Open Reforging an Empire 2

[Padfoot]

The sun was becoming more and more visible, ascending from the east and through the clouds. Light shed on Padfoot as he was finishing his pipe off. A line of Soldiers bearing the same armor we is wearing walked out single file, led by a middle-aged Imperial man, and behind him a much younger Imperial woman, who was clearly in charge of all the order shouting. "Padfoot. It's nice to see you again. I trust you have a good report for me?" The commander spoke with kindness and a smile, it was clear to the Bosmer that if he were to take orders from anyone, it would be someone who treated everyone with kindness and equal respect, much like the man standing before him. "Record timing my friends... err, comrades. I just finished my pipe." With care, he sucked in one last time and put his favorite non-violent instrument back into his front left pocket. "General Psyrakon." he spoke, averting his words now to one person. "You had given me quite a bit of time to do some scouting, you requested to find a suitable Bandit Camp around Whiterun so that the soldiers can do some stress testing, well - there are many camps around here, and you've given me just enough time to scout the nearest ones, and take some notes."


He casually leaped from his leaning position against one of the pillars of Belethor's General Store and approached Simus. He gently grabbed Simus' shoulder and led him to a vacant merchant stand just next to Belethor's, facing the Bannered Mare Inn with the Whiterun Main Gate in the rear, but not quite in the center of street. He very quickly took out his map from his bag, and unrolled it on the merchant stand. He slid to the side giving the General room to stand directly over it. Padfoot's map was covered in circled locations, arrowed down to tiny notes giving general statistics. "General, within the closest distances to the town of Whiterun, I've come across 3 Bandit Den's worth mentioning." Padfoot reached his finger out and touched one of the circles on his map. "This one known as 'White River Watch,' and for good reason. It's inside one a cliff almost directly East of Whiterun, passed the bridge heading to Windhelm and Riften." he slid his finger downward, following the arrow he drew down to some notes, "There are two scouts patrolling the outside, and with an elevation advantage they'll see us before we see them. I had to climb up a steep slope from the back to get by them. There's a blind guy keeping watch on the main entrance, a bit ironic - but I didn't mind the lack of difficulty. Including these 3 I'd say there's probably 12 or 13 guys total. Their leader is really stretching it. They have a caged wolf in the sanctuary. I overheard two of the bandits saying their Leader is trying to have them tamed so that they can start attacking Guards on the road." He looked up at Simus, "That's option number one. It requires a bit of strategy, but the most difficult part is getting to the scouts. Once we get in it can easily be overrun. There's a really nice view of Whiterun Hold once you get to the top, but as far as difficulty goes it may not be worth it, though it's location is especially convenient - literally right down the road."

Clearing his throat, Padfoot looked back down at his map again. "Option number two is known as 'Redoran's Retreat.' It's directly Northwest of Whiterun and about a mile out. It's a small den consisting of two big rooms and maybe 8 Bandits. There's nobody keeping watch outside the sanctuary at any time of the day. It's literally not even worth mentioning due to how easy it would be to take this place with a squad of soldiers, but the only reason I mention it is because the Bandit Leader actually has a record in Windhelm, and has a big price on his head. Not only that, he's been on the run for about a year. Bringing his head to Ulfric when he arrives might spark some reassurance of your loyalty to him, but then again - this mere Bandit probably doesn't keep Ulfric Stormcloak up at night."

Without pause, Padfoot quickly continued with excitement. "This final one is my personal favorite, and one I highly suggest. It's called 'Fort Greymoor' and it's directly West of the Stables, you couldn't miss it if you followed the main road, it's huge. The walls are constantly patrolled with by 7 bandits all day every day, there were a couple of boulders near the eastern wall that I hid behind. It took me almost 3 days to figure out the pattern of just the outer wall. As I climbed up the side I noticed 5 Guards in the courtyard, a Blacksmith with an assistant at the forge located at the South-East corner and 3 Bandits usually sitting at a big table eating and drinking on the opposite corner. The patrol shifts change in the middle of the day, and anyone not on patrol duty sits at this table." With a quick gasp for air and a flashing smile, Padfoot continued informing Simus. "Already this place is crazy, and we haven't even been inside yet. There's a total of 5 entrances inside, no back-doors. There's three at ground level, the middle door leading into the main room of the entire fort, while the other two lead up to the tower-like buildings, and the 2 entrances on the top level are entered by climbing the stairs up to where they all patrol from. There's approximately 17 more Bandits within the Fort, with the majority of them usually in the main room."

Padfoot looked up again. "Those were the three worth scouting, due to proximity of course. It's definitely your decision to decide what's best. The last one I mentioned, Fort Greymoor, I couldn't find any distinct reason to raid it like I did the other two, other than the fact that they're Bandits. It is however the one I would suggest, because not only does it put up a challenge, but it will probably be the style of combat that will be taking place throughout this squad's tour. High quantities of enemies in larger forts, couldn't find a better place to practice in all of Skyrim I'd reckon. Lucky it's so close."

The Bosmer felt he did a good job, he had just rifled loads of information at the General and knew it may take some time for him to process, Padfoot was patient and loved to hear compliments of his efforts, but he knew he had to make a good first impression. All he wanted to do at that moment was ask how he did or introduce himself to the others or smoke his pipe again, but the fact that he is now a soldier that has to take orders and have another person of a higher rank tell him what to do and when to do it, really hit him hard right then and there. He wasn't used to people telling him what to do, he was usually asked, and there were large sums of money at the end of it. Sometimes people even begged him. He may not like the lack of independence but Padfoot certainly wasn't going to be rebellious. He was a perfectionist in things he wanted to be efficient in, and being a reliable soldier was one thing he recently added to his list. This whole adventure is merely a goal. His finger that was guiding the General's eyes moments ago were now wrapped up with his other fingers on the merchant stand. He wasn't leaning his forearm or his waist up against the stand like he is usually inclined to do, instead he was standing tall with his arms down and his hands together so as to give off a sense of formality when the Bosmer presented his work. It was another effort to impress the General. God, he sure was over thinking.

