RolePlayerGuilt — Roleplayer Guild

Windhelm, Eastmarch, Skyrim

2000, Sun's Height 3, 4E 205

First to arrive were the witch hunters. Enforcers from Synod appeared even before some finished looting the redoubt. Some of these men and women were knights, protected by heavy armor and wielding sturdy melee weapons. Others in this group were battlemages, robe-clad figures with staffs slung across their backs. Their leader said they were looking for a Redguard sorcerer, a former member of Synod and now wanted fugitive. Some mercenaries knew they were talking about Jonimir, but none of them knew where Jonimir went. Sometime during his mission with the flankers, he had broke off with a small party and executed his own plan. Now, in the morning, no trace of Jonimir could be found. The Synod men trekked into the valley, they left hours later, disappointed and empty handed. 

The second group was a massive convoy of Nordic soldiers. There must be dozens of vehicles and hundreds of troops. Leading them was general Manis, a pale looking man wearing what seemed to be Stormcloak officer armor, except that the hooded cloak was from troll rather than bear, and shabby leather replaced by gold-trimmed metal plates. He strolled through the mercenaries' camp like none of them existed. With a half dozen elite guards in tow, the general made a beeline towards Ashav. He stood without emotion when Ashav recounted his success. His only word was “good”, and beckoned his men to drop off a stash of coins before turning around.

“Hold on, where is the bonus?” Opening the container and doing a rough count, Ashav had to jog after the general to catch up.

“There is no bonus, your contract is over.” The general stated.

One of Manis' captain explained to Ashav that his contract was terminated. The whole campaign had encountered difficulties and their leader, the Dragonborn, decided to alter strategies. In short, Ashav's company was no longer needed. That wasn't too much of a bad thing, as they were severely understrength and ranks were near depleted. Almost everyone that survived the assault were wounded, wounds Ashav had few healers or medicine to treat. So he took the mercenaries along with the army's wagons, and hitched a ride to Rorikstead, where troops from all over Skyrim had been using as a field hospital. Some members asked to go to Markarth, but the soldiers said Markarth was temporarily off limit. While the merceanries fought Forsworns in their redoubt, other Forsworns managed to sneak into settlements outside of the city and massacred everyone there. Terrifying weapons never seen before were unleashed, some of them included arcane charges stolen from the shipments from Winterhold and predators implanted with briarhearts. The mining tunnel Edith cleared out last night was just one of many workshops across the Reach.

At least lord Borni was alive with them. He owned a mining operation beside Markarth and frequently came by for inspections. In a stroke of dumb luck pulled from disaster, he was spared early entrance to Sovrngarde. The Nord man was grateful for Edith and Sadri in particular, he gifted two exquiste silver rings to them before leaving for Falkreath.

It was the evening of the 28th, the houses of Rorikstead greeted the wagons. Strewn across the fields were tents, crates and injured people as far as the eye could see. There must be hundreds of wounded warriors, a testament to the price paid for war. The inn was already filled to the door, so Ashav and his men pitched their own tents in an unoccupied field. There, he encounter another Redguard from his past. Mehm, who was once Ashav's right hand man when they started, now leads his own company; the Vanguards. Like Ashav, Mehm had been contracted and un-contracted. The Vanguards are now headed to Riften, employed by the Black-Briars. When Ashav and Mehm went their own ways years ago, they did not depart on amiable terms. Time healed some wounds between the men, but their meeting was still tense. However, Farid quickly took a liking to Mehm, and he even received a dagger from their merry night of drinking.

Speaking of Farid, he was rather joyous throughout the trip. In the morning of the 29th, a courier dropped off a letter. Their employer, the private individual not affiliated with the high king's court, renewed their contract and sent the remaining mercenaries to Windhelm. Farid smiled knowing there was another fight, another bag of septims waiting for him somewhere. He spent much of his journey flirting with Roze, asking for her companionship at night and showing off his jokes, toned muscle and fluid swordplay whenever he had the chance.

Someone not as energetic during this time was Daelin. Sleep deprived and stressed to the limit, the Bosmer slept when he could. The bumpy horse-drawn carts was terrible on the bones, and not many could get sound shut-eyes while sitting on one. Suppose Daelin was just too tired to care. One job of his was over and another one was coming, he would take every opportunity to rest up in between. While he's not sleeping, Daelin chatted with his companions, mostly Utu-ja, who he had been imparting his skills and knowledge like a little brother. 

Of the fifty-some recruits they took to battle, only half came back alive. Out of them, barely twenty were fit to continue fighting. With that said, not everyone that could would keep on fighting. Lucex was one of them questioning whether he made the right decision in the first place. Entire time he was on the road, he spent alone and avoiding everyone, notably Tennant. During his night at Rorikstead, a drunk soldier mistook Lucex for a maiden and forced himself on him. The situation ended with a fork stabbed in the soldier's knuckles. As the group hit Whiterun on the 1st of Sun's Height, Lucex Venatorii found himself walking beside Tennant Ibnazh.

“You can't avoid me forever, lass.” Tennant beckoned. Since his run-in with Smokey, the wrestler had made a miraculous recovery. In less than a week, potions and healing spells restored him from unconscious to walking. Though it didn't mean his injury was gone, quite frankly, his skull still felt funny, his steps occasionally fell uneven and headaches could strike out of nowhere.

“Lad.” Lucex corrected. He walked faster and kept his head down, hoping Tennant would find someone else to bother.

“Whatever, Imperials all look the same, and your names all sound the same.” Tennant grumbled, he matched Lucex's pace, which was not hard to do for a seven-feet tall man.

“Aren't you an Imperial?”

“Only by blood.” Tennant explained. “I was actually born here, in Skyrim. And I was raised by a Khajiit.”

