The Incident at Rockthorn Island Options

[redsrock]

Chapter One

Darius and his men drank to the rhythmic sounds of the wooden lutes and fiddles and the guarskin drums, the soothing sounds vibrating off of the crowded walls and their many decorative tapestries, most bearing designs of the Nine. While most of his men were drunk, Darius, along with his best friend, Ian, were not.

The tavern in Skingrad was dimply lit by candles and torches, the kind of close-knit, warm feeling Darius enjoyed almost more than anything. It wasn’t too bright, but at the same time it wasn’t too dark either; a perfect cozy atmosphere for him and his men to celebrate their latest successful mission. Killing the damned goblins hadn’t been easy, but at least they hadn’t lost any of their own in the process. Such a job Darius considered perfect, for he cared for his men’s lives more than anything, and at the same time they received a hefty amount of gold from the old rich lady that requested the goblins eliminated from existence, for the green-skin monsters had ravished her gardens long enough.

“Another round, Darius, or do you think they’ve had enough for one night?”

Darius turned to look at his friend, Ian, and smiled. “Bah, give them at least one more! They deserve it!”

Ian called for the bartender to pour another round for the twelve-man crew, and the entire tavern lit up with applause and cheers, most coming from the men that actually worked for Darius, and also from the pub’s regular drunks that were too intoxicated to know what they were cheering for to begin with.

Darius only sipped at his ale, wanting to savor the success and wealth while sober, because he knew that if he drank he’d regret it in the morning. He never was one to hold much alcohol before he was drunk, and he knew this because his playfully made fun of him for it constantly.

“Ain’t thirsty I see,” Ian said, chugging down what was left of his prior glass of Cyrodiilic ale. “That’s alright. At least it appears you’ve had quite the appetite.”

He motioned towards Darius many plates, the dishes bare of anything except useless crumbs. Ian laughed and patted Darius on the back, and the two sat back and drank it all in.

The success of the mission, not just the ale.

Soon the mercenaries of Redwood were on top of the tables, dancing like fools and singing out of tune to songs they clearly didn’t know, or were too drunk to remember. Darius and Ian howled with laughter as the men made utter fools of themselves, and even the busy bartender took time out of his work to give a laugh. Such a sight of merry men was hard to come by in Skingrad, what with the recent lightening-storms that had rolled through the region over the past several days. The fact that his tavern was finally alive once more likely played a role in the bartender’s laughter as well.

“I’ll tell you what, Ian; they sure like to party!” Darius said to Ian, still chuckling from the hilarious scene that continued to unfold in front of them.

“They sure do. But like you said, they deserve it. Y’know, I’ve been thinking about some stuff since we left the old woman’s home in the forest.”

“Yes?”

“I’ve been thinking about taking a break from the mercenary business, y’know? We have a nice amount of money, and I think I’m gonna just…go on a vacation or something. Some relax time. What would you think about that?”

Darius chuckled and drank the last bit of sweet liquid from his wooden mug. He chuckled not because he was angry, but because he had been thinking the exact same thing, only he wasn’t pondering vacation, but rather retirement.

“What would I think? I would think you’ve stolen my idea. Only I don’t want to vacation. I want to retire.”

Ian’s eyebrows raised, and he too drank the rest of his ale.

“Retirement? You’re serious?”

“Yes. I’m closing in on forty years of age. I figure I probably have enough gold retire and live comfortably. And to be totally honest with you, I felt something while fighting the goblins. It was like a voice in a way. A voice asking me if I was having fun.” Darius shook his head and sighed, watching his men continue to shout incomprehensible lyrics. “And you know what? I couldn’t give myself an answer.”

Ian only looked at his long time friend, unable to say anything. He wanted a break, yes, but the thought of retirement had never crossed his mind.

“Don’t you think that’s a sign that I need to hang it up, Ian? I mean, if I can’t decide if I’m having fun…”

“I don’t know about all that, Darius. It don’t sound like you at all. I think you’re just exhausted from the mission. Retirement? That’s funny! You’ll be fighting to your grave, and you know that!”