 

[Simus]

Simus looked over Padfoot's notes and was very impressed. He had given the man several weeks to do his job but he hadn't expected such detail, or such a polished presentation. Really, the mer's thoroughness was truely remarkable. This is the kind of work he'd expect only from Alice.

"Padfoot, this is truely remarkable. Excellent work. I don't think my daughter could have done any better, and she's the best scout I've ever seen."

Alice gave her father a thankful look and he connected with her for a brief moment. She had clearly made him proud and it really felt good to recieve such a compliment because her father never lied to her. He knew she deserved such praise and it would bolster her confidance a bit, as well as perhaps motivate her to try and one up their new squad member.

"I have to agree with Fort Greymoor. It most closely represents the large targets we're going to be going after and will give us a strategic position outside Whiterun. It'll also show Ulfric that I chose good men to do this job and are worthy of being sent against the Empire."

He handed Padfoot a signed reciept and a flawless diamond, as well as offering a handshake.

"Here's your promised pay of 1000 septims, plus something extra from me for a job well done. Take them both to Brill in Dragonsreach to redeem them for coin. I would suggest doing this after the battle. Again Padfoot, very nice work."

He then took a moment to adjust the chest straps of his Heavy Imperial Armor. It had been a few decades since he had worn this set and he had gained some weight since then. He turned to the squad.

"Listen up everyone! We're going to Fort Greymoor. I want you to come over here and take a few minutes to familiarize yourselves with our intel. Pay attention to patrol routes, force deployment and the established rotation schedule. I'm going to randomly ask one of you to explain them all to me so you all need to pay attention. Get to it."

He turned towards the gate where Marek was lounging.

"MAREK! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND TAKE A LOOK AT THIS! RIGHT NOW!"

 

[Gunnbjorn]

Arillious stood blankly towards nothing when the squad walked down to the market square. It appears Simus had scheduled to meet up with one of his scouts. Arillious got his first glance at the Elf when he was walking over toward Simus. He was a thin built Bosmer with some height to him. Hooded, like all scouts seemed to be. He had a friendliness about him.

He brought Simus to a Merchant table and talked for a few good minutes, in deep discussion. Simus sure was pleased with the Bosmer's work.

"Listen up everyone! We're going to Fort Greymoor. I want you to come over here and take a few minutes to familiarize yourselves with our intel. Pay attention to patrol routes, force deployment and the established rotation schedule. I'm going to randomly ask one of you to explain them all to me so you all need to pay attention. Get to it."

Realizing it was an order, Arillious was the first to jump out of formation, heading toward the General and the Bosmer in silence. On the stand was map, covered in words. The scout did his homework.

Arillious looked through everything, trying to figure out what all the manual adjustments to the map meant, which was pretty easy to figure out due to the arrows and the notes. Fort Greymoor wasn't too far a march away from Whiterun, but it's in the center of Whiterun Hold, a huge open area. With the Bandits able to keep watch on people walking the main road directly from the Fort, it would certainly be difficult to engage covertly.

"I think I got it." said the Imperial, after a few minutes of study. He looked up, glanced at General Simus, then looked toward the Bosmer. "Padfoot, was it? Arillious Peleus. Welcome to the squad." Arillious stretched his arm with open hand so as to handshake the Bosmer.

 

[Aethalia]

She watched the brutish looking soldier, Arillious, she thought she'd heard him call himself leap forward, like a puppy eager to do what its' master told it. Aliah was more restrained, moving with a glacial grace. She lifted an eyebrow at the information before offering the Bosmer a single nod. She turned to the others, and took a position in the shadows, relieved to be out of the burning heat of the sun. The others stood rigidly in the sun, probably uncomfortable, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She'd agreed to help, she hadn't agreed to stand in the heat and burn up. "As fun as standing around is, I suggest we prepare for your glorious leaders arrival" she was speaking to Simus, but she was staring at the soldier.

 

[Andre Marek]

Marek turned his head to stare at Psyrakon as the man yelled at him to rejoin the squad for a briefing of their target. He gazed at the older man with a mixture of amusement and irritation. If the General thought that Marek was his personal lackey simply because he'd accepted the job then he had another thing coming. Turning slowly, he began walking towards the empty market stall where the others were gathered, all the while staring at the General. Finally breaking his stare when he reached the table, Marek stepped past Simus and Arillious, and placed his hands on either side of the map as he leaned over to inspect the newcomers report.

"Psyrakon. I took your septims, so my loyalty is yours... for now that is. My respect is another matter." He looked over to the General, squinting his eyes against the suns glare slightly as he looked the man in the eye, "I'm not a soldier in your army General. I'm here because you need my help... like you need all of our help, for this scheme to work." Marek straightened up again and turned to face Simus. He wasn't really trying to be an ass about the whole thing but the man had to know where he stood. If Simus thought he could command Mareks respect simply because he could yell then Marek knew that he wouldn't be long in this rebellion. "I'll do my job, of that you needn't worry, but don't expect to Lord a rank over me."

Marek atood facing the General, aware of everyones eyes boring into him, especially Arillious'. It was a bit much, telling the General off like that, but Marek wasn't about to have the man yelling at him for the duration of this rebellion. He knew his defiance of Simus would garner him the hatred of probably everyone else in the squad but sometimes it was necessary. Marek wasn't out to be loved or admired. He was there to get the job done, no matter what. His brutally pragmatic approach to his work was the reason he'd survived in the past when others hadn't. If the General or the squad didn't like his methods, then it was too bad for them.

