The Roots of Svelkreen, Shards of a Broken Empire Options

[Uleni Athram]

The Posting Order


Ahrenil -> Jack Cloudy -> Uleni Athram -> Saqin -> Grif11 -> Dantrag -> Lord Revan -> TheTrueCaboose







Licensed fools and madmen, tumbling maniacs and demented entertainers. They danced to invinsible flutes, sang without words. Their noise of celebration echoed in the barren halls of the Royal Palace of Cyrodiil, where the political tension is thick and the Emperor innerly ravaged with some unknown turmoil. The Elder Council, in a rare display of affection towards their ruler, hired this troupe to thin the miasmatic fog that gripped the Palace from out of nowhere.

Of course, they might've also hired this troupe to simply hide the fact that the Mulberry Smiler, an assassin with some reknown, was among them.

The Mulberry Smiler, aptly named because of his/her blue-red-green costume, splitted away from the main group. He/She brandished a box from his/her inventories, a box with intricate carvings of birds and dragons. He/She held it to the air with reverence, held it in the air so the feasting nobles may see it.

The rest of the troupe all lined up in two lines beside the Emperor, making way as the Smiler now took steps towards Martin, who looked on with amusement. That amusement grew with curiousity as the Smiler kneeled before him, head bowed, box held out for the Emperor to take. He indulged in the act and took the box. The troup began to jitter and chatter wildly and excitedly. The Smiler made an eager motion and the young Emperor opened the box.

Its contents was a silky paper with the words 'I accept' written by a fluent hand. A smile lit up the Emperor's features as the Smiler now danced with abandon, the rest of the troupe doing the same.


And then the door opened, mercenaries and hired thugs entering.

This post has been edited by Uleni Athram: Oct 7 2011, 09:04 AM

[jack cloudy]

Semir Grey

Semir was slightly disturbed by the short second-take he received from the Emperor. He hid it with a simple shrug and his best 'sorry for being late' face. The second-take told him two things. One, Martin was aware of him personally, or at least made a connection between his name and Daggerfall. Whether that was the result of an indepth briefing or some old reports he'd chanced across was irrelevant. Continuing the train of logic, the Emperor was also aware of him as a Blade. However, he was the only one who received that particular second-take. So odds were he was the only Blade in the group. Pity that, he would have preferred if his closest associates on the operation were all Blades he could trust, rather than some unknowing strangers there to cloak him from scrutiny.

There could be another Blade in the room right now, he expected it at least. With the way things were right now and going by the scarce information he’d already received, combat would not be a question of if, but of when. To allow any already collected information and contacts to be secured in case of his untimely demise as a random casualty, a backup would need to be in place. He was just as certain that his group was not the only one sent on the assignment. It was standard protocol to have multiple individuals or groups work independently, if only to verify the obtained information.

Semir listened with only half an ear to Martin's speech regarding compassion and all the other priestly virtues, how the world was suffering etc. Nice words they were, but he'd heard it all before, often from people with far less praiseworthy motives than the ones they proclaimed. He didn't want to group Martin in with those folk, even if the laws of politics dictated that the man's hands were far from clean. He could see that he was not the only one. His interest returned when the legatus, bedecked in full ceremonial armour, begun his briefing.
"Finally, some real information we can use." Semir thought.

"That will teach me to get my hopes up. What kind of briefing is that? It's as if he wants us to fail and die horribly." He thought at the end as everyone filed out of the room. They knew collectively that whatever they might ask, the answer would be as useless as the briefing had been. Sure, the legatus had spoken of a plan, but it was one of the worst he'd heard in years. The insults aimed at their enemies and themselves hadn't helped. Underestimating those you went up against was never a good idea and no good spymaster would ever use words like 'stupid' and 'sex-deprived lunatics', not while on-duty. That cultivated all the wrong thoughts.

As if to make matters worse, his chosen companions were just about the motliest bunch of misfits he’d ever seen. Obviously whatever screening they‘d gone through, investigating their psychology for possible racial conflicts was not one of the factors taken into account. The young elven lass had more than enough emotional baggage without having a Khajiit by her side for the next few months.
“Now now, my dear. let’s not crack each other’s skulls for free when there are plenty of folk who need a good cracking out there. Good folk that we will get paid to crack. And asking for a detailed contract regarding advance payments, time-based payments during the job and final payment after the job is one of those things you always get done before agreeing to anything. Or at least it is one of my habits. Even if your client is the Emperor himself. Just because he asked for us personally means we’re needed enough that we can make some reasonable demands of our own. Keep that as a lesson for next time.” He told the Bosmer with a courteous smile. He carefully avoided the subject of the latest eruption of hostilities between Elsweyr and Valenwood. Discussing those things with people who were directly affected by it always required a delicate touch and a keen insight in their psychology, both things he lacked at the moment.

At the exit, his companions received the weapons they’d given off to the security staff. Semir’s own crossbow had been where it should be, at his hip, albeit disassembled as it always was when he didn’t need it. As such, he had nothing to receive. He didn't need anything else either even though he had been trained in the rudimentaries of just about any weapon ever developed, sometimes only in theory if said weapon was not available. He simply didn't carry one. Weapons were heavy, impeded motion and required maintenance. The crossbow was the only concession he'd been willing to make. The one weapon he sticked to was his own body. It was the only one that couldn't be taken from him and in which he could trust at all times. Still, just for further deception, he claimed a simple but well-used sword as his own, after having made sure everyone else had passed through. Accidentally claiming gear belonging to his partners would be more than sloppy.

“But financial talk aside, the last thing the Empire needs right now is an argument about succession. Martin is the last with a direct blood-line to Uriel. Thought things are messy now? You haven’t seen the bloodshed that happened back home last time there was a question if the first legal cousin or the second honoured user son of the king should rule. It took decades to sort things out and neither of the two original candidates made it passed the first round. Even if the current Emperor is a weak one, he’d better stay on till he announces a proper heir and signs the right documents. I agree with the lady Orsimer here. Better we go in and get things done before the infinitely less elegant sledgehammer known as the legion comes stomping their shiny boots all over other people’s farmland, home and bones.”
The argument was invigorating. His complaints were real, but they also served to put some distance between himself and the Imperial system.

And gods know that armoured guy with the map and the orders seems almost aiming to get us to fail so he can go grab glory with his army. Seriously, dress up as Ordinators because Dunmer are stupid, sex-deprived lunatics? I assume the outfits involve masks but I haven’t got the foggiest what an Ordinator is. A courier? I’d dress up in the frilliest pink ballgown ever if they paid me enough, but I can’t talk the talk and walk the walk, if you know what I mean. And if you, my friend, are any indication, Dunmer are definitely neither stupid nor sex-deprived nor lunatics. Can’t we just walk in as we did here, mercenaries looking to make a dime off of the whole thing?” Of course he knew what an Ordinator was, he’d encountered a group before when an internal Vvardenfell dispute washed over into High Rock. They were soldiers employed by a religious institute chasing a heretic. He didn’t particular like the combination of indoctrinated fanaticism and morningstars. Cleanup had been a pain as well.

Semir sighed long and hard.
“Ah well, plenty of time to come up with a better idea while on the boat. Might not want to catch a carriage though. Those things are expensive as hell out here, as I found out last morning.”



OOC: Next up, Uleni