The two laughed at that, though Darius found the image somewhat disturbing. He had been a mercenary for as long as he could remember, and damn fine one at that. Did he really want to give it all up? Maybe Ian was right, in that Darius was simply tired from the previous mission. But still, to even ponder retirement scared the living daylights out of him.

Of course, no matter what he tried to tell himself, Darius knew the truth. It was simply hard for him to admit it. But he had thought upon the subject during their ride back from the forests southwest of Skingrad.

“No, Ian, I think I do wish to retire. I’ve never had the thought of quitting, and now that it’s come up, I see it as a sign that I must quit. I’d rather do it now then drag it out, fighting when I don’t want to. It wouldn’t be good for the men, you know. And besides, even though I’m not quite yet forty, my aching body certainly feels like it. My left knee hurts like hell, Ian. I try warm showers but it’s not helping. I hate to admit it, friend, but I believe my time is up.”

For a few minutes the two stood there. Both of their glasses were empty, yet they still pretended to drink, only because they didn’t know what else to do. Though the tavern was loud with noise and fun, the silence between Darius and Ian was so much greater.

At last, Ian broke through the cold, icy silence.

“I won’t lie, Darius, I’m not sure you can retire.”

“Huh?”

“Well, for one you don’t have a whole lot of money. You have a nasty habit of spending our gold on parties and drinks for the men. And that’s great, that’s what we’ve always done and everyone enjoys it. After all, we travel all the time, so it’s not like we need to pay for anything else besides food and equipment, but now that you’re talking about retirement, there’s nowhere for you to go. You don’t have a house or manor, nor do you have enough gold to pay for one. To me it looks like you’re stuck. Obviously I don’t mind that a bit, but it’s something you should think about. If you really want to retire, you should start thinking about putting some of our profit aside.”

Ian made valid points, points Darius himself had never thought about. It was true that they were always traveling about where their contracts led them, and they spent most of their gold on food, drink, and celebrations, spending the remaining amount on new equipment.

“But you know, Darius, I still think you’re just exhausted. Perhaps you should sleep on it? Deep down inside I don’t think you really want to quit. You’re just…I don’t, I can’t really explain it, other than to say that you’re tired. Both mentally and physically I mean. So, will you at least sleep on it? For me and the men’s sake?”

“Fine, I’ll do that. For your and men’s sake,” Darius answered, though he already knew in his heart what the answer would ultimately be.

Suddenly the door to the tavern swung open and the pounding fierce rain could be heard, and seen, from the dark night outside. A single man stood in the doorway, an old Breton man dressed in a lavish orange robe and clutching an expensive, cream-colored walking cane in his left hand. The music and dancing continued to play in spite of the sudden interruption, and the man squinted through the room as if he were looking for someone in particular. Once his eyes found Darius they also found that person.

The man walked up to Darius, the mercenary captain having watched him as soon as the elder had stepped foot inside the tavern.

“Darius Sintras?” the man asked, gasping for breath as if he had been running for miles, which in a way, he had. “Captain of the Redwood Mercenaries?”

Darius glanced at Ian, who was just as confused as Darius.

“Yes, I am he. Is there something wrong, sir? You looked like you’ve just run a marathon.”

The man actually managed a slight smile, though it left nearly as quickly as it had come.

“A marathon of nightmares, perhaps. A servant of mine made it aware that you and your men were present here in Skingrad. I dashed to this…hostelry…from my mansion as fast as my old legs would allow me. I was afraid you and your mercenaries had left, but fortunately that is not the case.”

“Well, here I am. What is that you want?”

“I have a situation that needs taking care of, and I’d be thrilled to pay you and your men handsomely. My son and daughter are slaves to a Nordic slaver on an island southwest of Cyrodiil. I want them back. Fifty-thousand septims is what I am offering.”

