It was starting to get dark outside of the tent. Keegan’s way was illuminated by a combination of dusk rays, torches and the ever so faint glow of the moons and stars. It was times like this that he found a never before pleasure in seeing a perfectly normal sky. No bloodmoon and no freak storms, and if there's also no snow demons anywhere near, he could even see himself composing a poem.
Of course, the line of people may not be as relaxed as the Altmer. Were they all here to change missions? Keegan knew other seasick prone members, but did they all had it as bad as he? Whatever the case, Keegan decided to keep walking. He walked with a small box of lotion in hand, because in windy climates like the northern coasts, a little balm tend to go a long way. The freshly packaged cream was everything he could ask for, that was, until the lid stuck solid.
Keegan cursed silently. He cut his nails earlier today and was now having trouble prying the damned thing open. If only…
“Do’Karth!” Keegan hailed. There he was, back of the line and claws probably better than can openers. “Do you mind helping me with something?” He asked. He wondered if the company leaders would still be in the mood to entertain requests when it came the Khajiit’s turn. Whatever, that's not Keegan’s lot to worry.
“Can you get this open?” Keegan showed the lotion box.
The khajiit’s ears pivoted at the sound of his name being called. Upon discovering the source, Do’Karth pondered if perhaps Keegan was about to tell him that the men who wanted him to repay his debts were back. He looked towards Keegan apprehensively until the altmer’s very mundane request came to light.
He didn’t know if he should feel insulted or relieved. Whatever the case, Do’Karth took the small box in hand, unsheathed a pair of claws and popped the lid without much effort before handing it back. “Lotion?” he asked, a bit confounded from such an ordinary, yet somehow out of place item in a company of hardened mercenaries.
As fate would have it, Keegan’s request might as well affected Do’Karth for the worse. In the seconds it took him to recognize the lotion and open it, a few other mercenaries managed to jump the line and fast-tracked their appointments.
“Thanks.” Keegan thanked the Khajiit. The expression of Do’Karth was, confusion? What's so strange about lotion? “Herbal lotion.” Keegan confirmed. “It's so dry and windy outside of Sum-, uh the, outside of home.” Clearing his throat in the most pathetic attempt to hide his stutter, Keegan continued. “I assume Khajiits must have something similar for their hair? Fur? I don't know about you, but my skin cracks up here without those. Plus, it'll be drier alongside forest fires that the sea.” Keegan explained, sticking out a hand to show the coarse skin from the trek.
“Does the skin under your hair crack and chaffe? Likely not. Same for khajiit. Our exposed skin, like our nose and lips, are rougher than yours. It simply is not a concern unless we get sick. Besides, we, ah, groom.” Do’Karth said evasively, glancing back at the line that was going on without him. He involuntarily gritted his pointed teeth together, realizing every person that went in before him was just as likely not to be going on the damned ship.
“Actually, the shampoo-” Keegan was about to respond. “Never mind.”
At this point, at least four mercenaries have come and gone from Ashav’s tent. The processing was so uncharacteristically quick that it seemed like they did nothing at all. Then, as Keegan was about to continue the current conversation of insignificance, someone flipped open the tent flap and called out the next in line. That meant Do’Karth, the only one still waiting.
“Sorry, don't let me hold you.” Keegan got out of the way respectfully and let Do’Karth do his cat things.
With a nod and a slight nervous smile, Do’Karth stopped at the tent flap. “It is of no concern. This one simply saved you from an unspeakable crisis. It will be but a moment.”
Inside the tent was surprisingly well illuminated from a trio of lanterns posted off of the tent’s supports on either end, as well as one hanging from a thick rope that was oil treated to prevent it from being affected from the heat of the flames and metal. As one would guess, fire was bad for tents and anyone inside.
Sitting inside, looking like he had not slept for six years or so, was Ashav behind a well-worn hardwood table that at one point probably would have been presentable enough to be a dining table in a somewhat upscale dwelling, but years of use and neglect had all but stripped the varnish, and visible cracks and chips finished giving the table an appearance that looked as worn and strained as the Redguard manning it. Standing off to the side was everyone’s favorite Nord, the so-called Cat-Kicker, who looked like he wanted to reaffirm his Name as way of greeting Do’Karth. The khajiit did his best not to pay much mind to the man, as he was a lost cause and his reputation hardly engender admiration or respect. The other leaders also stood present, including the bosmer ranger Daelin, the quartermaster Edith who was an old friend of Sevine’s, and another man he did not readily recognize. “Do’Karth reporting for assignment.” he said simply to Ashav.
“Are you here to ‘volunteer’ like the first four?” It was the Do’Karth-did-not-readily-recognize man who greeted. He wore fine upper class cloth and was clad in an ornamented breastplate that looked more functional in a showroom than the battlefield. “Or do you want lube for your staff like the last one?”
