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    Drahkma

    Dashing Imperial Officer.
    Riften. A city where people go to disappear, form new identities for themselves. Sometimes, join shady organizations, such as the thieves guild. However, in recent days, disturbing reports have come to Mistveil keep. All over the Rift, people have begun to go missing, and even the thieves guild has noticed its' members abroad fail to report in. Guard posts have become heavily armed bastions. The guard patrols have grown into heavily armed and armoured troops. Merchants and those others that are forced to travel pay handsomely for mercenary guards, even when on heavily used roads.
    Disturbances have been reported in the nearby Velothi mountains as well, though none dare move too close to investigate. Mercenary's and adventurers are called, to find the source of these disappearances, and put a stop to them.
     

    Orien Terrik

    "Arik tree'ac te kek."
    Orien stood hunched over the War Table in Castle Dour. Legate Rikke sat in a chair to his right, finishing a cup of wine. Tullius had returned to Cyrodiil earlier that month, on account of both the new rebellion, and the issues in the west, near Markarth. He was due to return today, and so Rikke and Orien sat around, waiting for him to return so they could figure out what they were going to do. As far as he knew, the companions had taken interest for some reason with the new rebellion in the east, and a Ranger had been sent to the west to help out the Jarl. Orien had read the report the Ranger had sent before heading out. He had apparently joined up with a band of mercenaries that the Jarl had called out for... Against the Empires wishes, but, it was alright, because a few agents made sure that the best mercs in the land would "Hear" about the call to arms. That just left the issues in the Rift that had recently started to begin. First the mysterious disappearances, and then reports that an Imperial Fort had mysteriously gone quiet. Orien sighed. "You know, I thought that after we put down the first Rebellion, that we would be able to concentrate on fighting the Dominion again, but for some reason, we can not get a break. We go from bad, to worse, to mysterious. I'm sick of it. To top that off, I have been cooped up in here for the past few months. The best fight I have had here recently was with the training dummy out in the court yard. To top that off, there is this dang bird that has it out for me for reasons unknown. I never can get him though, he just drops nuts and acorns on me from above, squawks, and then flies off. Its like he waits for me to walk outside, probably sitting on some perch. I couldn't imagine being stuck up here constantly, instead of in the field. I feel like i'm going soft." He said, then a slight grin came across his face. "Imagine how soft you would be if you just sat up here all day, everyday, not seeing much action." He muttered. There was a little coughing noise, and some sputtering to his right, and Orien grinned in satisfaction. "You think I've gone soft?" Rikke muttered as she stood from her seat. "Come on, you and me, duel." She spat out. Orien let out a chuckle.

