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

[Illydoor]

Good flow and an intriguing first chapter. I'll be eagerly awaiting the next, sir Redsrock, tip of my hat to you fellow for a jolly good piece of work.

[redsrock]

Gracias, amigo. I'm glad you've enjoyed it thus far.

[Olen]

I'm interested to see where this goes, so you're opening was successful.

However having said that I don't think its one of your best. It might just be me but I found it a bit choppy and bogged down with unesseray details, especially the first half. While it does set up the characters I found it covered certain points too much. Perhaps a few changes would allow you to show more of them.

I found the occasional bit of dialouge a bit... off. There was nothing wrong per se but it wasn't as good as some things you've done. I think it was things like:

I figure I probably have enough gold retire and live comfortably. - when later he openly aknowledges that he doesn't have much. It just didn't ring true.

Having said that I am interested to see how this develops and will be reading the next part.

[redsrock]

Thanks, Olen. Unlike you, though, I thought I did a good job with describing shtuff. Oh well, hopefully I'll find that perfect balance sooner or later.

[redsrock]

Chapter Two


Luckily for Darius and Ian, the walk (or rather, the fast walk) to the old man’s house was only a few short minutes. Without the rain it would have been shorter, or at least it would have seemed shorter. But again, neither Darius nor Ian cared about the rain.

For a second Darius thought the man lived in one of the city’s hotels, for when they stopped they stood in front of a whopping three-story building, the door bordered with silver, and some sort of gold-plated shield fastened to the top middle of the door. Such a manor reminded Darius of the luxurious manors in the Imperial City, but he also thought perhaps this particular manor beat all of them. It wasn’t just that the manor was three-stories tall. No, it was more than that. A certain vibe that Darius couldn’t quite put his finger on.

A balcony rested at the third level, a place of comfort that the old man used in times of hardship and when he simply needed to be alone. In fact, the man had been sitting up there when his servant had made him aware of Darius’ and his men’s presence, but under the roof of course and out of the rain.

“Here we are!” The old man announced. “Please, please, follow me out of this rain!”

He opened the door to the manor, and the three walked in.

The first thing Darius noticed once they were inside was that the old man had an obvious love for plant life. The room they entered was a large one that seemed to be the foyer of the manor, and strewn about where various types of flowers of all different sizes and colors. Darius wasn’t a botanist by any means, but nevertheless he found the flowers absolutely gorgeous.

Also in the room where two young Imperial men, both of them wearing a black and white suit with their hair gelled back. Darius easily recognized them as servants. They looked rather fancy, and both of them were placing some sort of portrait on the wall. It was a painting of the old man himself, and beside him were two children; a boy on his left and a girl on his right. Both had colorful blonde hair, unlike the old man’s hair that was as white as the fur of the wolves that prowled the snowy Jerall Mountains.

But they didn’t stay in the foyer for long. After the old man whispered in the two servants’ ears, they quickly left the room heading for an open doorway in the far right corner. After they left the old man smiled and motioned for Darius and Ian to follow him through an open doorway in the far left corner. And that is exactly what they did.

Through the doorway they went, and then immediately up a flight of stairs, and then yet another flight until they finally reached the third level. They walked down a hallway decorated with various portraits and paintings, most bearing the children and the old man. Surprisingly there was no woman to be found in neither the portraits nor the paintings. No mother to accompany the father. Darius thought this exceptionally strange, but he said nothing, mostly because it wasn’t any of his business.

At the end of the hallway was a door, a door with a similar silver frame the outside entrance had. Like the front door, this one had a decorative shield as well, but unlike the front door, it was red instead of orange. To Darius it looked like painted stone. Chiseled into the stone was VENCINE, in fancy writing that took Darius a few seconds to make out. But as soon as he actually made the writing out, the old man opened the door and told them to step inside.

Inside was the old man’s room. There was a large bed in the far corner, a couple of desks, a few dressers, several books shelves, plants scattered about throughout the room, and plenty more portraits and painting on the cream-colored walls. Looking at the cane and then the walls, Darius noticed they were the exact same color.

“Welcome, welcome!” The old man said. “As I’m sure you’re already aware, this is my bedroom. The entrance to the holding chambers of my wealth is in here somewhere, but before we get to that I would like to introduce myself. I would have already done so, yet I thought we’d wait until we escaped the rain’s pelting arrows.

The old man bowed, his long, stringy wet hair dangling over his head, hair not yet quite as white as his beard.

“My name is Remulas Vencine, owner of this magnificent manor. But please, do refer to me as Remy. That was my nickname during my years at the Arcane University a long, long time ago, and I’ve grown quite partial to it over the years.”

Darius did a short bow of his own.

“You already know who I am. This here is my great friend, Ian Goldsmith.”

The old man’s eyebrows rose with curiosity.

“A Redguard with a last name? How strange. Such a thing is quite…rare, if I may. Or at least, I’ve never encountered many a Redguard with a last name.”

