Open Trial upon the Mountain

((OOC out of the way, while it does say open I want people interested to PM me before even thinking about posting in here. I'd really rather not see any requests to join in the forum itself. Doing so makes me believe you didn't bother reading this. That aside, just ask and you can join!))

((Edit: While you can take liberty on whom and what attacks you and what you do, please refrain of inventing the environment or a majority of what attacks you to a minimum! I have a plan for the camp itself and what it shall be. Think of me as the DM. Harhar!))

Markarth was in its usual state. The air was chilly and damp from the mist of the running waterfall and canals while the skies overhead were overcast. The shop keeps outside shouted and proclaimed their goods to any with the septim to pay for it. Just recently word has spread throughout the city and the surrounding lands that an unbelievably huge bounty was posted by the jarl for what seemed to be a run-of-the-mill notice. It was the usual; find a troublesome Forsworn encampment and raze it to the ground, along with whom so ever resided in it. Not only was the amount offered for this task strange in its high amount but the camp itself was strange. Everyone knew the only camps focused on were the ones too close to comfort, too big and too close, or involved in recent banditry operations. From what the bounty proclaimed this camp was in the middle of nowhere in a near inaccessible area of the southern mountain tops, much too far away from any road or village. The size described also was curious, as it was only a medium sized camp, barely, compared to the rest of them.

None the less, that was an awful lot of coin for a simple job. Ten thousand septims.

Zij'Qua El was sitting at the Silver-Blood Inn at a table closest to the fireplace. His sword remained strapped to his side and bound in leather to hide its nature from the local Stendarr zealots walking about. In front of him, on the table, was a copy of the notice to raze a certain Forsworn camp to the ground. It was dubbed Dragon Claw Crevice and it was known only for its remote location and quiet activities, if anyone knew anything about it in the first place. The argonian heaved a sigh and stretched his arms against the stone table, causing a scrape to form from his steel gauntlets.

"Perhaps it will be worth it..."

Isnar stepped into Markarth. Been a while since I've sat down at that Silver Blood Inn. I think I'll spend a night or two here before heading over to High-Rock. Isnar thought to himself. He walked into the bar and saw a large crowd of people. Weird. I've never seen this place so packed! He thought. He realized that the people were not crowded around the bar, but near the wall. Bar fight? Isnar thought, pushing through the crowd. There was a sign. Forsworn? But they aren't anywhere near Markarth? And ten thousand shiny septims? I think I might need to partake in this adventure. Isnar thought, sitting at the table. He smiled to himself, thinking about all that gold. Might need some assistance though. No way an old man like me is going to take on those forsworn, single-handedly.

Felian the wood elf rode up to the stone crafted city upon a pure black horse. He was heading higher up north, but went out of his way to make a stop here just to see if he could find old friends. An argonian named Zij' Qua El in particular, he had not seen the argonian for a long time since they escaped the arena together, along with few others. The elf dismounted in the stables and headed through the enormous doors of the famed city.
"Get your meat here!" a shopkeeper called out, as he brought his cleaver down to slice some up. He walked past the market and into the first place that would suit him, the bar.
There were people at one wall, looking at something that was of no concern to the elf. He walked to the bar to order a drink, when he saw Zij' Qua El at a table and went over to him.
"Long time friend," Felian said. He saw Isnar the old approach as well. "Glad to see familiar faces. What troubles are you guys bound to be partaking in?"

"Glad to see familiar faces. What troubles are you guys bound to be partaking in?" Felian said. Isnar recognized the voice. How could he forget? The man who probably saved all of their lives in the arena! Isnar spun around, with a grin on his face. "Hello Felian." He said, slowly. "Long time no see."

Zij'Qua El looked up and saw the familiar bosmer. He could feel his scales burning again as he remembered their last adventure at the arena. "Nothing, yet. Maybe. Perhaps. A large bounty on a small target... and the jarl is no fool. This is shady."

The lizard looked towards the speaking elder and noted that he remembered him from the arena as well. Funny how fate is.

"Yeah defenitely. I don't see how they are bothering Markarth. They are down south, but whatever. Easy money I guess." Said Isnar, thinking it was destiny that they met. "We overcame the arena, we can overcome a few tribesmen!"

"Well, it sounds better than the foolish errand I brought upon us," Felian said. "Perhaps the Jarl would not betray as the Imperials would. If you need a follower to watch your back, I will do so."

