Madrar
The Shadow in the Dark.
Thalien lead the reduced company of mercenaries out of Falkreath, onto the road bound for Markarth. Tallpine trees stretched up like sentinels, watching their progress. A light fog hovered over the ground, obscuring it, and pale grey clouds drifted on by overhead. As the company marched towards the border of the Reach, it became obvious they were not the only ones on the road. Columns of imperial legionnaires, local levies, and surprisingly, a few merchant caravans passed them by. The merchants were headed south, towards Pale Pass, and the more civilized parts of the empire. It was one such caravan that stopped upon seeing Thalien and the others. The lead driver called for a halt and waved to the half-nord.
Frowning, Thalien lifted his arm in greeting, wondering what the man wanted. If he was seeking to hire them as guards back to Cyrodiil, he was going to be disappointed. "Good morning!" the man called out as he approached the mercs. "Or, at least as good as it gets in this miserable province, eh?"
Cautiously, he nodded, "something I can help you with, friend?"
"Oh no. Well, that is, I was wondering if you're headed towards Markarth." The merchant asked, passing an eye over the assembled warriors and mages.
"Looks like it. Unless this road leads somewhere other than the Reach." Thalien responded, his patience growing thin. It was hard enough making progress on foot. Stopping to chat with merchants would only delay them further.
"Then I should pass on a warning a friend of mine gave to me. One traveler to another: Beware the forsworn. There's been a huge jump in caravan raids and even attacking legion camps. I'm not risking my goods. We'll find somewhere else to sell them."
Thalien frowned, and thanked the man for his warning, before sending him on his way. The news of Forsworn in the Reach was troubling, but not unexpected. Growing up in High Rock, he'd heard stories of the men who consorted with half-bird half-hag creatures in western Skyrim. He'd never met any himself, and he would have thought that the empire would have wiped the scattered savages off the map already. "This just keeps getting better and better." He looked over his shoulder, to the perpetually scowling wood elf. "We're still a couple days march from the Reach. Once we get there, I'd ask you to scout ahead of us, and warn us of any surprises lurking in the hills."
Frowning, Thalien lifted his arm in greeting, wondering what the man wanted. If he was seeking to hire them as guards back to Cyrodiil, he was going to be disappointed. "Good morning!" the man called out as he approached the mercs. "Or, at least as good as it gets in this miserable province, eh?"
Cautiously, he nodded, "something I can help you with, friend?"
"Oh no. Well, that is, I was wondering if you're headed towards Markarth." The merchant asked, passing an eye over the assembled warriors and mages.
"Looks like it. Unless this road leads somewhere other than the Reach." Thalien responded, his patience growing thin. It was hard enough making progress on foot. Stopping to chat with merchants would only delay them further.
"Then I should pass on a warning a friend of mine gave to me. One traveler to another: Beware the forsworn. There's been a huge jump in caravan raids and even attacking legion camps. I'm not risking my goods. We'll find somewhere else to sell them."
Thalien frowned, and thanked the man for his warning, before sending him on his way. The news of Forsworn in the Reach was troubling, but not unexpected. Growing up in High Rock, he'd heard stories of the men who consorted with half-bird half-hag creatures in western Skyrim. He'd never met any himself, and he would have thought that the empire would have wiped the scattered savages off the map already. "This just keeps getting better and better." He looked over his shoulder, to the perpetually scowling wood elf. "We're still a couple days march from the Reach. Once we get there, I'd ask you to scout ahead of us, and warn us of any surprises lurking in the hills."