Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24123288-20150414013830/@comment-25828117-20150414182618

The city of the golden domes, Sentinel lived up to its name. That evening sun reflected on the temple domes plated with gold leaf. And although Hammerfell still was in somewhat of the aftermath of the major recession that followed after they seceded from the Empire, Sentinel stood proud as a major port for trade and commerce. Even though the economy took a hit, now the ethnic traders had a lot more business now after the monopoly of the East Empire Company was lifted from the lands.

Small firms and trade posts adorned the walkway that lead into Sentinel proper. The closer to the city gates, the closer to success and richdom as it were, this was visible by the quality of the trade posts as the docks went on. At the end very end you had the shamble dry wooden shacks with more holes in them than a hooker on the street Cheydinhal. One of these lesser establishments was a place of ill repute where the drink was cheap and the women, cheaper. The owner was a sleazy looking unwashed redguard with bloodshot eyes, one of wish happened to be lazy, and uneven facial hair. His rags and apron stank of stale sweat and pickled onions, the latter being the only thing he could afford en mass probably. His costumers mostly consisted of poor sailors temporarily in town who weren’t afraid of gaining another genital infection or two. Well, those and cheap mercenaries.

But on this evening, a man donning a long cloak with fancy jewellery around his wrists and neck in the form of golden bracelets and collar, encrusted with precious stones, walked in. Although he obviously didn’t belong here he didn’t seem too dazed by the fact he had every man and woman in the bar looking at him.

The keeper looked up from the tankard he had just rinsed out with his own saliva, his grin revealing the lack of dental hygiene.

“Brother, I don’t think this is the place for you to be” His voice sounded just as rotten as his appearance would suggest.

The person in the cloak, which covered the entire face with a mysterious shadow simply replied by throwing a fat purse with coins on a nearby table. The table almost broke in two where it stood by the weight of the bag. It certainly got the attention of any and all cutthroats present in the brothel.

“There’ll be ship coming here from Dawnstar. On board there are two Redguards, two Bretons and an Imperial…None of them might leave this city alive.”

A mercenary with eyepatch behind the figure showed a crooked smile

“There will be more gold if they’re dealt with appropriately”

Before anyone could ask any more questions the well dressed person left as quickly as he came in.

