Umbra's yawn cracked the heavens when he woke up that morning. He threw on some robes and heated some stew, some he had left over from the previous night. Along with that he finished off a loaf of bread that meshed well with the other half of the meal. When Umbra was done with his morning consumption he stood up, stretched, and decided to begin his day. He walked over to his closet and opened it, exposing his armory.
Umbra's armory in reality was fairly pitiful, especially considering there were no actual armaments in the thing. A good portion of it contained a lovely bookshelf filled with tomes from and about the Restoration and Alteration schools and various histories of the Dwemer, while the rest was split between two armor racks and a potion stand in between. The rack on the left contained a modest suit of the traditional Dwarven armor, if the word "modest" could even apply. The right rack, however, was far more interesting. It was still a Dwemer ssuit of armor, but it was far grander than any regular suit of Dwarven armor. The design was incredibly ornate, but with several large and unfilled holes throughout the design. Umbra went for the smaller suit first, pausing for only a minute to brush the dust off with a feather stowed above.
Umbra took the donning process slow, easing his aging frame into the hard metal. When he was done, he put a large cloak over the whole thing and stowed the helm away. Umbra gathered ancillary items -a few potions, writing utensil, paper, and a few small books- and organized them in a satchel before slinging it in his shoulder and heading out the door.
The trek down from the Orc's shack to the stables of Markarth was fortunatly uneventful, and thus it wasn't long before he causght a glimpse of Idreon out by the stables. He strode up to greet the fellow, letting a jovial tone escape his lips. "Good morning, my betailed friend! Before I ask you where our illustrious Nords are, how successful was your night?"
