FROM: Balefire

A half-smile flitted over the Warmage's grim countenance, momentarily
softening his look of implacable determination.  He put his massive arm
around Mea's shoulders and brought his bearded lips close to her ear.  "It
would seem," he told her, voice raised against the weird shrieking of the
wind and whatever fell creatures swooped in the whirling sandclouds, "that
magic items work even in this no-magic area in which spells do not.  The
magic is invested in the item, after all, and no ambient magicka is
required.  If 'tis concentration and will that are required, I have those and
to spare.  Give me the seeking stone, and I shall brave the storm and try to
rescue the scholar.  Keep your blade handy lest those half-seen winged beasts
attack.  Here, take this pair of daggers as well...they are ensorcelled with
strong vampiric powers, made the more potent by the Ancient Vampires
soul-bound in each.  See that you break them not, however, and thus liberate
them.  I shall make do with my claymores, and woe betide the foe who tries to
bar my path.  When I find Alduin, I shall return.  Keep well!"  With a
playful nibble at Mea's ear, the big Dark Elf moved away, forcing himself
first to his knees and then rearing his great frame upright with a snarled
oath.  Hunched and leaning against the wild sand-filled gusts, he
half-staggered, half-strode away.