    The two legates walked outside, and Orien was almost immediately set upon by the bird, who began dive bombing him with nuts. Rikke, who was finishing up her cup of wine, sputtered out the last sip as she tried to stifle a laugh, but she couldn't. Setting her cup down, she reached for two wooden practice swords, and tossed one to Orien. Catching it, the man looked down at it, as it seemed like a dagger in his hands. Shrugging, he took up a stance across from Rikke, who was doing the same. The duel began, and Orien quickly laid a tap onto her stomach, and Rikke let out a rush of wind. Stepping back to allow her to regain her air, he took up his stance. After about twenty seconds, she did the same, and they engaged again, this duel lasting a little longer, but the outcome being the same, this time Orien landing his sword gently upon the area where her neck met her shoulder. Rikke scowled, and shoved the sword off. The two continued to duel in the court yard. Rikke hadn't landed a single blow on him. Walking up to her, Orien had a big grin on his face. "Maybe I am going soft." She said, and Orien started to chuckle, but was cut off when his legs were suddenly swept out from under him by Rikke, who had lurched forward pretty quickly. Landing on his rear, Orien started to get up, but was stopped by the tip of Rikke's wooden sword on his neck. The female Legate had a grin on her face. Removing the sword, she extended a hand down to Orien, who accepted it. Taking a deep breath, and exhaling it, Rikke laughed. "Yep. still got it." She said. Orien raised an eyebrow. "I won two out of three... Old woman." This got a chuckle out of them both. Setting down his practice sword in the rack, he picked up a towel to dab his face of sweat, but as he pulled it away, he saw General Tullius walking up the steps to the castle. "He's back." Orien called over to Rikke. They both proceeded to the war table back inside the castle, following Tullius. As the three of them settled around the table, Tullius looked at Orien. "Look, something is going on here, I know it. Command has denied sending reinforcements at the moment, not until we can get some solid intel and proof that we have a real issue." Tullius said. Orien waited for him to continue. "Orien, I am sending you to the Rift. I want you to investigate what is happening, and also what happened to our fort. You will have the Legion's full support in the investigation, and all the resources of the soldiers in the area. You leave in the morning. Get some rest." Tullius finished up. Orien nodded his head in understanding. Excusing himself from the table, he went to his quarters, closing the doors behind him after entering. He proceeded to strip down, and enter into the iron tub in his room. The water was cold, but soothing. After the bath, he entered his bed, and fell asleep, for he had an to awake early tomorrow to set out on his journey.
    ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    It was early in the morning. The Sun hadn't risen yet, however, Orien was already up and moving. He had gotten into his armor, and had eaten a breakfast of a horker loaf, some bread, and a glass of milk. His was packed and ready to go. Placing his shield on his back, he picked up his helmet in one hand, and his small traveling sack in the other, and left his quarters, proceeding to the door, however, he was stopped short by Tullius, who said that he was going to have another person traveling with him to the Rift, and to wait for him to arrive at the stables before leaving. Orien nodded, and then exited the castle, walking down the steps, and into Solitude. Heading to the gate, he got nods and waves from the citizens of the city, as he was pretty well known to the people. Orien smiled, and continued walking, through the gate, and down the path to where the stables were. Upon arriving, Geimund, who owned the stables, walked his horse, a beautiful female paint horse named Aeris, up to him. Orien liked to saddle her himself, instead of letting others do it. She was a wild one, but Orien and her had been together since the Siege of Whiterun back in the Civil War, and they had a bond. Orien set down his sack, and put his helmet down on top of it. Giving her a hug around her neck, he began talking to her as he saddled her up. As he finished putting the saddle on, and tightening it, he then picked up his bag, pulled his mace out of it, and then tied the bag and its remaining contents to the saddle. Putting his mace in its sheath on his belt, he picked up his helmet, and put it under his arm. Petting Aeris's neck, Orien stood next to his saddled horse, waiting for whoever it was he was supposed to travel with to show up.
     

    Madrar

    The Shadow in the Dark.
    Riften. The city of thieves, apparently, though since the war, and Skyrim once again becoming an Imperial province, it had become more...civilized. If that word could properly apply to Riften. Severus Valte entered the city shortly after dawn, dressed in a dark tunic, pants, and a scarlet surcoat over top. He drew quite a few appraising looks, from shabbily dressed passerby, and not so shabbily adorned women. Besides a cursory glance, Severus ignored them. He was neither interested in getting into a fight, nor gaining a companion for the night.

    He was in Riften on orders from his superiors at the bloodlet throne. Mysterious disappearances had been reported in both the Reach and the Rift. And it was making everyone more than a little nervous. Not to mention the presence of the Nordic whitescar brotherhood that was making itself known in the northern holds. He'd been informed that one of the covens' agents had already been dispatched to Markarth, and lord Vivarian himself, along with a group of his companions was dealing with the brotherhood.

    Severus wasn't sure what was causing the disappearances, but if intercepted Imperial reports were to be believed, an entire Imperial garrison had vanished. Having spent most of his early life around Imperial legionnaires, he knew it was unlikely they'd deserted their posts. He would have to examine the fort where they'd vanished from at the first opportunity. For now...he'd heard that a call had gone out for local mercenaries to find answers. The Imperial vampire doubted the sellswords would be able to find much, but it seemed like a good way to get invited along. He headed for the local inn and tavern, the Bee and Barb.

