Private {18+} Ascension

As night began to fall, the flow of people entering the Maidens' Arms slowed to a trickle, and Thalien saw no more mercenaries. Another quick glance at the surrounding blades for hire revealed that they, like him were getting impatient. He took a count of the people that had arrived after Joren and himself, and was surprised at the sheer number- more than a dozen blades, including themselves.

"We're expected to work with these people?" The warrior murmured to his companions, "how are we to trust they won't stab us in the back at the first opportunity?"

"Hard to double cross someone if you're dead." Joren pointed out from his place in the shadows. Var'Hess chuckled, but the old khajiit seemed uneasy himself. Thalien had fought alongside him many times, and he knew it took a lot to shake the old cat. He wasn't concerned by the trustworthiness of the mercenaries in the tavern...something else, then.


The feeling that something was wrong continued to grow in the back of his mind. "Var'Hess...this imperial that contacted you; who was he?"

"This one never met him. Only a representative. Why do you ask?"

At the very edge of his hearing, screams could be heard. Thalien loosened Ferrum Noctis in its' sheathe. "I think we are about to meet them." Several moments passed, and the screams and cries of alarm could be heard by everyone inside. A man in filthy clothing stumbled to the door, eyes wide with panic. "Imperials! Hundreds of 'em!"

An instant later, the same man collapsed forwards, a pair of crossbow bolts sticking from his back. And imperial legionnaires in heavy plate and full helms stormed inside swords drawn and carrying kite shields with the imperial sigil. The patrons closest to the door staggered backwards, drawing swords, daggers, whatever weapon they had on hand.

However it soon became clear that the soldiers were not attacking, merely forming an armoured wall to prevent escape. Behind them, soldiers armed with crossbows took up positions, aiming between the gaps of their shield bearing comrades. The mercenaries and other denizens of the under empire eyed the soldiers warily, but didn't dare make a move. The imperials were clearly waiting for something. Or someone.

As it turned out, Thalien and the others did not have to wait long. A figure covered in armour stepped through the door. He was massive, closer to three metres in height than two, and so broad that he barely managed to fit through the door. His face was concealed behind a golden mask, with a single ruby coloured tear beneath each eye. It was an Archon.

A man in imperial livery stepped forwards, but stayed safely behind the imperial shieldwall. "Presenting his glorious lordship, archon Bastianus of Bruma, conquerer of the north and protector of the Nibenay Basin."


The giants' head turned slowly, taking in the assembled killers facing him. His eyes, a pale blue barely visible inside his helm, glittered with scorn. "So these are the very best of the scum to crawl forth?" He muttered, his voice rumbling from behind his helm. "

With a grunt, he conceded, "I suppose they will suffice. Listen well, criminals of the empire! Your emperor requires your service. The rebels of High Rock have united under one banner. A king known as Giarald Marquette. Your task, is to put an end to this false rulers' reign. In return, any crimes you have committed in the past will be wiped away. In addition to this, you will each receive a sum of one thousand gold pieces upon completion of this task."

A rumbling sounded within the armoured giants chest, and he placed a hand on the ornate hilt of his sword, "you have until dawn to depart. Any of you here now found in the city after dawn will be executed as traitors to the empire." With that ultimatum given, the archon turned and left the tavern. His soldiers backed out, keeping their weapons ready. Soon, the commotion caused by their arrival had faded, leaving the mercenaries to mull over his words.

Kylira smiled, the ink on her face twisting to make her seem even more predatory than she generally did. "Afraid, are we? Hardly makes sense, seeing as there are three of you, and only one of me." To enforce her words, and minimize the odds of getting shot by the dour looking elf, she chopped down with her axe, burying the head in the snow and frozen ground.

"See? I'm cooperating. Now, are you going give me a cut of the reward, or do I go looking somewhere else?" She crossed her arms under her breasts and waited for one of the three to give her an answer. It was a blunt play to get inside the city, but she was more likely to get inside with the hunters than she was to slip past the guards. Especially with a legion of imperial soldiers outside the city.

