least 900 years of age, if not more strange to see a altmer so old outside of their capital. "Eh? Roots burn when embers fall, smolder for years.You don't have to dig set the forest ablaze from beneath." The Bosmer girl stated as the elderly Altmer made her slow trek down the path.

When the Elder finally made it to the pair she cackled wildly, rapping her cane against the ground with each peak in her jeering. When she finally settled down she began to speak, slow with a low tone and a ethereal hush behind her words. "Impure child, your blood reeks of something foul. Why is it wherever he may have been you are very near? Stand clear of that haze or you might find your self kindling for that fire. Unnatural death sleeps in the air here, but the body..." She hobbles off towards the blaze, the sulfurous haze parting before her. She stops a moment and beckons with a branded finger to the pair to follow her.

"That's not exactly what I meant. Nor is it what I'd even suggested." Attempting to stifle a seemingly impatient sigh, the mer finally purses her lips and glances towards the approaching Altmer. As she listens to the eldery womer, her expression quietly shifts from something resembling impatience to something befitting pure frustration. "This is a damn't crime scene, lass. Best you move on--wait! Damnit!"

As the elderly Altmer moves towards the fire, Kashya turns to chase her. Upon the mer beckoning them closer, however, Kashya finally slows to a walk and resorts to following the Altmer.

As the elderly altmer makes her way through the haze she hums a normally cheerful tune, but the way she had hummed it sent chills down the bosmers spine. "I don't like this, something unnatural about it." The bosmer whispered to the guard. When the elderly womer finally stood at the base of the ramp a fell wind cold as the north blew into the fire, crystals of ice formed in the humid air birthing a thick fog. She stops humming and speaks in a tone above a whisper. " Oh my dear foolish student, how have you fallen into this despair. Madness follows you wherever you walk, and still the fire of your passions has not extinguished. How have you not been killed in your arrogance?"

With little interest in the spectacle or the Altmer, Kashya stifles a flustered groan and begins to look around rather absentmindedly. After a few long moments, the mer finally resorts to pulling a flask from her satchel and tossing it around between her hands. "Well. As fascinating as this is, I think I'll just take off now. I'll send a detachment of guards down here to handle the fire, if only for the safety of Vulkwasten." With little more in the way of input, the womer turns on her heel, breaking pace and starting off a few steps.

"Impertinent child, learn respect for magic or it will destroy you utterly." The elderly altmer hissed. As the guard attempted to step away she would notice the yellowish green haze encircling her, the bosmer, and the elder. "You want lackeys to take care of this I will leave, and let this haze swallow all of your homes. Suffer the indignant death of fire, I particularly don't care for any lives non pureblood, but I suspect you do..." She added nonchalantly, purest apathy settling among the cracks and pops of the fire. The wind resumed its blistering heat, making the bosmer even in her light clothes sweat a little.

"The bones are more than likely not his own, this is not the first time."

With a scoff, the womer grumbles a bit under her breath. "Well. Appearance matches attitude." Seeming evidently displeased, she finally turns to face the others again before approaching. As she does so, she delays a response for a rather extended period, instead resorting to shuffling around in the armor. "Stupid weather."

As the mer finally registers the old Altmer's statement, she quirks a brow but remains still and silent. A countenance of seemingly genuine disinterest was evident upon her features, and she seemed to be doing her best to make this known. After this long pause, however, she finally erupts with a long yawn. "Who."