“This one does not follow,” The khajiit replied, uncertain of what exactly had transpired before he got into the tent, and he was not eager to find out. “Do’Karth simply is here to do what is required, although he would prefer anything that did not involve returning to a ship. It is… disagreeable.” he stated as diplomatically as possible.
“So you don't like ships like the first four.” Gustav smiled. “Ashav, you've got to screen for seasickness in the future.” The Nord gave an amused glance to Ashav, who responded by fuming instead of anything related to amused. “No problem, let me-”
“That's enough!” Ashav suddenly bellowed. By pending his fist against the table, he seemed to startle everyone. Well, everyone except for Daelin, who seemed to be relieved after mouthing his worries to Ashav. “This is none of your business to begin with! I don't care if you are concerned about the so called health conditions, I don't care if you think your non-existent experience trumps mine, and I don't even care if you bought me the glass sword.” He stopped ranting to point to a malachite great sword laying in the corner. “You gave me the mission and I execute it, you hear me? You will not send off my entire crew because of one concern. This is my company!”
Gustav opened his mouth to object, but Ashav didn't stop ranting. “Meeting adjourned.” He announced. “Why are you still standing there?” The Redguard raised an eyebrow at Do’Karth. “You're dismissed; get out of my tent!”
Whatever had happened with the mercenaries even a few spots before Do’Karth managed to reach the tent had obviously set a rather unpleasant precedence that found the khajiit caught in the crossfire of Ashav’s rage. It became immediately apparent that he wasn’t getting any leverage in where his assignment took place, with a quick nod, Do’Karth stepped out of the tent, and the radius in which the Redguard’s rage could be directed at him, and stepped outside where Keegan was still waiting around. Sparing a glance back at the fabric and the incendiary voice of their commander still ringing through the air, Do’Karth picked up the pace in putting distance away from it. “It would seem this one is stuck on another damn ship,” Do’Karth grumbled to Keegan. “It went so well the first time. It would seem you lucked out for this draw.”
While Do’Karth pled his case, Keegan found a quiet spot in the encampment to finally compose his poem. But the serene mood for poetry was soon interrupted by loud ranting from Ashav and Do’Karth’s disappointed voice. “That’s unfortunate.” Keegan looked up from his notepad. Noticing he probably sounded with zero sympathy, he stashed the pad and quill away to properly talk.
“At least you won't be toasted to death.” He tried the comfort the Khajiit. “I'm sorry they won't have it any other way.” The Altmer noted to the still furious voice emanating from the tent. “Look, if there's another ship-related mission after this, I'll do everything I can to make sure you're not on it.”
Chilling winds sudden blew upon the duo, it could have been called refreshing, but it was dry and cracking for Keegan. He took the fresh lotion and
rubbed some on his face, the balm suddenly reminded him. “I heard the apothecary sells potions that suppress seasickness.” He mentioned. “They also have water repellent creams; maybe that'll keep your fur dry?”
“Perhaps. Water breathing and potions of warmth seem to be in order of Do’Karth. He does not cherish the prospect of drowning or freezing to death. This seems to be the worst place in all of Tamriel for that, no?” Do’Karth replied with a forced smile.
As the conversation went on, a Dunmer woman strolled in from the town. She seemed to be heading for Ashav’s tent, and seeing less shouting than before, there was no doubt she picked a better time than Do’Karth.
“Is she with the company? I haven't seen her before.” Keegan tilted his head to the newcomer, still out of earshot of each other. “I'm not sure about Dunmers, I mean, we did get attacked by Morrowind troops and the newspaper confirmed the Nerevarine collaborating with Kamals.”
“She is, to Do’Karth’s understanding, a new acquisition along with the new argonian, Dax. Jorwen and her did not get off on the best of terms, this one has heard.” the khajiit replied, the orange hue of his eyes catching nearby torchlight as if they too were alight. “But Do’Karth would caution about painting her with the same brush as the dunmer we fought. After all, have you not experienced accusations of being Thalmor? The pendulum swings either way, this one feels.”
“Fair enough.” Keegan agreed. “Though most Thalmor agents do a lot more belittling and killing than myself.”
The khajiit grinned. “Perhaps that just means you have the perfect cover. No one would ever except Keegan the Unassuming.”
Elmera ran a hand through her hair tiredly. What an insane day - getting a bunch of errands run and attending the company’s meetings. She’d only just joined and it was likely she could have been absent from most things throughout the day by simply pleading ignorance. However, Ashav had specifically told her to come to the tent at some point throughout the night. She’d made multiple stops, but the line was extremely long each time, so she just decided to wait her turn. Ships never truly bothered her - she’d taken a trip to Solstheim once, there was nothing too horrid about the sea, so she was not upset about her assignment in the least. On the other hand, that Bosmer had still been in her room when she went back after speaking with Jorwen… It was more than a little bit awkward, honestly speaking.