Ian chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “I was raised by a family of Imperials, pretty much from birth if I remember right. The last name isn’t really my true last name. I’ve never met my real parents.”

“Oh, I am sorry for bringing up such a sad remembrance.”

“Don’t be. Like my adopted father liked to always say, “What you do not know cannot hurt you’.”

Remulas smiled. “Ah, and what a true saying that is! Now, enough with the chit-chat. We all know why you two are here, and it certainly isn’t to stand here and listen to me ramble along like the old geezer that I am! Please, follow my lead and I’ll show you to my holding chamber.”

Remy limped over to the bookshelf closest to his bed, the soft pitter-patter of his cane against the carpet the only sound in the entire room. He grabbed the brass handle of an unlit candle stick on the middle part of the three-row shelf and tugged. A rumbling vibration began to fill the room, and as Remy began to walk backwards the shelf swung open, revealing an open entrance into an extremely dimly lit tunnel.

At first Darius and Ian saw nothing much but darkness, but as they stepped forward to where Remy was standing, they saw the few torches that lined the stone walls of the very thin corridor.

“And this,” Remy began, a smile spread across his face, “is the hidden pathway to the hidden entrance of my hidden chambers. Follow me, and do please be careful. There isn’t much room in this tunnel, and if one is not careful they’ll bump their arms and legs.”

Darius and Ian trailed behind Remy as he led them into the hidden entrance, the warmth from the many candles back inside the room fading little by little, until behind them the bookshelf itself closed back to its original space once everyone was inside the dark, stone passageway.

Down the tunnel they went, until finally coming to another door. Except this one had no silver frame, nor did it have any fancy shield. It was as plain as a door could be, and with one mutter of Remy’s breath it swung open with a speed so slow that Darius thought Remy was doing it on purpose for effect.

But as the door opened, the tunnel began glowing with a shimmering light that actually blinded Darius and Ian for a second. They quickly shielded their eyes with their forearms, and once they regained their eyesight the door had fully opened, and what they saw next was something they had only dream of. Through the doorway was a large room, a room at least two times as big as Remy’s room. Covering almost the entire floor of the room were gold coins, gems, silver and gold cups, and other various and expensive items. The room glowed from the beauty of the riches, helped along by the torches that lined the walls as well.

“I…what…by Talos,” Darius whispered, amazed at what he was seeing, wondering for the slightest second if he was dreaming.

Remy laughed a deep laugh that filled the corridor. He stepped inside the room and onto a bare path on the stone floor. He snatched one of the torches from the walls and motioned for Darius and Ian to come. For what seemed like an eternity they simply stood there, gawking at what had to have been millions upon millions worth of gold and other treasures. Finally Darius took a deep breath and stepped forward, Ian following close behind just a second later.

“So, am I still lying?” Remy asked, chuckling.

Darius shook his head. “I never thought you were outright lying. I just…I…”

“You didn’t trust me.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“There’s no need for an apology, Darius. I’m not surprised in the least that you didn’t trust me at first. In fact, I would have been an eency bit tentative if you had trusted me from the get-go. ‘A man must earn trust’, or so said my father.” He looked over at Ian and smiled. “It appears your father isn’t the only one with clever sayings.”

“Indeed,” Ian said, his eyes not having yet left the gold.

Remy picked up a handful of coins and then let them fall by back down into the enormous pile on the ground.

“Now that this has been taken care of, I presume that we are in agreement?”

“Yes,” Darius said. “But we need to know more of this Kjeld the Bold, and also of this Rockthorn Island. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of either.”

“Unfortunately there isn’t a whole lot I can say, for I’ve never actually been the island myself, and I’ve only met with Kjeld once. I’ll tell you this, though, the Nord is a snake. If I wouldn’t have needed the money I never would have sold my children to him to begin with.”

And the fact that Remy had sold off his kids to a slaver finally hit Darius, and rather hard at that. Before, Darius and Ian were too concerned about the gold. However, now that the novelty was starting to wear out, he realized that he didn’t yet trust this man as much as he thought he did. Darius didn’t have any kids of his own, but at the same time he couldn’t even dream of selling his kids into slavery if he did have any.

“About that…why did you sell your children into slavery?”

“I’m sorry, Darius, but such a question you are not entitled to. It’s a very shameful story, and I do not wish to speak of it ever again.”

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry I asked.”

“Again, Darius, you don’t have to be sorry. Curiosity is as natural as breathing. Let me just say this. I was in dire need of help, and Kjeld was the only man who would give me that help. The way he explained things was that I was only giving my kids up for a few months, until I scrounged up enough gold to buy them back. But apparently that wasn’t the case, and Kjeld won’t even recognize me. I sent a letter to him weeks ago, and he replied saying that he didn’t know who I was. I told you the Nord was a snake!”

“What about all of this gold? All of this…stuff?” Ian asked, his eyes having finally left the treasures and riches strewn across the floor.

