18+ An Era of Dusk

Kaliir nodded at his explanation. She couldn't fault him for wanting to travel a bit, and her motives weren't exactly selfless. They were finally on the move, headed towards Morthal, a city or town she had never visited before. As they walked past the group of soldiers, the mage suddenly stuck a hand into the satchel at his side. A flash of concern crossed his face, so quickly that Kaliir wasn't even sure she hadn't imagined it. When they had passed the soldiers and were on the road away from the town of Dragons bridge, the mage pulled his hood up and spoke to her again. "You know, I think we should watch our backs on our way to Morthal." Kaliir didn't bother looking back at the soldiers- they were already too suspicious of them already, it seemed. She did nod very slightly, "that might be the smartest thing I've heard all day." Raising her voice a little, she asked "so what do you know about Morthal? Is it a nice place? Somewhere we're going to receive a warm welcome?"

Dren hesitated at the argonians question, glancing over at Zarr. He didn't want to give away too much of her past and certainly none of his. But the man had just helped them, without any reason to, other than they were traveling together. Despite the man saying that he hadn't helped Zarr for him, Dren still felt that he owed him something as thanks. He and Zarr hadn't known each other for very long, but she was the closest thing he had to a friend. If something had happened to her, he wasn't sure what he would do. " Like you said, the stormcloaks are racist thugs. Perhaps not all of them, but the ones Zarr and I have encountered here and in the Reach were. We...had some trouble with them near Markarth." That was the truth, or at least as much as he was willing to divulge when they were around so many people. None of which could be truly trusted.

Watching the exchange between the human, either an imperial or a breton, Balgur wasn't certain, he almost didn't notice the dark elf woman who had shown him where the bandits had been, earlier. He was surprised at her question for a moment, before he realized that he hadn't offered her his name. Normally it wouldn't have bothered him but it also made sense for her to want a name. In a battle, shouting : "hey you, look out!" Tended to be worse than useless, if it didn't get someone else killed. With that in mind, he said "you can call me Balgur." He started to catch up to the flamboyant dark elf and the human he was speaking to, then paused "You're Avira, right? I heard that big argonian, mention you." He shifted his spear into a more comfortable carrying position, and adjusted the strap of his shield. "Did you come down from Morrowind, or are you native to Skyrim?" Small talk wasn't usually his thing, but it couldn't hurt to foster some positive relations in the group.

The orcs' gruff voice from just behind him accused Thoras of avoiding the question. Which was true, of course, but admitting that now would be against his character. With a grin, he glanced over his shoulder, "perhaps he isn't asking the right questions. But if you want so badly to know about my past, I shall tell you." He paused, building up the suspense, before saying "I am the son of dunmeri nobility, fleeing from a life of hardship and imminent poverty, after the ruin of Morrowind. I've come to Skyrim to gain some standing with our glorious high king, Ulfric, and secure a position for my family as the head of dunmer in this new-born kingdom."

Then he held up a long finger, his grin growing more mischievous "or perhaps not. Perhaps I'm a sellsword from the empire, seeking his fortune in this frigid waste. Not so uncommon, given the make up of our group, hmm?" Then, with a chuckle, he amended "or just maybe, the real Thoras Lorian is laying dead in a ditch somewhere, and I'm actually an assassin who's been sent to get close to the king, and put an end to his rule." He shrugged, "but enough about me. What about you, Merric? Where do you hail from? Is there more to your tale than a simple adventurer seeking to do right by the people of Skyrim?"

Merric couldn't help but grin bemusedly at the barrage the dunmer calling himself Thoras Lorian unleashed. He also wondered which, if any of the offered stories were true. Before he or the orcish legionnaire could push him further, the elf shrugged, and asked Merric about his own past. He was surprised by the sudden turn around, having questions put to him rather than the other way around. It was not a simple matter of baring his childhood and early adulthood. In part because he had no way of telling if the elf already knew him from before his...incident. The second, and much more important part was that he remembered nothing besides waking up on a fishing boat years ago. Revealing himself as an amnesiac swordsman probably wouldn't do much to foster trust with anyone. Clearly, he had to say something, or perhaps be sold out as an imperial spy, at the next town, if his companions decided they didn't need him.