    Once inside, he was confronted by a friendly Argonian male, inquiring if he would like a drink. Though he had no need for mortal comforts, he settled for an ale. After paying, he chose a table in the corner, and took his seat facing the doors, watching for any likely candidates. Of course, he could have gone up to the keep, but he didn't think a single mercenary would be taken seriously. Neither did he want to reveal his vampirism, not before he absolutely had to. While he waited, he began puzzling through what or who could be behind the disappearances, and was disturbed to be unable to think of anything believable.
     

    VictoireXII

    Crazed Skyrim Photographer
    The city gates had closed for the night. Entry into Riften would only be possible again in the morning when dawn breaks. Camping quite a distance away from the city was Claudia. Camping out in the wilds was not entirely safe, and did not afford her the luxury of sleeping in comfort without her armour. Wrapping her thick bear fur cloak around her, she settled into slumber, getting ready for whatever awaited her the next day.

    The next morning, with all her belongings packed and ready, she entered the city. Something felt odd here. On her last visit, which wasn't too long ago, there weren't as many guards stationed at the gates or even in the city itself. They seem to have doubled since her last visit, and now appeared to be more heavily armed. She moved on towards the city's tavern, The Bee and the Barb. Claudia ordered a Beef Stew and a mug of icy cold frothy ale. She began to tuck into her meal, opening her ears for any gossip or rumours she could potentially hear from the other patrons. Her main source of gold came from the bounty contracts, and other assorted work she took whenever opportunities arises. She was midway through her meal, when the door opened, and a dark-haired man wearing a scarlet surcoat walked in, ordered his ale and headed towards the corner of the room. Now that definitely piqued her interest, and she began keep her eyes on him as she continued finishing her breakfast.
     

    Stormmaiden

    Active Member
    Nycea made her way through along the road, crossbow slung over her back, daggers sheathed at her sides. She liked the forests of the Rift, which were such a contrast to the bleak, ash-filled lands of Morrowind. In general, she preferred Skyrim. The air was so much clearer here. She hadn't minded the racism of the Nords. She'd fought for both the native rebels and the Imperial legion. Now, though, things were getting strange.

    Some Nord brother hood of fanatics had formed in the north. She'd heard stories of mass executions in Windhelm, and the surviving dark elves and Argonians had fled, either back to Morrowind and Blackmarsh, or to the south. A group of supposed heroes had headed out to deal with the northerners. She wasn't sure how, exactly, that was turning out, but she guessed she'd find out soon enough. The whitescar brotherhood wanted all non-Nords out of Skyrim, and they didn't care whether out was 'dead' or chased out.

    She'd also heard stories about disappearances out in Markarth. She didn't know what that was about, but Nycea had been thinking about heading to the city of stone when she'd heard the same thing was happening in Riften and the surrounding area. She preferred forests over stone anyways. She knew that now only a few roads were deemed 'safe' for travel. She guessed bandits were behind the disappearances, but...bandits didn't warrant huge guard patrols for merchants. Nor would the Riften officials bring in 'outside' help, if they thought their guards could handle it. Not that she was going to complain. She hadn't had any proper jobs since the end of the war and hopefully this one would make her a decent amount of septims.

    She made her way inside the city, and glanced at the local inn. That was usually where mercenaries met up before heading up. Deciding to get a look at her competition, she headed inside, and took a seat. She noticed an Imperial man, dark haired, wearing a red surcoat, with a longsword at his side. It was unusual gear for a mercenary, but the way he watched the door, it was unlikely he was anything else. A woman was also there, wearing more fitting armour, steel, with what looked like troll bones added on. 'So. Two mercenaries so far. I wonder how many more?'
     

    TheShadedOne

    The Angry One
    A pair of people made their way down one of the few roads that was still safe to travel. Well, relatively safe. With the level of paranoia going around these days, your friends could become enemies in a second. Especially for the right amount of coin. The pair were unlikely, to say the least. One was a female Altmer, the other, a male Imperial.