Now he was looking into Remy’s eyes, attempting to figure out whether the old man could be trusted or not. In the beginning he didn’t care simply because he wanted the gold, but now he wondered. Where did it all come from? And apparently it had all come suddenly. How?

“Again, these aren’t questions of your concern. Let me tell you this…Ian, since your eyes are telling me that you’re having doubts about all of this as well. I obtained these riches legally. I swear to Talos on that.”

Ian looked to Darius, who simply shrugged his shoulder. Deep down inside, neither of them trusted Remy. But at the same time, they could say that for a vast majority of their past clients, and it hadn’t stopped them then.

“Fine,” Darius said, motioning with his hand for Ian to back down with the questions. “We’ll do it. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that we know literally nothing of this Kjeld, nor do we know anything about Rockthorn Island. I take it I should already know of these people?”

“Well, I would say so,” Remy began, “But on the other hand I’m not surprised. Kjeld likes to keep things hush, if you know what I mean. And don’t even think the Emperor cares, because he doesn’t. I went to him and told him about the slave children, but he sent me away calling me insane. The worst thing about it, though, is that I’m not sure whether he knows about the slaving mines or not. I really don’t. Something tells me Kjeld goes at great lengths to make it seem as if nothing is afoot. I know all of this sounds crazy, but it’s true. And you may not believe that there are slaving mines to begin with, but you’ll simply have to trust me. As for more information, though, I’ll have to give you a name of a person I know in Anvil.”

“Why a person in Anvil rather than yourself?” Ian asked.

“Because I don’t know anything else myself,” Remy replied curtly, his eyes squinting at the Redguard. He was starting to dislike Ian and his pestering questions. “You act as if I am trying to stab you in the back, when in reality all I want is my children back.” Then he looked back to Darius. “Now, do you want to the name of the informant or not?”

“Of course we do. Don’t mistake Ian’s attitude for rudeness. He only wants best for our team. Surely you can understand that.”

“Yes, I do. Excuse my terseness as well. Now, the informant. His name is Shabae Assonirishpal. He’s a Dunmer, obviously. Worry not, though, he’s harmless. Crazy perhaps, but harmless. Now, please do leave as soon as possible. I wish to see my children.” He handed Darius a small blue jewel. “Here is an amulet that will allow us to communicate. Just rub the sides, and if I’m available, you’ll hear my voice.”

“What?” Darius asked, confused at such an item. “How does it work?”

Remy shook his head. “It’s too complicated. And no offence to you, Darius, but you probably wouldn’t understand it anyway.”

“Very well, we’ll get your children. But you’re going to five us half of the gold right now.”

“Excuse me?”

Darius shot a look at Ian, and even he looked surprised.

“This is a dangerous mission. While I do trust you, you’re still a stranger to me. There’s no telling whether you’ll end up backstabbing us. I do trust you, but I’ll trust you even more if you’re willing to give us half the gold right now.”

“And what if I don’t trust you?”

“Our organization is known throughout the province. If I were to lie to you then you’d easily be able to get your revenge. Please, sir, give us half now and half when we bring you your children. I swear you can trust me.”

Darius extended a hand and for a moment Remy didn’t even look at it. Instead he glared into Darius’ eyes, not sure whether he was trustworthy or not. In the end, though, he figured he was. And besides, trust was a mutual tool.

“Very well, you’ll get half now.”

The two shook hands and Darius nodded.

“Ian and I will go for our men and we’ll be back for the gold. And don’t worry about transporting the gold, because we have plenty of bags and a few crates.”

The two’s hands parted, and Darius and Ian left the hidden room of riches. Ian still didn’t fully trust the man, but that was okay. Darius didn’t either.

[Olen]

That part was good. I like how this is going plotwise, there's a lot more conflict now and enough mystery to keep the reader guessing. The dialogue had more tone and depth which made it better. Remy's an interesting character, I'm fascinated to see what he's really up to.

Remy had sold off his kids to a slaver finally hit Darius - I might well have missed an earlier suggestion that the children were sold in which case ignore this but if not then 'finally hit' seems odd when there weren't really any suggestions that it might be the case. I'd assumed they'd been kidnaped, it just struck me as jarring.

Good stuff though.

[redsrock]

I might well have missed an earlier suggestion that the children were sold in which case ignore this but if not then 'finally hit' seems odd when there weren't really any suggestions that it might be the case. I'd assumed they'd been kidnaped, it just struck me as jarring.

Well, the thought was triggered by this paragraph:

“Again, Darius, you don’t have to be sorry. Curiosity is as natural as breathing. Let me just say this. I was in dire need of help, and Kjeld was the only man who would give me that help. The way he explained things was that I was only giving my kids up for a few months, until I scrounged up enough gold to buy them back. But apparently that wasn’t the case, and Kjeld won’t even recognize me. I sent a letter to him weeks ago, and he replied saying that he didn’t know who I was. I told you the Nord was a snake!”