"I was a fisherman, originally. Off the coast of High Rock" that much, at least was true. When he'd first woken in the cabin of a fishing vessel, the crew had offered him a place aboard, so long as he could earn his keep. Though he had ended up landbound within a year, Merric and the crew had parted on good terms. "Turned out I wasn't really suited for that life. Took up wandering a few months ago, and haven't looked back since." That last bit was the lie, though he could argue it was more exaggeration than outright falsehood. "Can't say I've done to badly for myself, even if I ended up in former province who's population has no love for imperials."

Ysane left the town with the others, glad that she had gotten off without the stormcloaks becoming suspicious. Obviously they weren't happy with such an odd group of adventurers and sellswords wandering around their town. Yet...from what she'd heard, and seen on the notice near the inn, the job was to find missing villagers. It would be a little difficult to do that if they were chased out of every city and town they visited. Their self appointed leader, Argus, seemed to have some idea of what he was doing, at least. From what she could see, neither he nor the robed man shared the stormcloak point of view. She felt a small seed of optimism begin to blossom within her breast, but kept her expression- what little that could be seen past her scarf, hidden.

Seeing that the argonian who had introduced himself as Sothas was busy speaking with a small khajiit and a cautious looking breton man, she made her way to the head of the group. "Argus, yes?" She asked of the man who was wearing a mix of plate armour and leather. "I am Ysane. What do you know of our task? I don't mean to sound completely ignorant, but it seems to me that those nords were less than interested in having us help them." She pointed back the way they'd come, "the captain is a fool if he's letting his bias against elves and khajiit dictate his actions."

"What about you?" Zarr asked the argonian, "argonians are barely tolerated here, perhaps even less than khajiit or dark elves. So why come?" She didn't mean to be overly prying, but she could not hold back her curiosity. She assumed he wouldn't take offense, and he was clearly invested in keeping the group together. The others weren't exactly at each others throats, but she hadn't missed the cautious glances or slight hesitation before one spoke to the other. It made perfect sense, of course. Zarr and Dren may not have been the only one wanted by the authorities. Or perhaps there were individuals outside the law who were after some members of the group. Assassins and bandits who had a history with one or more of the others. With that in mind, Zarr knew that having the argonian, who she'd heard called Sothas, as an ally if not friend would up the odds of her and Drens' survival. A good deal if she'd ever heard one, even if she had to put up with his annoying friend.

Sothas tilted his head, slightly confused by the khajiit's question. "Why would I not?" He asked, "I have heard the tales of the treatment of my fellow argonians, and the dark elves, and your own people." He glanced over his shoulder, but the stormcloaks were no longer in sight, and if someone was following the group, he could not see them. "But the people here need help, and I am sworn to help those who need it. Even if the stormcloaks or the high king, or whoever else doesn't like me." The promise of payment didn't hurt either, but Sothas had been honest when he explained his motives. He had no need to lie, after all. So long as his companions didn't reveal themselves as horrific criminals, they would have no reason to fear Sothas' motives.

Alongside the orc legionary, Balgur, Aylira nodded, "that's right. You listen well, for a soldier." He went on to aske if she'd been born in Skyrim or migrated from Morrowind. She shook her head, "neither,actually. I've lived in the empire for most of my life." Technically, that wasn't a lie. Skyrim had still been part of the empire when she was a child. Besides, whether or not he was an ally, he didn't need to hear about her early life. "When I met Sothas, I was in a bad way. He hauled my backside out of a bad situation, and I've been traveling with him for the last few years." She glanced at her big companion as he spoke with the small khajiit. Sothas had always made allies easier than she had. It was why he usually did the talking. Sooner or later, she tended to say something she shouldn't, which tended to offend the wrong people.

The imperial said that he'd been a fisherman off the coast of High Rock, before going on to say that he hadn't been cut out for that life, and decided to become an adventurer. Not an outrageous story, but something seemed...off about it. Perhaps it was the slight hesitation in the mans' voice during the recollection. Or perhaps it was the simple fact that he didn't look like any fisherman Thoras had ever seen in his life. Granted, not all had spent time on the open sea. Most, however, had at least a few nicks and old scars from fish hooks and filleting knives. Merric had none of those things. That didn't necessarily mean he was a liar, but he was certainly leaving something out of his story. "Really? How boring" the elf sighed, leaning his glaive against his shoulder. "Ah well, the mercenary life draws all kinds, I suppose."

