[B]A Collab between Soul and myself[/B]

[I]Insurgent Camp, West of Helgathe, 16 Rain's Hand...[/I]

Wispy morning air kissed the camp like a lover's warmth as the chill of the night gave way to the dawn's sun. It was the calm before the stifling, humid heat of midday, and already the camp was abuzz with activity. Men and woman of all races moved together in concert, moving the next piece in their deadly game with the dwemer. The Heroes of Tamriel and their companions, however, were not caught up in the various duties of the day, but rather were situated in a tent with rather spartan furnishings. Indeed, a crudely fashioned board and a crate that acted as a table were the only things apparent in the tent, forcing the group to stand as Nadeen, the mysterious amber-eyed Redguard woman and her companion Hassan, his ever present keffiyeh wrapped loosely around his neck, giving his handsome features a roguish charm. Compared to the hard-featured and ageless woman who resembled a sand snake in her cloak, her dark complexion and hair partially concealed by the tan hood of the cloak. She appraised each of the companions before offering a solemn nod.

"We understand what it is that has been asked of you, and that you have completed your mandates so effectively and with such conviction has done much for our cause. While it is cruel to ask those who have already given so much to our world to press forward with their lives at stake, I cannot overstate the impact your presence has had, your actions. If any doubted what you all are capable of, your deeds in Stros M'kai will surely quell the tongues of even the most skeptical. The people of Hammerfell are forever in your debt, one we may never be able to repay." she bowed her head. "We thank you. Your courage means more than you can ever know."

Nadeen righted herself, stepping before the map. "This before you is a map of the city of Helgathe, the capital of Hammerfell, and the crown jewel of the dwemer conquest. So far, we have been able to do little more than infiltrate the city and observe; any brash action would be suicidal, as their defenses are absolute due to the Governor claiming the palace as her seat of power. All orders and organization comes from Helgathe,and to disrupt that would be a crippling blow to the dwemer. Where complications arise is such; how does one access the dwemer leadership, or even know who are people who need to be removed to make a difference? Governor Razlinc Rourken, the direct descendant of those who had ruled Volunfell prior to the dwemer disappearance, is obvious. However, she's but one person. What we need to find is her generals, her advisers. This is a multi-headed serpent; if even one survives, then the threat remains.

"And so, your task is simple; you will infiltrate the city as traveling civilians and merchants, and from there proceed to the designated safe houses where you will obtain your weapons and equipment for the tasks at hand. You will gather what information you can, locate designated targets, find out what you can about their activities and who they report to, and when the time comes, send a message with their deaths. There will not be a lot of support, and our network is patchy, to say the least. You will be left largely to your own devices to determine the best course of action." she explained, turning to Hassan. "Tell them what they should expect in the city walls, Hassan."

"Dwemer guns. Dwemer cannon-crabs. Dwemer Powered Armor. This is the seat of Dwemer power in Hammerfell, the amount of which that they hold dwarfs any of your petty hubris. Watch yourselves, strike only when you are sure you have your target and always remember to leave no loose ends. The tavernkeep should not know your real name, if any name at all. Make a plan to kill everyone you meet before they kill you, or get you killed. Now is not a time for weakness."

Hassan stepped forward to circle a finger around a building adjacent to the Governor's Palace, "This is the headquarters for the Ministry of Order. This organization is the eyes and ears of Governor Razlinc here in Hammerfell and we have reason to believe that the organization stretches the entirety of Dwemer controlled Tamriel. These people will prove prime targets, but also hard ones, so do not be rash when dealing death to their members. They are not to be trifled with, so make sure not to make waves within the city beyond a reasonable amount. Assassination is key, not a street-war."

Hassan stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back, "That being said, the first order of business is eliminating the head of the Collaborator Guards after settling in. Do not plant roots, leave no trail. There is an intricate network of safe houses resulting from months of preparation, use these to lay your head for the night," Hassan paused for a moment, looking the companions over before continuing, "If you manage to find the first safe house near the marketplace, marked with a decorative tapestry, and manage to remember that one who needs shelter in the ground-floor building is required to deliver three quick knocks before two slower pounds on the cellar door, then you have successfully found your first base of operations."

"After this is achieved, you are permitted to use whatever means necessary to flush out the leader. This means anything short of cold-blooded public murder of guards or civilians. Disobey that and you will find that I am quicker to respond than a member of the Ministry of Order. Permitted acts include robbery, interrogation, planting of fabricated letters, interception of letters and planting incriminating evidence. Through this, do not fail to remember that your end goal in this is to assassinate the head of the Collaborator Guards, nothing more, nothing less. Once this task is completed, you will be able to go after bigger things. Do not do anything to imply the insurgency's involvement. They will find out, eventually, but it will not be your fault. If it is, I will handle the Governor's job and end you myself. It will be a good death."

"Make no mistake, we are going into the lion's den, and mistakes cannot be afforded. One botched assignment, one compromised safe house, and it will be more than just your lives that you put at stake. We will give you support where necessary, and you will not be the only ones working within the city. That being said, you will be departing in half an hour. Report to a man named Rashad, he will be taking you to the city and be acting as your primary contact while in the city. A word of caution, it is likely you will all be split into smaller groups, so be sure to consider your skills and experience before committing yourself to an assignment. We can ill-afford to make mistakes." Nadeen regarded the group for a few moments, drinking in their faces. "Hammerfell owes you all a great debt. We will meet again." she said tersely, dismissing herself from the tent.With that, Hassan bowed his head slightly and stepped backwards, allowing himself to take position behind Nadeen, leaving the group to gather their things for the long walk to Helgathe and to meet Rashad, their guide.