But unfortunately, for some odd reason I put that paragraph after the one about Darius' feelings finally hitting him. I obviously should have switched their places around. I'm really not sure why I didn't in the first place...

Thanks, Olen.

[redsrock]

Chapter Three

Just as Darius and Ian were about to exit Remy’s mansion, two men were hunched in the alley on the mansion’s left. The alleyway was the divider between Remy’s manor and the one beside it, a thin strip of nothingness, save for the occasional lowlifes who were fortunate enough to sneak past the guards unnoticed.

Both men were of low birth, cast aside from the normalcy of society almost immediately after they witnessed their first sun. They were low men, and these low men were playing a game (a quiet game) of cubes to pass by the time until they were allowed inside Remy’s manor to discuss the business of the day. Or rather, a lack thereof.

The man with his back turned to the street cackled at his friend and slapped the left side of his face his right hand. He was dressed in nothing but a long, brown and tattered coat and a pair of holey boots. As he laughed his head flew back and the long strands of gray hair hit his face. He quickly quieted himself down, though, in fear of attracting unwanted attention.


“Ya lying honoured user, Jaal!” he whispered. “Ya didn’t roll a goddamn three, ya stupid sonofabitch! It’s a two!”

Jaal, now rubbing the redness that had already covered his left cheek, shrugged his shoulders. He said nothing of the slap, for he was used to such abuse. Except to Jaal, it wasn’t abuse, it was punishment. For being ignorant. For being stupid. For hamster cave up once again. But at the same time, it was also attention. And deep down inside, he knew it was for the better. It wasn’t right, but it was for the better.

He slumped his shoulders and dug his hands into the side pockets of his dull-green jacket, it too very holey, holier than the other man’s robe in fact.

“I sawy, Bryn,” Jaal mumbled. “I c-coulda sworn it wah a three. Da moon playin’ tricks with m-muh eyes, I sink. I swear I wahn’t tryin’ to cheat ya, B-Bryn!”

Bryn was just about to comment on his companion’s speech impediment for the umpteenth time, when suddenly he heard a door slam, seemingly coming from Remy’s manor. His head twitched towards the sound of the slam, and he heard footsteps just a second later.

“Shut up, mumble-mouth, someone’s a comin’! Get your back against the wall, quick!”

Bryn’s thin, nimble body was up from the ground in an instant, and he was leaning against the stone wall of Remy’s mansion, motioning frantically for his friend to do the same thing. Jaal’s sluggish, fat body rose from the ground as quickly as his stubby legs would let him, and then he too leaned against the wall, the shadows of the night covering them both from sight.

Darius and Ian passed by whispering at quick pace with one another, neither aware of the two low men that stood no more than ten yards away to their right. Suddenly a gold coin dropped from Ian’s coat pocket and rolled over to where the two low men stood, frozen in place as if they were statues. Ian began to walk towards the coin and the two low men gasped loudly inside. As the Redguard made his way towards the two, Darius quickly put a hand to his clumsy partner’s mouth. Ian picked up the gold coin, and then Darius walked over. Then the two mercenaries began talking right then and there, no longer walking, and the two low men were literally inches away.

“I still don’t know about this,” Ian said, rubbing his hands together to keep warm in the cold, wintry night.

“I don’t either, but gold is gold. This Remy doesn’t seem like the most trustworthy person in the world, I know that. But it’s like you said earlier, Ian. None of our clients have been very trustworthy. Why worry about it now?”

“It’s just bugging me is all. Something just doesn’t feel right, y’know? But it’s alright. I’m probably worrying too much. This Rockthorn Island sounds like a gorgeous place, so I guess I’m looking forward to going. The money most of all, though.”

“Yes, there you go. Come, let’s tell the men so we can hurry back and get the gold.”

The two mercenaries walked away, and Bryn waited until they were totally out of earshot before loosening his grip from Jaal’s mouth.

“Did ya hear that, Jaal? Sounds like men are doing somethin’ for the boss! I wonder what it is…”

The two finally stepped out of the shadows, and Bryn realized they had left their game of cubes on the floor. He sighed in relief, thankful that the mercenaries hadn’t noticed anything.

“I know wuh eht is,” Jaal said, rubbing his cheek from where it was still red from Bryn’s slap. Neither could see that it was red of course, not in the dark of the night.

“I doubt that, Jaal, but go ahead. What is it?”

“The Impral s-s-said somp’n ‘bout Rohthorn Islen. D-Das where dey goin,’ Bryn.”

Bryn looked at his companion, thinking hard. Suddenly an idea came to his head and he had never felt more excited in his life.

“Yeah…yeah, you’re right! The Imperial did say somethin’ about that island, didn’t he? Well…this gives me an idea, Jaal. Ya know how we’ve been barely scrappin’ to keep up a half-decent life?”

“Uh-huh?”

“I say we follow the men to the island and make a new life! Remy’s been nothing but a jerk to us our entire lives. He feeds us and lets us sleep in his house, yeah, but still…I don’t like ‘em. What do you say we go ‘n ask old Remy what the hell’s goin’ on?”