Argus was mildly surprised to have the elf woman approach him. She hadn't been completely silent since attaching herself to their group, but she seemed skittish around nords. Stormcloaks in particular, but he had noticed her eyeing himself and Lorkas as well. The scarf did very little to conceal her gold tinted skin, though he had to admit she was paler than the few other high elves he had met. Argus guessed that she wore the scarf to conceal some identifying mark, a scar or tattoo maybe. Her armour was unique, not at all like the typical elven armour the justiciars had worn. A newer version, or perhaps she wasn't affiliated with the dominion at all. "Well met, Ysane. Yes, I am Argus, though I'm surprised to see an altmer here." He grimaced, "I mean no offense, of course. But as you saw, the nords aren't thrilled with our presence here. If it's the same everywhere, our job will be somewhat more difficult."

"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed with my answer." Lorkas shook his head at the Khajiits questions, "On both accounts. I've only been there once before. A rather fleeting visit." He pointed off to the left and forward of the group where, in the distance, the swamps of Morthal were slowly coming into view.

"The town is more of a small fishing village, located in the swamps of Hjaalmarch. Cold, wet, and perpetually foggy it seemed. I suppose I could describe the people who live there the same." He grinned at the woman as he waited for a reaction. To be fair, not all of the residents had been so unpleasant but Lorkas thought it best not to get her hopes up. He hoped none of the group would let on about him being a mage once they reached the town though. The residents hadn't seemed too fond of magic the last time he had visited.

"To be honest though, they may just be even more wary of outsiders nosing around than the Stormcloaks. I hope the others aren't in the mood to cause trouble." He glanced towards the ostentatious Dunmer walking near the front of the group.

He listened to the dark elf wondering how much of her story was true. She certainly seemed to stick near the argonian, Sothas but there was something about the woman that nagged at him. It could have been the dangerous grace that she walked with, speaking of decades of experience with the wicked looking blade at her side. It could also be that Balgur was being far too suspicious of people who were just trying to do a job. Maybe they were even trying to help people, like Sothas had mentioned earlier. Whatever their motive, she hadn't told him to piss off when he'd asked about her past, and Sothas had stepped in when he'd started arguing with the khajiit woman. With a sigh, he looked around, noting that they were coming up on the swampy border of Hjaalmarch. Morthal was past that, somewhere. Considering the greeting he'd gotten in Dragons Bridge, he wasn't expecting a warm welcome. "Thank you for sharing. You and your friend certainly look capable enough, but I guess we'll see."

Merric glanced at the flippant dunmer, a little irritated by his casual dismissal. Deciding that taking offence would be rather useless, just like trying to find any information on the elf called Thoras. The pair were near the front of the group, just behind the altmer woman and Argus. The rest were behind, engaged in conversation or absorbed in their own thoughts. What little he knew about the others hadn't yet given him cause for concern. At least, not any more concern than he already felt from traveling with a group of strangers who made little secrets about their mercenary origins. A couple at least, seemed interested in actually helping the people of Skyrim. Merric almost laughed at his own thoughts; he had just caught himself judging the others, for being true to themselves. At least they are true to their own purpose. My own ideals are somewhat more foggy. Not that he would be telling any of his companions that.

The party traipsed along the road as the day gradually shifted from mid morning to early afternoon. The sky above was a beautiful, pale blue, with only a few wispy clouds drifting along. Despite that, the suns' warmth seemed muted a sign of the oncoming winter. The wind had lessened in its' savagery since the early morning, but it still bit at any exposed skin. To the right, the Karth river and ahead and to the left, the marshes and grey barked trees of Hjaalmarch came into view. Directly ahead, the road was blocked by a pair of carts and men in the blue of stormcloak uniforms stood guard, watching the group approach with caution, but not outright hostility. One of the men, a youngish looking soldier with a shaved beard and dark brown hair, stepped forwards, hand extended. "Hold there. We're under orders to check everyone headed out of Dragonsbridge. What's your purpose on the kings' road?"