(OOC: Please, nobody read too much into this bit. I do actually respect you Simus as well as everyone else here . It's just 'in character' Marek that doesn't give a rats backside about anyone else. Sorry if it gets hard in the head, but hey, every story needs a real hardass right?)

 

[TheShadedOne]

Shadari snorted as the wood elf rattled off his plan, and the general paid him for it. 'I could have come with a plan like that in seconds' then again, she worked alone, and made her own plans. The general seemed to have grown to people thinking for him. She glanced over it, then glanced up at the wood elf, who, like all of his kind, had some sort of strange smell about him. "Not bad a bad job, for a pointy eared tree hugger" she growled softly.

 

[Padfoot]

Padfoot gleefully accepted the handshake, the kind words, and the rewards of General Psyrakon. The receipt was crisp as he held it in his hand, very hastily did it flee into the pouch of the Bosmer. After a respectful thank you to the General, Padfoot held his new diamond up in the air to examine it more closely with light. Truly marvelous. Padfoot loves collecting, he has all sorts of collections in his very private estate in Falkreath, gems and jewels are one of many, and as many flawless diamonds he has neatly displayed in his case, there's always enough room for more.

He didn't notice when the young Imperial soldier approached Simus and Padfoot, he was too occupied with looking at his diamond to notice the youthful man examining the map. He was quite surprised when the Imperial soldier's words spoke to him, "Padfoot, was it? Arillious Peleus. Welcome to the squad." With the greeting the man offered him a handshake, and the Bosmer accepted. "Thank you, Arillious. Glad to be of service to General Simus, and excited to get to work with you and the rest of the group." Arillious was a couple of inches taller than him. You could tell up close he was very young. His physique was impressive, even for a young soldier. It seemed obvious he was apart of this group for a reason. A good fighter or even a gifted tactician. Padfoot became excited to learn what each and every member of this squad was capable of doing.

After his greet with Arillious, Padfoot noticed that another member of the squad had broken formation to come and study the map. This time it was a Thalmor female. The examination for her was very quick, and there was no greeting between Padfoot and herself, she gave him a single nod before backing away from everybody. A little peculiar to the Bosmer, but he loved to pay attention to detail. The pale skin, a little more pale than normal for a Thalmor has herself. Her eyes a hint of gold and red, Padfoot knew what the red meant. Out of the blue the Thalmor began speaking, in a tone mixed with annoyance and sarcasm, "As fun as standing around is, I suggest we prepare for your glorious leaders arrival" It was almost obvious that the words were directed to the General, but as the Woman spoke, she was staring at the young Imperial Arillious with an almost venomous glare. Arillious either wasn't affected by it or simply wasn't noticing.

Soon after this event, the man by the name of Marek appeared toward Simus, who was actually yelling at him to come over and join the squad, it seemed to Padfoot that he had wandered off on his own and maybe met up at the wrong place. Marek was not too happy with Simus, and reminded him that he was only here for the money. Although Padfoot thought sour over Marek's tone, he was pleased to find someone with a similar lifestyle. Marek seems the type who is all for the profit and drops everything else - respect, relations, and loyalty. Padfoot is sure that Marek knows that he's here because he is needed, he'll do the job he needs to to get paid, but he'll work by his own rules. Respectable, and effective when you've mastered your skills, but Padfoot doesn't prefer that approach. Padfoot already knew he wasn't going to take any "sides" all throughout. Though he knew he wasn't going to be disrespectful.

As Marek was finished telling off the General, Padfoot heard a loud snort. Padfoot quickly turned and noticed a Khajiit, who seemed to have finished looking at his map. "Another female with another negative sense about them", he thought. He couldn't help but notice the dark color of her fur, almost jet-black. With eyes so alive, so green, that Padfoot was afraid to look too directly, for fear that he'd end up in some Plane of Oblivion. "Not bad a bad job, for a pointy eared tree hugger" Oh, the race thing. Padfoot came across some of those who dig at races. Though usually he would wince at a comment such as that one, Padfoot was all too perplexed at the beautiful color of the cat's fur. He actually was assigned to take out a group of 5 Khajiit over in The Reach. The client only asked for the cat's fingers for proof, gave Padfoot the privelage to do whatever else he wanted with the bodies. It was clear they were Thieves, nobody want's a person's fingers unless they stole something from them. The group of Khajiit actually had the same color fur as this girls, a little darker, with a little shine to it. Padfoot loved the fur so much that he actually skinned all the Khajiit, and not their fur lay as carpet in his study room. A lovely story to tell, especially to someone acting so harsh, but Padfoot wasn't one to be an intimidator, and he didn't like to disrespect.

"Thank you, I always try to do my best. I appreciate the kind words, I know that my race is naturally skilled at scouting." The Bosmer quickly said to the Khajiit, shaking off the obvious negativity and putting a bit of positivity. "They call me Padfoot. Though I respect that you may prefer to be a loner, and may be rebellious in the way that you speak and address to people, I can assure you that there will always be a time in your life that you will need somebody, and how you live your life will determine whether or not you'll have somebody or not. No disrespect, of course. Just a little insight. I can see the persona you've given yourself, but I can see deeper. I can see you have a kind heart, deep down." Padfoot noticed the haze that was this brief conversation and immediately backed out of it, turning his gaze back to the General. "Thank you again, General. Though it may look so, I don't work for the money more than I do the recommendation. If at the end of this you can promise me a good word to other possible clients, you won't have to pay me as much as we've already agreed on."