“Y-Yeah, l-l-lehs go!”

Bryn patted Jaal on the shoulder and walked past him towards the back entrance to Remy’s house, with Jaal following close behind. They ran to the end of the alleyway and took a left. There was a door, the door that led into the back part of the kitchen inside Remy’s manor. Bryn knocked three times, paused, and then knocked two more times. No more than three seconds later the door opened, Remy standing in the doorway with an annoyed expression spread about his face.

“What in oblivion do you want this late at night, Bryn?”

Bryn took a step back.

“Sorry, sir, but Jaal and I came to talk about the moon sugar we were supposed to get ya today.”

Remy’s annoyed expression immediately turned into an intense scowl of frustration.

“Not out here, you imbecile! Come inside!”

Bryn and Jaal entered the kitchen and Remy quickly closed the door.

“So, where is it?”

“Well, we don’t have it, sir. That’s…that’s what we came to tell ya.”

Remy cocked his head and looked down at the two lowly Imperial men, cowering over them, easily a foot taller.

“What do you mean you don’t have the moon sugar, Bryn?” Remy asked in a calm tone that made the hairs on Bryn’s neck prickle.

“Well…the blueskin that usually gives us the goods wasn’t there today, at our normal meetin’ spot I mean. And when Jaal and I walked to his house, we couldn’t find ‘em. Then a guard told us to leave, and I asked him where the blueskin was. He just laughed and told us he’d be spendin’ a few years behind iron bars. So…yeah. That’s why we don’t have it, sir.”

Bryn bowed his head in shame, fearful that Remy would reprimand him harshly as he had done the last time Bryn had failed. Jaal tried foolishly to hide behind him, despite that fact that he was slightly taller and much larger than Bryn.

“Well, that’s not very good, is it?” Remy said. “Lucky for you I’m in a particularly good mood, so therefore I’ll talk to you two about this in the morning. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m expecting-”

“A good mood, huh?” Bryn interrupted excitedly. “Does it have anything to do with that Redguard and Imperial that came from your manor a few minutes ago? I heard ‘em walkin’ down the street.”

“What in the world were you doing out there? Spying?”

“No, of course not, sir. Jaal and I were playin’ a game of cubes when they walked by. The Redguard said somethin’ about Rockthorn Island. Ain’t that some kinda rich place or somethin’? Why would ya be sending them there?”

“What makes you think I’m sending them anywhere?” Remy asked impatiently.

“Cause they talked like they were workin’ for ya.”

Remy sighed, and then a smile formed on his face. Bryn didn’t like it either. Not at all. It made him feel…weak. His entire body felt…drained. Like something was pulling on him from the inside.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head over it, Bryn. However, I suggest you stay away from the men. They’ll be leaving in the morning. I…they are taking some gold of mine away to store somewhere else. Somewhere safe. So, think nothing else about it. In fact, sleep in tomorrow morning, because there’s nothing for you and Jaal to do anyhow. Just be here tomorrow at noon and we’ll discuss matters in detail. Alright?”

He winked at Bryn, and a feeling of immense fatigue came over his body, and he nodded his head before he even knew he was doing it.

“Yes, of course. We’ll see you tomorrow, sir,” he said. Then he and Jaal left.

Once they were in the back alleyway the feeling of fatigue was gone, and Bryn felt like his normal self again. He didn’t at all enjoy the strange feeling that had washed over his body. It did feel familiar, though. Bryn couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was as familiar as the sun and the moon.

“You ahright, Bryn?” Jaal asked, a tad bit of fear in his voice.

“Yes…yes, I’m fine,” Bryn answered, without looking back at his companion. “Come on, let’s go see if we can find those men.”

“Buh Remy told us noh to, Bryn.”

“I don’t care!” Bryn snapped, spinning fast on his feels and scowling at Jaal. In return Jaal flinched, expecting yet another snap. Except this time the slap didn’t come. “Don’t ask any more questions, Jaal. Just follow me.”

Jaal nodded in agreement, his head bobbing up and down so fast that the fat on his neck wiggled like a worm. Bryn headed off in the direction the two men had taken earlier, and again, Jaal following close behind, both men remaining in the shield of the shadows.

* * * * *

The party was still going on when Darius and Ian made it back to the tavern, albeit some of the men were beginning to simmer down. It was only a couple, but that was still a sign the party was beginning to slow down. Darius called for the men’s attention, and those still dancing on the table reluctantly fell back into their seats. Before he began speaking, Darius thought for a second whether it was smart to tell the men of the night’s events while they were drunk.

“What are we doing?” He whispered in Ian’s ear. “This is ridiculous. The men are too drunk to understand what’s going on.”

“Nah, they’ll be fine. It’s not like they have a say in any of this anyway. You’re the boss. Let’s just hurry up so we can get the gold. I’m starting to get a little sleepy.”

