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18+ The Ruins

Discussion in 'Active Stories' started by Signus, Apr 4, 2020.

  1. Signus

    Signus Well-Known Member

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    The man who'd introduced himself as Miller, followed by his band of thugs, ushered Cassius and the others out of the tavern and down the street, towards the gates of the town. The mercenaries weren't shy about shouting and shoving civilians out of their way. The few guardsmen Cassius saw along their route averted their eyes, apparently wanting no quarrel with the band of sellswords. Or maybe there was more to it. Whoever the lord Miller served was, they clearly had enough sway to convince the authorities in Northpoint to look the other way. Through bribery or intimidation, the old soldier wasn't sure. In all honesty, he wasn't sure he wanted to know the truth either. Something tasted foul about the whole situation.

    Thanks mostly to the mercenaries uncouth approach to clearing a path, they and the group Cassius had met with, made it to the gate in good time. A trio of figures were waiting just inside, sharing the appearance of Cassius and some of the others who'd shown up in Northpoint. A fourth person, a woman who seemed to know the leader of the group that had shown up at the tavern, was with them. "Is this all of them, Miller?" She called out.

    Miller shrugged "didn't see any more. If they're not here now, they aren't coming. Are the wagons ready?"

    The woman looked out the open gateway before turning back. "Just getting here now."

    Apparently satisfied, Miller turned to the group he'd brought from the tavern. "All right. Get yourselves to a wagon, I don't care who goes where or in what order. We're movin' out immediately!" With that, he lead the rest of them outside, where a number of men and women on foot and on horses were waiting. Bracketed between them were three carriages, boxy and with a window on either side of a small doorway. A driver sat on the bench of each, a man with a heavy crossbow beside them. Miller looked at Cassius and cocked an eyebrow. "You waiting for an invitation or what?" Ignoring the impending sense of doom, Cassius boarded the lead carriage, noting their was room for three other individuals inside.
     
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  2. TheArgonianDrell

    TheArgonianDrell Well-Known Member

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    Aurem-Dei glanced at his new companions, hand on his sword. The argonian knight was uncomfortable with whatever it was that was going on. He, like the others in the tavern, had been promised an audience with a lord. Now, it seemed they were being dragged into it. No one said the word, but Aurem-Dei felt like they were , in all but name. There was no disguising that the mercenaries who supposedly served this lord had the drop on them. He had little doubt that if any of them refused to come along peacefully, there would be violence. Despite his confidence in his own skills, that was something the knight did not want. He had come to High Rock to help the people, and this lord in particular. He very much doubted that the lord would thank them for killing his men.

    The group of adventurers were shepherded out of the city, picking up more presumably likeminded individuals along with as many mercenary types. Three carriages awaited them, notably not of the greatest make, but protected from the elements. Aurem-Dei watched the imperial man, the only one who'd spoken up at the tavern, climb into the first of the carriages. With a shrug directed towards his corralled companions, he followed suit, noting the upholstered interior could fit four people. Two, now that he and the imperial were inside. "Greetings" the argonian said, "I don't think we've had the chance to introduce ourselves. I, am Aurem-Dei. Knight of Black Marsh."
     
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  3. Thesius

    Thesius The Imperial Paladin

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    Before the khajiit or the human mercenary could answer him, another man joined the little group, a nord, unless Lorius was mistaken. The man, like the rest of them it seemed, was looking for the lord that had summoned them to Northpoint in the first place. "You and me both, friend" Lorius said, but before the man could respond, a commotion from the deeper inside the city grabbed his attention. A large group of armed men were shoving their way none too gently towards the gate. The woman with them seemed to recognize the leader, a man she referred to as 'Miller'. An alias if he had ever heard one. The female human shepherded the three, khajiit, imperial, and nord, to join with the main group headed out of the town. A little counterproductive, Lorius supposed, since they had only just gotten there.

    Outside, a group of horsemen waited, guarding three boxy carriages, with armed protection on each. Not only was the lord who had summoned them discreet, it seemed, but they certainly weren't lacking money. He spent some time looking at the assembled mercenaries, if that what they were, seeking some sort of sigil or emblem. He heard their leader, the man known as Miller, demand they started piling into wagons. Lorius was torn between the lead wagon and the middle. He assumed their employer would be in one of the two, either the middle for added security, or the first, because it appealed to their sense of propriety. Finally, he chose the lead wagon, clambering inside and coming face to face with a gruff looking imperial, and a heavily armoured argonian. "Begging your pardon, but neither of you look much like a lord."
     
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  4. Morbidbread

    Morbidbread Fight for the lost

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    Firior had barely sat down with the others when a thuggish looking man stepped inside, spotted Firior and the others who had slowly been filing inside, and made a beeline for them. The man, Miller, it turned out his name was, made himself comfortable, and it was quickly revealed why he was so at ease joining a table full of strangers that badly outnumbered him. All around the tavern, men in similar garb and temperment to 'Miller' stood, eyeing the group. The numbers were now looking much more even, and there was no guarantee the others at the table would fight. Fortunately, Miller declared his intention was to bring them to the very same lord that had summoned them to Northpoint. Why, exactly, that lord was not in the city he'd summoned Firior and the others to was a mystery.