Rajeem snorted at the elf womans' words. He was not overly fond of the imperials, but they paid damn well, and they wouldn't thank him for bringing an elf that looked like she knew how to use that axe she had only now embedded into the snow. "Right...cooperating until we get you into the city, you mean. Most elves don't like the empire. And you look like the type to do more than sneer and skulk about."

"I say we take her." Iornath said, the haughty bosmer sounding surprisingly thoughtful. "What harm could she cause the three of us, or a city full of imperial legionnaires and mages?"

"You would side with your own kind, you bloody tree hugger." The argonian growled, but he didn't see much alternative. He was already out a good amount of gold due to their targets' untimely death, and he wasn't about to risk his neck fighting some elf with a death wish. "We'll take you to Bruma, but it's your funeral." He started to turn back towards the city, but Iornath stiffened in place.

"Hold!" He drew his bowstring back, an arrow already set upon it. "Something is coming. Something big."

Rajeem scowled and drew his weapon, hearing the thudding footsteps and heavy breathing. Then, through a clearing in the trees, it appeared. A minotaur, brown-beige furred, oval ears that flicked back and forth, bloodshot yellow eyes that glared down at the four hunters, and a pair of curving ivory horns, stained with gore and gleaming in the last rays of the sun. "Well that's just bloody fantastic." Rajeem remarked, before all hell broke loose.

Djor turned his attention away from the elven woman in front of him as the sounds of something heavy crashing through the surrounding forest grew nearer. A few moments later, the source of the noise arrived in a flurry of snow and broken branches. A minotaur, standing well over six feet, glared down at them, eyes narrowed with bloodlust and hunger.

The former soldier was no stranger to these beasts, but luckily his encounters with them had been few and far between. He doubted he'd make much progress with Wolftooth against the beast, so instead, he leapt away, out of immediate arms reach, and brought up his bow. He doubted he was as good a shot as their elven companion, but he'd been a ranger for several years. His shot struck it in the right bicep, drawing a pained growl but nothing more. His second shot, aimed at the head, was barely deflected by the beasts horn. It seemed that bows alone would not be enough to finish this fight.

Kylira had no bow, and she knew it'd be a bad idea to be standing in front of an enraged minotaur that outweighed her by several dozen pounds. Luckily she was not the focus of its wrath at the moment. The nord and argonian were backing away, the man trying to get a fatal shot, while the argonian seemed to be trying to figure out the best way to take down such a creature, but they were also keeping the minotaurs attention on them. Readying her axe, she loped towards the creature, and swung at the back of its left knee. Blood sprayed and the beast bellowed in rage. It half turned, swinging at her with a massive fist. She dodged backwards, slashing into the back of its arm as she did so. She landed easily, already on balance, allowing herself a small smile as blood coloured the snow. It started to turn towards her, eyes focusing on the elven woman. Her own smile twisted the tattoos into a fanged snarl, a fellow beast, just as dangerous, if somewhat smaller. With its' uninjured hand, it reached down and grabbed a dead tree trunk from the snow, bringing it up over its head. Luckily for Kylira, she was ready, dodging and rolling through the snow. The improvised weapon smashed into the ground, sending bits of wood and snow through the air. The elven assassin stood, a real snarl on her face now.

Rajeem kept stopped backing away as the minotaur took an arrow to the arm and then an axe blade to the back of its knee. If anything, the creature was more angry, hefting a tree trunk, he flailed at the tattooed elf who managed to dodge aside and avoid being flattened. The altmer had wounded the minotaur, but now it was more angry than ever, flailing around with its' new weapon. Rajeem, glanced over at Iornath, who was a good distance away, his bow out and an arrow on the string, but seemed unwilling to loose unless he could guarantee a kill. It made sense, the bounty hunter reasoned, stepping towards the creature as it continued to take swings at the tattooed elf. She was good enough to keep out of range, but a good hit from the makeshift club, and she'd be crushed to death. At least if that happened, he wouldn't have to worry about her causing him trouble. But she'd stayed when she could have left the three of them to fight the beast. He had to at least try to help her, even if it wasn't the wisest course of action. "Here goes godsdamn nothing" Rajeem sighed, and sprinted forwards, before slashing into the beasts calf. It fell to its' knees once more, and the argonian was already diving as it tried to smack him with its' weapon. "Take the damned shot!" He bellowed, hoping Iornath, Djor or both would heed his words.

