Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24449631-20140901211815/@comment-3293219-20140903154307

June had been travelling for the best part of a week, deciding that she’d head to Riften as she had a feeling that Azarath would try to hop the Morrowind boarder, head back to his ancestral homeland. This meant that she had a quite easy but lengthy route to her assigned city and what a city it was, the true crime hotspot of Skyrim. She figured that she’d be perfect there, being a spy and all, she could blend in quite well with any class of person but the thought of having to take on Azarath, possibly in single combat was something of a concern.

Azarath’s combat skills were… Well, he was a master of nearly every weapon and if he couldn’t find a weapon? He’d improvise, with something sharp or blunt and if he couldn’t do that, his punches could shatter a person’s skull. The Dunmer was pretty much built for combat, for war even and it would take an expert in whatever field they were using to even stand a chance against him and even then, he still had every possibility of besting them. This should worry June as she believed that her martial arts skills were somewhat matched with his and she knew that she might be walking closer and closer to her death, with every steps she took.

That’s what excited her…

Few times, in her career as a spy, had she fought against anyone who came close to matching her skills. There was this one target, a Moth Priest, who had lightning fast reflexes and some sort of sixth sense. He came close to killing her but she managed to outsmart him and turned the tables with a well placed stab.

The Nord smiled and shook her head; she was getting ahead of herself. She had to bring Nadira back, alive, that was her first objective. Azarath was just a second objective, though she could always change her priorities.

She picked up the pace, half praying that the Dunmer would be stood, at the center of the market place, expecting her. She ran up the road, which was more of a slope at this point in the path, the last obstacle before the city was visible. As she reached the top, she paused to admire the view before noticing that something was wrong…

Very wrong…

No…

Riften was burning…

-

Nathaniel marched across the village, along with another Breton, who was filling in for June’s duties. He knew him a little, he was a good soldier but he wasn’t a leader, like she was but still, he was better than most. He had a quite heavily shaved head and was clean shaven, he was apparently an army deserter, thirty years ago, who used his combat skills to rob people, not long after. He was around Nathaniel’s age but he looked a lot younger…

“He got here less than twenty minutes ago, you can take your time.”

“I know but they don’t like to be kept waiting.” Nate replied, looking around the camp at the many families, who were blissfully unaware of his dilemma. He envied most of them, having their children so close to home. Their daughters were six year olds and expected to be treated as such; neither the parents or the children knew how it would be in thirteen years. When they ‘grow up’ and want to live their own lives.

Like he did…

“Sir… I don’t mean to question your leadership or your judgement but…”

“You will anyway…” Nate replied, finishing his sentence for him.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Well… Don’t you think that this is a bit… excessive?”

<p class="MsoNormal">Sans stopped as he said the word, excessive, implying that you wouldn’t hire such a force to stop a killing machine, like Azarath. Hell, the entire Imperial Legion wouldn’t be excessive, in Nate’s opinion.

<p class="MsoNormal">“I know Azarath… I know the means that the law has gone to, to put him down, I’m not taking any chances.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“But… ''Them? ''We can’t trust them… Can we?”

<p class="MsoNormal">Nathaniel paused, sighing heavily and looking to the floor before looking back to him, looking him in the eye.

<p class="MsoNormal">“I don’t think we have a choice.” He whispered before marching over to shed, letting himself in and forgetting to address the guards as he marched inside. Before him stood a wooden desk, with a wooden dining chair on the far side of it and two dining chairs on the opposite side, for guests. Only one was being used, by an Altmer in Thalmor robes, he was accompanied by a Khajiit, who stood sheepishly by his side. The khajiit seemed to be wearing robes, some sort of magic specialist or an apprentice perhaps?

<p class="MsoNormal">“Sans?” He asked, not even turning around to check.

<p class="MsoNormal">The Breton nodded before proceeding to his seat, slowly pacing around the room, with his hand on his side as he approached his chair.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Yeah, that’s right…” He informed him as he sat down; Nathaniel was quite a soft spoken man, whose words often came out in a whisper.

<p class="MsoNormal">“I am Jorthar of the Altmeri Dominion, I was summoned here by your… Assistant, June Kashmer, three days ago, with news concerning Azarath Goris.” The Justiciar replied, introducing himself as formally and respectfully as he was able.

<p class="MsoNormal">“That’s right.” Nathaniel nodded, leaning back in his chair and bringing his hand to his face, where he proceeded to scratch it. His face felt like sandpaper on his fingertips as they were dragged along the stubble.

<p class="MsoNormal">“He’s alive.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Really? And what has he been doing for the last… Twenty years?” The Altmer leant forward, somewhat intrigued by this answer, he expressed his curiosity and his doubt.