To her surprise, Argus was almost cordial in his speech, even though he had the gruff accent of a soldier. There was something strange about his accent, but she couldn't quite place it. Almost as if his speech was forced or the man was being careful to speak a certain way. Although, Ysane had not heard many nords talking, except to curse at her as she dangled helplessly from iron chains in her cell. Whatever the case, she sensed the question in his words. "Honestly, I never intended to end up in Skyrim." A flash of blue from up ahead had her immediately on guard. Stormcloaks. Many of them, barring the road ahead with a pair of carts.

"However, my story is a long one and I think we may not have much time to speak" she nodded towards the blocked road, choosing that moment to slip back further in the group. She didn't like to indulge in paranoia but she also wasn't one to take foolish chances. The less of her they saw, the happier she would be. Ysane heard the leader of the soldiers demanding to know their business on the kings' road. It seemed that this was just a standard checkpoint. Not so strange, considering recent events. Ysane could have sworn that there wasn't any checkpoint earlier that morning. Her guard remained up.

Argus was at the head of the group, so he saw the road block at the same time Ysane did. The altmer faded back amidst the others as the leader of the soldiers stationed ahead stepped forwards. He noticed that the man didn't pause to show how much he despised the non-humans with Argus. The soldier demanded to know their business on the kings' road, and the nord stepped up to meet him. "We're on the kings' business. Headed to Morthal, tracking down some missing folk from Dragonsbridge." He pointed back the way they'd come, mainting the veneer of a simple blade for hire.

The soldier looked over the assembled group before nodding, "I heard that there was a notice for mercenaries. I wish you luck, but we haven't seen any movement along this road since we were stationed here a few hours ago. I wish you luck though." He turned around and motioned to his troops. Four men emerged from the side of the road and started hauling the carts out of the way. "Be careful near the swamp. The jarl heard of travelers going missing in there, about a week ago. My captain sent some men in there a couple days later. They still haven't come back." The man turned to look towards the edge of the swamp. "Mark my words; something lurks in that marsh."

"I'll keep that in mind" Argus promised him, "thank you for the warning" he said as he started to lead his companions through the road block, and wondering if the captain had intentionally withheld that information. It seemed likely, especially with the way he'd been eyeing the group as they moved off. He found his hand tightening around the haft of his axe, wondering what, exactly, lurked in the swamps.

Dren listened silently as Sothas and Zarr spoke about the argonians' motivations."You have a very simple way of seeing things" he finally spoke up, "meaning no offense but have you ever considered that some people might not want your help?" Though grateful for the argonians' help, he couldn't help but feel that the warrior was more than a little naive. In his own experience, blindly rushing in to save people seldom worked out. "Or that they might be using you to further their own plans? Not everyone is as pure of heart and earnest as you seem to think." He caught himself dangerously close to ranting at Sothas. Or worse,drawing attention to himself. Attention typically brought the kind of questions he was neither willing nor able to answer. Not without endangering Zarr or himself.

He shook his head, forcing his mind back to the task at hand. A quick glance at the sky revealed that the sun had passed its' zenith. He looked around, past the rest of the group, to the terrain off the road. Most of it was small hills, trees, and bush. Not ideal for an ambush, which put his mind somewhat at rest. That was, until he spotted the roadblock a little further ahead. Before he could alert his companion, one of the stormcloaks stationed there was already stepping forwards to speak with their leader.

The two nords spoke for a few moments, then the stormcloak turned and motioned for his men to clear the road. Dren let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and kept his head down as they passed the soldiers. No one stopped them as they continued on and he gradually felt the tension in his shoulders easing. Soon, he caught a glimpse of gnarled trees in the distance.The swamps of Morthal, he guessed, though he couldn't see the town itself.

At the mages words, Kaliir sighed, "you know just what to say to get a girl excited" she drawled, sarcasm dripping off every word. She followed his gaze to the dark elf ahead of them. He was currently pestering one of the other humans, which suited her just fine."We could always arrange for him to have an 'accident' in the swamp." Then she shrugged, "just a thought" she said, before glancing at the others to make sure no one had eavesdropped on her less than innocent suggestion. She realized they had come to a stop and her keen ears picked up someone demanding to know the groups business on 'the kings' road'. The khajiit almost rolled her eyes at such a ridiculous title. A road was a road. She doubted the king had bothered setting foot on this particular road even once. Their self appointed leader spoke with the one who'd asked their business, and soon they were moving again.

