Cordus woke with a start as somone tapped his shoulder. He lept up and dropped into a combat stance before he realized that Reinhardt was who tapped him on the shoulder. Cordus said, "Wha ...?" before he realized that Reinhardt was holding up a finger to his lips. Confused, Cordus stood tiredly as people rushed off in a direction, and he followed behind them sleepily. He could hear them saying something, but what he wasn't really paying attention to. He barely noticed anything besides the fact that they were in a ruined caravan, until someone alked up behind him and said pleadingly, "Tell me you're one to help."

Cordus spun around and replied sleepily, " Wha ...? Uh, yeah, sure, I can be helpful. Whatcha need?"

When Trannigan tossed the bandit onto the ground, Reinhardt strolled up to the frightened bandit, twirling his axe noncholauntly before hefting the heavy blade into the dirt merely a few millimeters away from the cowering man's throat. The bandit let out a terrified yelp and Reinhardt grinned and said, "Evenin'. I've heard the roads are dangerous this time of year," Reinhardt said politely. "Now. You're going to tell me everything I want to know, or I cut you to bits and nail the pieces to the countryside. Understand?" The man gave quick, short nods, making sure not to move his head too much with the axe blade still near. "I'm glad we've got those pleasantries out of the way then." Reinhardt plucked his axe from the ground, and grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck and pulled him to his feet. As Reinhardt walked away pulling the bandit in tow he shouted back to the others. "Check for survivors and treat any injuries you can! Dead men can't pay us! I'll be back in ten minutes!" Trannigan watched as their captain tried to yank himself free and run away, only to have Reinhardt roughly toss him back to the ground and bark out that if the prisoner dares try to escape again he was going to kill him.

Trannigan laughed mockingly at the bandit showing such fear but shook it off quickly. He went to where the injured travelers were, inspecting them to see how many were still alive. Unfortunately it seemed many had already been murdered, there may have only been the Imperial male that Juhanor found among the survirors. Remembering that he did not have much with him in the way of healing except for a few potions, he walked over to the Imperial who was now awake and getting to his feet. The imperial stumbled up to Cordus asking if he could be any help and Cordus tiredly answered back that he could. Trannigan walked up between the two men, looking at the injured imperial and spoke. "Here ya are." He said as he pulled one of his two health potions from his pack. "It probably wont heal all of your wounds but it will help, Cordus here can help ya with the rest." He finished while resting a hand on Cordus's shoulder. He then looked over at the other bandit who was still unconscious, he glared a little as he watched the man, then slowly walked over to the body while drawing a dagger. He stood next to the man and watched him like a hawk just incase the man awoke and tried anything.

OOC: sorry about the absence
IC:

Fier had followed them all down to the ruined caravan, not as quietly as the Khajiit, but making less sound the Reinhardt and his heavy armor. Upon arrival, Reinhardt told them to check for survivors, so Fier gladly did so. He looked around the broken caravan, seeing no other survivors besides the ones that the other had found. He looked back to the caravan, it's ruined carcass so fresh that scavengers hadn't yet picked at it. He wondered what was inside it, but decided to let that become known in due time. Double-checking that in his immediate area no one was showing any signs of life, he moved over to the wounded Imperial. Even if he was not an enemy at the moment, it would be wise to keep an eye on him. He calmly spoke to the man, "Are you feeling any better? Can you tell us what happened here?" He was being friendly, as the man wasn't showing any signs of hostility, but he was still on guard.

OOC: I had to hand write a REALLY LONG speech...now my hands fell off.

Soren Snowe

Soren took the two healing potions from one of the mercenaries and bowed thankfully. He chugged one vial down and saved one for later. The sweet tasting liquid seemed to work as the wound was still present but all pain had subsided and the blood loss had begun to stop. Slowly, Soren was beginning to be revitalized.

"Thank you sir," He said and bowed respectfully. It was wise not to upset mercenaries, especially ones who had just saved his life.