Darius shrugged and then turned back around to face the men. They all had drunken smiles spread across their face, and most were swaying back and forth as if they were riding a ship in stormy weather. It didn’t matter, though. They wouldn’t turn down ten thousand septims, drunk or sober.

“Alright, men, I hope you’ve had fun partying tonight, because tomorrow morning marks the beginning of another mission. I’ve just accepted a contract from a noble here in Skingrad.”

Murmurs erupted from the group of men.

“What kind of contract, eh? We just got done with one this morning!” yelled one of them, a male Argonian by the name of Julanzo.

“I don’t want to talk about the details right now. We never do that in public. You know that, Julanzo. Let me just say this: the payday will be fantastic. More than you’ve ever seen.”

The men got excited at the word ‘payday’, and none of them argued any further. Darius thought it was mostly because they were drunk and that they didn’t give a damn about anything, but he was happy nonetheless. After the excitement of the money had worn off following their leave from Remy’s manor, Darius realized how tired he was.

He turned to Ian, who looked just as tired, sitting at a table with his head in his hands, his eyes half closed.

“Hey, Ian, go back and tell Remy that we’ll come for the gold tomorrow morning. The men are too drunk and I don’t want them waking the entire city with their foolishness.”

Ian yawned and stretched his long arms in the air. “Sure thing. When I get back we’ll call it a night?”

Darius nodded.

“I’m glad to hear that. I’m so tired right now.”

* * * * *

Though Bryn treated Jaal like a child, and often abused him both mentally and physically, his love for the overlarge man couldn’t have been greater. Both were in their late thirties, though from their dirty hair and beards they looked slightly older. Both were Imperials, though their body sizes were almost entire opposites, with Jaal being tall and large and Bryn being fairly short and skinny. The two were inseparable, though, and neither wanted it any other way, even thought it wasn’t something they ever talked about.

Such affection for one another was quite obvious. They met at a bar three years ago, Jaal having been told to get out because he had no money. Bryn had nothing but a few coins, but for some odd reason he had felt a great deep sorrow for him, even though they had never met. The two immediately became friends, and the rest was history. Bryn was a sly fellow, doing dirty deeds here and there to get by in life. Jaal wasn’t really good at anything, but that wasn’t the point. Bryn didn’t care about that. The affection that Bryn felt for Jaal was a direct correlation from his relationship with his father.

Bryn had himself been mentally and physically abused as a child, and unfortunately he picked up those tendencies towards Jaal. Abusing Jaal was Bryn’s own way of saying ‘I love you’. It was certainly strange, but more importantly, it was the truth. Because even though he had a tough time admitting it to himself, he saw Jaal somewhat as a son. Jaal definitely wasn’t the smartest person by any means, and it was obvious something wasn’t quite right with him. Bryn had to be Jaal’s father-figure, simply because never had a true one himself.

And Jaal went along with it all because he didn’t know what else to do. But what he did know what that he liked his life. Even though Bryn often hurt him, he at least had somebody that cared for him. Such a thing had been nonexistent in his life before meeting Bryn.

Suddenly Bryn put a finger to his lip and held a hand out in front of Jaal. Both he and Jaal were kneeling behind the short stone wall that bordered the garden of one of the nobles. The tavern was located just outside of the Manor district.

“Shh, here comes the Redguard,” Bryn whispered, nodded towards the oncoming Redguard that was Ian.

“Yeh,” Jaal whispered back. “We g-gonna follow?”

Bryn watched as the Redguard passed them and then looked back to his companion.

“Yep. Let’s go.”

[Olen]

Good update. You introduced the new characters well.

Darius quickly put a hand to his clumsy partner’s mouth. - Should Darius be Bryn? Otherwise it doesnt make sense.

The begining of the final section almost comes under show don't tell and was a tad infodumpish but equally it was short and a quick way to set it all up.

I like the continuing mystery surrounding Remy too.

[redsrock]

Darius quickly put a hand to his clumsy partner’s mouth. - Should Darius be Bryn? Otherwise it doesnt make sense.

Dammit, dammit, dammit. I thought I caught all those sort of errors. Thanks, Olen, yeah it should be Bryn.

The begining of the final section almost comes under show don't tell and was a tad infodumpish but equally it was short and a quick way to set it all up.

Yeah, I feel the exact same way. But at the same time, I thought it was important to set up the feelings both men have for one another. Jaal is basically a thirty-year old kid in many aspects, and I wanted to make sure the readers can feel that.

Thanks, Olen.

[redsrock]

This chapter is drastically short, but I think it's a nice stopping point, and that's why I didn't go any further.


Chapter Four

When Remy heard the knock at his front door he stood up and sighed, placing his thick book on the dining room table and starting to walk towards the door. He didn’t want to give up half of the gold before his children were returned to him, mostly because he wasn’t a hundred percent sure he could actually trust Darius Sintras and his mercenaries. But he knew the feeling was mutual, and that is why he had not agued further with the Imperial man and his Redguard companion.