Iornath mirrored the argonian as he backed away, moving in a different direction to confuse the beast as it tried to choose its' first victim. The human that had been accompanying them, Djor, fired one shot after the other, the first striking it high in the arm, but the other was deflected by its' curving horn. Iornath knew he could not get a fatal shot, not with the minotaurs' thick skin and quick movements. He needed it still, but the elven ranger seriously doubted it would hold still long enough for him to get a kill shot in. The elf woman, her face covered in tattoos, stalked forwards, hefting her axe. With a horizontal slash, she severed the tendons at the back of the minotaurs left knee. The bovine bellowed its pain and tried to smack her away, receiving another gash for the attempt. Apparently having enough of the tattooed elf, it grabbed a trunk of a fallen tree, and attempted to smash her. He saw the argonian, Rajeem, sprint forwards and slash at its' other leg, bringing it down once more. And Iornath saw his opportunity as it threw its' head back and howled. A single shaft punched into the hollow of the minotaurs throat, turning the roar into a gargling gasp.

The beast stayed upright for another several moments before it crashed onto its side, blood painting the snow where it had fallen. The three gathered around it, ensuring it was dead and catching their breath. "Well. That was more than enough excitement for me." Rajeem chuckled, cleaning the blade of his falchion in the snow. Night had fallen during the fight, and the cold was starting to set in. "We should set camp. The imperials will have closed the gates by now in any case." He nodded at the tattooed elf, "you're welcome to stay, so long as you don't try to cut our throats."

Djor set his bow aside. Rajeem had engaged the beast in close combat, and so had the tattooed elf. They were making little progress, but the minotaurs blood was starting to stain the snow around it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the elf, Iornath, circling the fight, trying to get a good shot at the thing.

Drawing Wolfstooth, he sprang forwards, slashing at the creatures side. He heard the argonian bounty hunter bellow something, and the elf loosed his arrow. It was an excellent shot, striking the minotaur in the hollow of its' throat. It went down hard, and didn't rise again. Rajeem suggested the four of them camp for the night. "I'll get a fire going." He sad, gathering the required firewood and striking a flame. They were sheltered somewhat from the cold by the nearby forest, and far enough from the minotaurs corpse that they would not be attacked by any scavengers.

Dawn saw the mercenaries departing the run down tavern, and heading out of the city. To Thaliens' mild surprise, Var'Hess accompanied them. Despite his age, the khajiit easily kept up with the rest of the group. "You're sure you can keep up, old cat?" Thalien teased, "I wouldn't want you to drop dead before you get your hands on the reward."

The older mercenary hissed a laugh, "insolent welp. This one isn't about to miss a thousand gold! And to kill a king! How many can claim that honour?"

Thalien grinned at the response, and nodded. "They do say that fortune favours the infamous. Of course, we need to survive getting to this king and returning to collect our reward."

"If the imperials don't double cross us. We could be executed the moment we kill this breton king." Joren added, but the corpse-grin under his hood revealed what he thought of that. The gates of the city were now in sight, guarded by a group of enforcers, who were making sure to keep back from the mercenaries headed towards them.

Elrasur listened patiently to the imperials' story. It seemed feasible enough, but the dunmer was not overly familiar with the legions rules. The human finished his tale by saying that he was still loyal to the empire, even as a mercenary, and that he'd not be killing his fellow imperials. "Thank you for your honesty, and I doubt you have much to fear as far as killing your fellow imperials goes."

Before he could elaborate, a man, some denizen of the streets, staggered in, shouting about imperials, before dropping dead, courtesy of the crossbow bolts in his back. Almost two dozen legionnaires in heavy armor stormed inside, followed by their crossbow wielding comrades. That was not the last of them though. A man, a herald, announced the arrival of the heavily armored individual to come through the door next.