 

[fellowknight]

"Well, now that that's taken care of, we can get started. Zander, stay here with Hadvar and Fasendil and assist them in making this place into a proper armory. Everyone else, form up single file behind Alice. We're marching outside into the market to meet a contact of mine who has information on our target. He's a know mercenary so Ulfric won't be alarmed by him. Let's move out!" Alice picked up where the general left off. "Everyone single file behind me!"Alice barked."Thirty seconds! DO NOT follow Marek's example and just walk out of here. He's going to pay for his insubordination as it is! Move! Move!" She yelled, leading the group out of the hall and into the Market. As he exited the hall of the dead, the hot mid-day sun bore down on him and the others. Though he didn't break a sweat while marching to the market, He remembered why he always chose light armor. As they came to a halt, he pondered on whether or not to ask if he should go get some different armor. But, being a Ranger, you were taught to maneuver in all armor types.

"Line halt!" Alice shouted as the squad reached the well. "At ease. Stay in line but you can relax while the general talks to our friend here." While the others sighed and relaxed, Barnan stood completely still, honing in one Simus's conversation with the mysterious hooded man by a merchant stall. He had spread out a map, but Barnan couldn't see what was on it. Judging by the armor, he WAS on their side. Likely a scout, or recon of some sort. Maybe a Bosmer or Breton like himself. Judging by the skin tone, it was closer to Bosmer. But he was unsure in this sunlight. If he could get closer, he would be able to tell for sure. He honed in more on their conversation.

"Padfoot. It's nice to see you again. I trust you have a good report for me?" The commander said, a hint of kindness in his voice along with the smile on his face. They must be well acquainted. "Record timing my friends... err, comrades. I just finished my pipe." He sucked in one last time and put What looked like a smoking pipe into his front left pocket. "General Psyrakon. You had given me quite a bit of time to do some scouting, you requested to find a suitable Bandit Camp around Whiterun so that the soldiers can do some stress testing, well - there are many camps around here, and you've given me just enough time to scout the nearest ones, and take some notes."

That's when he lost the conversation, due to the merchants bustling and repeating the same thing they always do. He gave up on trying to hear the rest. What he did get from the conversation may come in handy later on. A few minutes later, Simus smiled and nodded at 'Padfoot' as he spoke on, and handed him a coinpurse, shaking his hand before facing the troops. "Listen up everyone! We're going to Fort Greymoor. I want you to come over here and take a few minutes to familiarize yourselves with our intel. Pay attention to patrol routes, force deployment and the established rotation schedule. I'm going to randomly ask one of you to explain them all to me so you all need to pay attention. Get to it." Simus ordered the squad, shortly before yelling at Marek. "MAREK! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND TAKE A LOOK AT THIS! RIGHT NOW!" Marek only gave him a cold-shouldered look before walking towards the merchant stall.

Being the actual soldier among this group of gathered specialists, Arillious was the first to the merchant stall. He offered Padfoot a hand shake, who heartily accepted it. Behind him, Aliah followed, not as energetic but getting there nonetheless. She studied the map for a few seconds before nodding at Padfoot and taking cover in the shadows of the merchant stall. "As fun as standing around is, I suggest we prepare for your glorious leaders arrival" She said from her cozy spot in the shadows. Next was Marek, who offered Simus a few snide remarks before studying the map and staring down the general. Then, Shadari walked past everyone and studied the map, before giving Padfoot a twisted compliment. Barnan decided it was his turn to see the map for himself. He walked in betwen Simus and Marek, effectively breaking the stare they had going on, and stopped at the stall.


Unlike most people would do and just stand over the map, Barnan viewed it from the side. It was neat, well thought out, and most of all, strategic; just what a war map should be. The man did what he was paid to do and then some. After studying the map, Barnan extended his hand to Padfoot, looking him in the eyes, sizing him up. "Padfoot right? Name's Barnan Frand. To-be scout like yourself. Well, I'm a ranger but you get what i'm saying. That's fine work on that map, by the way. I hope you stick around until the end. We could use you."

 

[Hale Loneshadow]

"Everyone who just left would be a danger to themselves and everyone around them in the presence of Ulfric. They were also detrimental to the unit in a way..."

Simus' words continued to echo like a hollow ring in Hale's ears as he made his way through the dense forest. He had been halfway out of the Hall's first set of doors when his acute hearing, combined with the deflecting acoustics of the winding tunnels of the Hall of the Dead, had picked up his friend's stinging words.

And then there was silence, for the near-immortal Ranger found it nearly impossible to comprehend anything else around him, from the screeching children wanting to play tag, to the general bustle of the cities market district after hearing those words. He was almost tempted to run back into the room and scream into the general's face that all of his kin were now dead, and no one would come to help them. Although instead, Hale held back his anger and had made hast for the serenity of the wilds to help clear his thoughts.

However, now, wandering through the hilly forests between Whiterun and Falkreath, Hale knew those words to be at least partially true - he had let himself slip a bit in the near half a century since all the men and women he knew and loved in Evondale, had been obliterated by the mad necrolord Garumn. Hale, though he was deign to admit it, had given up hope in the chase, himself, and worst of all, her. How could she still be alive after all these years? Or had the Crystal Keep kept her in a sort of stasis? These were questions that Hale could only get out of Garumn, and right now it did not seem that he would ever find out.

Still, that was no reason to become a detriment to his newer friends, thought the Ranger as he leaped from the tip of a thin branch onto the mossy forest floor. Leaning up against that same tree and carefully sparking his pipe filled with the finest Southern Star pipeweed, Hale firmly told himself that, wherever the road may lead to, he would follow it until the end. For as his mentor and once-King had told him, there was always hope.