    As they were escorted outside and through the streets, the blood hunter noted several more individuals waiting by the gates to the city. A khajiit and two humans, escorted by another mercenary. One who seemed to recognize Miller. After a brief conversation, the smaller group joined up with them, and they continued outside Northpoint. There, a series of wagons waited, guarded by yet more mercenaries, mounted and some, he saw, were armed with heavy crossbows. Apparently, trouble was expected. With a shrug to his companions, Firior climbed into the middle carriage.
     
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  5. fellowknight

    fellowknight Devil Of The Details

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    Baroth's eyes nearly rolled as the argonian, Aurem-Dei as he'd said, introduced himself and questioned their elusive employer. True, the noble lord hadn't plastered signs with directions, or sent tour guides to flag down the mercenaries. And to his expectations, Aurem-Dei knew and suspected little more of the ship-wreck than he himself did. Baroth knew someone had seen it go down since it had started, but the old knight was hardly concerned about that, or anything really as the warrior spoke.

    In fact, his mind had gone blisteringly numb for a few moments, as the nostalgic stench of Argonian blood flooded his senses. How had he forgotten something so decadent, so smooth?

    He recovered subtly and been ready to answer, when a Redguard woman caught his eye on approach to the pair. Deliberately, Baroth held his tongue long enough for her to interrupt and watched the two skip pleasantries, inquiring as to where their employer was. Straight to business, the girl was, and Baroth was grateful for that.

    Again he'd wanted to reply, when a voice from his flank caught him off-guard, and he placed eyes on a newcomer-- or perhaps a nosy merchant. No-- he was far too shaped and comfortable for that, and his name "Hale Loneshadow".. It came off familiar, but Baroth had to let it go after a thought. He'd seen a million faces over a thousand lifetimes, so forgetting one hardly bothered him. Still..

    He followed as the others agreed to join Hale in the nearest tavern, and took a seat quietly at a table where several others had assembled. Elves, humans, all mixed, all capable. All prey, he mused to himself, if I should tempt myself again. Naturally, he kept to himself until another man entered and spoke loudly as he sat at the table, later standing in unison with others-- his own guard, as it were.

    The tension in the room was thick, so thick Baroth blissfully bathed in it. So many blades, so much potential for chaos.. His thumb toyed with the clasp that secured his blade, under the table and out of sight, as heartbeats filled his ears.. why not?

    A man, imperial from the looks, stood and was the first to leave with the man, as the others followed suit. Oh well. Baroth tailed the group down to the south gate, making note of the escort's nonchalant methods to make way. The lord had made it clear, that the mercenaries were to behave themselves, and what awaited them outside the gates only clarified that. Obvious, but a waste of muscle nonetheless.

    With little fanfare, they were prompted to pick a carriage, and one-by-one, everyone split up. In spite of himself and his aching curiosities, Baroth chose the carriage on the far end, recognizing the cabin's potential to hold three others. Six, he smirked, if they shared laps.
     
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  6. Rell

    Rell Champion of Malacath!

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    Arbjorn scowled at the lack of answers he was getting. The trip from Skyrim to High Rock had not been quick nor easy, but here he was being ignored by some scruffy looking mercenary. His mood was not improved when a much larger group of sell swords shoved their way through the crowd of commoners and merchants. He noted with some disapproval that even the guards didn't speak against them. Before he could repeat his question, he and several others were swept outside. A line of wagons and horsemen were waiting. Arbjorn frowned...he could have sworn they weren't present beforehand.

    One of the sellswords indicated that he and the others should claim a wagon, and they would be taken to their destination. Several of the others did as told, and Arbjorn shrugged, following a breton looking man into the carriage at the end of the line. He sat across from the man and nodded. "Are you as out of the loop on this as I am? Seems we're being dragged off for no well explained reason." He offered his hand "Arbjorn Harstrom"
     
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  7. Signus

    Signus Well-Known Member

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    Cassius cocked an eyebrow at the imperial man. The man seemed a mercenary of some sort, but he guessed there was more to him than what met the eye. The steel plates protecting his torso suggested he was no stranger to combat, but not a knight like the argonian Cassius had seen entering the tavern, or the breton who had questioned him about the ships' wreckage. So someone who wanted to be able to hide in a crowd, as well as hold their own in a fight. Perhaps an assassin, though the mace at his side discouraged that idea. Whatever he was, it looked like he'd been dragged into the mercenary group as well. "No offense, but you don't look like much a lord yourself." He reached across the carriage, extending a hand "Cassius Bratnius, at your service."
     

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