Archon Bastianus of Bruma. Elrasur gripped the hilts of his blades under the table, wondering if the archon was perhaps part giant. He towered over even the tallest of the assembled soldiers and mercenaries. However, he was not there to fight, instead giving them their assignment to kill the king of the bretons, and warning them to be gone at dawn the next day.

The next morning

Elrasur awoke slightly before the suns' rays touched the city, and was dressed and armed when the light began to shine on the roofs and streets of Bruma. The pair of similarly armored men lead them on, the old khajiit beside them. With the pace they set, it was not long before the gates were in sight . The enforcers there maintained a wary distance, not eager to get into an altercation with such a well armed group. Outside, the road was churned up into a mix of slush, droppings, and muck, with nearly undisturbed fields of snow to either side. "So it begins," the elf murmured.

Dawn lit up a clear sky, with the occassional cloud drifting across it. The fire from the night before had long since gone out, leaving embers glowing a dull red. Rajeem pulled his bedroll tighter around him and cursed the cold vehemently. He glanced around, and noted that the damned stubborn elf, Iornath, was already up and about, standing at the edge of the camp, arms folded, eyes scanning the forest for further threats. "About time you woke." The elf said curtly over his shoulder, " We are wasting daylight." Rajeem emerged from the roll and quickly gathered his gear, before rousing the others. He held up the sack containing the bandit leaders' severed head, "we should get moving. Bruma's to the south."

The four made their way through the forest, cautious of any other monsters that might be lurking nearby, but found none. Where the forest ended, the city was visible in the distance, but closer still, were hundreds of white tents- a legion of imperial soldiers was encamped a short distance from the road. Red uniformed sentries could be seen on patrol, and the standards flapped in a stiff breeze. Iornaths' lip curled, but he was no fool- he was no match for a legion of soldiers on an open field. So he kept his hands close to his weapons, but made no hostile moves, and soon the four were on the road to Bruma. Rumor had it that it had been paved with the bones of the nordic rebels, and walking it now, the elf had little reason to doubt it. Most of the road was too covered with muck and slush, but here and there, a grimy, skull shaped object could be seen staring up at them.

Rajeem shoved his way through the crowd around the gates, merchants haggling with the enforcers, handing out bribes. The larger the bribe, the faster that merchant got inside. The argonian bounty hunter and his companions made their way to one of the guards that was leaning on the halberd in his hands, clearly wanting nothing more than to get back to the barracks and sleep. "What d'you want, argonian? We're not letting just anyone through the gates, y'know."

In response, the one horned argonian hefted the stained sack. "Here to collect the bounty. Cassius Ballus is dead." The guard stared at the sack for a moment, before grabbing it. "Wait here" he instructed, and walked into a guardhouse with his gory trophy. A few moments later a guard sergeant stepped out with four smaller leather pouches in hand. "The bounty was for him alive, so you get less. Fifty gold, and you'll be grateful." He tossed the pouches to each of them. Rajeem caught his and scowled, but before he could argue the point, a company of heavily armed and armoured mercenaries headed out. "What about them? Headed somewhere interesting?"

The sergeant shrugged. "Beats me. Heard the archon was looking for some blades to work for him. I'd say that's them." Rajeem eyed the group, an idea forming. Anyone working for the archon would probably take in quite the reward. Motioning to the others, he called out to the lead man, a dark haired human with dark armour and an elaborate sword. "You there! Up to take four more?" He heard Iornaths' exasperated hiss, and ignored it. If the damned elf wanted inside the city so badly, he could find his own way.

Kyros stayed in step with the others as they left the tavern behind, considering the archons words. He didn't fear the emperors wrath, nor did he have much use for coin...but killing a king. He had no illusions that the man himself would be any great warrior, but he was almost certainly protected by the greatest knights the rebels of High Rock could muster. Already, the vampire knights' mouth was watering with the thought of feasting on their blood. Never mind the skill of each individual knight. If he had to serve this weakling emperor, and travel with a pack of gold grubbing mercenaries, so be it.

