Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24510587-20180615222321/@comment-7262318-20180618144436

2 WEEKS LATER...

With the blessing of the Ancient Dragon Shrol, Goriyn was able to coerce the tribal people into joining the rebellion and setting up a system of trade so that the group and the common folk trapped in Mortis Castle would not be unprotected, and nor would they go hungry. Their stay on this prison island was now at least somewhat more comfortable.

The tribals themselves were odd groups. They had already met "The Terrace", the group in the hall of sins that had aided them. There was also the Conflictors, a group of warriors and smiths that occupied the Iron Mines to the West. To the east were the Goldenrods, merchants and nobles that had made a sinful town of prositution and drinking available to them. Though the group had not much to do with with Tribals themselves, Goriyn had been speaking with them quite a bit. Planning and negotiating...

The two weeks had been quite uneventful, with each person left to their own free time. However, over the horizon, trouble was brewing....

---

“I want to be absolutely clear on this,” Kaelmun said, pacing the stone floors. “If you mention a word of this place to anyone outside of the Aldmeri Dominion, the story will be denied and you will be hunted down by every Thalmor soldier on the face of Nirn. Are we clear on that?”

The room full of mercenaries and the captain that had brought them there did not respond vocally, but the mercs nodded in understanding. When they had been called up by the Thalmor themselves, with an escort of guards and letters that were instructed to be burned immediately after reading, most of them knew that it wouldn’t be talked about after it was done. A few of them were surprised, however, to be on Nightloom island itself. This prison island had been a myth to most of them.

“Good… then I will keep this short and sweet,” Kaelmun said. He presented a stack of papers, and spread them out across the table. “Take a look out of that window. You see that beautiful island out there?”

They were at the very top of the Crystal-Eye tower, and they could see just about every inch of Nightloom from this room. The personal quarters of the Warden. His war room, decorated with numerous trophies and trinkets that he had collected from his prisoners.

“That is where the worst of Tamriel’s residence live. The most disgusting, vile, wretched prisoners you could find. Ones that Dominion deemed unworthy of living in their dungeons, and ones deemed to suffer fates worse than death… And a select few of those prisoners, have decided that they would rather see Tamriel burn.”

He pointed to the documents. “There’s quite a few names in there. Everyone look them over, take notes, memorize who you’re after. You will be dropped onto this island and you will bring me their heads, or die trying. I don’t care which one you partake in. It’s less headache and paperwork either way.”

The mercenaries grabbed at the papers and looked them over. Each name of the group was written at the top, their criminal record and abilities written below that.

“Have any idea on where in the island they are?” One mercenary asked, a High Elf in a expertly crafted leather armor. It seemed to be a custom mold, unlike anything most had seen.

“They are in an old castle, to the very north of the island. I wouldn’t recommend a direct assault, however. They have a lot of manpower and support to their insipid cause. That is why I have had to contact you.”

“So the mighty Thalmor couldn’t handle a few of their own prisoners,” A Breton woman laughed. “How sad…”

“The full power of the Thalmor is directed elsewhere. Not wasted on this island,” Kaelmun said. “If you think this job is this funny, perhaps you can find work elsewhere.”

No one said anything against this.

“Good… now, heads brought back are fine but we will pay double for them alive. And we would also prefer if you keep the faces recognizable. If you bring back a pile of ashes, you don’t get paid. Do you understand?

The 7 Mercenaries in the room nodded.

“Good. Then you are ready. Grab what you need and meet by the docks. You will be shipped out immediately.”

As the mercenaries exited, the captain suddenly spoke up. “Do you believe that they will be able to stop them, sir?”

“Of course not… But they will buy time,” Kaelmun said, looking down at the notes on the table. “We’ve had a breakthrough, Captain…”