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"Yes, well, I'm not all that impressive. I've never talked to my mother. I've received signs though." He assured. "Anyway," He said, "I saw where the Prophecy is first taking place, my Chosen friends. The Marukhati are going to attack Orsinium and kill every Orc they can find. You have the power to stop them."

Meanwhile...

The blind Imperial nodded and cast a spell. Before the Ayleids' very eyes, all three of them turned into Thalmor Wizards.

"I specialize in Illusion magic. This is an Illusion. Don't speak to anyone, keep your head down, and follow me." He instructed.

Irri continued to gaze unflinchingly at Singer. "When do we leave?" She asked. The question of whether she would go had not occurred to her.

Sebastien eyed Singer skeptically, uncertainty in his eyes. He drummed his fingers against his arm, ignoring the urge to examine the eager Bosmer as if she were mad - and failing, shooting her a quick glance before settling back on Singer and eventually down at his feet.

"I'm sorry, Singer," Feather-Tail stated sarcastically, "But I've an assignment to fulfill. The rest of these fellows may be wanderers- but I really can't be expected to neglect my duties and join you on this fanciful quest, be you a demigod or not." The Argonian took several deliberate backward steps, continuing to speak even as he moved closer to the inn.

"Azura forgive me! I pay no heed to her wishes."

"The goddess of everyone's destiny, even yours, Argonian?" Irriwen asked, looking at Feather calmly, penetratingly.

Kah'jihreed stayed silent the entire time, trying to be as unremarkable as possible.

"Kah'jihreed? You will come with me?" Irri said, more of an affirmation than a question.

The Khajiit stayed silent for a few moments, obviously indecisive. He ground his teeth as he thought.
Finally he nodded once.

Malatar obeyed. He felt...weakened. No weapons, no trees from which he could create comfort for himself. It was an odd feeling. But he would not allow this feeling to weaken his mind. He was determined to escape alive - both he and Selara. So, he followed the blind Imperial wrhout making a sound.

"No, miss," Feather-Tail casually replied to Irriwen's seemingly interested inquiry, "Not the goddess of my destiny- but perhaps its presenter." He motioned clearly toward Singer with a well-webbed hand, as if admitting his consideration that the demigod's words could hold truth as opposed to disillusion.

The illusion was rather well-wrought, Selara had to own. Even knowing it for what it was, the weaving of the spell was interesting. The complex spell was something that she'd have liked to study, but--as was all too often the case today--there was no time for it now. Selara gripped Malatar's wrist, squeezing tight for a mere second, then dropped her hands to her sides and followed after the Imperial as if she owned the place. If there was one thing she was still fairly skilled with, it was acting a proper role.

"Bah! Humbug! Daedra worshipping is the religion of Hagravens!" Siaenach muttered, taking a large sip from the wine bottle she just remembered she were carrying.

"They're stupid if they attack Orsinium! How many of them are there? If they were to succesfully get in, they'd need to be consisted of half of Tamriel."

J'Dar had a very sudden change in personality, "But J'Dar doesn't like the orcs!"

Tireace thinks and chews on what singer said, she then replied "As part of my duty as a wizard of the collage of Winterhold.. Azura i accept my Destiny.. i may not like the orcs.. but no one deserves to be extingusted. what else can you do to prepare me?.." Tireace then falls silent hoping her words have rallied and strengthen the others willingness to help.

"How are we going to stop an entire organization of killers from destroying entire races? There are only 11 of us" Ormis said, standing near the back of the group.

J'Dar thinks about Tireace's words. Tireace's words rally and strength J'Dar and make him willing to help, but he says nothing on the subject.

"There are thirteen of you, actually." Said Singer. "A friend of mine is picking up the other two." And he turned to Siaenach. "You believe the Orcs to be mighty warriors. This is true of course, but do you not remember that Orsinium was only granted its new independence two months ago? And it currently has no government? That that the Marukahti's numbers are above 1,100?"

"J'Dar wants to know what we have as strategies. He thinks we are very outnumbered."

"Eleven hundred?" Irri repeated, cocking her head.

"Just about that, yes." Said Singer. "... And I have some more news. I... I am not the only Demigod here. The reason you are The Chosen is because you are all children of Daedric Princes."

J'Dar feels fuzzy, in a haze. His tail starts twitching and his whiskers fidget. He can only think of one question to ask, "Do you-you know who was of J'Dar? J'Dar needs to know his parent."

"Ha! That settles it! You're mad! This whole trip was a waste of time. Now if you don't mind, I have to get six letters sent before tomorrow. I'll bet these 'Marukhati' people are strong in Skyrim, so I need to ascertain a few things. Unless you have proof, that is. Au revoir."

Siaenach turned around and began walking back towards the inn, fishing for some paper in a satchel she carried.

Tireace smiled when singer said she was the child of a daedric prince "pray tell if you have proof, and little numbers move mountains and make laws. What rule of the universe says we cannot stop the pig headed Marukhati." she spoke with honeyed words and sweet gestures.

"I can give you proof." Singer said loudly, curtly. Singer turned to the Forsworn and pointed at her. "Siaenach White-Brair! You are neither mortal or immortal; you are the daughter of a God! I call now upon your godly parent to Claim you as their own!" be bellowed.

A deep, deafening laugh thundered in everyone's heads. Once it ended, Singer had a grave look on his face.

"Hail Siaenach White-Briar, daughter of Mehrunes Dagon."