Madrar
The Shadow in the Dark.
As night began to fall, the flow of people entering the Maidens' Arms slowed to a trickle, and Thalien saw no more mercenaries. Another quick glance at the surrounding blades for hire revealed that they, like him were getting impatient. He took a count of the people that had arrived after Joren and himself, and was surprised at the sheer number- more than a dozen blades, including themselves.
"We're expected to work with these people?" The warrior murmured to his companions, "how are we to trust they won't stab us in the back at the first opportunity?"
"Hard to double cross someone if you're dead." Joren pointed out from his place in the shadows. Var'Hess chuckled, but the old khajiit seemed uneasy himself. Thalien had fought alongside him many times, and he knew it took a lot to shake the old cat. He wasn't concerned by the trustworthiness of the mercenaries in the tavern...something else, then.
The feeling that something was wrong continued to grow in the back of his mind. "Var'Hess...this imperial that contacted you; who was he?"
"This one never met him. Only a representative. Why do you ask?"
At the very edge of his hearing, screams could be heard. Thalien loosened Ferrum Noctis in its' sheathe. "I think we are about to meet them." Several moments passed, and the screams and cries of alarm could be heard by everyone inside. A man in filthy clothing stumbled to the door, eyes wide with panic. "Imperials! Hundreds of 'em!"
An instant later, the same man collapsed forwards, a pair of crossbow bolts sticking from his back. And imperial legionnaires in heavy plate and full helms stormed inside swords drawn and carrying kite shields with the imperial sigil. The patrons closest to the door staggered backwards, drawing swords, daggers, whatever weapon they had on hand.
However it soon became clear that the soldiers were not attacking, merely forming an armoured wall to prevent escape. Behind them, soldiers armed with crossbows took up positions, aiming between the gaps of their shield bearing comrades. The mercenaries and other denizens of the under empire eyed the soldiers warily, but didn't dare make a move. The imperials were clearly waiting for something. Or someone.
As it turned out, Thalien and the others did not have to wait long. A figure covered in armour stepped through the door. He was massive, closer to three metres in height than two, and so broad that he barely managed to fit through the door. His face was concealed behind a golden mask, with a single ruby coloured tear beneath each eye. It was an Archon.
A man in imperial livery stepped forwards, but stayed safely behind the imperial shieldwall. "Presenting his glorious lordship, archon Bastianus of Bruma, conquerer of the north and protector of the Nibenay Basin."
The giants' head turned slowly, taking in the assembled killers facing him. His eyes, a pale blue barely visible inside his helm, glittered with scorn. "So these are the very best of the scum to crawl forth?" He muttered, his voice rumbling from behind his helm. "
With a grunt, he conceded, "I suppose they will suffice. Listen well, criminals of the empire! Your emperor requires your service. The rebels of High Rock have united under one banner. A king known as Giarald Marquette. Your task, is to put an end to this false rulers' reign. In return, any crimes you have committed in the past will be wiped away. In addition to this, you will each receive a sum of one thousand gold pieces upon completion of this task."
A rumbling sounded within the armoured giants chest, and he placed a hand on the ornate hilt of his sword, "you have until dawn to depart. Any of you here now found in the city after dawn will be executed as traitors to the empire." With that ultimatum given, the archon turned and left the tavern. His soldiers backed out, keeping their weapons ready. Soon, the commotion caused by their arrival had faded, leaving the mercenaries to mull over his words.
"We're expected to work with these people?" The warrior murmured to his companions, "how are we to trust they won't stab us in the back at the first opportunity?"
"Hard to double cross someone if you're dead." Joren pointed out from his place in the shadows. Var'Hess chuckled, but the old khajiit seemed uneasy himself. Thalien had fought alongside him many times, and he knew it took a lot to shake the old cat. He wasn't concerned by the trustworthiness of the mercenaries in the tavern...something else, then.
The feeling that something was wrong continued to grow in the back of his mind. "Var'Hess...this imperial that contacted you; who was he?"
"This one never met him. Only a representative. Why do you ask?"
At the very edge of his hearing, screams could be heard. Thalien loosened Ferrum Noctis in its' sheathe. "I think we are about to meet them." Several moments passed, and the screams and cries of alarm could be heard by everyone inside. A man in filthy clothing stumbled to the door, eyes wide with panic. "Imperials! Hundreds of 'em!"
An instant later, the same man collapsed forwards, a pair of crossbow bolts sticking from his back. And imperial legionnaires in heavy plate and full helms stormed inside swords drawn and carrying kite shields with the imperial sigil. The patrons closest to the door staggered backwards, drawing swords, daggers, whatever weapon they had on hand.
However it soon became clear that the soldiers were not attacking, merely forming an armoured wall to prevent escape. Behind them, soldiers armed with crossbows took up positions, aiming between the gaps of their shield bearing comrades. The mercenaries and other denizens of the under empire eyed the soldiers warily, but didn't dare make a move. The imperials were clearly waiting for something. Or someone.
As it turned out, Thalien and the others did not have to wait long. A figure covered in armour stepped through the door. He was massive, closer to three metres in height than two, and so broad that he barely managed to fit through the door. His face was concealed behind a golden mask, with a single ruby coloured tear beneath each eye. It was an Archon.
A man in imperial livery stepped forwards, but stayed safely behind the imperial shieldwall. "Presenting his glorious lordship, archon Bastianus of Bruma, conquerer of the north and protector of the Nibenay Basin."
The giants' head turned slowly, taking in the assembled killers facing him. His eyes, a pale blue barely visible inside his helm, glittered with scorn. "So these are the very best of the scum to crawl forth?" He muttered, his voice rumbling from behind his helm. "
With a grunt, he conceded, "I suppose they will suffice. Listen well, criminals of the empire! Your emperor requires your service. The rebels of High Rock have united under one banner. A king known as Giarald Marquette. Your task, is to put an end to this false rulers' reign. In return, any crimes you have committed in the past will be wiped away. In addition to this, you will each receive a sum of one thousand gold pieces upon completion of this task."
A rumbling sounded within the armoured giants chest, and he placed a hand on the ornate hilt of his sword, "you have until dawn to depart. Any of you here now found in the city after dawn will be executed as traitors to the empire." With that ultimatum given, the archon turned and left the tavern. His soldiers backed out, keeping their weapons ready. Soon, the commotion caused by their arrival had faded, leaving the mercenaries to mull over his words.