((I'm really new to Elder Scrolls still, but I've been having too much fun roleplaying to not type something up. Please correct me if I'm wrong lore-wise, or if you have a constructive criticism about the writing itself!))

The worst part of it was walking by himself. The trek from Mournhold back to the border of the Stonefalls was long, difficult, and, frankly, lonely. Relen Sadrys mumbled to himself bitterly as he stumbled over yet another fallen branch; skirting the villages, unsure of which ones were contaminated by this plague he kept hearing about, was irksome. Having to do that by himself was downright aggravating. His leathers, newly acquired after sticking an unsuspecting enemy in the face with an arrow, were a little too big at the shoulders, and way too narrow at the thigh. His thick, black braid swung idly, peeking out from underneath a helmet that looked quite akin to that of a kitten – but he had more important things to complain about than the stylistic choices of a fallen soldier.

“Stupid Nels; he could have just come with me.”

Pitching his voice lower, he replied. “No, Relen, I have a job to do.” The young Dunmer made the appropriate gestures, shaking his head, moving his hands in mocking ways. “Why don’t you find some work, Relen.”

“Why don’t you stop being a s’wit, Nels.” Relen retorted to his invisible companion, stomping with unnecessary force over a particularly damp bit of flora. At least when the older man was traveling with him, things were fun, and entirely less terrifying. He had heard horrible rumors about this plague, things that made him long for his burly friend with the long sword.

Nels had decided to stay in Ebonheart, busy escorting ser and sera along the bloody roads to their farms and villages. The jobs never paid well enough for the both of them to bother, and the old guard told him to find work more ‘suited to his talents’ – a phrase that had been ‘air quoted’ more than once as the archer had made his way south – usually followed with the comment that an arrow would suit Nels’ ass more than enough if he didn’t shut up.

Truth be told, he regretted not staying and helping out at the small Tribunal temple in the town. The acolytes were friendly enough, more than willing to spare some time for a chat and a drink. The work was light, easy, and comfortable – but Nels had caught on with a smirk and a nod, a sly comment about ‘light labor’, leaving Relen to bristle and declare that he could find difficult work just as easy as the old man could.

It had been lucky that he had encountered the wandering temple boy just south of the border to Stonefalls; the work this Najakas had proposed sounded interesting, easy, and more rewarding than it could possibly be. The thought of plundering camps and running off with their treasures brought a gleeful, lustful swagger to Relen’s step as he considered how proud Nels might be that he had found them interesting work – a permanent contract with this ‘Ahmmushara’ group. He still wasn’t quite sure of the name, some Ashlander dreck, but the rewards sounded more worthwhile than giving a damn what it was called.

“What’s that Nels?” The young Dunmer resumed his conversation, a grin on his lips. “I found the best job ever? You don’t say!” He let out a laugh, wondering if he could make it back to Ebonheart before midday.