“Anyways, the Khajiit, master Do'Zaddha, taught me to not fear mistakes. He said; 'learning from your failures is your greatest success.'”

“I don't know, I don't know if I should be doing this at all.” Lucex stopped and sighed. He had to tip his head up to see Tennant. He expected nothing but the brawn of a brute, but it was actually the opposite, there was much wisdom Lucex could find. “Shooting down a deer for meat is one thing, but shooting down men and monsters, when the survival of your friends hang on the line is just too much to bear.”

“Then maybe it's time to go back to what you do best.” Tennant answered. “On my way here, I saw a band of hunters founding some kind of guild, I bet you'll fit right in.”

And so, Lucex became aware he was just not cut out for mercenary work. On Tennant's advice, he sought out the hunters and joined their newly fledged guild. His guilt was also soothed somewhat by Tennant, though the horror in one mining tunnel would harass him for many nights to come. Still, Tennant himself felt better as well. Between Whiterun and Windhelm, he could be seen with a pep in his steps. His injury faded away with his foul mood, and all that was left was the infrequent buzz in his scalp. Eventually, he would join a fight pit when he reaches Windhelm.

Before the group left Whiterun, Madura managed to publish his report. He put in a good word about the mercenaries, and even acquired several spare copies of the latest Gazette for Ashav and co. “I witnessed unusual professionalism from these hired blades,” Madura briefed the editor, “I think I'll follow them, document their fight to the end. Azura knows it will be a fine story.” 

1st of Sun's Height, here is our headlines.

Winterhold, Skyrim: The famous wizard, Tolfdir, passed away at the age of 127. His last words, according to the College staff, were; "Where is my alembic?".

Falkreath, Skyrim: Unrest and riots in the populace! Jarl Denegeir of Stuhn blames "Imperial Agents" and "Orc Provocateurs" for troubles in his hold. Despite Denegeir's rash claims, our informants have spotted a higher-than-average amount of Orcs in the hold. 

Fort Dawnguard, Skyrim: Emperor's envoys visiting the vampire hunters were killed, upon reaching the fort. They were tailed by a band of vampires, who also killed off a portion of the Dawnguards. After the vampires were put down, their remains indicated them as Cyodiilic in origin.

The Reach, Skyrim: The Reach campaign netted mixed results, while the Nordic forces gained grounds, the cost was high. Overall, the high king and his allies suffered greater loss than the Forsworns. In addition, Reachmen from High Rock are streaming into Skyrim by the droves.

Cyrodiil: A disease called the Cyrodiilic Disconnect is spreading. The infected reported out of body experinces and feeling of their soul being drained away. So far, no fatalities.

High Rock: The newly elected high king of greater High Rock, Ferrand Bellemont, issued an ultimatum to Ambrose Mackin, the pirate lord of Wayrest; leave Wayrest or die.

Orsinium: The largest forge in Orsinium suffered a massive break-in, many high-quality weapons, jewelries and blacksmithing tools were stolen. Some of the suspects were last seen crossing the Hammerfell border.

Elsweyr: The North's campaigns were successful in taking the majors cities. However, both sides suffered equally high amounts of casualties. Anequina captured Torval from Pelletine, the rapid maneuver employed by northern forces are becoming known as the "Lightning War". Senchal now stands alone for Pelletine.

Stormhold, Black Marsh: A pan-Tamrielic summit just concluded, details of this summit will be included in our next report. Purchase your annual subscription today and recieve 2 issues FREE!

Stormhold, Black Marsh: An Argonian had an uncontrolled transformation last night, the werecrocodile killed off more than two dozen citizens before disappearing. The werecreature's identity was unknown, though there were rumors about the Argonian "prince"; Stalks-The-Stars.

Malabal Tor, Valenwood: Redguard naval vessels appeared on scene after devastating battles between the Imperial backed separatists and the Alinori backed loyalists. Reports indicate the navy of Hammerfell is currently occupying several former Dominion shipyards in north-western coastlines. Several witness report Dominion ships captured by the Redguards.

Stros M'Kai: A massive naval battle occurred off the coasts of Stros M'Kai, over two-hundred vessels from Hammerfell and Summerset clashed in a epic struggle. Dominion forces prevailed in the end, and Stros M'Kai is now under their occupation. Over one-hundred ships and one-thousand bodies now rest in the Eltherics

Padamaic Ocean: Numerous strange vessels have been spotted by different sources.

The ancient stone bridge of Windhelm approached in the late afternoon of the 3rd. Ashav's employer arranged for meals and accomodation, which was revealed as an abandoned warehouse on the docks, several stacks of hay and four barrels of dried food. The room was frigid cold and the beef jerky tasted like dirt. Therefore, a couple of mercenaries decided to pay for room and board at the inn, with their fresh earned coins. Edith was one of them, though she didn't want to be perceived pompous sleeping in softer quarters than her subordinates, but sleeping in the cold played hell on her sore arm. She rented a room with two beds, and offered to share it with Sevine.

For Ashav, he had slept through worse. Nevertheless, he eventually stumbled into Candlehearth as well. Reason being that in his employer's infinite wisdom, he was offered fresh fighting bodies but no clue on how to contact them. All he knew was there await skilled individuals in Windhelm, all of whom his employer already payrolled. So the logical action was putting up posters, and wait inside the tavern as new recruits find him there sooner or later. In fact, he's been getting a few interests from the locals while he waited. Most of them boys and girls itching for glory. He would need much tougher folks, judging by his employer's seriousness. 

When Magnus retired for the night, Masser and Secunda took their posts in the vistas of Oblivion. Except that Secunda was bright red, and the chilling colors of the aurora was a bloody red hue. It was peculiar, and many outside that evening stopped and stared into the sky. Outside the city walls, howls of wolves could be heard one after another.
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Suffering for Mahz's Sins

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