The young Khajiit's feet ached from the walk that she had brought upon herself; a long route from Falkreath to Markarth. She silently cursed the fact that she had been foolish enough to make this journey sans steed, but felt the dull pains of her trek begin to fade as she slipped her way into the massive doors of the city before her. As soon as she entered, men and women alike shouted their wares, vying for her attention, but she paid them no heed. City dwellers milled about, but they too were ignored in favor of her mighty need for a stiff pint of ale. Perhaps a single drink before bed will do, she thought placidly, and then I can scour the merchant's stands for treats in the morning. A few stray eyes gave the pale cat shifty glances, undoubtedly fearful that she had wandering paws, but she tried her best to quell the slight bubble of racial frustration, and instead plowed through the crowd and into the bar.

The familiar smell of alcohol and mingling bodies was a welcome change from the moist air of the outside, and the residual heat of the place helped brush the chill from her bones and fur. Her natural curiosity brought her to the gathering near a notice on the wall, and when she read it, her heart leaped into her throat, making her grin. ''Ten thousand septims...'' she said under her breath. Oh, what she could do with ten thousand septims! Her modest purse felt heavier even now. The thought of that much gold caused her to slouch with a happy relaxation, and as she moved further into the bar, a drift of a half-spoken conversation caught her ear.

''..the jarl is no fool...''
''...easy money...''
''...if you need a follower...''

Ma'Piri paused, pondering for a moment, taking in the group that she had inadvertently eavesdropped on: An Argonian, Bosmer, and an old Breton. The collection seemed strange, but if they were already that diverse, the addition of a Khajiit wouldn't seem so far-fetched. She slunk up to the gentlemen and cleared her throat politely, placing her paws on the heads of her twin Dwarven axes, both lashed around her hips. ''Evening, sirs.'' she said politely, giving her head a small bow as her crooked tail flicked lightly back and forth. ''I don't mean to interrupt, but... I couldn't help but hear you, and I would be honored to help you in this quest. Another set of blades never hurts, eh?''

((Wooo sorry for late reply. Friends over.))

Zij'Qua El looked towards the new voice, inspecting another young nord lass expecting adventure and glory. The accent raised a red flag however and when he saw the khajiit standing there his mouth opened partly in surprise.

He gave himself a subtle shake and regain his composure. "Erm... yes. Blades. This reeks of danger though. Much too high a price. I would rather not risk more lives. But if you still wish then I will not deny you."

''I don't mean to interrupt, but... I couldn't help but hear you, and I would be honored to help you in this quest. Another set of blades never hurts, eh?''
Felian turned to the Khajiit, who seemed green of battle based on looks, save for her weaponry.
"Erm... yes. Blades. This reeks of danger though. Much too high a price. I would rather not risk more lives. But if you still wish then I will not deny you," Zij said.
"I would agree with my friend here," Felian said, wary of entrusting someone new to him. "Though, I've learned in my travels that an extra set of blades indeed does not hurt at all."

"It doesn't matter if she comes with us or not. The way I see it, we are all going after the gold. Might as well do it together." Isnar said. "What's your name, lass?"

The slight show of concern for her was both flattering and slightly offensive, but she chose the former, figuring they meant no harm. With a smile, she placed her hand on her chest lightly, the slight stump of her missing pinky digit obvious on her currently ungloved paw. ''I am Ma'Piri. There are those who call me pure, a wanderer, and a snow cat, but with you, I am a brother in arms. Thank you for this opportunity.'' She spoke mostly to the old Breton, who seemed the least apprehensive of her company. She liked his forthrightness, and decided that he would be her best bet for a chance at the septims. Regardless, she smiled brightly at the Argonian and the Bosmer, comforted by their varied company.

"Pleasure to meet you, Ma'Piri. I am Isnar the Old. These are my friends, Felian Oakenshield, and Zij'Qua El, we would love for you to come with us and take your share of the adventure." That was really what this was all about to Isnar. Adventure was all he wanted at this age. Money meant nothing to the old man. Isnar was surprised at how grateful Ma'Piri was to join. She must want this money badly. Isnar thought. But he corrected himself, for it was rude to talk about money when first meeting new people.

S'darkiir lounged in a dark corner watching the comings and goings of the patrons. He hadn't really been impressed by what he saw, he had only made 200 septims from the crowd. He almost sighed and continued to sip at his watery swill they called mead. He closed his eyes and listened. He furrowed his brow, tuned out the regulars, and listened. The crowd made it hard to isolate any particular conversation, but the bits of talk he did pick up were now focusing on the anomaly. The reward was wrong, the location, it was wrong. He thought that this may be a trap made by vampires or maybe even Daedra. He would have taken it, but something was amiss. He opened his eyes. And saw the group near the fireplace. The Khajiit would make easy pickings, not much but still, better than nothing. The Breton too had a few valuables, of the lizard and the Bosmer he was not sure. He looked away, not wanting to draw attention to himself. How to approach? He pulled down his hood on his cloak which covered most of his body, got up and walked towards them, staying to the wall head down.