It was then that, out of the darkness of the forest, that Hale's trained ears picked up a faint whizzing sound. Eyes widening, in one fluid motion he snuffed his pipe and, still leaning against the same tree, turned his body so that he rolled around to the opposite side of the oak.

Not a moment too soon, for a nanosecond later the Ranger heard and felt the solid thwump of an arrow piercing the tree where his head had just been! Throwing his pipe back in its its satchel around his waist, Hale grabbed his already-strung bow and immediately notched an arrow. Closing his eyes he thought back to where he had heard and seen the shot come from. With a quick breath, Hale crouched low to expose as little of his body as possible, turned from his hiding spot and released his powerfully shot arrow.

A sharp yelp told him he had either come very close, or hit the target itself. Hale had another notched and ready to fire when a familiar, yet at the same time very old voice spoke out, causing the usually extremely calculating Ranger to not only hold his fire, but drop his greatbow completely.

"Whoa, whoa there! I had to be sure you weren't some dastardly conjuring of Garumn first, and I believe you've proved that quite readily! You wouldn't shoot an old friend now, would you?" spoke the voice, and the man as he walked out of his hiding spot.

Hale could scarcely believe his eyes. Standing not twenty yards in front of him was a man he had thought to be long dead. He was barely able to get words any words out at all, much less comprehend the immensity of what this meant.




"Balder vel-Fray! Damn my eyes, is that really you?! How...just...I cannot...how did.." stammered the immensely surprised Ranger.

"How did I survive the Purging of Evondale? Well, now...that is something that even I cannot begin to answer. Might I ask yourself how you survived?? I think blind luck guided all of us who fought through Garumn's treachery," answered Balder.

At that last sentence, Hale's eyes widened even greater, as he and his old friend began trudging through the forest together. "My friend...I think there's some things we both need to talk about. Come. I have many friends here who could use your help...I need your help, Balder, to fight the evil. He has come to this land, Balder. Garumn is here."

Balder grimly nodded his head, blond-red hair swishing as he did. "I know, old friend. It is why I have come to this...strange land as well. I would be honored to help your cause, Hale. Just like old times, aye?"

With that, the two compatriots began their fast return to Whiterun, with questions being answered by both parties along the way.

 

[Dabiene Caristiana]

For both Dabiene and Soldin, everything went by in a blur.

After they marched outside and met the Bosmer scout they were soon heading out to the nearby Fort. For Soldin, he was somewhat impressed with the Elf's scouting abilities. The Khajiit however scoffed, saying something on the lines of him not doing so bad for a tree hugger. Soldin shook his head.

Unlike some of his 'xenophobic' kin, he didn't care about race. As far as he was concerned everyone had their purpose. So what if their soul had the skin of a Khajiit, or Argonian, Altmer, Bosmer, Dunmer, Nord, Redguard, Imperial. Hell even Breton. In fact he respected all races. They had their own talents and he respected that. Right next to him was in fact a fierce and feisty Breton woman who stood up for what she believed in... Even if she was a bit... vocal in those beliefs. Dang, her temper rivaled that of some of the Daedric Princes... He shivered just thinking of being on the tail end of her ire.

But with that Marek fellow, they both thought it was a little ridiculous on his attitude. Soldin understood his 'type'. Get payed, move on to the next client. Of course each mercenary or sell sword had their own set of codes or rules. He had no doubts Marek had them, for he seemed professional in his own right. Dabiene however...

'Great... Just what we need, a spoilt child only wanting his booty in candy. I can't wait until this is all over.'

She was already in an irritable mood to begin with, having to face Ulfric and having to place her life almost literally in the palm of General Simus' hands. He could understand the Mercenary didn't trust the General, she personally wasn't too impressed with the scouting. Coming over to Whiterun she and Soldin saw the fort was heavily fortified. It was a no brainer this would be a pain in the backside clearing out those blundering idiots. Why bandits lived out their lives like animals when they could do so much better was beyond her... But still, sometimes fate wasn't too kind to poor unfortunate souls. And they were human. So she couldn't scold them on their decision to plunder and slaughter.

She heard the Khajiit make a scathing racial remark on the poor Bosmer and that grated on her nerves. Her face however was as unreadable as ever. Except her eyes which showed a bit of irritation and distrust to two certain individuals.

Alice then told them all to line up following Simus' orders. The werewolves silently hoped things would go well after all this. But this was only the beginning. They both wondered what fates had in store for this new rag tag group of rebels. Dabiene however was wondering how in Oblivion she was going to keep sane with the Khajiit and Marek, wondering how long it was going to be before she tore her the fine hairs on her head out and scream at the top of her lungs...


(OOC: Same way to you Marek, Dabiene is a no nonsense woman, were as Soldin was trained and disciplined by none other than Isran. So Soldin is more or less disappointed or pitying the man's punishment were Dabiene has no sympathy for him. By the way... IM BACK! )

 

[Simus]

Simus had had enough of Marek's mouth for one morning. He hadn't been here two days and he'd already been more trouble than anyone else. Obviously money wasn't enough incentive to get him to cooperate. He was part of this unit whether he liked it or not and it was time to show him what happens when you openly defy your officer. He cracked his right knuckles and slugged Marek square in the nose, breaking it with a quiet snap He then bull rushed Marek before he had time to react and slammed him into the right pillar of Belethor's General Goods, pinning him there with his arm. He jabbed a finger at Marek and glared at him as if he were an enemy.

