Prologue

It is the 171st year of the the fourth era, having begun with the banishing of the Daedric prince Mehrunes Dagon. In the waterfront district, past the great offices of merchants and shipwrights, lies a small building, its paint faded and sign crooked. Inside, you meet an aging Imperial, quiet and polite, who will ask your business. Despite his greying hair and thinning beard, his taut muscles and firm expression suggest he was once a warrior, and now a leader.

Everyone has a different purpose; merchants might come to hire a few men for protection on the dangerous roads, while magnates of the empire will request the man clear the hills of bandits or raid an enemies towns. The man will demand a vast fortune for his service, but never fails to accomplish what he promises.

Basil "the Lion" began his career as an Imperial foot soldier, but he didn't stay that way for long. Brave, hardworking and ambitious, he soon led a band of men, selling their swords to rich merchants and local lords. As his fame and fortune grew, he founded the Company of Talos, choosing the legendary warrior king as his patron. The company thrives on the misfortune and tumultuous times, bringing in enormous wealth. The company, originally just a few dozen men, grew to number some five thousand hardened warriors, all of them soldiers of fortune, skilled in the art of war...

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Basil the Lion

Basil sat behind his grand desk, eating the roasted quail. During a campaign, he would also eat the same hard bread and cheese as his men, but here he could afford to indulge himself. The quail had been prepared by rubbing the skin in salt and rosemary, so that the skin was crisped and golden, trapping in the succulent juices of the meat. Despite his thin frame, Basil ate with the ravenousness of a wolf. He was picking at a leg, greedily searching for meet. A knock on the door interrupted him as he swallowed. Sighing, Basil motioned for the servant, his chef.

"Take this away please." Basil wiped his face with the napkin. As hungry as he was, he knew it paid to look professional when someone came calling. "Please, come in."

A small, fidgety imperial entered, waving his arms excitedly. "Basil, have you heard!? Have you heard!? We've been attacked! The word just reached us! An army of the Dominion has invaded from the South!" The man, Nikephoros, rushed in, not even bothering with formality.

"What?" Basil was stunned, not so much at the war, which, in truth, anyone with informants in the court was expecting, but the suddenness of the Thalmor's attack. "How many are there? When? Tell me exactly."

"Reports say 100,000 soldiers, just now. A mage in the guild sent us a message! We need to hire your men, right away!" Nikephoros gesticulated wildly, as if to show the sheer size of the army.

Nikephoros chuckled quietly. He doubted the Dominion could send 100,000 men, but the panic would help him profit. "I want twice my normal pay, if I'm to face those odds." Basil was always straightforward, blunt even, but he drove a hard bargain.

"Yes, of course." Nikephoros replied, not even hesitating. Basil choked back his surprised. He had expected Nikephoros to haggle, at least a bit.

"In that case, I'll assemble my Company at once. You've met Mongke?"

Mongke Gro Kublai, Basil's champion, nodded at the imperial. Standing as tall as any altmer, Mongke was built like a bull, massive chords of muscle knotting his entire body. His tusks were large and curved, his mouth permanently snarling. One look at him, and any potential client knew better than to cross Basil. In truth, though, Mongke was a genial, reasonable fellow, with a rumbling laugh and a quick wit.

"Yes, hello Mongke." Nikephoros said hello like one might greet a rabid dog. He shrunk slightly away. Basil couldn't help but grin at Nikephoros's discomfort.

"If that is all, good day. Talos guide you." Basil gave his farewell, throwing in a blessing from his favorite God. Nikephoros nodded before hurrying out, probably to go tell another mercenary captain or the Fighter's Guild. Basil hated the Guild. A bunch of pandered aristocrats who would have a swordplay in the morning and then drinks and refreshments for the rest of the day.

Basil called to his servant. "Send letters everyone not at the castle. Tell them they have to come in at once. Double pay. Cancel any contracts we have currently. I don't care if we must refund the merchants, just do it! Anything else we need to do Mongke?"

"No sir." Mongke rumbled.

"Then we leave straight away. Let's go." The castle, given to Basil for his service to the empire, lie an hour's ride away, and was the heart of his operation. So much to do... Taking his seal and coat, Basil mounted his horse, riding quickly away...

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For this RPG, you can join either as an elite soldier or one of Basil's lieutenants. You will be fighting on the front lines of the Great War, sieging towns, getting sieged, laying waste to enemy land, engaging in pitched battles... I have all kinds of challenges to throw your way. The lieutenants will be older, more experienced warriors who will supervise attacks and draw up strategies, while the elite warriors will be at the forefront of charges and will face enemy champions. You will likely know each other, but how well is up to you. KILLING OFF YOUR CHARACTERS AND MAKING NEW ONES IS ENCOURAGED! Yes, you heard me. You will be fighting bloody battles and sieges, not relaxing in Valton or questing for dragons ( ). It will stretch from the beginning of the Great War until the White-Gold Concordat (or maybe shorter, depending on how it goes) Positions are flexible, but include

Deputy- Basil's right hand man:

Lieutenants- leaders of portion of the company, often specialized (eg archers or calvary or mages):

Champions- powerful warriors, trusted to lead charge (high casualty rate):

Imperial Magistrate- someone's got to keep an eye on the mercenaries, right?:

Priest- with a bunch of murderous warriors, paying to say prayers can only help:

Be nice...have fun... no god-modding... and NO OP'ed characters! Your characters will be well equipped and probably skilled, but I don't won't to read about how your mage threw a fireball that cut down a dozen thalmor or your Nord cutting down the enemy general with a single swing of his axe. Steel, iron, orcish, some dwarven and elven, even... a small amount of ebony and glass (maybe a sword or a helmet, but no full suits-- and don't everyone try to have some of the good stuff!) and no daedric artifacts. Period.

Char Sheet