    "Well. For the only safe trade road in these parts, it's pretty quiet." Commented the man. The woman scowled at him. "Shut up, Jared." She snapped, rubbing at her upper arm. A few hours earlier, their camp had been attacked by a small force of bandits. The woman was a skilled fighter, and greatly outmatched them. But the men had been desperate, and a glancing sword blow had struck her in the shoulder. It hadn't pierced her chainmail, but it had caused a nasty bruise, and had dampened her mood.

    "Come on, Fae. We're going on an adventure! You should be excited! You....do remember what it's like to feel excitement, right?" Jared asked, grinning. Fae glared at her companions. "The excitement wanes when bandits attack before the sun is up." She replied, "besides, remember what happened on our last adventure?" Jared frowned, then his expression lit up. "Oh, you mean the trip to Hammerfell? With that artefact thing and that cursed tomb? That was great!" The elven woman groaned.

    About an hour later, they arrived at the city of Riften. The guards stared suspiciously at Fae, who made a point of ignoring them. The pair of them entered the local inn, and Fae chose an unoccupied table, while Jared went to get them something to eat. Once he returned, with bowls of porridge for the pair of them, Fae made a point of examining the crowd. What she saw didn't particularly surprise her. "We're not the only ones who have heard of this 'adventure.' Look." She subtly pointed out a woman in steel and iron armour, as well as a surcoated man with a single longsword at his side. Jared snuck a glance, then turned back to Fae. "Ah,well." He grinned, "the more the merrier, right?" Fae only rolled her eyes.
     

    Drahkma

    Dashing Imperial Officer.
    Telvaris Ulthuan made his way down the road at a leisurely pace. The tap-tap of the long, blue-grey staff in his right hand and the scuff of his boots on the cobblestones announced his presence to any who were listening. Normally, an old man walking along on the road was an easy target for monsters or any bandits waiting to waylay travelers. Especially in troubling days like these. However, Telvaris was no weak, bumbling old man. He stood straight, shoulders back, an air of power and confidence surrounded him.

    He was on his way to the city of Riften. Normally, Telvaris would have simply stayed in High Rock, where he could continue his peaceful solitude. His apprentice, Danick, had things well in hand back there, and the whispers coming out of Skyrim were...disconcerting. So he'd left his comfortable tower, and headed to the land of the Nords. He'd heard of the group calling themselves the whitescar brotherhood in the northern holds. He had also heard that an unlikely group, including the vampiric knight Averaine Silverblade had formed to engage the group.

    The more disturbing whispers spoke of disappearances. Some in the Reach, and others here, in the Rift. The former battle mage stopped and sighed, stroking his beard thoughtfully. 'It doesn't make any sense. The civil war is over. Technically, this is an Imperial province, yet the Imperials have no idea what's happening.' More disturbing, for the two days he'd been in the Rift, there had been no response from the Imperial fort near Riften itself. Unless, of course, they'd disappeared as well. Which was very worrying. Telvaris had never had the highest opinion of the Imperial legion. The majority of them thought they were the divines' gift to Tamriel. But they were good at what they did. For them to disappear, meant their adversaries were much more dangerous than he'd originally thought.

    An hour after he'd continued on, it took him about an hour of walking to reach the city. Riftens walls were high, and he could see the purple clad guards patrolling around it. A quartet of guards stood at the gates, weapons in hand. Telvaris nodded pleasantly at them, and two of the guards opened the gates. None of them decided to question him. Being an old man did have its benefits after all. Knowing that the worse gossips often ended up in the local tavern, he made his way there. He entered, and a quick glance revealed that he wasn't the only foreigner in Riften. A couple of elves, one Altmer, the other Dunmer, and some Imperials as well. Clearly, they sensed some gold to be made in the Rift.
     