Another mercenary, this time an Argonian about the same age as Soren, approached him. "Are you feeling any better? Can you tell us what happened here?"

Soren gave a long and hard sigh before he started to explain what happened. "I was transporting a promised delivery of military supplies to the Countess of Chorrol with one of my many caravans. My scouts reported clear roads from the Imperial City branch to Chorrol so I was advised to use less guards to save money. I did and now...I barely get away with my life."

There was a scream in the near distance. Through the now deathly quiet and still night air, it seemed almost disproportionately loud. A few moments later, a furious looking Reinhardt stomped back to the others, his axe's blade a bloody mess. He cast his eyes over the devastation with contempt, as if daring any of the other dead raiders to return to life. He made towards the unconscious prisoner at speed, and for a moment, looked as if he was going to execute him. Thinking better of it, he faltered and slowed to wipe the gore from his weapon on a fallen criminal's breeches. He pointed at the Imperial survivor. "You stay there for a moment - don't move a muscle!" He beckoned for the others to move to the side of the road.

When they were all assembled he briefed them again. "Turns out that sorry sot back there was half useful, even if he was bloody stupid. The bandits had an informer. Someone in the caravan tipped them off and let them know what the security was like and where they'd be. That's how they got caught with their breeches 'round their ankles. For all we know, the traitor could be our Imperial friend over there. We just don't know. The other thing he let slip was that they're basing out of an abandoned elven ruin fifteen minutes due south-east from here." At this point he spat on the floor, evidently barely containing a great fury.

"I'm guessing stragglers from this attack probably retreated there. Their leader is there too. A nord. The bastard's called Svog Elf-Hewer. He..." Reinhard hesitated for a moment, as if thinking of an explanation. "He... Has a big bounty on his head. His guard is probably down after the attack, and most of his men will be dead. I reckon if we make a move on him now, we can do a clean job and kill him before he can get his act together and move out." There was evidently more that wasn't being said, but Reinhardt wasn't exactly forthcoming. "If the Imperial isn't the one that sold this lot out in the first place, maybe we can extract some gold for a revenge hit too. Cast your votes. http://www.gamesas.com/index.php?/topic/1170895-reinhardts-regiment-discussion/page__view__findpost__p__17260934?"

A few moments later a loud scream rang out from the darkness and Trannigan stood at altert. He peered slowly around the nighttime horizon trying to figure out who the particular scream came from, and upon realizing that it had come from the direction of where Reinhardt drug their captive off, Trannigan let out a barely audible "Heh-Heh..." and grinned knowingly. Moments later Reinhardt stalked from out of the darkness, splattered in blood and a a hard look upon his face. Reinhardt looked over the carnage once more and glared at the slain bandits, he then wiped the blood from his axe using one of the dead men's breeches. Reinhardt's eyes shot over to the imperial merchant who had survived the attack and pointed a finger, stating, "You stay there for a moment - don't move a muscle!" Then Reinhardt signaled for the others to move near the side of the road.

Reinhardt told the gang of the information that the bandit divulged. The bandit group knew of the merchant caravans because one of it's members was secretly working with the bandit's and now the leader along with the remaining members were hiding out in an elven ruin not far from their current location.

"I'm guessing stragglers from this attack probably retreated there. Their leader is there too. A nord. The bastard's called Svog Elf-Hewer. He..." Reinhard hesitated for a moment, as if thinking of an explanation. "He... Has a big bounty on his head. His guard is probably down after the attack, and most of his men will be dead. I reckon if we make a move on him now, we can do a clean job and kill him before he can get his act together and move out." There was evidently more that wasn't being said, but Reinhardt wasn't exactly forthcoming. "If the Imperial isn't the one that sold this lot out in the first place, maybe we can extract some gold for a revenge hit too. Cast your votes. Move in on Svog, or continue to Chorrol?"

"I say we go get Svog, some more gold to hold and loot to sell is always nice." Trannigan replied when asked. He looked around at the other members then said, "Plus it's not as if the city is going to disappear in the morning," he smiled as he spoke, "I think a little action will do us some good, let us see just how well we work together."

