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 Six

They traveled along the Gold Road at a relatively fast pace; or rather, Darius and his men did. Bryn and Jaal lagged behind because of their driver’s intent on taking his time to enjoy the scenery, which was beautiful, to say the least. And while this deeply irritated Bryn, he said nothing to anger the Dunmer that steered the horses with his heavily tattooed arms and hands. It wasn’t that Bryn was afraid to hurt the elf’s feelings, but he felt it wouldn’t be a good idea to bite the hand that was feeding him and Jaal, because without the Dunmer, they’d still be back in Skingrad.

Jaal sat in the furthest right corner of the coach twiddling his thumbs, something he often did whenever bored, when the carriage hit a large stone in the road. Jaal and Bryn stumbled, Bryn hitting his head on the floor of the carriage, and cursing loudly.

“Sorry about that,” The Dunmer said, looking back with a concerned look. “I guess I was too mesmerized by the beauty of the forest that I didn’t see whatever it was I hit! Are you alright?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Bryn mumbled while rubbing the left side of his throbbing forehead, doing his best to keep back that anger that he so desperately wanted to unleash.

“You sure?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be alright.” He shook his head several times to try and relieve him of the pain that was coursing through his head, but it didn’t work. “Do you have any idea when we’ll make it to Anvil?”

“Hmm…well, if we keep up this pace we should get there in no more than three days, but no less than two. If I had to guess I’d say probably two days, since it doesn’t look like it’ll rain or anything anytime soon. We have to at least stop to rest and relieve ourselves of course, not to mention food and drink. Well, I guess we could have our meals in the carriage. Then again, maybe not. Cause I’m driving after all, and-”

While the Dunmer continued to babble on, Bryn found that he didn’t give a damn what the Dunmer had to say.

“Say, what’s your name anyway?” he asked, interrupting the Dunmer’s ramble.

The Dunmer turned around to bow his head slightly. “My name is Gaadiil Rethan. And what might yours and your friend’s names be?”

“The name’s Bryn, Bryn Odellus. This here’s my friend, Jaal. He ain’t got a last name, or at least that’s what he told me when I first met him. I think the dumbass just can’t remember it, but I guess it doesn’t matter. He’s always been stupid. Thanks again for lettin’ us ride along with ya. Like I said earlier, we really do appreciate it.”

Gaadiil gave Bryn questionable look as he talked badly about Jaal, but he said nothing of it. “Not a problem, Imperial. I’m glad to have been able to help you. And don’t worry about paying me with whatever gold you have. Just keep it. I don’t need it, and I couldn’t possibly imagine taking it from you in the first place. It’s no trouble letting you and your friend accompany me. No trouble at all.”

Bryn was surprised at how friendly the Dumner was. He had been told many a story as a child about how Dunmer absolutely hated the other races, and especially Imperials. Bryn knew from past experience that those stories were actually true, but apparently Gaadiil Rethan was a rare exception.

“It’s funny, y’know, ya being all nice and compassion to us. Most blueskins I’ve met are nasty sonsabitches. Mean as hell and all that. But you’re different. Thanks.”

Gaadiil was at first offended at being called a “blueskin”, but he dug past the surface and understood that Bryn was giving him a compliment.

“I was born and raised in Cyrodiil, and I’ve never come to understand why my people hate so much. It’s horrible, really, if you think about it. But I’m glad I’m not like that. My father shared similar hatred, the kind you speak of. My mother was the exact opposite, though, and thankfully her ways of life rubbed off on me, rather than my father’s. I simply can’t imagine what it would be like to hate all of the time. That sort of philosophy doesn’t sound very pleasant at all.”

Bryn nodded and then leaned back against the wooden back of the coach. He didn’t have a pillow to make himself comfortable, but none of that mattered. He and Jaal hadn’t slept the previous night, and Bryn fell asleep within minutes.



They arrived in Anvil within two days, just as Gaadiil had predicted. When they did the sun had long disappeared from view, replaced by the two dead moons that brought life to night on their side of Nirn. Bryn and Jaal jumped off of the carriage as it started to roll towards the stables.

“Thank ya again for the ride,” Bryn said to Gaadiil, who was waving at an Imperial man who appeared to be the stable-master.

“You’re quite welcome, Bryn. And you too, Jaal. It was a pleasure to speak to the two of you throughout the trip. Maybe I’ll see you again sometime? I’ll be leaving here myself within a few days.”

“I don’t think we’ll be returnin’ to Skingrad for a while,” Bryn said, giving the Dunmer a wink of his right eye, the only eye without a black eye patch.

Bryn and Jaal waved to the Dunmer and then left, entering Anvil, the central port of Cyrodiil.

Inside they were met by nothing special, just a couple of tired-looking guards protecting the city’s main exit, and more guards patrolling the streets. They didn’t see Darius and the other mercenaries, but Bryn knew they were close. Throughout the entire trip they hadn’t been too far behind, or at least that hadn’t been far enough to where they hadn’t been able to see the party of mercenaries. Bryn knew they were in the city, and he also knew exactly where to find them.

The port itself was more crowded than the entire city, but that was an unfair statement. It was in the middle of the night, and the port was the city’s only important attraction anyway. Anvil had once been a stunningly gorgeous city, but ever since the disappearance of the Count Orvus Umbranox years and years ago, Countess Millona Umbranox had let it fall to its demise. Now it was nothing to look twice at, if even that.