"Oh plops..." Alice muttered, knowing her father acted like this only when he was really, really mad. She drew her sword and summoned a cracking sparks spell in her off hand. She rushed forward and got beside them but stayed out of the way. She wanted to prevent Marek from escaping her father's pin but also to prevent him from killing the man.

"I'm gonna say this once." Simus growled, getting into Marek's face. "You are not part of some la-de-da adventuring group hired to kill a couple of bandits. You are part of a military unit in an extended campaign. I was very clear about this when I hired you and you had no objections. This little lone wolf act you've got going is going to get you and everyone you're with killed. My job is to keep everyone alive during this war, a word you obviously have no understanding of, and I will not fail because of you. No one is indispensable Marek and no one survives a war by going against his team. They stand or fall together, all outliers are quickly eliminated. One way or another. You have a choice: be part of the team and survive or keep your attitude problem and die. Think about it while you're just leaning here."

Simus released Marek and walked over to Dabiene.

"Wait till he walks over and then fix his nose. Do not help him up if he falls."

He didn't miss Alice's nervous look. She wasn't used to seeing him like this but he had no time to be a father right now.

 

[Andre Marek]

The sound of knuckles cracking was the only warning Marek had before the Generals fist drove into his nose, breaking it with a crisp snap. It felt like molten metal had filled Mareks sinuses as he jerked back a step but he didn't have a moment to think about it as Simus rushed forward, using his shoulder to shove him against the wall of a nearby store. He tilted his head backward as the General berated him in an attempt to lessen the flow of blood from his now crooked nose. Apparently Psyrakon wasn't one to take 'insubordination' lightly.

"You are not part of some la-de-da adventuring group hired to kill a couple of bandits. You are part of a military unit in an extended campaign. I was very clear about this when I hired you and you had no objections. This little lone wolf act you've got going is going to get you and everyone you're with killed. My job is to keep everyone alive during this war, a word you obviously have no understanding of, and I will not fail because of you. No one is indispensable Marek and no one survives a war by going against his team. They stand or fall together, all outliers are quickly eliminated. One way or another. You have a choice: be part of the team and survive or keep your attitude problem and die. Think about it while you're just leaning here."

With that, SImus stepped back from Marek and turned toward the short Breton woman standing beside the white-haired man, "Wait till he walks over and then fix his nose. Do not help him up if he falls."

Like hell, He thought stubbornly, shoving himself off the wall and taking a step towards the group. It wasn't the first time he'd had a broken nose. With a grimace Marek cupped his hands over his face, with his nose centered between his thumbs and with a quick jerk and a nasty cracking noise he pushed it back to its original position. He shook his head once, sending a splatter of maroon drops across the cobblestones before sniffing heavily. He cast a glance at Simus' daughter, who looked slightly rattled by the exchange before looking at the woman and muttering, "Keep your magic to yourself Breton."

Marek wiped his nose with the heel of his hand, smearing his gauntlet in red. So the General thought that he was a liability then. Not a surprising conclusion given his past. Mistaken, but not surprising. Indeed, the last 'team' he'd worked on had been entirely killed off... as per Mareks own plan. It had been required to complete the job. If there had been a better, more efficient way of completing the task, he would have done it instead but there hadn't been. He decided to keep that particular job to himself as it wasn't exactly an endearing tale. Not that any of the eyes looking at him now were all that friendly anyway. Several of the squad looked almost as hateful as Simus had. Probably shouldn't ask for a raise anytime soon. Under normal circumstances, Marek would have killed the General in a heartbeat after such a move. What stopped him from wanting any real sort of revenge was the simply fact that he had more to lose from Psyrakons death than he would gain. No doubt, some, or most of, the others thought he had been cowed by the Generals quick rebuttal, when he just couldn't see a logical reason to continue the exchange. He'd stated his mind and the General had reacted to it, simple as that. Even if Marek didn't like the outcome, he wasn't going to get anywhere by trying to force Simus into accepting his view.

It seemed that the General had a pretty good grasp on Mareks style. However, he was a little off on how it would affect his performance in the field. It was exactly like Marek had said. He'd taken the money so he'd get the job done. If that meant he had to work with this group, fine. But it also meant that he was more than willing to do things that others might not be in order to complete his assignment. Simus seemed to have mistaken Mareks dismissive attitude as a refusal to follow orders, when Marek had intended it to be merely a warning of how he worked. However, he refrained from pointing that out. Instead he simply shook his head in mute disappointment before folding his arms and gazing distractedly at the map that the newcomer, Padfoot was his name, had left on the table.

 

[TheShadedOne]

"They call me Padfoot. Though I respect that you may prefer to be a loner, and may be rebellious in the way that you speak and address to people, I can assure you that there will always be a time in your life that you will need somebody, and how you live your life will determine whether or not you'll have somebody or not. No disrespect, of course. Just a little insight. I can see the persona you've given yourself, but I can see deeper. I can see you have a kind heart, deep down." Shadari rolled her eyes at the mer. " No, I won't. And if you tell me how 'soft hearted' I am again, I'll show you how sharp edged my falchion is" she said softly, turning her back on the wood elf.


His kind were always trouble, sooner or later, whether from good intentions or not. A sudden commotion drew her attention, and she turned to see the general slamming the mercenary into a wall, and began howling something about personal problems and being killed. She turned towards the confrontation her hand going to her falchion, and drawing it an inch. Simus backed off, snapping at the Breton dog-woman to fix his nose. The mercenary snapped at the woman to keep her magic, and the Khajiit assassin grinned at him. 'He's anti magic, and he doesn't follow orders like some mindless zombie. Oh my...I might have to bed him' she thought wickedly. "You boys done? Or do you feel like screaming at him some more, oh glorious leader?"