Cordus frowned sleepily as the Imperial ignored him and instead began talking to the Argonian. Cordus muttered, "Or, you know, he can help. That's cool too." Turning and examining the ruined caravan, Cordus yawned and stretched out his arms, before rubbing his eyes. He shookhis head and tried to wake himself up fully. He succeeded right as he heard a loud scream that seemed to Cordus to be louder than screams normally were, though that may have just been due to how quiet everything else was in comparison. He looked up, suddenly alert, and saw Reinhardt walking angrily towards the group, with a bloody axe in hand. He paused to clean his weapon before he drew the group aside and told them of what he had extracted from a bandit.. The information included the location of the bandts' hideout.

"I'm guessing stragglers from this attack probably retreated there. Their leader is there too. A nord. The bastard's called Svog Elf-Hewer. He..." Reinhard hesitated for a moment, leading Cordus to slightly tilt his head to the side, confused. He continued, "He... Has a big bounty on his head. His guard is probably down after the attack, and most of his men will be dead. I reckon if we make a move on him now, we can do a clean job and kill him before he can get his act together and move out." Something about the way he was saying the information made Cordus think, Hm. May be more going on with this than Reiny is sayin'. I doubt he'll elaborate, though. "If the Imperial isn't the one that sold this lot out in the first place, maybe we can extract some gold for a revenge hit too. Cast your votes. Move in on Svog, or continue to Chorrol?"

Trannigan then announced his support of miving in on Svog, adding, "It's not like the city will disappear in the morning." Cordus laughed and replied, "I don't know, man. Stranger things have happened. Like, did I ever tell you about that time I saw a pink werewolf?" Without waiting for a reply, he added, "And, sure, let's go get that Svog dude. Be overachievers." He laughed and waited for the rest of the Regiment to cast their votes.

Fier considered the options cast by Reinhardt, frowning slightly. He then shrugged and said, "Ordinarily, I'd say we move on to Chorrol, as it's not our problem. But I'm feeling generous today, so I vote we go to Svog."

Reinhardt nodded curtly. "That's a majority enough for me. Looks like our course is set." He grinned to himself. "Time to go and ferret out the Elf-Hewer. You lot, fan out around the caravan and secure it while I have a word with the Imperial over there. Ah. Did anyone get his name?" He waited for one of them to tell him, then muttered his thanks. "See if there's anything useful we can salvage lying around. Stuff that is immediately useful. If it's too heavy to be brought along, or will get in the way during a fight, forget it."

He nodded to Juhanor, who he was already building a steady respect for. Quick, clean, efficient. Maybe a little too merciful though. You only needed one prisoner. He'd have killed the second bandit. "If you wanted to head to town, you're out of luck I'm afraid." He flashed his regular old grin, which had all the mirth of Sanguine, and the charm of a swamp troll. As he turned to walk off to this 'Soren Snowe', he slapped the Khajiit on the shoulder. "Consensus' a [censored], huh?" Leaving the Regiment to their own devices, he crossed the road to the survivor. The surname sounded familiar. He thought he'd heard some independent merchants he'd worked with complaining about someone of the same.

"You're Soren, right? I got a few questions for you." He waited for an affirmative before continuing. "Firstly, what was your job with this caravan, and secondly... Lose any men before the attack? Disappearances? Desertions?"

Soren Snowe

Soren stood still. The mercenaries were good, and even at near full energy, Soren couldn't take on all of them at once. He complied with everything, and besides, they were mercenaries. If money could buy anything, it was the loyalty of these people.

After a bit of standing around, the Nord approached Soren. "You're Soren, right? I got a few questions for you," He said. Soren nodded in response and the Nord continued. "Firstly, what was your job with this caravan, and secondly... Lose any men before the attack? Disappearances? Desertions?"

Soren sighed and began. "I was the owner of the caravan...and own most of South Cyrodiil. This caravan was too important to have a regular person go lead it so I had to lead it."