Zij'Qua El stood from his seat and looked at his, now three, companions. His scaled hand rested on the hilt of his covered sword leisurely as he sized up the khajiit more appropriately. The closest thing to a smile an argonian can come to spread lightly over his mug. "Well then let us all meet out at the stables. Do we all have our own mounts?"

As he was talking he noticed at the corner of his eye a man walking towards them. The feel of him was not right and his hand uncovered and gripped his dark blade.

S'darkiir stoped, the lizard saw him, not good. He turned and payed the barkeep with a curt nod of his head and dropped a coin purse on the counter, which would be found to be full of stones, and walked out the door grinninming to himself, a devious plan forming in his mind.

Ma'Piri looked down at her filthy boots, then sheepishly back at the Argonian before her. ''I eh... don't.'' Before she had a chance to explain, she turned to look behind her and follow her companion's gaze, eying a rather shifty looking gentleman who put down his coins before exiting. She came to the curt conclusion that the sooner she left Markarth, the better, her hands now reflexively back on her axes, digits tight around the handles just below the blades. ''I will have to ride with someone else, if that's alright.'' she mused, barely audible as she kept her gaze fixed on the stranger until he left.

The argonian relaxed again as the strange fellow left. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for anyone with that build in their future travels.

His stroked his chin as he thought to himself, "Well then, my Maliil can handle much. If need be I can have you ride with me. What about you two? Do you have horses?" The argonian cast his lizard-y look at the old man and the bosmer.

Hodlin was making a run to the city of Markarth. He had been an adventurer/mercenary for quite some time now. Overall the life he was living was pretty nice. This week had been pretty slow though. He hadn't gathered much mercenary work this week so far. In fact he was more like running errands. Things need to be done though, and money was being offered.

The errand was a rather simple one. A mead delivery to the Silver-Blood inn in Markarth. He was already heading that way to visit a friend in Karthwasten so he didn't mind the extra gold.

Putting his horse in the stables, Hodlin began to walk towards the city gates. Opening them Hodlin was surprised at what he say. The front of the city was jammed with people, a lot of them. Something was going on. Looking over at the Silver-Blood Inn the door was opened to it and people were fighting to get inside.

Hodlin was interested in the whole affair and the delivery was to be given at the Silver-Blood Inn, so Hodlin figured why not check out what was going on? Shoving people out of the way Hodlin began to head inside. People gave him angry glares for cutting in front of him. But hey, who was going to mess with a 6'8'' tall man that weighed several hundred pounds of pure muscle?

Stepping inside the inn, Hodlin began to walk up to the counter. "I have a delivery of Mead". The bartender looked over at Hodlin and spoke.

"Thanks, we have a lot of business going on today. Here is your tip".

The bartender leaned over and handed Hodlin a bag of gold. Opening the bag of gold, Hodlin counted thirty gold pieces. Sighing at the lack of gold in his hand, Hodlin looked over towards a wall in the inn. This was where everyone was crowding around.

Still interested Hodlin began to push through everyone until he got towards the wall. On it was bounty to clear out a Forsworn Camp. Quickly Hodlin was interested, this was the kind of mercenary work he liked. Hodlin believed the Forsworn as an evil group of people. He had heard the stories of what the Forsworn had done to travelers. So far he had not encountered any in the Reach, but Hodlin assumed they weren't the kind of people you wanted to encounter.

Reading the bounty, shock began to rock Hodlin's body. Reading the payment of cleaning out the camp that was targeted was 10,000 gold. If he was smart with his money he could be set for life with that kind of gold.

Something was wrong though, Hodlin sensed it. A Nord like himself knew better. Other larger Forsworn Camps that had bounties were much less smaller than this. Something was up with this camp, something that the Jarl was afraid of. Your desperate if you put up a bounty of 10,000 gold.

The job was going to be dangerous no doubt, however Hodlin had nothing else really to live for. His father, mother, and wife were all taken away from him. And this could be his chance, his goal was to make peoples lives safer. In the eyes of the Jarl, this camp was a major threat. Taking it out would make the world a better place. Suddenly the gold became less of importance to Hodlin. It was the safety of the citizens of the Reach. Looking over at the crowd around him, Hodlin began to shout.

"I don't know about you guys, but 10,000 gold is a huge amount of gold. This means one thing, the Reach is in danger! Whatever is up there in that camp is a huge threat to the Reach. Who will join me in taking that threat away? I'll split the bounty evenly with whoever joins me! The more men we have together, the more men that will come back alive".

OOC: Below is the link to my character card. Being a new member to the forum, it is within good reason that I do so. My card is near the bottom of the link.

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