    Orien Terrik

    "Arik tree'ac te kek."
    Orien had been traveling for two days now. The person he was supposed to ride with had never arrived, so he left without him, waiting no longer. As his horse trotted up the winding path, he saw the fort he was to investigate up ahead. Urging his horse into a gallop, he approached the front of the fort, and entered through the broken gate. It looked like an intense battle had been fought, with broken shields, and swords laying around, however, there was no bodies. Plenty of blood, but no bodies what so ever. Dismounting from his horse, he tied her up, and walked to the door that lead inside the fort, into the barracks. The door was not closed, but slightly opened. Pushing it open gently, he walked inside. The first thing he encountered was the mess hall. Tables had been flipped over, and chairs were scattered all around the room. In the center of the mess hall, was a hole, leading into the ground. It almost seemed as if something had burst forth from underneath the ground. All the trails of blood lead back to the hole. Puzzled, Orien slowly approached the hole, only to hear strange noises. Whatever was down there took on an entire Imperial Garrison. If he wanted to find his fellow legionnaires, he would need some help. Leaving the mess hall, he walked up to his horse, and mounted her. As he started to turn her to face the entrance, she shook her head, and snorted, a shiver running up her spine. Orien turned to look at the door and courtyard one more time before spurring her onward, leaving the fort, and heading to Riften.
    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Arriving at the city, he was allowed to pass through the gates with little issue. He had left Aeris in the stables outside the city, with the owner of the stables. Walking towards Mistveil keep, he entered the building, and was immediately greeted by Legate Fasendil, and Altmer Legionnaire, and someone that Orien had a deep respect for. Fasendil reached his arm out to Orien, and Orien gripped his arm below the elbow in greeting. "Been a long time, Fasendil." He said, chuckling. "Indeed it has." His face turned serious, and he motioned Orien to follow him to the war room. "We lost all contact with Fort Greenwall a few weeks ago. We sent out a few soldiers to try and make contact, but they never reported back." He said, walking beside Orien into the war room. Orien stepped up to the table in the center of the room, and looked at the map on it. "I just came from the fort just a bit ago. It was completely abandoned. Weapons were scattered about, and pieces of broken shields laid around. I followed trails of blood into the barracks, and discovered a hole in the mess hall, that lead underground. The trails of blood all led there. I couldn't find any bodies. Whatever attacked the fort, and I am now thinking it was an attack due to the blood, it was strong enough to defeat an entire garrison of soldiers." Orien finished up. Fasendil sighed, and looked down at the map, and back up at him. "I was afraid something had happened. The Jarl put a call out for mercenaries, not fully trusting us. I don't know how many arrived, but I would assume they are staying at the local Inn, the Bee and Barb. Our barracks are currently full, as we have recalled all of our patrols, and outposts, however, I was able to secure you a room at the Bee and Barb. It may be a little fancier than you are used to, but, I didn't figure you would complain to much." Fasendil replied. Orien grinned, and nodded his head. "I'll come back by in the morning, and bring the mercenaries with me, those that I can find anyways." Grabbing his sack of things, and hefting his shield over his back, he left the keep, heading for the Bee and Barb. Opening the door, Orien, who was in his full Imperial armor, walked in, closing the door behind him with his boot. Walking up to the counter, Orien looked at the female Argonian behind it. "Orien Terrik. I should have a room reserved for me." The Argonian, who's name was Keerava, looked at him for a few more seconds, before looking down at her book. Putting a check mark next to his name in the book, Keerava pulled out a set of keys, and looked back at him. "Follow me." She said in a surprisingly nice tone. Following the Argonian up the stairs, she walked to the end of the hall, and opened a room with the keys. "Here you are." She said. Orien was surprised at the space in the room. Walking in, he set his shield and his back down on the ground. Turning to look back at the Argonian, Keerava tossed the keys to him, and then shut the door behind him. Orien sighed, and sat down in a chair. He began removing his armor, taking the straps off, and pulling the plates apart. Changing into a simple brown and green tunic, Orien left his room, closing the door behind him, and walked back down the stairs to get a meal. Finding a table in the corner, he sat down. Talen-Jei, the owner of the Bee and Barb, brought him an ale, some beef stew, and some bread. Orien nodded in thanks, and began eating the food.
     

    Stormmaiden

    Active Member
    Nycea sat back in her chair, watching as an old, bearded and robed Breton, and a heavily armoured Imperial entered the tavern. She focused on the Imperial, noticing that he wasn't exactly mercenary material. Too...proper. Which meant he was most likely a soldier of some sort. Which was odd, because, as far as Nycea could tell, imperial soldiers were vanishing in this part of Skyrim. 'Probably here to investigate. But there's an Imperial garrisson here. So he's some kind of special.'