He thought for a moment the days in the Snowe Temple and the trek to the Imperial City. "As for losing men before the attack, two men left. One left as our healers diagnosed him carrying a fairly serious virus in the early stages. The second one broke off after we left Snowe Temple and arrived in the Imperial City."

Juhanor - Destroyed Caravan

Juhanor retrieved his blade, cleaned the gore off on the nearby corpse of a bandit, and slipped it back into its sheath. The group had voted to find the Nordic leader of the bandits, Svog Elf-Hewer, to collect the bounty on his head. As Reinhardt walked by to speak with the caravan's survivor, he slapped Juhanor on the shoulder, and offered the Cathay a measure of regret for having to go after the Nord. Fine by me, thought Juhanor, scratching an ear, Chorrol will be in the same spot tomorrow, barring another Daedric Invasion.

The Khajiit walked over to the still unconscious bandit, who was just now beginning to stir. "So, guys, what should we do with this lump?" Juhanor asked as he placed another kick in the thug's ribcage.

Reinhardt nodded. "Owner, huh?" He took a look around, as if to make a point. "To me, it looks like you need some security. Reinhardt Red-Tooth here, and you're looking at the Regiment. You in your current state, lugging along a battalion of corpses... Well, doesn't bear to think about what would happen if you ran into more bandits on the last day of your journey." He leaned in close, as if discussing a conspiracy. "Tell you what, for 500 septims, we'll escort you to Chorrol. You're lucky there, 'cos we wouldn't normally do a babysitting job, and that'd be for quite the bargain of a price too. Which is why there's a catch." The grin was back.

"We happen to know where these bandit types are basing from. We'd like to do a little preemptive guarding, so to speak. Hit them where they live, and clear out the roads. Of course, we're not knights. We're mercenaries. Call it an additional 1,500 septims, and we'll avenge your caravan and secure the road in one fell swoop, then escort you in to Chorrol. We even have our own cart we can use to take some of the slack if any of your pack mules have died." He punched his palm, as if getting down to business. It rang hollowly as the plated-mailed gauntlets clashed together.

"So, 2,000 septims total. S'a good offer, so I'd take it if I were you. If you can't afford it, put a premium on top of the contract for whoever this lot is going to," he jerked a thumb at the carts. "No-one buys this much gear spontaneously." He looked around to see what the others were doing. "Trannigan! Get over here!" He fumbled around in his pocket until he found a scrap of parchment. "Sorry about the noise - he's my writing man," he said apologetically.

"So, guys, what should we do with this lump?" Juhanor asked as he placed another kick in the thug's ribcage.

Trannigan stepped next to the khajiit, and while staring down at the bandit he replied, "Normally I would suggest burying the dead, and to bury this sod right along with his comrades. Something tells me that we wont be around to take care of the victim's bodies though... so how 'bout we bound him up and give him to the guards along with the leader?" Trannigan tried to speak loud enough for all to hear, but it seemed that maybe Juhanor and perhaps the argonian were the only ones who heard him. Reinhardt was busy discussing something with the imperial that they saved. While waiting for anyone ro reply Reinhardt shouted for Trannigan, telling him to get where he was.

Trannigan sheathed his blade and strolled over to where the two men were standing. He looked Reinhardt in the eyes and answered. "Yeah?"

Soren Snowe

"Owner, huh?" The Nord said as more of a statement. "To me, it looks like you need some security. Reinhardt Red-Tooth here, and you're looking at the Regiment. You in your current state, lugging along a battalion of corpses... Well, doesn't bear to think about what would happen if you ran into more bandits on the last day of your journey."

The Nord leaned in closer. "Tell you what, for 500 Septims, we'll escort you to Chorrol. You're lucky there, 'cos we wouldn't normally do a babysitting job, and that'd be for quite the bargain of a price too. Which is why there's a catch."