As it turned out, Rashad was a rather handsome man in his early to mid 20s with a neatly trimmed beard, a grin that could melt woman's hearts, and a complexion not unlike wet sand. His olive eyes and messy mop of curly black hair gave the man something of a carefree, winded look that seemed rather at odds with the purple dwemer sash tied about his waist and the scimitar at his hip. Other than that, his apparel wasn't overly ostentatious other than the several rings that adorned his fingers and the merchant clothes that draped more snugly than on others wearing similar clothes, indeed it deemed to suggest no small amount of muscle definition. He bowed theatrically with no small amount of flourish. "My friends, it is with no small amount of pleasure that I introduce myself to such esteemed compatriots. My name is Rashad, but a humble merchant to the dwemer, the key to the city to you. It is my home; I grew up in a fairly unpleasant neighbourhood, so it behooved me to learn every stone, nook, and street quite early. After all, when your family cannot afford to eat some weeks, you are forced to take certain precautions." he grinned at the Heroes, his eyes beaming with delight. Whether it was a part of his well-practiced sales pitch or genuine excitement to be working with people with such reputation could not be ascertained.

He gestured to the wagons, which were loaded with supplies. "There's only a few seats available, so most of you are going to have to walk, which will be about a five hour journey. There will be breaks every hour for water and fresh fruit, as you need to keep hydrated." he looked at the khajiit in the group and chuckled. "Although, some of you may be more comfortable with the climate than others. You are all playing the parts of merchants or travelers from other towns. We managed to secure you all documentation for your cover identities, which I strongly suggest you study thoroughly so the dwemer do not suspect anything, and we can make it past the check point at the Western gate into the city. It's heavily guarded, and while I wouldn't say the dwemer are complacent, they aren't going to look twice at a rag-tag group such as yourself if you play the part twice. People come and go all the time, even during a war, and it would be impossible for the dwemer to be overly through for every person who passed through the gate. Trust me; I've gotten much weirder groups than you all in before, this will be no different." he offered reassuringly. "No, ready to go see the jewel of Hammerfell?" Rashad asked.

_____

By sundown, the companions were outside of the gates of Helgathe, slowing to a stop as a lightly-armoured guard approached. The massive walls of the city were a grand spectacle, even those from Skyrim would have had to appreciate their pristine, finely carved facade and ornate statues that adorned the walls and gates. It was a city crafted and maintained with care, and despite the ravages of the climate, it held strong, a testament to both the Redguard craftsmen and the dwemer who came before them.

Rashad dismounted from the lead wagon and walked up to the guard, his well-practiced swagger unmistakable. Nothing about his showed worry or hesitation, just a well-natured man going through the necessary motions of an occupation without complaint. The group could not hear the words being exchanged, but the dwemer guard did not seem particularly interested or perturbed. He checked Rashad document papers with punctuary efficiency before he gestured to the other guards to follow suit. Four guards in total went down the convoy, asking politely for the documentation and scribing something with an ink well and pen fastened to their armour. They gave the non-human members of the convoy some careful inspection but carried on as normal, more curious then suspicious. Ten minutes later, the group was ushered through the mighty gates and into the grand city.

Walking the streets in a tight column, Rashad did not hesitate to brandish his knowledge of the inner workings of the city. If there was ever a doubt in the minds of the companions that Rashad did not know the city like the back of his hand, the man certainly dissipated any of that with his constant commentary, given with a handsome, smiling face as if he was appointed by the Governor herself to show tourists through the streets. Every nook and cranny, every alleyway to every vendor's stall, Rashad knew at least one story that took place in them.

"There," Rashad shot a finger out towards a building, brightly jeweled with fractaled murals along the inside walls and ceilings, two statues stood guard at the brilliantly white outside entrance of the grand building, both in heroic poses, pointing their right arms into the air. Their right arms were replaced by the blades of ebony swords, "That is a mosque of Ebonarm, my friends. Redguards anywhere in Hammerfell- and especially the deserts of Alik'r- appreciate these mosques and have built many of them. The statues you see there, they are dedicated to the Old Redguard God of War, a companion and protector of all warriors. He is deeply rooted in our culture, as war is, as well."

"Beyond that, the marketplace. That marketplace is scarred," Rashad's voice became hoarse, almost angry, "Men died in that marketplace. There was a large gathering during the first days of the Dwemer arrival, we protested them, told them to leave our cities and we would not follow them. Their answer?" Rashad simply outstretched a hand to his side, miming the pulling of the trigger on a Dwemer weapon.

"Since then, most of us have vowed to repay every drop of blood spilled there, tenfold. Were it up to some of us, we would kill every Dwemer we could find. Man, woman, child. I do not blame them, honestly. A man lives to protect his family, if his family is destroyed before his eyes, he will avenge them. My friends, there are a lot of men whose families were destroyed that day."

Once in the marketplace, they were tailed by local street urchin children and led to the insurgents' den. Rashad bowed his goodbyes before entering through the front door while the companions made their way to the basement. They knocked the secret code and were permitted in by an older Redguard whose bald headed features were as rough and tattered as the boiled leather armor he wore. He caught sight of Wets-His-Blade, sizing him up casually, like he did with all newcomers. The Redguard smiled and one could notice that he was shy a few teeth. Whether it was due to hygiene concerns or bar fights was anyone's guess.

"You wait here. Poncy man will be here soon." The words grumbled out of the Redguard as he sat at a table in a far corner of the basement.