I swear by my mother’s grave, if this man double-crosses me…

He opened the door expecting to see Darius and his entire band of mercenaries, but instead he was face to face to Ian, and only Ian.

“Well now…I was expecting more than this,” he said with a slight chuckle. “I know you Redguards are strong, but it’s going to take more than few boxes to carry all of the gold that you’re about to receive.”

Ian smiled in return and then waved a hand in the air.

“No, no. I’ve come to tell you that we’ll be coming in the morning for the gold, before we head out for Anvil I guess, somewhere around eleven or so. The men, well…let’s just say they’re not in the right mind to be handling boxes this late at night. Y’know what I mean?”

“Ah, of course! A tad bit too tipsy I see?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Ian replied, smiling even more.

“Not a problem. I’ll have my servants pile the gold into boxes myself and that’s alright with you.”

“You don’t have to do that. We can do it for you.”

“No, no, no! I insist…Ian, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. Ian.”

“Well, Ian, I promise you that it would be my pleasure to have the gold ready for you in the morning. I am simply thankful that I was able to find you and your fellow mercenaries. I feared my children would be at that forsaken island for the rest of eternity. I don’t think gathering the gold and putting it into boxes will hurt me too bad. I may be old, but I can still get around well enough. And besides, like I said, my servants will be doing most of the work anyway.”

Ian bowed his head.

“Very well. Thank you, sir. We appreciate it.”

“Think nothing of, Ian! Good night!”

“Same to you, sir.”

Ian left the manor, and Remy watched from his window until Ian was totally out of sight before he locked the door.


Crouching behind a thick set of shrubbery beside the house was Bryn and Jaal, having heard the entire conversation that had just taken place between Ian and Remy.

“Remy be payin’ them gold, Jaal. Ya hear?”

“Yeh, Bryn. Dey b-be gehtin gold. F-Foh whah, t-t-though?”

“Gods be damned, I don’t know, and that’s what’s a killin’ me! Remy said somethin’ about his children. But he’s never spoken of children in front of us. This don’t make a bit a’sense, Jaal. I say we keep followin’ the Redguard and see where he takes us next. That sound alright to you?”

“Yeh, Bryn. Thas o-kay wih’ m-me.”

“Good. Cause I can’t ain’t even a bit sleepy anyway. Come on, let’s go before the darkskin gets too far away!”

Both men rose from the shrubbery and continued to trail Ian, still hiding in the shadows of the night.

* * * * *

Darius and the others were leaning against the bricks walls outside of the tavern when Ian returned. The Captain himself was somewhat agitated, wanting nothing more than to snuggle up in whatever bed he was about to lay down in. And it didn’t matter whether the bed was comfortable or not, that wasn’t the point. He simply wanted to sleep, and he wanted it more than he had ever wanted it before. He didn’t know why, and he thought perhaps it was the excitemen of the gold overloading his body.

“What’d he say, Ian? He’s alright with us coming in the morning?”

“Yeah, he said that’s fine. I told him we’d be there to get the gold sometime in the morning, at around eleven or so. That sound alright?”

Darius looked to the men, men still giggling and stumbling like a bunch of drunken geese. And then he laughed.

“I don’t know about that. I have a hunch that you and I are going to be the only ones tomorrow morning not suffering from hangovers.”

Ian laughed back and patted Darius on the shoulder.

“Right you are, my friend, and I sure am thankful for that. Come on, let’s get out of here before the guards get angry at the men for being so loud.”

Darius and Ian led the men to the city’s largest hotel, which was located only a few miles north of the tavern, near the city gates. Inside the hotel was a single worker who stood behind the front desk, reading a book and not really noticing the group’s arrival until the noisy drunkards of the pack made their presence. Then the man -an Imperial wearing a fancy red and white doublet- scrunched up his nose and was about to tell them to get out before he called for the guards, but then Darius quickly opened up his velvet leather pouch and showed the worker the gold he was carrying, the leftovers of their previous mission’s contract.

The man sighed and set his book down on the desk.

“Good…morning, sir. My name is Demetrius Havlaine, the owner of this inn. How may I serve you and your followers?”

“Yes, I need to pay for twelve, for this night only, please.”

After paying the owner of the hotel, Darius and the others walked up a flight of stairs until they were on the fifth level. Darius had to force the others into their rooms, not to mention it took a while to quiet them all down. But once everything was taken care of -after they had been scolded by both the owner of the hotel, and a few of the inn’s present inhabitants- he and Ian stood just outside Darius’ doorway.

“Finally, some rest. Sounds good, doesn’t it, Darius?”

“Indeed. I can’t quite explain it, but I feel soooo tired right now. It’s amazing, really. I’ve never felt this tired before. I guess the adrenaline of the excitement has worn off. No matter, it’ll come back tomorrow morning when I’m holding that gold in the cups of my hands. I can’t wait to tell the men and see the looks on their faces. It’ll be priceless!”