"We happen to know where these bandit types are basing from. We'd like to do a little preemptive guarding, so to speak. Hit them where they live, and clear out the roads. Of course, we're not knights. We're mercenaries. Call it an additional 1,500 septims, and we'll avenge your caravan and secure the road in one fell swoop, then escort you in to Chorrol. We even have our own cart we can use to take some of the slack if any of your pack mules have died."

When the two prices were mentioned, Soren smirked. 2,000 Septims total? That was a bargain at any price.

Soren nodded. "I don't believe in vengeance...at least vengeance brought upon by a third party. I will accept those terms IF you allow me to accompany you on the journey. I can handle myself in a fight."

Reinhardt peered at Soren critically. "Looks like you took one in the leg. You sure you're up for fighting?" He shook his head and shrugged as if it the issue were immaterial. "Either way, the choice is yours. Tag along if you must, but the base rate stays the same." He beckoned for Trannigan to come closer.

"Remember those contracts I mentioned earlier? Could you draw one up now? Nothing fancy - just 'I promise to pay Reinhardt Red-Tooth the Nord the full sum of 2,000 septims on completion of escort to Chorrol and other associated jobs.' Leave a little space at the bottom for Mr Snowe here to put a name in."

Smoothing out the parchment he had crumpled in his fist, he handed it over to Trannigan. He didn't have a quill himself, and doubted Trannigan did either. In any case, he'd yet to encounter a caravan convoy that didn't have an administrator and their related supplies stashed on one of the wagons. There would be ink and styluses somewhere.

Reinhardt beckoned Trannigan to step closer to him before stating. "Remember those contracts I mentioned earlier? Could you draw one up now? Nothing fancy - just 'I promise to pay Reinhardt Red-Tooth the Nord the full sum of 2,000 septims on completion of escort to Chorrol and other associated jobs.' Leave a little space at the bottom for Mr Snowe here to put a name in." He then unclenched a fist and smoothed out the piece of paper he was holding before passing it over to the Imperial.

Trannigan nodded his head in acknowledgement and headed off to the nearest caravan. The door was already bashed in and various clutter objects were littered around the ground. Typical bandits, making half assed smash and grab jobs. He thought as he stepped into the caravan's doorway. Walking carefully through the darkness Trannigan raised his right hand and conjured a weak wisp of fire to have a light source. What belongings were left were thrown about the place. A few tables layed on their sides and containers had their contents carelessly spilled onto the floor. Items of any actual money value appeared to all be taken since the large barrels that had been opened only contained useless items such as yarn or small bolts of fabric.

Trannigan turned one of the medium sized barrels upside down to let all of the contents spill out. Checking for the needed items, he managed to find a few extra pieces of paper that could be used later but no quills or ink wells. One thing that was in the middle of the mess however was a fancy dress and while kicking it out of the way Trannigan noticed that something was tangled in the middle of it. Picking it up and reaching inside, he pulled out what ended up being a diary sized jewelry box that hadnt been found. He grinned at the discovery and gripped the box firmly in his left hand and kept moving to the back of the caravan. Against the back was a broken desk, it had a leg broken in the chaos but considering what people usually kept in them surely there would be atleast one of the items he needed.

There were indeed a few quills on the ground near the desk, and he sat the jewelry box down on the floor next to one of the unbroken ones so that he could pull the drawers from the desk. Managing to find 2 intact ink wells aswell as some papers that looked as if they could have been important to the people of the caravan. He picked one up one of the ink wells and the papers along with one of the quills. Dipping the quill tip into the fresh ink he lit a few of the nearby candles then quickly wrote down what Reinhardt told him onto the paper then underlined enough space for the rescued imperial to sign his name.

Trannigan then blew out the candles and stepped back outside to where Reinhardt and the other man stood. He handed the imperial the papers, saying he found them in a dresser inside one of the caravans and noting they may possibly have had some importance for the man. He then looked at Reinhardt and said "I also found this hidden inside one of the barrels." He handed over the box and looked over at the imperial. "Consider it a bit of collatoral, just incase. Now if ya would be so kind, sign here on the line and we can be on our way."