    She heard the man mention his name being Orien Terrik. The name sounded familiar, and she guessed he was some kind of officer. Nycea turned her attention to the older man, the Breton. He was not a soldier. He was obviously some kind of wizard, judging by his staff and robes. She couldn't figure out why he was in Riften though. He didn't look like some who'd lived in Skyrim, so he was here for some reason. 'Well, the best way to find answers is to ask those who hold them.' She left her table, and joined older man. "New in town?" She asked quietly.
     

    Drahkma

    Dashing Imperial Officer.
    Telvaris had been watching those in the tavern. Most seemed like ordinary folk, going about their day to day business. He'd also noticed several mercenary types, along with an Imperial soldier. The old mage had heard of the missing Imperial garrison. It made sense for the Empire to send a representative to check things out. He was wondering whether or not to enlist the mercenaries and perhaps the soldier as well, when one of of mercenaries approached. A Dunmer woman, with noticeably different pale blue eyes, instead of the usual red. "New in town?"

    Telvaris nodded. "Fairly new. I have heard of the recent...disturbing events taking place throughout Skyrim." He said, "as I suppose you have as well, no? Otherwise why would you be in Riften? It's obvious you don't work in any of the local fisheries." He was about to continue when the door to the tavern burst open, and a pair of guards stepped inside. They scanned the room until they spotted Telvaris, and made their way towards him. "Master Ulthuan, sir. The jarl requests your advice on a matter most urgent." The other guard removed a hammer, nail, and a piece of parchment, from his belt, and began nailing the paper to the notice board beside the door.

    For his part, Telvaris was surprised Jarl Maven Blackbriar knew of him. There wasn't a mage in the land that hadn't at least heard of him, but to 'normal' people, he was simply an eccentric old hermit from High Rock. "I suppose you fine gentlemen wish for me to accompany you?" When the man nodded, Telvaris shrugged, grabbed his staff, and stood. "Very well then. Lead on." As the guards escorted him from the tavern, he stole a glance at the parchment. It was a message, signed by the jarl herself, offering a handsome reward to any mercenaries that got to the bottom of the disappearances in the Rift. Telvaris smiled to himself. He suspected he'd be seeing the others in the tavern sooner rather than later.
     

    Madrar

    The Shadow in the Dark.
    Severus remained at his table, quietly observing the others. They seemed to be made up of mercenaries and pair of men that seemed to be apart from the mercs. One was a man with a staff and long grey white beard. Though he looked feeble, there was something in his eyes and bearing that hinted he was much more capable than he seemed. The other was a huge bear of a man that wore Imperial armour and helm. The fact that he'd arrived after Severus told Severus it was unlikely he was part of the local garrison. That hinted that the Empire was taking the disappearances seriously. Or the man had stolen a set of Imperial armour, and was working with whoever was behind everything.

    The door to the tavern opened, and a pair of guards stepped inside. One of them spoke to the robed man, while the other posted a piece of paper on a notice board. The robed man and the guardsman exchanged a few words before him and the three guards left the place. Severus glanced back to the parchment. It wasn't much of a leap to conclude that it was a bounty posting. Which meant he'd probably be working with a group, judging from the remaining patrons. It was unlikely, to say the least, that a pack of mercenaries would arrive in the Rift for the pleasant weather. He approached one of mercs, a Dunmer woman with a pair of blades and a dangerous amount of crossbow quarrels. "I assume we're going to be working together at some point. Severus Valte, at your service."
     

    TheShadedOne

    The Angry One
    "Hey." Jared said, nodding towards an Imperial man and Dunmer woman. Fae glanced over at the pair. "Looks like they're getting ready to apply for the mercenary opening. Let's go introduce ourselves, hmm?" The young Imperial and his Altmer bodyguard got up and the pair of them made their way over to the other Imperial and the dark elf. "Hello there." Jared said extending his hand to the pair of them. "I guess you're here to investigate the disappearances in the Rift too. I'm Jared and this is Fae." Fae nodded to the pair, but didn't offer her hand. She didn't exactly trust the pair. She knew how mercenaries worked, after all. Generally, making friends was not on the top of their list.
     