Peering from within the shadows of an alleyway just outside of the Port District, Bryn spotted Darius. He was standing outside the ship-master’s house, his fellow mercenaries waiting eagerly behind him, but the Redguard right at his side.

“There they are, Jaal. Ya seem ‘em?”

“Yeh, Bryn. I-I s-see dem, We g-gonna fowoh dem n-now?”

“Are you fuckin’ stupid, Jaal? Ya got something wrong with ya head? We can’t just walk up to them and tell them we’re gonna come with ‘em! No! We’ll hafta wait until they get in their ship, and then we’ll hafta sneak on somehow. We’ll hafta be as fast as lightenin’, though, cause there won’t be much time. For now we wait.”

“Awrigh’, Bryn. Fuh n-now we wwaih.”

* * * * *

“How much? Thirty-thousand for that hunk of garbage? You’ve got to be outta your mind!”

Darius quickly put his arm in front of Ian’s chest.

“Please, Ian, settle down. I’ll do the talking, alright? Just sit back and relax. I’ll take care of it. This good man needs not to be yelled at.”

“Yer damn right!” the Nordic ship-master barked, his snow-white hair blow in the wind of an oncoming storm. “I ain’t goan put up with no blackfoot’s mouf! Not at two-thirty in the mornin’ when I should be in me bed!”

After hearing the remark “blackfoot”, Ian started towards the Nordic man, but Darius pressed his arm harder against Ian’s chest, and gradually he backed off and stood with the others. Then Darius his attention back to the Nord, who was now leaning against the wooden door of his home, his arms crossed and his face wrinkled into a snarl.

“No, of course you don’t deserve to be yelled at, sir. I very much agree with that. And I hate to have woken you up so early in the morning, but it’s important that my men and I leave as soon as possible. Now, are you one-hundred percent positive that you can’t part with the ship for less money? My partner does have a point in that the ship doesn’t look very sturdy. How about twenty-five?”

The Nord shook his head and sighed. “I thought you damned Imperials were so smart? You don’t judge a book by its cover, do you? Well, you don’t judge a ship by her cover eitha’! I won’t sell it to you fer less than therty-thousand. That’s me final offer. And you’d be smart to take it, that much be true! That there ship be the last I have available at the moment, and I don’t expect to be getting anymore any time soon. Take it er leave it, but dammit please be quick!”

Darius stepped back and turned around to Darius.

“Right now we have three-hundred thousand coins from Remy. How much gold did we have before taking half our share from Remy?” he whispered into Darius’ left ear.

“Erm…I believe it was somewhere around fifty-thousand or so. We partied hard, Darius, and a lot of our profit was eaten up in one night. And that fifty-thousand doesn’t matter anyway, because the messenger is already riding for Chorrol as we speak. Remember? You just gave him the gold and ordered him to take it to your mother’s house.”

“Yes, yes, I remember. So we only have fifty-thousand left that’s actually with us right now? Damn it all! We’ll have to give up more than half of that just to pay for ship, a ship that we don’t know if it’ll even last the trip!”

“That’s why I don’t want to do it, Darius. It’s too much money for too less quality. Y’know what I mean?”

“Yes, indeed. But we don’t have any other choice. You heard the Nord. That’s the last ship he has, and he doesn’t expect more anytime soon. That’s likely why he’s charging so much. That sly honoured user!”

He turned back around to face the Nord.

“Fine, we’ll take it.”

They loaded the small ship within an hour, and this time included Darius and Ian inspecting the ship, looking for any major damage. They found none, but they did find that they were already familiar with how the ship was sailed. They had used ship in the past that was eerily similar to the one they were standing on now. Of course, the ship back then was almost two times the size, and easily five times the quality.

As they got ready to set sail from the Anvil port, heading for the Abecean Sea, Bryn and Jaal were plotting their own entry into the old, rickety ship.



“Wah w-we g-gonna do?”

A passing guard on patrol stopped for several seconds, looked to the area where Bryn and Jaal were hiding in the shadows, and then continued on his route. When he was long gone Bryn immediately turned around, held his left hand over Jaal’s mouth, and then viciously hit him in the nose with his other hand. Blood began to spill through Jaal’s nostrils and he quietly began to cry, holding his hands over his bloodied nose.

“Y-Y-You b-broh’ muh n-n-nose!”

Bryn’s face wrinkled into a scowl and he punched Jaal in the stomach. Jaal feel to the ground on his back, and then Bryn jumped on top of him, covering his mouth with both hands. Then he leaned his head forward, his mouth mere millimeters from Jaal’s left ear.

“I swear by the name of Talos, Jaal,” Bryn whispered, “if you say oooone more word without my permission, I will fuckin’ break your nose. It’s not broke right now, but I can change that real fast. I ain’t gonna let you mess everything up! We’re almost out of this pathetic place, away from those who above that don’t even wanna recognize people like me and you. Just shut the hamster and speak only when I give you permission! You got me?”

Jaal nodded rapidly, tears falling down his chubby cheeks faster than the blood from his nose. Bryn finally let go and looked back at the ship, where Darius and his men were walking about.

“Follow me. We’re gonna sneak on now.”