Soren Snowe

Soren watched Trannigan gave him the hastily written contract and a couple papers. "Consider it a bit of collateral, just in case. Now if ya would be so kind, sign here on the line and we can be on our way."

The contract was barely noticeable now considering that the papers were immediately noticed. "The letters from Zoe...you found them," Soren whispered. He smiled, happy again and signed. Soren bandaged up his wound on his leg and pulled out his Katana as soon as he signed.

"Now then, let us go. I'm ready to fight," Soren said. This caravan mission was getting more and more exciting. He waited on the response from Reinhardt while he looked at the carnage wreaked by the bandits.

Blood everywhere, many bodies were cleared by the mercenaries but the stench of death and charred flesh still lingered through the air. It didn't help that the piercing lightning strike cast by Soren charred a bit of the ground and the nearby trees which mixed with the smell of burning bodies.

After the dotted line had been signed, so to speak, Reinhardt took the contract and rolled it up. He placed it and the jewelry box Trannigan had appropriated under his cuirass, just for safe keeping. "Well than, as you say, we best be going." He held his shield out and banged on it a few times with the blunt side of his axe in order to get the others' attention. "Form up on me! We're moving out!" He waited for a few moments for the others to finish what they were doing and wander over. "The bandit I questioned said the base was 15 minutes to the south-east. There were two landmarks we should look out for: a dead tree in a clearing that's been struck by lightning and a pond with a big rock sat in the middle. Keep your eyes peeled for 'em. Remember, they don't know we're coming, and we'll actually have a fight on our hands this time. Fast and hard is the way to do it."

At that they set off, moving at a fast walk. The ground was sloping down at a gentle gradient, due to the fact they were moving across the highlands. There was no sense in rushing and breaking an ankle in the gloom. The tall trees of the Great Forest were blocking most of the light now they were away from the road. Juhanor had it easy... Lucky Khajiit. They were supposed to be able to see as well in dark as day, if not better. After almost seven minutes of slogging through the woods, someone hissed at him to stop. He peered forward, then noticed a clearing. A shaft of moonlight illuminated the ground there, perfectly outlining the contorted corpse of a dead tree, split down the middle by some great storm in the past. "Good spot," he whispered back. He jogged over to the edge of the pool of light, looking around. Something caught his eye and he crouched down to examine it.

Scraqes and indents in the dirt. Didn't look like animal tracks. More like human footprints, but scuffed up. Someone had either been running in circles, or there'd been some sort of fight. Maybe bandits scuffling playfully on the way to the raid, or woodland-wanderers caught unawares afterwards. Perhaps it was just an imbecile doing an extremely poor job of covering their tracks. He waved the others forward. "Recent tracks, probably human. Keep an eye out." He walked around the edge of the clearing, observing the trail as he went. They disappeared out of the light, heading south-east.

Soren whispered something that Trannigan did not hear with his helmet on, and he noticed the man's smile upon seeing the papers. Trannigan flashed a short smile back then turned to Reinhardt who was rolling the contract up then he placed it and the jewelry box underneath his cuirass for safe keeping.

"Well than, as you say, we best be going." Reinhardt held his shield out and banged on it a few times with the blunt side of his axe in order to get the others' attention. :Form up on me! We're moving out!" With that Trannigan stepped in a little closer to the nord, as did the rest of the regiment after they finished whatever they happened to be doing at the moment.

"The bandit I questioned said the base was 15 minutes to the south-east. There were two landmarks we should look out for: a dead tree in a clearing that's been struck by lightning and a pond with a big rock sat in the middle. Keep your eyes peeled for 'em. Remember, they don't know we're coming, and we'll actually have a fight on our hands this time. Fast and hard is the way to do it."

