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"Hah!" cried Sebastien, unable to help himself. He threw his hands into the air. " 'Daughter of Mehrunes Dagon!' That explains it all."

He dropped his hands to his sides in one quick, solid motion, and shook his head toward Singer. "Nord, I am not a man of politics, and I am certainly not a man of the Daedra - no matter what that whole show was. I do not believe in the falsehoods of lines on a map." He eyed Siaenach, as if to make a point, then turned his eyes upon J'Dar and Elyntine, unable to address Singer anymore. "And J'Dar is right. 'Children' of the Princes or not, we are outnumbered." He folded his arms back across his chest. "But if we can stop this atrocity...it would be wrong of us to ignore it, knowing of its existence." He paused. "Assuming it is real."

Feather-Tail shook his head sharply, now standing on the inn's steps just ahead of Siaenache.

"This man's an illusionist- a mage! His words are preposterous; I, for one, am well aware of my own ancestry."

Tireace shakes her head at feather-tail' words she then replies "if this man is a illusionist he must be a master of it then, because I have no inkling of what he used and normally I know a vague feeling associated with one school of magic. This man must be the real deal." She then sighs and starts to sit down on the steps to the inn thinking and musing about what she can do to help.

"You're right," said Elyntine to Sebastien. "We must act soon...though it would take some miracle for us to defeat a force one hundred times the size of our own alone. We should travel to Orsinium immediately and tell the Orcs to prepare themselves." She completely ignored the words of Singer.

"Ha ha, very funny," Siaenach muttered sarcastically. "But while my old man is kind of a brute, he's not a four-armed freak show."

Feather-Tail gave little thought to Tireace's claims, assuming that the woman was simply less adept in detecting the use of magic than she believed.

"I apologize, but your failure to detect this fool's use of magic does little to prove anything beyond your own lack of insight."

Tireace sighs whn she made up her and says to Elyntine and Sebastien "may I come with you? I am mildly skilled in the restoration and my other skills as a mage may be useful to you." she then stands up and stays still awaiting their answer but not after make feather-tails feet feel a little toasty.

"We may be outnumbered, but can we be out-powered?" Asked Singer with the twinkle in his eyes shining. "Being the son of Azura, I can glimpse events in the future. Siaenach, being the offspring of Mehrunes Dagon, has the power to turn enemies against each other. Change and revolution and ambition." He let it sink it.

"Sebastien Geontene II, Feather-Tail, and Tirace, I call upon your Godly parents to claim you." Several booms of thunder were heard in the distance.

"Hail, Sebastien, son of Sanguine. Your Godly gift is that you can influence the luck of your enemies, and your friends - for better or worse." He smiled and turned to Tirace.

"Hail Tirace, daughter of Sheogorath. Your gift is that you can influence the sanity of people - directly affecting their decision making." Singer finally turned to Feather-Tail.

"Hail Feather-Tail, son of Hermaeus Mora. Your gift grants you the power to call upon any fact or piece of information at will."

"Hnph. I still need to send those letters. Anyone got a spare courier?" Siaenach mumbled, before squatting down on the ground with a quill and several pieces of parchment, on which she began scrawling hurried notes.

Sebastien frowned. He stepped away from the crowd and lingered on the edge of their presence, his arms across his chest, staring into the night.

"Really," Feather-Tail muttered skeptically, stamping his feet feverishly as he spoke in an attempt to assuage the pain inflicted by Tireace's minor spell.

"Any piece of knowledge, you say? Then I call upon you, dear Mora; allow me the knowledge of this inn's date of construction." The query was intended only as evidence of Singer's incredibility, being a bit of trivia which Feather-Tail possessed no semblance of an answer to.

A date flashed in Feather-Tail's mind. The Eighth of Frostfall, 4E 12. He knew it was the day the Inn's construction was finished.

"I know that this is all coming out very fast, but it's true. You're all very special people who are destined to be great." Singer said to the eleven.

"So Singer, you say we all are born of princes? But I am a khajiit. How does that work. J'Dar knows there are no furry princes, yes?"

"Wha...." Feather-Tail seated himself hurriedly upon the inn's tallest step, profoundly confused and mystified by the apparent validity of Singer's preposterous claims.

"Princes can take on many different forms." Signer explained. "Most don't even have a defined gender."

"I call upon the Gods to reveal J'dar's Godly parent." Singer shouted to the heavens. A shadow seemed to fall over the Inn.

"Hail, J'dar, son of Nocturnal. You have the power to coerce anyone out of any item - the Thief's charm."

"My my. This is interesting he thinks. This will make life a lot easier, yes. Well, supposing I live through battle, which by the way, J'Dar now wants to fight in. Thank you Singer."

Irri watched the revelations in silence, gazing contemplatively at Singer.

"Irriwen, step forward." Singer commanded. "I call to the Daedric Princes to claim this Bosmer as their own. Who does she belong to?" A wolf's howl echoed across the forest as a response.

"Hail, Irriwen, daughter of Hircine." Singer bowed. "You Godly gift assures you will never miss a show with your bow, no matter how impossible the odds."

"Irriwen must not do this!" Kah'jihreed hissed angrily, baring his teeth.

Irri felt a wild stirring in her heart, and she knew that Singer was right, that she was the daughter of Hircine. She was silent for several seconds. "I will put this gift to good use." She said resolutely. "Kah'jihreed, I won't let Hircine consume me. But..." She turned to the Khajiit. "What of you?"