    Drahkma

    Dashing Imperial Officer.
    Telvaris stared at the corpse. Though his uniform was torn, and his features had been nearly erased by time spent in the water, it was clear he'd been an Imperial soldier at some point. Most of his right side, below the ribs, was missing. "Any idea what caused that wound?" The court mage, and the captain of the guard stood beside him. "We were hoping you would know, master wizard." The guard captain said. "We pulled him out of the canal this morning. We think he was part of the Imperial garrison."

    Telvaris nodded and stroked his beard. Clearly, the injury was not caused by a conventional weapon. It looked almost like...a bite mark. But wolves wouldn't assault an Imperial fort. "I see. I will need a dependable team of guardsmen, veterans, if you can spare them." The mage and captain exchanged glances. "We can't. The jarl has ordered the watch doubled. Any men I gave you would weaken the citys' protectione." Telvaris frowned, and tugged on the end of his beard. "Hmph. I see. Perhaps-ah!" He remembered the mercenaries in the inn. "Never mind, never mind." I shall form my own team. Of course, your Jarl will need to recompense them." Muttering to himself, he made his way out of the guard barracks. "We will reach the bottom of this mystery! I assure you!" He called over his shoulder.

    A few minutes later, he was back at the Bee and Barb inn. The mercenaries he'd seen were still there, looking rather bored. " I presume you'd not be against making some coin?" He asked the room in general, and waited for the response.
     

    Orien Terrik

    "Arik tree'ac te kek."
    Orien had returned to his quarters to rest, but was up bright and early the next morning. Walking down the stairs in his full set of armor, shield in hand, and mace at his side, he went to the training grounds, which were nearby, where he practiced combat with a fellow legionnaire who was there. Using both Hand to Hand, and weapons, the two went at it for nearly two hours, before the Legionnaire had to retire. Returning back to the Inn, he traveled up to his room, where he stripped out of his armor, and washed the inside of sweat. Next, he drew water for the tub that was near by, and filled it up. Before he hopped into the tub, however, he laid on the ground, and began to do a workout he was first taught in training for the Legion. One would extend themselves in the position of a plank, and put the arms straight down underneath them, palms flat on the ground. He began to slowly raise and lower his body, bringing his chest to the ground, and back up. He did a hundred of these, then began switching between arms, using only one arm to lift himself up and down. After doing about fifty per arm, he stood up, panting a bit, although not sweating as bad as he used to. Sliding into the cold water of the tub, he rinsed himself clean. After he had finished, he emptied the water from the tub, which traveled down a tube through the building, and into the canal below. Rising out of tub, he put on a fresh Imperial under tunic and pants, and then he proceeded to strap on his armor, as it was time to make his introduction to the Mercenaries down below. Strapping his shield onto his back, and putting his mace in its holster, he picked up his helmet, and put it underneath his arm. Making his way back down the stairs once more, he entered the dining area of the Inn, only to encounter the old man he had seen previously, asking if any of the Mercs would like to make some coin. Deciding to enter the conversation, Orien stepped forward. "I am looking to put a team together to investigate the current situation in Riften. The Legion is spread thin currently, dealing with a few different issues, and most of the Legionnaires and guards that are stationed here will need to stay here, in case whatever attack our Fort decides to attack here. So, I am looking to hire a team. The Empire will compensate you generously for your time, if you so desire." He finished up, looking at the old man, and the armored people sitting around in the Dinning hall.
     

    T. Rakinson

    A Brute among Beasts
    Though he had paid for a night at the inn, as he had been doing for several months now, Khadrash did not return that night. He had been up in the Hall of the Dead, feeding on the unsuspecting priest of Arkay. As was common for his victims, they did not survive, and so he had spent an extra hour covering his tracks; ungracefully shoving the corpse into one of the empty coffins nearby and draining any remaining blood into a few vials. He left just before the sun had begun to rise, hoping to avoid burning himself.

