A hooded figure clad in a grey traveler's cloak sat in the corner of Dawnstar's most prominent inn patiently listening to the fruits of his labor.
"Is it true what they say? That the Jarl is the one behind the nightmares?" One of the patrons asked the innkeeper in a hushed tone, the others pointedly ignoring the known rabble-rouser.
The innkeeper nearly smacked the man as he hissed quietly "Keep your voice down you dolt, we don't want the guards offing us for 'causing sedition' because your drunk ass can't keep his mouth shut."
"Feck off you milk drinker." The patron half spoke half burped "I just wanna know if they say is true."
The owner of the establishment looked around warily before answering in a whisper "They say he was cursed with nightmares and made a deal with a Daedra to let him off, the madman even let a bloody Mythic Dawn cultist into the city walls so something must be off."
"Bloody feckin' nobles." The patron cursed "Think he sold his soul to Dagon too?"
The innkeeper shrugged while cleaning a mug "How should I know, do I look like a Vigilant of Stendarr to you?"
"Oh pardon me, your eminence." The patron pointed at him with sarcasm "I didn't know you Dibellan whores were so uppity about your station."
A wet rag smacked into his face causing him to gurgle "Shut your trap Bran or I will tell everyone your ass is looking for customers."
The hooded stranger tuned the conversation out and turned to his companion, red eyes met red eyes as he asked "When do the stores close again?" 'When is the meetup scheduled'
"Hour or so before sundown." The other responded offhandedly '1800 sharp'
The stranger sighed "Feh, I'd hoped to stock up on some potions for the road." 'Do you have the supplies?'
"Fear not friend" His companion responded jovially "I have a couple on hand." 'Yes.'
"Well then, we might as well get going, those wolves won't skin themselves." He took a final sip of his ale, left a tip on the table, and stood to leave.
As the duo of shady figures left the walls of Dawnstar and made sure that no one followed them on their 'hunt' the first removed the cowl hiding his grey face and spat on the ground "By the Webweaver if I have to listen to another bloody drunk propositioning the innkeep I will lose it... bloody n'wahs."
"Come now, Jackal they won't get at each other's throats without a bit of prodding." His companion patted his back lightly.
"Easy for you to say Fox, you don't have to listen to them blabber on for hours on end about their fucking god all the damn time." the so-called Jackal huffs "Oh Talos this, oh Talos that, it is almost as if they forget they have eight other gods to worship all of a sudden."
"What else do you expect of Nords?" Fox rolls his eyes.
Jackal gives him an incredulous look at this "You say that but you are the one that got close to that scary fucker Tolfdir before we entered our new lord's service."
Fox outright shivers "Fuck I still remember the look he gave me when I even thought about sneaking into the college. That fucker is as much a Nord as we are Ehlnofey."
"Ain't that a fact." Jackal hums in agreement.
As if choreographed, the duo made a turn, stumbled into each other, and suddenly disappeared behind a tree. One swift roll later they found themselves in a magically excavated chamber under the ground, a trio of their colleagues staring down at them while another sat nearby disinterestedly reading through reports.
Upon noticing the fourth person both of the new arrivals saluted.
Without even looking at them the seated Dunmer commanded "Fox, Jackal, Report."
It was Jackal who spoke first "Rumors are getting some traction in Dawnstar but the guards are coming down on them hard, they beat anyone they hear even whispering about it."
"Good." Their superior comments.
"I am sorry sir, but how exactly is that good?" Jackal asks with some confusion, all he sees is his hard work getting undone.
The seated Dunmer finally looked up at the duo "If the guards beat anyone who speaks about it then they will obviously think there is at least something to the rumors, not everyone will understand the need for wartime discipline." Davos explains easily.
"Ah, I see." Jackal looks at his commander with newfound respect.
Something which Davos ignores in favor of getting back to business "Fox?"
Fox takes a step forward "Two raiding boats have been sabotaged and many ropes have 'accidentally' fallen into a nearby fire. There have also been an almost suspicious amount of avalanches when their scouting parties are about to find something interesting."
"Just keep it at almost suspicious, we don't want them actively looking for us." Davos orders before turning to one of the others "Your report, Hound?"
A rather tiny woman speaks up "Trolls around Windhelm have suddenly turned a lot more bloodthirsty but any attempts at spreading rumors within the city are not successful."
"As expected." Davos waves it off "If they allowed rumors in the center of their movement I would doubt Ulfric's competence even more than my lord already does."