Kaliir eyed the stormcloaks as the group moved on, but they didn't seem as hostile as the soldiers in the town they'd just left behind. Maybe they were just happy to see them moving on to be somebody elses problem. Once they were out of earshot, glanced at the nord beside her "so what made you choose the adventuring life over being a soldier?" she asked, merely to pass the time. "I'm sure they travel a lot. Plus there's the whole 'doing your part for king and country' nonsense." She realized that she was doing the same thing that she'd accused the dark elf, Thoras, of doing back at the inn. Poking into other peoples' business. With a mental shrug, she continued walking along as she waited for some kind of story, or to be brushed off. At least she could use the excuse that a little conversation would help the time pass.

Aylira, who had been subtly eavesdropping on their conversation, glanced over her shoulder and grinned at the breton. "That's what I've been trying to tell him, but the big oafs' heart bleeds for every unfortunate between here and Elseweyr." Sothas shot his friend an irritated look before he glanced down at the breton man. "No offense taken. You have a point, but I'm not as naive as you might think. I'll never force someone to accept my help and I don't plan to be forced into giving it." He paused there, letting his words sink in. "I think it's clear that these people we are tracking do need our help. I can no more turn away from helping them than I could from stepping in back at the farmhouse. It's in my nature." While he was not planning on prying into the mans' past, his comment about things not ending well was interesting. Something Sothas would definitely be mentioning, if the time ever came that the breton came to trust him.

Aylira, after her comment at Sothas' expense, caught up with the soldier, Balgur. Something about the encounter with the stormcloaks back at the farmstead had been bugging her since they'd left. She could have chalked it up to paranoia, but she had learned a long time ago that disregarding a gut feeling was never a good idea. The road block, also manned by stormcloaks, had done very little to put her at ease. She was sure there had been no soldiers present when she and Sothas had walked into town. "Did that captain strike you as odd?" She asked the orc, "it seemed like he was very curious to know what we'd found. Not to mention eager to see us gone."

Balgur grunted at Ayliras' question. He vivid remembered the stormcloak captain she was referring to. The man had been more than a little unpleasant even when he was enlisting their help. From what he'd seen at the farmhouse, the captains' attitude hadn't improved much. Balgur tried not to be biased against the nords, or the soldiers that he'd fought against ten years ago. He had been a soldier- a damned good one, too. But he'd never thought of the enemy as anything except the enemy. He hadn't known anyone in the legion who had deliberately gone out of their way to belittle the rebels. The few stormcloaks he'd met in person, either as prisoners or during the brief truce that had taken place midway through the war had been stubborn,but not unreasonable. How things changed.

"Noticed that, did you?" He said, forcing a laugh "yes, 'odd' is a good word for him. If you don't want to point out the mammoth in the room. The man either has a problem with outside help, or he's a massive, stuck up racist." He nodded at the nord leading them, then at the mage. "Those two were the only ones' he wasn't glaring daggers at but I wouldn't put it past him to change his mind about our 'spokesman'." To the second part of her question, he shrugged, "could be he actually thinks we were looting the place." He remembered the narrow eyed disgust the man had on his face, mixed with...worry? "Could also be there's something he really didn't want us to find. You think he's involved, somehow?"

As the swamp drew ever closer, ahead and to their left as they walked on what had once been a very well traveled road, even during the civil war, Argus found himself getting lost in his thoughts. Things were not adding up, no matter how hard he tried to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. It made no sense for the stormcloaks to hire the group, then act so hostile. It made even less sense for them to be so ignorant that they would let bandits prey on their citizens. Or why the bandits would flee with their hostages for Morthal. The whole thing began to give him a headache, a nagging ache that felt like a vice around his skull. Talking. Talking it out with at least one of the others might make some sense of the situation. He glanced over his shoulder, guessing that the altmer woman was no longer interested in talking after their encounter with the stormcloak road block. "Sothas, could you come up here for a moment? There are things we should discuss."