The group set off, marching rather quickly across the slopes of the highlands. Trannigan marched on quietly, listening to the sounds of their footsteps and the occasional sound of their armor shifting as they moved. He also listened to the sounds of the wilderness that could be heard over their mild noise. Thanks to the large tree's of Cyrodiil's great forest, thei surroundings were becoming a little harder to see since the trees were blocking out the moon's glow. After a few minutes of walking someone quietly called out to stop, The whole group came to a halt and Trannigan looked past the one infront of him to see what was ahead. Sitting there in a veil of moonlight sat the distorted tree that had been blasted by a lightning bolt, signaling that they were getting closer. "Good spot." Reinhardt whispered back to the one who had spotted the trunk. Reinhardt jogged over near the bush, and searched around the trunk for a few moments. "Recent tracks, probably human. Keep an eye out." He whispered gruffly as he slowly walked around the tree and followed the tracks in a south eastern direction.

"We may have a good chance at catching them off guard after all." Trannigan answered back and slowly stepped over to the trunk himself. He eyed the tracks for a brief moment before looking up towards the direction they lead off to.

OCC: This is where I come in.

ICC: Adam had looked at the tree, with the beam of light in the area. Nothing was so beautiful to him other then that tree. Others were here before him, Bandits he suspsected. Adam walked around for it, mixing his footprints with the others and perched down by the tree and then heard Footsteps coming, he heard the sound of their armor clank together as they walked and stopped in the distance. Adam quietly made a run for it, dropping his ebony dagger in the ground by a few trees he was hiding behind ten feet away from the burned, charred tree.
'Damn!' he thought to himself. Worried and held his breathing. 'Should've done a better job covering MY tracks instead of the other ones!' he thought to himself. He stood behind the trees and began to think what he should do if they tried to attack them, he didn't see them but heard them coming and suspected bandits. He quietly and slowly unsheathed his sword, a long copper blade flourished out and he stood upwards, back aligned with the tree and closed his eyes. The subtle redness he seen in the darkness once he closed brang back a flash of memory.

* * * *


In the Imperial prison the warden and Immigration officer in the room of the main officer by the barracks of the guards, and the yard. He sat down and the Officer and the Warden sat down across the desk from him.
"Sign your name on the dotted line and write down your new name for your new life. You agree to the terms of signing the papers to your release and document of immigration to Cyrodiil means your status among your people, history, and background and everything you once were and had back there are over and done with and you agree to the laws, and protocols for Immigrants. Do you understand your rights and the terms of the document?" the Warden said and glanced to the Immigration represenitive.
"Yes." I said.
"Good, now sign the dotted line, old name and new name." The warden said.

Drakkar signed the dotted line and added 'Adam' in his new name as well as his old. The warden looked disgusted, the thought of Adam still claiming to be an ashlander in his new name made him sick.
"Thank you sir, He is your papers, your possesions back, and your weapon and good luck out there to you.. Stay out of trouble." The Warden said.

Adam walked out of the Prison office without shaking their hands.

* * * *

'These are bandits!' he thought to himself, he wouldn't get in trouble for killing bandits. The memory of that experience and the interview boggled his mind for abit before he started to contemplate about confronting the band of people behind the tree. He'd forgotten about his dagger and wanted to retrieve it. He threw a sack he had on his back, it was full of firewood. He threw it off in the distance, a few feet away from his hiding place and a small distance from the burned tree.

Reinhardt was following the tracks out of the other side of the clearing. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end, which was generally speaking a bad sign. The Steel Helmet he wore restricted his vision somewhat, but he was glad for the protection then. He almost missed it, but the dagger caught the edge of his eye. He froze and turned to look at it, rapidly stooping and snatching it up. It was an ornate ebony dagger. Horrifically valuable, and well maintained. He turned to look at the others in confusion, who were either in the process of crossing the clearing or still in the woods on the other side. No-one left something like that laying around... A trap?