    His plan had been to make his way over to the Bee and Barb, but as made his way over, a pair of guards accompanied by an old man exited the establishment. Curious, yet not wanting to appear too interested in their movement, Khadrash decided to send someone else off on the job of following them. Walking down to the canal street of Riften, he looked into at the water and made a low-pitch whistle. Within a few moments an entity began crawling its way up the nearest ladder, shaking off the freezing water from which it had arisen. It wore torn clothes that had lost most of their colour, and its entire body was wrinkled and gaunt. The only recognizable feature was its face, and even that was sunken, and stained with the remains of some of the lakes fish. His Bondservant, who had been dwelling in the lake for some time now.

    Khadrash had never even given his thrall a name, though he imagined it must have had one in its old life. Instead he referred to the thrall as if it was merely a possession of his. "Follow the man. Find out what the guards want with him, then return to me here." The thrall nodded slowly, and began to crawl back into the water. "Do not disappoint me" he added sharply, and the wretched creature visibly flinched at the harsh words.
    Within half an hour it had returned, and found its Master waiting in the same place. The vampire looked at his thrall. "Well?" the Bondservant scraped off several fish parts as it spoke, now trying its best to look presentable in front of the Master. "I saw a body. The old man was examining it. He's heading this way now." Khadrash looked at it sternly. "What of the body? Was it one of ours?"
    It shook its head. "A solider. He was sleeping beneath the water when they found him. I didn't see who, but someone had been eating him." "It- it wasn't me!" it added with panic in its voice, avoiding eye contact.

    Dismissing his snivelling Bondservant, Khadrash made his way up to the main streets again. Sure enough, the old man had just re-entered the tavern. But this time he followed. Entering the inn from the opposite door, he arrived just in time for the man to speak.
    "I presume you'd not be against making some coin?" said the elder to the room, and several mercenary types looked up. An Imperial officer, who had just come downstairs, was the first to voice interest. Him being here was probably connected to the dead solider. For a moment, the vampire had a flashback, to his years in the Legion long ago. The Imperial looked similar to some of his old comrades...

    Quickly shaking off the nostalgic thought, he looked around to see the others who showed interest. Most were adventurer types, ranging from an armoured Altmer and her youthful Imperial companion, to a Dunmer lady with eyes as peculiar as his own, but in a different way. But as looked at the elf for a moment, he took notice of the person she was conversing with; a fellow vampire. His maroon attire alone confirmed that he was not a fellow Autumnshade agent. Perhaps he was involved in the killing? But they were in a public place, and so Khadrash decided to confront the man later. It would have been impossible for him to expose the man without revealing himself as a vampire, but he took solace in the fact that he was on his home turf. Riften had become his base of operations in more than one way.

    Instead he called out to the old man and legionnaire, remembering to keep up his appearance as a mercenary. It was better if this unknown threat could be dealt with minimum losses to the coven. "If the pay is good, then you have my blades." Several in the inn turned to look straight at him, which was less difficult at the moment due to his recent feeding. As far as any of the patrons were concerned, the Orc had never taken a job whilst in the city.
     
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    TheShadedOne

    The Angry One
    " I presume you'd not be against making some coin?" at that Fae perked up. Until then, she'd been starting to think the rumours of a job in Riften had been just that...rumours. The old man hardly looked the type to be hiring mercs, but a minute later the Imperial officer showed up and said almost the exact same thing.

    "Count us in." Fae called from the table she and Jared were sharing. The young Imperial shot her an alarmed glance. "Ah, actually, we're not-" Faes' elbow struck him in the ribs, hard. He grunted, then amended, "what I meant, was we'd be glad to join you." Then he turned towards her. "Fae, what are you doing? We're not mercenaries." Fae shrugged. "Of course not, but they don't know that." She said, "besides, we need the gold. Our current supply isn't going to get us back to Cyrodiil, and I'd rather do this than clear out some bandit hideout."
     

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