 

[Hale Loneshadow]

Half a day later, Hale and Balder marched proudly across Whiterun's drawbridge, through its gate, and into the city, with thirteen of the finest, pure warriors then anywhere in all the Realms. (picture -

)
They were from the Heavenly Host of Evondale, some of the last of what had been the grandest army than most realms could bear witness to. For as Balder had informed Hale on their journey back, he and the thirteen warriors had also survived the near-obliteration of their homeland, among some other who were as of yet to be found or even located. So, after somehow surviving that final fight, Balder had met up with thirteen other of the Host as he had crawled out of the carnage and destruction, and had escaped on one of the few surviving ships, following Hale's trail at first.

However, they had gotten off-course, and had ended up in the wrong Realm Continent! So, for the last 38 years, they had gone through a whole other adventure, but had finally gotten back on Hale's track, and ended up in Hammerfell, traveling across whole nations to make it to Skyrim. So as of now Balder and the other immortal warriors were also tracking Garumn, and had pledged on their honor of loyalty to their de-facto leader, Hale, to help in the current struggle.

So, it was with a true smile that Hale greeted Simus and some of the others in the market stall, marching up in front of his old comrade Balder and the Hostmen. Walking near up to Simus, who appeared at that moment to be kicking the absolute pl*ps out of that mercenary Hale had been eyeing up before.

The man probably deserved it, thought the Ranger, and he was glad to see his old buddy wasn't caving to the whims of a spoiled mercenary.

Hale walked directly up to Simus, about ten feet ahead of his own squad, and gave Simus and Alice a devilish smile and said, "I believe I just found the best help I could have ever hoped to run into!"

 

[Simus]

Marek got himself back up and straightened out his nose, refusing all help from Dabiene. He looked distractedly at the map. Simus wasn't sure if he was really studying it or just pretending to in order to appease him. He didn't really care, Marek would only have himself to blame if he didn't know what to do. Especially after such a fearsome proclamation of how independent he was. Alice thoroughly enjoyed watching her father lay down the law and had a mind to contribute but he had everything under control. She had a squad to watch out for and she would make sure everyone stayed put. Padfoot seemed to be prying into something personal about Shadari and she gave a rather nasty retort.

Okay, don't piss off the Khajiit. I'll file that away for later.

It was then that Hale arrived from the gates with a friend of his and over a dozen mithril-clad soldiers. They stopped in front of Simus and Hale declared that he had found them the best help anyone could ask for.

I could have sworn Hale just left and yet he comes back with a squad of divine-looking warriors. Hmm...didn't see that coming.

"...letting your mind wander? Alice!" Simus shouted at her. She only heard part of it but it was clear that he had called her at least twice and that knocked her out of her musings. "Sorry sir, what did you need?"

"Form up the squad so we can greet our new arrivals?" Simus said with a slight chuckle. Alice had many gifts in divination and an incredible imagination but sometimes that made her mind wander. It was funny most of the time but she needed to focus and stop daydreaming.

"Um...right...Squad! Form up! Looks like Hale brought some help for us!"

"That's quite an enterance Hale, and quite the retinue you have there! I assume these are friends of yours?" Simus asked, taking in the beauty of these strange warriors and their fine, exotic armor. He had never seen anything like it. "And another ranger! A friend of yours from some exotic realm I bet, I'd love to..."

"General!" A Stormcloak on watch shouted. "Ulfric is here!"

here we go... He thought.

"Allright everyone, it's showtime." Simus said to the squad. "Remember: Ulfric is your king, you are his loyal subjects and you will kiss his ass to his satisfaction."

The squad marched to the front gates and were greeted by two dozen Stormcloaks lining the streets of Whiterun, ready to greet the High King. The gates opened and Ulfric himself rode through on a great black horse. Galmar Stone-fist was at his side, along with two mages. One of which Simus recognized as Jorn Blackstone, Ulfric's new Court Wizard. The other was a mystery to him. An old, hunched man in a black hooded cloak. He stank and Simus thought he could spot crusty green sores on his hands.

"By Shor General, who is that?" One of the guards asked Simus.

"Who?" He asked, knowing who the soldier meant.

"That sort of...evil looking man behind Ulfric. Small and wicked."

"I guess we'll find out." He said. Then he turned his attention to Ulfric. He and Alice took a moment to look at the Jagged Crown adorning their brother's head and the blood they had to spill to acquire it. They then kneeled before him and hoped everyone was smart enough to follow suit.

"My king." Simus said, "Welcome to Whiterun."

 

[Aethalia]

Aliah glanced up sharply at Ulfrics arrival. It took an actual effort to restrain herself from attacking the arrogant Nord as he rode into Whiterun. After she'd gotten over her first impulse tear the man, and his retinue limb from limb, she rearranged her hair so that it dropped down, and covered her ears as well, concealing her elven heritage. She knelt, off to the generals right, and a little behind him. Close enough so that she could leap forward and attack, but far away enough that it looked like she served Simus. As long as none of Ulfrics men recognized her from the attack on the Thalmor embassy, things should go smoothly.

 

[TheShadedOne]

Shadari felt a snarl come to her lips as she recognized her target. The man that had ruined her life three years ago. Jorn Blackstone stood to the right, and slightly behind Ulfric. His dark grey robes were spotless, and his leather boots shone in the dim sunlight. His face was the sorcerers most remarkable feature. Black tattoos covered most of his face, , the only part of it unmarked were his eyes and mouth. The rest was covered in those oil black markings, that seemed almost to move, even when the mans' face was still. His beard fell to nearly his mid chest, and had several beads with precious stones entwined in it. On his long fingers sat several rings, and at his belt were several pouches.