"Get out the clearing!" He scattered, dashing into the darkness bordering the clearing, shield held across his body protectively. In but a second, he was away from the deadly illumination of the moonlight. He could visualize marksmen drawing a bead in the darkness, expecting to feel at any moment the rib-shattering impact of an arrow or bolt smashing into his armour. He slammed into cover behind a tree, just outside the pool of silver light. In the frantic confusion as the Regiment burst for cover, fully expecting ambush, a sack was cast into the clearing among them. There was a pregnant silence, each expecting action. When none came after three seconds, Reinhardt surged forward toward where he thought the concealed assailants were with his weapon raised, expecting the others to follow.

"Surrender now and you will be spared and turned over to Chorrol's guards!" he called out. "We will show no mercy to any bandit who bares arms against us!"

While following the tracks Reinhardt spotted something on the ground and quickly crouched to pick it up. The man stared at it for a moment before showing it to the others. Trannigan could see then that it was an ornate ebony dagger. Trannigan wondered why the bandit's would be careless enough to drop such a valuable item and him and Reinhardt seemed to come at a realization at the exact moment.

"Get out the clearing!" Reinhardt shouted at the men and sprang across the field with his shield raised to protect himself against any attacks. Trannigan not having a shield, merely sprinted across the field as quickly as his heavy armor would allow him. Not caring about the noise it made now that their cover had been blown anyways, he moved his legs quickly across the clearing and dove into some bushes at the end of the clearing. Hitting the bushes with a loud thud, he rolled himself out of them and tried to take cover behind a nearby tree. Trannigan tried to slow his breathing as the group sat in silence, waiting for anything at all to happen. All that could be heard were the sounds of crickets chirping away in the darkness, aswell as the breathing of the soldiers. When nothing happened after a good minute or so, Reinhardt sprang to his feet and carged forth, shouting out in the process, Surrender now and you will be spared and turned over to Chorrol's guards!" he called out. "We will show no mercy to any bandit who bears arms against us!"

With that Trannigan got to his feet aswell, and followed behind the nord, his weapon drawn in his left hand and a shock spell building in his right hand incase he needed it.

"Surrender now and you will be spared and turned over to Chorrol's guards!" he called out. "We will show no mercy to any bandit who bears arms against us!" he called out again. Adam stopped for awhile, he had heard and made an estimate guess on how many were surrounding his position. Whispers and the sound of armor moving, he had sensitive ears and smelt some bad ordour, like peasents, he assumed it was the 'bandits' now thought to be Adventurers or mercanaries.

"GIVE ME BACK THE DAGGER!" Adam yelled out to the band of men. "Tis mine and I ain't no bandit, knave, thief or criminal." He stepped out from behind the tree, sheathing his copper bladed weapon and picking up the pack. "Who in Azura bloody hell are you?" He asked, walking towards the leader and snatching his ornate ebony dagger out of his hands and putting it back in the sheath behind his back.

Adam looked at the men surrounding him, beastfolk and men.

"If your imperial immigration officers, then I have my documents right here, in my pack." He said and handed the leader the document that explained everything, his date and place of birth, age, ethnicity, and name and profession.
"Go on, read it, You'll see that everything is in order..." Adam said again.

Fier had been impassive during all of these events. Feeling that it was an appropriate moment to speak, he made a small step forward. "We are not immigration. And if that's the only thing you're worried about out here, then you need to rearrange your priorities. We are mercenaries." he didn't know what else to say, if anything could be said. Words never were his strong suit. he relaxed slightly, but still held his weapon aloft, ready to be used if needed.

"We are not immigration. And if that's the only thing you're worried about out here, then you need to rearrange your priorities. We are mercenaries.". Adam took a quick sneer and an evil eye to him.

"My priorities are straight, uh... Sir? I'm a mercenary too, well on my own right now, I've picked a few on-going contracts and I'm looking for a publisher for my book, my best hope is in Chorrol right now. And might I ask; If 'you people' are not immigration officers, and just a bunch of lowly mercenaries, then what are you doing all the way out here?" Adam scoffed, he looked directly at the leader.

He stopped and tried starring down the leader with fiery red eyes that had bested everyone who tried starring Adam down.