He writes something down before speaking once more "Snake."
A very thin yet tall man near whispers "Falkreath is already in something of an internal conflict between uncle and nephew, rumors of the Jarl's infirmity were enough to get many of them to refuse the call to arms, most notably a large number of the local rangers."
"Promising." Davos smirks "Mudcrab, what news of our friend Maven?"
A man so incredibly average it was an achievement in and of itself speaks "The Rift is too big for our work to make too much of an impact so early on but a large number of supplies has already been taken by bandits or lost to 'undisciplined troops' something the 'wise' Law-giver chose to punish most cruelly."
"Mhm" Davos hums "That is acceptable, we don't want Maven revealing too much of her hand before the time comes, losing her would be incredibly annoying, and replacing her near impossible."
Suddenly another individual enters the underground base but none of those present react overmuch as they immediately recognize her.
Davos' eyes turn expectant "Ah, Beetle how goes your work in the Grey Quarter?"
A voice so melodious it was no doubt made to enthrall those of a weaker mind responds "The lord shall be most pleased indeed."
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Ambarys Rendar, the proprietor of the New Gnisis Cornerclub in the Grey Quarter of Windhelm scowled as he needlessly wiped another unused cup. Things were getting difficult in the Quarter and while he had managed to secure an escape for some of the younger ones there were still thousands living in abject poverty all around him and he could only lament his inability to help them.
He had become something of a leader in their miserable little community over the recent years. His outside contact he had established by sheer dumb luck and his ability to get some of the more hated members out of the city without notice was growing more valuable by the day, but since the local lord's rebellion started the Quarter had been practically placed in complete lockdown.
They were treated like a literal plague by Ulfric's bandits.
Rendar grunted in annoyance as his brows kept creasing without his input. He really should not have accepted his unofficial position, now he had to feel actually responsible and that didn't help his aging complexion at all.
The chime on his doors ringing interrupted his ever darkening thoughts, he looked up and was greeted with an unexpected sight. A hooded woman, her eyes the blazing red easily identifying her as one of their people, the surprising part came with the sheer quality of her robes and an odd symbol of a beetle with three eyes hiding a sword behind its carapace.
He blinked at the odd sight before righting himself and assuming his usual professional smile "Welcome sera, here to quench your thirst or your hunger?"
"Neither." A melodious voice answered "I am here to pass to you a message from my superior." The woman offered a sealed letter carrying the same emblem on her robes.
'A reclusive noble house perhaps?' Rendar mused as he unsealed the thing with practiced ease.
'Sera Rendar
I am saddened that my missive finds you in such trying times and hope that you have managed to salvage as much of your dignity and that of our people from Ulfric's vile ministrations.
While I am unable to liberate our people with haste I shall not abandon those placed under my protection upon my birth as a noble of Resdayn, and so I urge you to aid my following proposal with all your ability so as to assure the continued survival and eventual prosperity of our kin.
My agent who now stands before you has been given instruction by which to construct a stable portal between a secluded part of the Quarter and my own territory. I shall provide our people with food, clothing, weapons and all other supplies deemed necessary for their preservation free of any charge or obligation.
It would ease my worries if you were to assure the people and lead them into quiet cooperation so that they may resist and eventually overthrow their oppressors. By the time this war is done the Dunmer shall have true say in the governance of their homes, so I swear by my name.
In my capacity as:
Champion of Azura
The Webweaver's Left Hand
Royal Court Mage of Skyrim
Lord Dagoth
Signed: Your friend Reyvin'
It took Rendar a moment to reboot his mind but the moment he did so his eyes snapped to the agent standing before him. He considered the implications of the letter, what was held within could potentially damn the young Mer that sent it his way but somehow he doubted he would ever be permitted to do such a thing without losing his head, after he lost his sanity no doubt.
But to think the young man would claim to be Lord Dagoth... Rendar knew many a story, such was his nature as an innkeeper but he never in his many years expected to meet someone from that house as reviled as that one. And to think they of all people would offer aid...
His thoughts suddenly came to a stop as he took a deep breath... before laughing out loud at the simplicity of the problem before him.
"Does something confuse you, sera?" The agent asked politely.
"I have but one question." Rendar said seriously.
The agent nodded calmly, though she lightly palmed the knife in her hand outside of the inkeep's perception "Ask your question sera."
A grin of enthusiasm not seen on the innkeeper's face for months preceded the simple question "When do we begin?"
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On this fine day, my parents gave to me
A totally insufficient stone quarry.
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