The Dunmer came to the tent, rubbing her red eyes. Soon she’d get a little shut eye and they’d get moving. Thank the Nine that she’d been able to have a short smoke between the day’s happenings, so her nerves were a little bit less erratic so far. She peeled back the flap to the tent and looked inside.
“Ashav? You called for me?” She asked cordially, “If this is a bad time, I can come back,” The Dunmer pointed out, truly praying she would not have to return.
“Not at all, Elmera.” Ashav forced a diplomatic response. His face still had lingering traces of red from ranting and Gustav looked like he was shrinking from the Redguard. “Excuse me.” Ashav cleared his throat and drank from a cup of water. “Have you read the newspaper today? Are you aware of what happened in Morrowind and Eastmarch?” He asked.
Elmera nodded and stepped inside, maintaining a professional posture as her eyes drifted over each of her new employers. She was lucky to be a Dunmer - the effects of her light Moon Sugar use was a little but less obvious if she kept it minimal.
“I'm not particularly read on the situation, unfortunately. I had some other business,” she said with a small smirk, thinking back to that Bosmer in her room. “And a lot to do today. I was on the road prior to that and hadn't caught wind of much, sir,” she started, returning to the formality. “I haven't been in Morrowind for quite some time. Should I be worried about anything?” The question was innocent enough, but Elmera could feel something behind her interviewers’ curiosity. She'd done enough interrogating to know that every question had a purpose.
“Horse shit!” Dumhuvud spat. “She’s lying, there’s no way-”
“Let’s hear it from her first.” Ashav raised a hand. “In short, the Nerevarine decided to ally himself with the Akaviri invaders. I’m sure you heard of the Morrowind Armigers, the standing army under the Nerevarine.” Ashav leaned forward and pulled out several reports. “The people that went to Winterhold were ambushed by Armiger scouts on their way back, and as far as we know, another one of their detachments is currently helping Kamals occupy Windhelm.”
“And in case you don’t know, the Great Houses announced that Dunmers fighting for any other cause besides themselves are enemies of the state.” Ashav read from the
Gazette.
“We are not sure if you would choose the company over Morrowind or vice versa.” He finally dropped the big question.
“Ah. I see,” Elmera started flatly, watching her employers carefully. “If that's all, I can assure you that there is no need for alarm. After my father’s passing, there was nothing left for me in Morrowind. I'm hardly fighting for a cause, rather than coin, and being made into an enemy of a state in which I do not live is hardly a concern.” The woman took a breath, choosing her words, “Moreover, I would be willing to state for the record that I've no ties left to the people or government of my home country.
“As you can plainly see, I'm not a Nord - a chunk of land is of no significance to me just because I was born on it and I don't go spouting serious, accusatory lies about people who would sooner save my life than end it,” she stated without glancing to the Nord at the table. Jorwen had been quite crude to her at first, but those amends were made. Still, the statement was quite obviously not just that, but also a bit of a retort for him.
“Interesting,” Gustav observed, “you admit to something many mercenaries don’t, but what happens when the enemy offers you more coins?”
“It’ll be interesting when she stabs one of us in the back.” Dumhuvud snorted.
“No more!” Ashav stood up and slammed both his fists onto the table. “She’s coming with me, on the ship, the end! None of you will say a thing about my decision!”
The tent felt silent again, despite how Ashav’s voice rasped when he shout, his words carried a certain sense of authority. The company leader sat back, stretching himself on his chair to calm down. “Like I have mentioned in the briefing, you will be expected to kill Morrowind troops when we raid their camp.” Ashav said, when his rage died down. “We will also need your Dunmeris to interrogate prisoners. And even if there are enemies who know you from the past, you will not hesitate to defeat them. Am I clear?”
Elmera crossed her arms and stared daggers into the other two men of the table. “I may be here for coin, but I'm not traitorous swine. I don't change sides when one is losing and I don't kill those with whom I work. Believe me, there would be far better ways to destroy Skyrim’s resistance than joining a Mercenary Company, if that were my goal.” She then turned her head back to Ashav and nodded, “Understood, sir. Thank you for your support, believe me when I say you've made the right choice.”
The very idea of being an “Enemy of the State” to Morrowind was borderline comical. On the other hand, Ashav and she had similar goals, albeit for different reasons. If somebody from her past managed to be caught up in this debacle, the last thing she would want would be for them to recognize her and survive the ordeal.
“Then we’re finished here.” Ashav concluded. “Time for bed, everyone. We've got a big day ahead.”
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