He scowled at the bystanders, many of them having heard of the imperial raid on the Maidens' Arms the night before. They watched the mercenary procession with undisguised curiosity, and in some cases, fear. 'Pathetic' he thought, looking away from them, to road ahead. They were coming up on Bruma's northern gate, and a river of merchants and travelers were moving in either direction. The enforcers, barely trained thugs were demanding a 'tax' from anyone coming in. The vampires' lip curled as he passed the guards, and a couple stepped back, wanting no part of the battle scarred knight. "Weaklings," he muttered, "everywhere I look, I see fools playing at being soldiers. Give me a worthy foe." Whether his 'companions' were listening or not, he neither knew nor cared. They were outside the city now, and a smaller group, doubtless more mercenaries, were speaking with the current 'leader' of their expedition. He felt his lip curl as he watched the man in conversation with a one horned argonian. He was no leader himself, but he wasn't sure what made the nord so sure he could lead them.

The archons' arrival had been sudden and unexpected. The man was a giant, covered in armor and glaring down at those in the tavern as if they offended him just by existing. Adalia found herself hunching into her robes,trying to avoid the archons' gaze. She heard Lilliana whispering something, but her heart was pounding in her ears too loud for her to hear the girls words. However, she was not hauled off by a pack of confessors, instead the archon declared that those mercenaries that served him, they'd receive a bounty of a thousand gold, and have any past crimes erased. The storm mage frowned, her mind working furiously. Being able to walk around without being arrested and burnt at the stake or some other horrible death was very tempting. With that in mind, she rented a room for herself and Lilliana.

Once in the room, the younger woman sat on the edge of the bed, fidgeting nervously. "Do you believe him? Will he let us go free if we do this for the empire?" The girls questions mirrored her own doubts. There was no reason for the imperials to not just have everyone killed once the task was completed. "I don't know, Lilliana. But you heard what he said would happen to us if we stayed behind." Lilliana looked down at her hands and nodded. "I don't want to kill this king. But I don't want to die either" she murmured, before looking back at Adalia, "we don't have a choice, do we?" The redguard wrapped an arm around the girls shoulders " I don't think so, dear."

The two shared a bed, which luckily didn't have any bugs or rats in it. In the morning they ate a small breakfast before joining the rest of the group that was making its way out of the under empire. The road was lined with groups of underfed people watching them as they made their way along the street. Soon they were outside, with a road packed with carts, and open fields in every direction. The Great Forest could be seen some distance away, further to the north, towards Skyrim. Adalia had never been, but she'd heard of the atrocities committed by the legion. Hopefully, High Rock would not be as unpleasant.

The mercenary group made their way through the northern gates of Bruma, crowded with dozens of merchants were attempting to make their way into the city. Snow blanketed the ground to either side of the road, and laid heavily atop the branches of the great forest, further from the city. Smoke rose from the camps of the imperial legion camped a short distance from the city. With Joren at his shoulder, Thalien surged ahead, keeping a wary eye on the enforcers to either side of the gates. Despite the archons guarantee, they had not yet fulfilled their part of the contract, and the archon might change his mind at any time. Having them ambushed just outside the city limits would be a good way to claim the mercenaries had abandoned the quest at the first opportunity. The ruler of Bruma had seemed somewhat less than enthusiastic about the available blades in the Maidens' Arms.

"You there! Up to take four more?" Thalien turned in the direction of the group, and frowned. A one horned argonian walked towards them from the direction of Bruma, leading a nord, a high elf, and a pale bosmer. A very unlikely group, all things considered. Of course, the argonian had all but identified as mercenaries themselves. Clearly they'd clued in to the fact that such a large group would receive a hefty reward for completing whatever task they were set. However, out of the four, the bosmer seemed downright furious at his argonian companion. But rather than question that, he nodded. Or rather, he started to. Then he glanced over his shoulder at the pack of hired blades who were watching the conversation. Not all were human, and he suspected a couple, the big breton in scarred armour in particular of being something more than...natural.