Darius took a quick glance at Ian, who only smiled and once more took a drink of his nonexistent ale.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we’re not accepting contracts right now.” Darius wanted to add that he himself likely wasn’t going to be accepting them ever again, but he didn’t. “We’re going to take a break, I think, and I don’t fifty-thousand septims would be worth it anyway. It’s nothing personal, sir, it’s just there are a total of twelve of us you see. Fifty-thousand simply wouldn’t be enough to divide between twelve people.”

The man laughed loudly, causing the bartender to look up, only to go back to cleaning his dirty dishes and mugs a second later.

“No, no, no! You misunderstand me! I mean to say that I’ll be willing to pay fifty-thousand septims to each of you!”

The mug Ian had been holding dropped to the wooden table, and his mouth hung open. Darius’ mouth was hanging open as well, but only slightly. He wasn’t sure he heard the man had actually said.

“Fifty-thousand for each of us? Sir, you do realize that totals to an amount of six-hundred thousand gold, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I am not a dimwitted Orc after all. Also, I own a string of seven or so houses to the northeaster of here. It’s a tiny little village I guess you’d say. It’s not much, and I only use it to rent to people wishing to vacation in the beautiful region. I’ll be glad to include the village as well. From what I understand, you and your men don’t have a permanent house of residence. And while I’m sure you like the travel, don’t you think it’d be nice to always have a house when you want it?”

Darius looked to his friend, and Ian was still starting at the men, but at least by then his mouth wasn’t hanging open. Darius looked back to the man.

“Excuse me, sir. My partner and I must talk about this in private for a moment.”

The man bowed his head.

“Of course. I’ll be over there at the other corner until you’re ready. But please do hurry. My situation is of utmost important to me, and I do not wish to waste precious time.”

The man hobbled over to the other side and sat down, staring outside at the pelting rain.

“Ian, you heard how much he said, right?”

“I think so, but I’m not sure that I believe it,” Ian answered, his voice shaking with awe. “It’s…it’s just so much gold, you know? We’ve never had that much gold before. What do you want to do? Do you want to accept the offer right now?”

“I thought you wanted to take a break?”

“Not now I don’t. Not when there’s fifty-thousand septims for me on the table.”

Darius leaned back into his chair and sighed. The thought of so much wealth seemed nice, but minutes earlier he had just been speaking of retirement. Suddenly Darius had an idea.

“I know! The money and village he’ll give us I can use for my retirement! By Talos, we could all use the village for ourselves! You said that I don’t have enough right now, and I’ll admit that you’re right about that, but now I’ve found a solution! Don’t you see? I can retire, you can take over the business, and while I’m retired I can still help out, ordering equipment and keeping the place clean! We could start our own town someday! What do you think?”

“Giving me the reigns of Captain of the Redwood Mercenaries?” Ian asked, shocked beyond belief. “Wow…I don’t really know what to say. I’d accept the position, if I don’t retire of course. And I also like your idea of maybe even starting our own town someday.”

“Right. But, there’s a catch to all of this.”

“There is?”

“Yes. I’m not sure I trust the man. Also, we don’t know anything about this slave lord he speaks of.”

Darius rolled his eyes and punched his friend playfully on the arm.

“Well, then let’s have him show us the gold in person, and also we’ll ask him more about the slave lord and his whereabouts. How about it, Darius? Think of the opportunity! Fifty-thousand for every one of us!”

“Fine, we’ll do it. But I’m telling you right now, Ian. This is my final decision. I am definitely going to retire. I’ll go through with what I said about the village, though. I think that will definitely work to our advantage.”

“Indeed. So, should we tell the men yet?”

“No, let them party. We’ll tell them once we see the gold. It’s not like they need to know before we make a decision. I don’t think they’ll turn down fifty-thousand septims!”

Darius walked over to the old man.

“My partner and I have decided that we’ll take on your contract, but first we’d like to see the gold for ourselves. Would that be alright?”

The old man smiled, his white beard shining in the light of the torch to his left.

“Of course. Please, please, follow me and I’ll take you to my manor!”

After Darius told the other men to keep celebrating while he and Ian went on a quick errand, the two followed the old man out into the street. The darkness of the night shrouded them from view, but unfortunately not the downpour of rain. But Darius didn’t care, and neither did Ian. It would be well worth walking through the rain.