<p class="MsoNormal">The Breton thought long and hard before answering, this wasn’t going to go down well.

<p class="MsoNormal">“We’ve kept him…”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Kept him?” The Altmer asked, his tone expressing curiosity and doubt once more as he leant forward, keeping his thumb and forth finger pressed to his chin.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Do elaborate, Mr Sans.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“We kept him in our custody, locked up, to protect others from him and to protect him from himself.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Fascinating…” Jorthar asked, leaning back in his chair before pulling his hand away and gesturing for him to speak again.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Why not kill him and be done with it?”

<p class="MsoNormal">“That isn’t our way… It wasn’t our way…”

<p class="MsoNormal">“But it is now?”

<p class="MsoNormal">“He has my daughter!” The Breton snapped, with a harsh whisper, jabbing his finger in the Altmer’s direction as he sat up, placing his hands on his desk.

<p class="MsoNormal">“I’d say that, that complicates the situation.” He added, begrudgingly as he felt disgusted with Jorthar’s detachment and lack of empathy.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Mr Sans…”

<p class="MsoNormal">“I prefer Nathaniel or Nate…”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Mr Sans… The Altmeri Dominion is not an organisation that specialises in rescuing cats from trees; your daughter is not of our concern. Azarath Goris is a dangerous fugitive, who has been wanted by the Imperial legion, across three provinces for the best part of half a century and I intend to put an end to his terrorism, once and for all.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Terrorist? Is that what you call him?” Nate asked, sounding somewhat intrigued but mostly amused as even he found this to be an overreaction, the guy was a bandit, driven by profit or the spur of the moment.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Considering that he has wiped five settlements off of the map? I’d say that he qualifies as a terrorist, yes…”

<p class="MsoNormal">“So… You do want him dead then?”

<p class="MsoNormal">“It’s more of the Legion’s problem than ours but if it isn’t two tramps fighting over bread, the Legion aren’t exactly good at solving disputes. Our agents are better equipped, to handle such threats.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“And Nadira? M-My daughter?”

<p class="MsoNormal">“I’ve already addressed that, Azarath is my target, if you want to find your daughter, then get a search party of unwashed villagers to go looking for her.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“But she’s with him, this is a hostage situation!”

<p class="MsoNormal">Jorthar sighed, obviously annoyed by his persistent behaviour, he slowly looked up to him again, narrowing his eyes.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Nadire…”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Nadira!”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Nadira will not be harmed by our agents, if we manage to come across her, we will release her but we will not be able to do anything more for her, she’ll have to find her own way back.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“What!? She’s nineteen; she can’t survive out there on her own! No one could at her age!”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Plenty have, Mr Sans and many more will, I just hope that she’s prepared to face the world on her own, for both of your sakes.” The Altmer replied, slowly standing up as if he was done talking about it, he cared nothing for the lives of a few plebs, not when there were dangerous fugitives out there.

<p class="MsoNormal">“You piece of shit, she’s my…”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Problem? Yes, she is your problem, not mine… Now, if you could give me Azarath’s location?”

<p class="MsoNormal">Nate just scowled in response, he should’ve expected this, Altmer were unfeeling, pompous, unscrupulous bastards. He fell back in his chair before shaking his head and slowly looking up to him, narrowing his eyes.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Skyrim…” He simply said, leaving it open as to where, he knew that he would be arrested and ‘questioned.’ The Thalmor tend to make their prisoners simulate drowning or a lightning strike, over and over, until they talk, they usually kill them, once they’re done.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Where abouts?”

<p class="MsoNormal">“I don’t know… I’ve got men looking into that.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Jorthar looked somewhat disgruntled by that answer, folding his arms and looking away in disgust as he started to form plans in his head. Eventually, after coming to a conclusion, he looked back to the Breton, the look still plastered to his face.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Well, thank you for your help, Nathaniel…” He began, turning away and gesturing to his Khajiit, who sheepishly followed him out of the room, slowly looking back to Nate, with a look of sympathy before following him out.

<p class="MsoNormal">Nate slowly buried his face into his hands, sighing heavily as his right hand man walked in, seeing his look of desperation and feeling the tension in the air. Altmeri folk were like that, meeting with them was like being under fire…

<p class="MsoNormal">He paused, thinking on what to say before eventually asking…

<p class="MsoNormal">“Do you think you did the right thing?”

<p class="MsoNormal">Nate sighed and ran his hand down his face, slowly looking back to his right hand, with teary eyes.

<p class="MsoNormal">“I hope so…” He whispered, hanging his head and closing his eyes as a million ‘what ifs’ ran through his head…

<p class="MsoNormal">“For her sake, I hope so…”