He hadn't changed much since Shadari had last seen him. Then, he wouldn't have needed to, because as far as he knew, all of her clan had died in Elsweyr. She could feel his mismatched eyes, one green, the other dark yellow, observing her, trying to figure out where, exactly he'd seen her before. She felt her hand close around one of the throwing knives. 'No. He's bound to be protected by some sort of spells. Ulfric might be stupid enough to think everyone loves him, but Jorn isn't.' With a barely audible snarl, she sank to her knees.

 

[fellowknight]

Barnan watched as the General quickly, and quite painfully drove the mercenary into the side of Belethor's shop. Using his forearm to keep Marek pinned to the wall, Simus spoke harsh words to the mercenary.

"You are not part of some la-de-da adventuring group hired to kill a couple of bandits. You are part of a military unit in an extended campaign. I was very clear about this when I hired you and you had no objections. This little lone wolf act you've got going is going to get you and everyone you're with killed. My job is to keep everyone alive during this war, a word you obviously have no understanding of, and I will not fail because of you. No one is indispensable Marek and no one survives a war by going against his team. They stand or fall together, all outliers are quickly eliminated. One way or another. You have a choice: be part of the team and survive or keep your attitude problem and die. Think about it while you're just leaning here."

Simus said, releasing Marek from his death-grip. He then approached the female Breton, Dabiene.

"Wait till he walks over and then fix his nose. Do not help him up if he falls."

The Mercenary then stood from the wall, popped his nose back in place, and declined the breton's magical healing. Then he walked to the stall and studied the map Padfoot had laid out. Barnan turned back to Padfoot. "Another time perhaps." He said, nodding to the mer before hearing the creak of Whiterun's gates slid open. He turned in time to see the other ranger, Hale, walk through the gates with what looked like half an army. They wore an armor type Barnan couldn't identify right away, as he'd never seen it before, though the Mithril was visible. Hale stopped in front of Simus and flashed a smile to Simus and Alice. "I believe I just found the best help I could have ever hoped to run into!" Hale said.

Squad! Form up! Looks like Hale brought some help for us!" Alice barked at the scattered squad, getting their attention. Barnan popped his knuckles, rolled his shoulders, and took a small spot behind the General. "And another ranger! A friend of yours from some exotic realm I bet, I'd love to..." "General!" A Stormcloak on watch shouted. "Ulfric is here!" Simus faced the squad. "Alright everyone, it's showtime." Simus said to the squad. "Remember: Ulfric is your king, you are his loyal subjects and you will kiss his ass to his satisfaction."

Suddenly the gates creaked open once more, and this time, Ulfric himself rode through on a black chestnut horse. Galmar Stone-Fist was, of course, at his side, along with two mages the Ranger didn't recognize. To Ulfric's right was a mage garbed in spotless grey robes, equipped with multiple pouches at his belt and several rings on his fingers. The one odd thing about this mage were the multiple tattoos on his face. They were designed in such a fashion, they seemed to move. The other mage wore even darker robes and seemed to huddle against his staff as he walked. He had several crusty sores on his hands and an uneasy aura of deception and betrayal seemed to float around him.

"By Shor General, who is that?" One of the guards asked Simus.

"Who?" He asked.

"That sort of...evil looking man behind Ulfric. Small and wicked."

"I guess we'll find out."

Barnan looked around and realized he was the only one standing, besides the mercenary. He quickly bent knee to Ulfric so as to dispel any suspicion, and stared at the cobblestones as he heard the hooves come to a halt.

"My king." Simus said, "Welcome to Whiterun."

 

[Padfoot]

Padfoot's eyes flashed as he watched and listened to the Khajiit as she responded to his words in a very hostile manner. "No, I won't. And if you tell me how 'soft hearted' I am again, I'll show you how sharp edged my falchion is." The whole rug thing he was thinking about before didn't seem too cruel at this point. "This one is too used to running her mouth to anyone and everyone" thought the Bosmer, in his best Elder Khajiit voice. It was clear this cat was racist, and is ignorant to the Bosmer's attempt at a kind and respectful first impression. He would never ever show it, but as of right now, she's on his personal hit list. She had no reason to hate him before, but as right now the twisted thoughts and intricate plans have begun to play like visions in the Bosmer's mind. The perfectly shot arrow, entered and exited directly through the heart, a clean kill - a Hunter wouldn't want it any other way. Her teeth would be ripped out, he could make a necklace out of them and sell them in Falkreath. The fur of course, would go neatly on the floor of his trophy room. He'd take the eyes too. He admires the color.

A Man rushed from Whiterun's Gates to reach Simus, following him were a bunch of armoured men. He paused his day dreaming to watch, it was clear he was another member of the squad.

And not long after this, some Stormcloaks marched into Whiterun. Leading them were Ulfric Stormcloak, the new High King. "A renowned racist, he and the Khajiit would get along well." Padfoot remained cool, he had no ties or personal grievances that were caused by Ulfric or the Stormcloaks, in fact the Civil War didn't affect him at all. This was all just a job.

General Simus and an Officer kneeled and greeted the High King, Padfoot followed their lead.

 

[Gunnbjorn]

Arillious took a knee with his head held low at the arrival of Ulfric Stormcloak, he was blended in with the others well enough to not draw any attention. He doesn't want to be noticed by this man at all if possible, the amount of hatred began to rumble in the heart of the young soldier, and his blood felt as though it began to boil. He gritted his teeth and kept his eyes closed, his fists were clenched and his legs were flexed, ready for any split-second pounce into a fight that will most definitely not occur. He brought his mind away from the situation, and thought happy thoughts of cutting off the man's head and feeding it to a pack of wild dogs.