This post has been edited by redsrock: Mar 15 2009, 02:49 PM

[redsrock]

Chapter Five

Ian slept well that night, falling asleep just mere minutes after flopping down onto the fluffy bed of his room. He dreamt of many things that night, most of them pleasant, and all of them having something to do with the gold they were about to receive, as well as the Breton that the gold was coming from.

Darius slept in the next room, but his sleep came anything but quickly. Though it was a chilly, wintry night, Darius sweated like a hog, the covers lying to the sides of the bed. He dreamt of many things as well, but unfortunately he didn’t share the nice dreams Ian had. Instead, Darius had nightmares. He dreamt of Remy and the gold as well, but in his nightmares it was all a trick. He dreamt of at least ten different dreams where Remy backstabbed them, a different way each dream. And when he awoke the next morning, he made a promise to himself that he would no longer live in doubt. Remy would tell him why he had given his children up to Kjeld, and he would also tell him how the gold came into his possession. This much Darius was certain about. And if Remy would not divulge the information, Darius would turn down the contract.

“You know, Darius, I was thinking last night…where are we going to keep the gold? We can’t keep it with us as we travel to the island.”

Darius, Ian and the others were having breakfast at the same tavern. It was ten o’clock in the morning, and they were about to head over to Remy where they would get the gold. The men, just as Darius had predicted all had hangovers.

“That’s a good question. I guess we’ll take it to my mother’s house in Chorrol. Remember a few years ago when we had to store a couple of boxes of Skooma? This is sort of the same situation I guess. Of course, gold isn’t illegal. Still, I can’t think of anywhere else to store the gold. Can you?”

“No, not at all. To be totally honest, I never thought of your mother’s place. That’s perfect.” Ian stretched his arms into the air and then yawned. “Boy, I sure had a good sleep last night. Good dreams as well.”

Darius chuckled at that and then shook his head, wolfing down the last bit of his warm, apple-cinnamon porridge.

“I’m glad someone did. It took me forever to get to sleep, and when I did I didn’t have enjoyable dreams. More like nightmares.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know, I can’t remember. And that’s probably a good thing. I woke up at least twice during the night, drenched in sweat.”

“That’s not good, especially in this cold weather. You’ll catch a cold. How’re you feeling now?”

“I’m fine now. Don’t worry about it.”

They finished up their meal and headed out into the cold morning. Darius rounded the men up so he could tell them the details of what had transpired last night.

“Alright, here are the details I know you all are dying to hear. We’ve been contracted to find a noble’s son and daughter at a place called Rockthorn Island, a luxurious island southwest of Cyrodiil.”

“What do they look like?” was the first question, and it came from an Imperial named Garien Luffler, the group’s expert mage.

Dammit…I don’t even know that myself Darius thought to himself. He shot a glance at Ian and caught him smiling.

“Well…I don’t know. We’ll have to ask our client, won’t we? Anyway, our client’s name is Remy, or Remulas Vencine to be more proper. He’s paying us each…ten thousand septims.”

Just as Darius expected, the group erupted into a loud clanging of words. Then men were surprised to hear of such a high reward for the rescue of the two children.

“Ten-thousand?” Julanzo yelled. “For each one of us? That’s…that’s more than we’ve ever made!”

Darius put a finger to his mouth to hush everyone down.

“Yes, it is. I believe I told you all that last night, but you were probably too drunk to remember. Anyways, those are the details. We’ll of course have to find out more about these children. Thank you, Garien, for asking about that.”

They left the outside part of the tavern, the men still talking excitedly amongst one another.

The streets were filled with those going to work, and a few beggars here and there as well. Darius tried to pay them no attention, but just as always his soft side got the best of him, and he handed a friendly-looking old man five gold coins from his velvet pouch. He knew that the man was likely to use the gold to purchase beer or something of the sort (using more money that he had likely received from others) but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he couldn’t just walk away and hand the man nothing. His heart hadn’t been built that way.