Ian smiled and then cracked his neck. “That it will, that it will. Well…I’m going to call it a night, Darius. I’m awfully tired as well. See you tomorrow morning.”

“You too, Ian. Good night.”



Outside the hotel stood both Bryn and Jaal. They had followed Ian and the others to the hotel, and were presently hiding in another alleyway, this one in between the hotel and the smithy’s shop beside it.

Bryn was continuously shaking his head, knowing what to say but not yet knowing how to say it, and also not knowing if he really wanted to say it to begin with. He was still drastically confused about everything.

“This is all so confusin’, Jaal. These men, who I’m pretty sure are mercenaries by the look of their gear, are workin’ for Remy. But Remy won’t tell us what they’re doin’, and I sure as hell ain’t gonna ask any of the mercenaries. They’re gonna get some gold from Remy tomorra’, and I guess they’ll leave for Rockthorn Island after that. Thing is, Jaal…I ain’t got a clue where this island is. Do you?”

Jaal simply shook his head as his sat on the cold, stone floor beneath him. The way he sat made him look something like a toddler, and in many ways that is what he was. A grown-up toddler, with his not-so-grown-up father in front of him.

“Dammit, Jaal, you don’t know your boat from your elbow, do ya? Well, I guess we’ll just hafta play it by ear, y’know? But I’ll tell ya one thing. I think our days with Remy are done. I didn’t tell him that we killed that damn blueskin, for obvious reason a’course. The damned elf was an boatmaster, and he got what he deserved. Still…things might get a lil’ slippery around here anyway. When the guards find the blueskin’s body, which they will eventually, they’ll start askin’ questions. And I don’t like answerin’ questions. Do ya, Jaal?”

Again, Jaal shook his head in return, now fumbling with a large stone he had just found on the ground.

“I thought so. Nope, we ain’t stayin’ here no more. We’re gonna follow the men out of the city, but we’ll have to be all sneaky-like so we don’t get caught. But ya’ know what else?”

“Wah?”

“I don’t know what we’ll do even when we get to the goddamn island. I guess hunt for loot and stuff? I’m guessing we’ll hafta call ourselves…adventurers or somethin’. How’s that sound?”

Jaal shrugged and then threw the stone aside.

“It s-sound ahright ta me, B-Bryn. I dohn g-g-guess weh can stay roun’ hehr n-no’mo anyw-wah.”

“Nope, that’s right. We can’t stay around here anymore. Not after killing that blueskin we can’t. Come on, mumble-mouth, let’s go home. We can plan before goin’ to bed.

[Olen]

Yup, this is moving along well. I'd say you've spent about the right amount of time in Skingrad - enough to set up everything without losing the reader too much.

Remy continued to fascinate, there's something odd but I couldn't say what yet.

I think the only bit that jarred there was Darius putting the men to bed, the way I read it he came across as a bit authoritarian which isn't how he seemed at other points. But that's possibly deliberate.

I like the revelation that Jaal and Bryn have murdered, it adds depth.

[redsrock]

The part about Darius getting the men to bed was simply because he wanted them to be well rested for the morning, and also because they were still drunk and he didn't want them to wake the entire city. I probably could have made that more clear, though.

Thanks, Olen.

[Olen]

I got that he wanted them sober/not vomiting in the morning but your average drunk isn't going to want to stop. Maybe its just how I read it but he seems to dominate his men in this section whereas he seemed extremely leniant in others.

It not a big deal though.

[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.

[Olen]

Good update. Its nice to see things moving on.

The writing was generally fine, just a couple of issues.

photos??! - this really didn't fit the setting for me, and more than just the anachronism of it. The word itself doesn't seem to work in the elderscrolls. It's not at all like the language I'd imagine them using for that sort of thing even if it were possible (largely because its a contaction and for very unusual things people don't use contractions but even the clearly greek roots of photograph seem to jar the setting to me). In short this really jarred me.

Also the dunmer seemed awfully friendly to two characters you've set up to appear as of low background. Unless you've something up your sleeve.

This post has been edited by Olen: Mar 25 2009, 01:32 PM

[redsrock]

photos??! - this really didn't fit the setting for me, and more than just the anachronism of it. The word itself doesn't seem to work in the elderscrolls. It's not at all like the language I'd imagine them using for that sort of thing even if it were possible (largely because its a contaction and for very unusual things people don't use contractions but even the clearly greek roots of photograph seem to jar the setting to me). In short this really jarred me.

Oh shite. Sorry. I swear to Baar that I went back and fixed that to 'portraits miniaturized by magic'. Darn...

Unless you've something up your sleeve.

[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.”

[redsrock]

This story is going to put on a break. I've gotten into an RP-collaborative-short story project at TIL, and it's very fun thus far. Also, I want to work on Teir. The former I told a friend that I'd help, so I'm obviously not going to break that promise. And I'm not going to force myself to work on three projects at once. That would be utterly ridiculous.