Joren, picking up on his comrades body language, shifted subtly, placing himself ahead and to the left of Thalien, adjusting his grip on his weapon as he did so. The silent challenge would keep the others in check for now, Thalien hoped. He hadn't received any prophetic visions since before leaving for Bruma. If he was meant to lead this rabble, he'd have to do it through his own willpower. He nodded again, firmly this time. "I don't see why not. Worse comes to worse, you'll be able arrow-fodder."

(So sorry for not posting anything in a long time! just started work a few weeks back and have been focusing on that, hope I didn't ruin anything by not being here)

Mathias hummed thoughtfully as he listened to the archon's claim for gold and a clean of of all their past crimes, he snorted quietly at that, as if he needed his past crimes ereased, he was probably going to assassinate someone else the moment this contract is done anyway.

NEXT DAY

As the large group of hired blades made their way through the snow, The Grimm was walking slightly to the left of the of the Knight looking Breton With a heavily scarred armor, he could practically 'smell' the blood and Death on the giant of a man, and felt himself grin at the possible oportunity to maybe find a worthy sparring partener in coming weeks of travel. He grunted slightly as the Cold and harsh Wind of the North swept Down on them before he sighed and turned into his crow form, cawing as he flew through the pack of Mercenaries and cuthroats, looking ahead of them before he saw a small group of different People, it seemed like there was an argonian leading them. He swept Down to them and cawed once and landed on a small stone piller beside the bosmer and stared at them With his unnatural purlpe eyes, titling his head in a curious manner.

As Caleb left the city of Bruma the next morning, careful to keep his robes closed to conceal the weapon and armor there. The others in the group were ignorant of his mercenary past, and he was determined to keep it so. He was a healer, but his beliefs gave him pause- he knew all about mercenaries, assassins, and the like. Would using his healing arts to save their lives lead to the deaths of dozens or perhaps more innocents? Worse, the mercenaries were working for the empire, even if the archon hadn't given them much of a choice. If it had been up to him, he'd have slipped away some time during the night, or at first light and head to High Rock, or perhaps a more secluded corner of the empire.

But he'd met the fugitive woman, Adalia and her young ward. Neither seemed like murderers but they'd been forced into accepting the contract with the others as well. He could not, in good conscience leave them to their fate among the cutthroats that were headed into a war zone between the imperials and the breton rebels. So he kept his mouth shut and followed the dark armored nordic warrior, with his cloaked bodyguard and skull-helmed friend.

"Well, have no fear of being turned in by me." Cyrius said pleasantly, allowing a thin smile to grace his lips. "I've kept company with far worse than a band of thieves." He'd barely finished the sentence when a small army of imperials burst inside. Rather than attack, though they formed a barrier of flesh and steel between themselves and the door. Though it looked like the giant of a man that stepped inside hardly needed the soldiers for protection. The vampire took a couple extra steps back, seeking a chink in the mans armor, or any noticeable weaknesses. Nothing. Or at least, nothing he could immediately make out, and he had no plans to throw himself at the massive imperial.

As it turned out, the archon of Bruma himself had come to inspect the mercenaries the empire was hiring, and seemed somewhat less than pleased with them. After a brief speech, he ordered them gone come the morning. As the others rented lodging for the night, Cyrius prowled the streets, searching for his next meal. It wasn't hard, with the under empire filled with all kinds of filth none would miss come the morning. Having fed on a prostitute lounging on a street corner, he waited outside the inn for the others to wake and join him. Soon the group, lead by the dark armored nord who'd kept to himself with the old khajiit and a couple of others was leaving Bruma behind. Before they'd gotten far though, they were stopped by another group, this one smaller, but no less capable. Or at least it appeared that way. One short negotiation later, and the mercenaries had gained another four companions.

"Well isn't this a lovely little outing?" Cyrius asked the khajiit woman he'd seen with the white-handed dunmer. "We've barely even started and we're already making new friends."