And on they went, past the remaining people strolling about. As they entered the Manor District of Skingrad, a light snow began to pelt the city ever so gently. Darius didn’t mind the snow, for he loved how beautifully it looked on the castles and buildings of the city, but at the same time he was glad to be leaving soon. Mostly because of the newly acquired mission, but also because he wanted to rid his mind of Remy’s shadiness. The sooner they got the money the sooner they could leave Skingrad, and the sooner Darius could stop thinking about what could be wrong.

Darius was as nice as anyone could be, and Ian sometimes saw this is as somewhat of a drawback. Ian was one that didn’t mind breaking the rules every now, and didn’t mind a bit of lying when the time called for it. He’d never do that to Darius or the others because they were all such good friends, family even. Nor would he do that to clients, because that was bad for business. But everyone else was fair game. His philosophy was that the mercenary business was full of scoundrels that lied and cheated, and it was only fair that he dabbled in that sort of thing as well. He wasn’t a bad person by any means, but he was smart enough to know that nice goes rarely finished first. The Redwood Mercenaries were the only exception to this, for they were the most known mercenaries in Cyrodiil. Still, Ian was secretly disapproval of Darius’ always-cheery attitude.

And as Darius handed the old man the gold coins, Ian rolled his eyes and sighed, his breath showing in the midst of the cold air that had been strangling the entire region for more than three months. As they walked away from the man, Ian chuckled.

“That was nice of you to give the man his daily beer money, Darius. That’s what he’ll spend it on, and you know it.”

“Yes, you’re probably right,” Darius responded not looking back.

“If you know that then why did you give it to him?”

“Because I’d rather myself give him the money than have him steal or kill for it later on, that’s why.”

The tone in Darius’ voice held a great deal of irritation, much to Ian’s surprise. The Redguard wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he said nothing. The two rarely argued with one another, and for Darius to get snippy with Ian over something so trivial was quite unexpected. However, Ian of course was totally unaware of the mounting pressure and doubt that clouded Darius’ head. He knew it was there based on their previous conversations about the shady Remy, but he had no idea how largely it was actually affecting his friend’s mind.

When they arrived at their destination, Remy was already waiting outside, dressed in a white fur coat that went all the way down to his shins, where he was wearing a fur boots to match.

“Good morning, gentlemen!” Remy cried as he saw them walk up.

Darius noticed that he smile was just as fake as it had been yesterday, if not more. He wanted to believe it was just him being overcritical, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

“Just as I said yesterday, I had my servants place the gold into crates for you. They’re inside the house in my dining room. Come, I’ll show you to them, for I’m sure you’ll want to look at them yourselves before taking them away.”

As the others stood outside, Darius and Ian followed Remy into his manor. Sure enough, the gold was packed inside the crates, filled to the brim of the wooden boxes. They fastened on the lids and Darius had the others take the gates outside and to the city’s outside stable, where their coach and horses were located.

“Before we leave, there’s something we need to know, Remy.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t believe you’ve told us what your children look like.”

Remy’s face immediately erupted into hysterical laugher, laughter so loud that the men carrying the boxes outside stopped for a second to see what was going on.

“Of course, of course! How silly of me! Please excuse my stupidity, Darius! But rather than try to explain what they look like, I’ll give you two drawings that are only a year old. I shrunk the photos myself so they aren’t too big.”

Remy was back within minutes, holding two miniaturized portraits. Darius had no idea magic could do such things, but there they were right in front of his eyes. One of the photos was of a young-looking girl of around twelve. Just like her father she had beautiful blue eyes. Her hair was yellow long, falling down past the bottom of the picture. She had fair skin, almost too fair to Darius. The other photo was a boy, with blue eyes as well but with short brown hair, almost in a military-style fashion. He looked the same age as his sister, for his skin too was extremely fair.

“How old would they be now?” Darius asked.

“Thirteen. They’re twelve in that picture. Also, you can likely expect them to be tanner now as well. They never did like the outdoors much, but I’m sure all of that changed rather fast once Kjeld put them to work. Please, Darius, please bring them back.”

