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