Sylandres had read Uzar's comment and had formulated a reply when he heard a voice, clear as fogless morning.
"So these are the very best of the scum to crawl forward?"
He turned his head to see a great beast of a man, in the physical and spiritual sense of the word. Sylandres needed no written words to hear the message the beast had. He could feel it resonating inside of him. Once the formerly mortal Lord was gone, Sylandres got up and went to the tavern maid and paid for a room. As he made sure the room was safe form any prying ears of eyes, Sylandres undressed, revealing a body crisscrossed in scars. He turned his attention to the wound he had sustained on his march to Burma. He brushed his hand over the scratch, leaving only a pink scar and the faintest trace of magick. He then set to work repairing his sleeve.

By the dawn's coming, he was already outside the gates. He lagged behind the rest of the group, constantly check his back. They soon stopped, for unknown reasons. Sylandres wanted to move and go somewhere, so he pushed his way up front to see what the commotion was about.

Vintor hid his expression behind the skull-helm, but the menacing armour and the dangerous looking mace hanging from his belt discourage the enforcers from searching him for 'contraband'. The group, lead by Thalien, suddenly halted, and he could hear conversation from up ahead. Making his way to the front of the group, he caught the end of the conversation between the nord and a one horned argonian. "May have escaped your notice, but we're still in front of the gates." He said to the dark armoured warrior, "and while we may be out of the city itself, our employer might not take it too kindly if we're standing about outside his gates. Where do we go first? Skyrims' closer, but overrun with bandits and worse, while the redguards are likely to kill us on sight."

Iornath narrowed his eyes at the dark armoured mans' remark about he and his companions being 'arrow fodder'. If anyone was going to attract an arrow, it would be this fool. At that thought, the elf reached for his bow, but quickly moved his hands back to his side. Starting a fight now would be suicidal. Instead, he merely scowled at the human, and looked over the rest of the group. Several elves one of them an altmer, the other a dunmer , and closer stood a fellow bosmer, with mutilated ears. Besides him, there was a a khajiit woman, garbed like a thief or assassin. The rest were human, including a man in the gear of an imperial battle mage.

But two others drew his attention, the first was a heavily armoured, breton, which was not strange in and of itself. High Rock was known for its knightly orders. But the mans flesh was pale, much paler than any human Iornath had ever come across. His eyes narrowed further as he noticed a second in a fine coat, an imperial this time. Before he could question the would-be-leader of the mercenary group about his choice of companions, a large bird, wings tinged red, landed on a nearby rock, and tilted its head at him. As a wood elf, he respected all creatures, but there was something different about this...bird. The colouration of the wings, and its' eyes, a unique violet, had him on guard. Was it a familiar of one of the group? The battle mage, perhaps? Or the redguard in the multi-coloured robes?

"Lead on, then, captain." Rajeem said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "but don't think I'll be taking orders from some human, just because he's got hired muscled at his back. I've been taking merc. contracts for a while now, and followed worse than you." At that time, the skull helmed man stepped forth, and brought up the point that their 'employer' would not take kindly to them hanging about the gates. "Your employer? And who's that exactly? Some noble from the city? Or someone else?" The argonian mercenary crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

They were all set to head out once more when the argonian mercenary spoke up, seeming less than pleased with Vintor's cryptic reference to the Archaon of Bruma. "I don't expect you to like taking orders." Thalien drawled, "but you'll follow them all the same. If you can't work with us, then you're useless. Or maybe it's that you want to lead this company?" The half-nord stepped aside and gestured for the argonian to lead on. "By all means, but I'd be careful. One slip up, and you're likely to find a blade at your back." Beside him, Joren shifted his grip on his halberd, and stepped to the side, getting space for the weapons arcing swings. If the argonian and his band wanted trouble, they'd be in for more than they'd bargained for. "Now fall in line or lead the way. Vintor here is right. Our employers' a powerful noble, and he won't be pleased to see us standing around on his coin."

Grudgingly, the argonian stepped away, and Thalien moved to the head of the group. "We'll move north along the road for now. We can get into specifics later." As they moved, Var'hess sidled up to him. "You may have made some dangerous enemies. They will need watching." On his other side, Joren shrugged, "then we'll watch. And if they try anything, they'll suffer." The shrouded assassin stated, running a thumb along the blade of his weapon. "No one is trying anything. We need to work together, and I'll not have the two of you starting a fight. Killing a king is enough of a task as it is."