Darius looked into Remy’s eyes and saw something he wasn’t expecting to see. He was expecting to see a fake expression, something to throw Darius off of what was really going on. But instead he saw nothing but pure sadness, and even a few trickles of tears. The man really was saddened by all of this, and Darius scolded himself inside for thinking otherwise. He still thought the man was shady, but it did appear that his love for his children was genuine.

“That I will, Remy. You have my word.”

Remy nodded and then hugged Darius, another unexpected turn of events. When they let go Remy shook hands with Ian, and the mercenaries left the manor, heading for their coach and horses at the stables.

Trailing close behind were Bryn and Jaal.

* * * * *

“We g-goan fawoh dem n-now, r-righ’?”

“Yep, we sure are. I’ve made a decision, Jaal. We’re gonna leave all this [censored] behind and follow these guys to the island. They’ll prolly have to stop by Anvil first and get a ship or whatever. I’ve heard from travelers that Anvil is the biggest port in the province. Come on, let’s follow. And stay behind me, dammit!”

“Waih a m-minute, Bryn. We d-don’t have no g-gold or anysing es t-t-to bring wif u-us. Wah we g-gonna do?”

Bryn stood there against the wall in the alleyway and pondered Jaal’s question. The two weren’t really homeless because the slept in a burned out, rickety old cabin just outside of the city. But other than that they had nothing else.

“Good question, Jaal, but I don’t think we’ll be needin’ anything. Just come on!”

The two crept up from their position in the alleyway and continued to trail Darius and the others, all the while keeping their distance and trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible.




At the stables Darius walked up to the Orcish owner and said a few things, to which the Orc replied with a hearty laugh. Then he walked around back and brought out a totally of fourteen horses of various breeds. Bryn wondered how they were able to afford so many horses, but of course he was unaware of how well known the Redwood Mercenaries were; he also didn’t realize that other than the four horses that led the coach, each one was individually owned and paid for.

After the four horses were tied and fasted to the large coach, a beautiful piece of work that was painted sky blue and white, the men took off towards the northwest, and Bryn assumed they were on their way towards the port of Anvil.

“T-They gehtin’ a-away, Bryn!” Jaal whispered into Bryn’s ear.

They were stopped behind a wooden fence that ran along the stables and around the house where the Orc lived and did business in. Bryn was so surprised by Jaal’s question that he jumped out of fright. And because he was now embarrassed, he quickly turned around and slapped Jaal on his left cheek.

“Will ya shut up, mumble-mouth? Don’t ¬ever surprise me like that again! Do ya hear me!”

Jaal rubbed his cheek, and while he did that he also did his best not to cry. The pain hurt, especially on the inside, but he knew it was for the best. That’s what Bryn always told him at least, and that’s what he believed in.

“I-I sowwy, Bryn. I n-n-nevah do it ‘gain. I p-promise.”

“Good,” Bryn said, about to walk forward. That was when he realized there was no way of following, since they did not have a horse. And even if they did it wouldn’t have mattered, for neither of the men knew how to ride one to begin with. “Dammit…what are we gonna do now?”

Suddenly another coach appeared from the city. It was driven by a Dunmer, and a mean-looking one at that. But that didn’t matter. Bryn knew he still had to try.

“Hey! Hey, stop!” he yelled.

The Dunmer stopped his two-horse coach and peered down upon Bryn and Jaal.

“What?” he said, in a much friendlier voice than Bryn had expected.

“Where are ya goin’?”

The Dunmer appeared taken back by this question. “Anvil. Why?”

Inside Bryn’s heart jumped with joy.

“Say, my friend and I were headin’ that way ourselves. Ya mind if we ride with ya? I only got a few gold coins, but I be happy to give ‘em to ya as payment.”

The Dunmer thought the question over, but only for a few seconds.

“Sure, why not. Hop on in.”

“Thank ya, sir! We appreciate it!”

Bryn and Jaal quickly jumped into the covered back-end of the coach, and the Dunmer continued down the road not too far behind Darius and the other mercenaries.