Among the prisoners was one Orc, an exceedingly impressive specimen that the town guards wisely kept their distance from, despite the shackles. His skin was a dark, unsaturated shade of green, mottled with even-darker spots, and his long, braided hair cascaded down onto his shoulders and down his back. The seasonal chill didn't seem to bother the Orc at all and he sat bare-chested without a care in the world, proudly displaying his muscles and his scars. The Orc ignored his fellow prisoners and didn't even look up when count Fleuren of Meir Thorvale went down the line, monologueing aloud in his slimy, disgusting voice. 

Maulakanth had zoned out of the count's stupid rant and was busy staring into the middle distance when the green-eyed rider and his posse stormed the hamlet and butchered the guards. Broken out of his reverie, the Orc looked up when he heard count Fleuren's dying screams -- something that sounded like music to his ears. Amused, Maulakanth bared his tusks and guffawed heartily. The rider had his attention. 

[i]"So, here’s how it goes. You ten, of which I have your names and descriptions and no shortage of connections of which to find you, are going to do me a small favour. When I release you from your bonds, you will go in a nice orderly fashion to the prison, obtain your personal possessions, and go forth to the city of Camlorn. With me so far? Good. Once there, you are going to infiltrate the castle and find my brother, a nobleman called Callen Raimes, who my spies tell me is being held prisoner by Lord Marco of Camlorn. Obviously, the whole affair is a bit mucky and simply will not do. Once he’s in your possession, and unharmed, bring him back to the keep in Shornhelm and you’ll each be paid a tiding of gold, a pardon for your crimes, and that warm fuzzy feeling one gets when they do something wonderful for this world,"[/i] the rider said. 

He said other things too, something that sounded vaguely like a threat, but Maulakanth had already stopped listening. Work was work and he all-too-readily accepted the job. One of the rider's men unshackled him and the Orc stood up, rising to his full height, and rolled his massive shoulders. The bandits stared at him and Maulakanth returned the stare fearlessly. A deep, rolling growl purred in his chest. One of the bandits muttered an oath under his breath and they quickly moved down the line to release the other prisoners. 

After the rider had finished his monologue and left, Maulakanth watched one of the Breton women take the parchment with the drawing from the bag and leave the gold. With measured, nonchalant movements, the Orc bent down and picked up the bag containing the gold and fastened it to his belt, his deep-set eyes daring anyone to challenge him. [color=39b54a]"And I'll carry this,"[/color] Maulakanth said. His voice sounded like crushed gravel. It was a statement, not a question. Now that he'd acknowledged the existence of the other prisoners, he looked at each of them in turn. Most of them were the small, squishy, pale-skinned weaklings that so infested these lands, but the Redguard and the Altmer were notable exceptions. One of the Reachmen, the one with the tattoos, looked big enough to put up a fight. He suggested meeting up by the road. Another pale-skin of indeterminate race spoke up and a flood of cowardice seemed to spurt from his mouth, like a severe and disgusting bout of diarrhea. [color=39b54a]"Don't expect you to fight? What good are you, whelp?"[/color] Maulakanth said to Berich, and spat at the man's feet. [color=39b54a]"By the road, ten minutes from now. Whoever doesn't show up gets left behind. I suggest you get over yourselves now,"[/color] Maulakanth continued, casting pointed looks at Finch and Fiona. Having asserted his authority, Maulakanth stalked off to the jailhouse to get his belongings. 

He sighed in satisfaction after slinging the sheaths of his swords around his torso. Maulakanth drew the orichalcum blades and held them, testing the balance and twirling them in his hands. They hadn't been tampered with in any way. [i]Excellent.[/i] He returned his pouches and potion vials to their rightful places on his belt and greedily unstoppered one of the vials, downing the contents in one go -- a strength potion. Maulakanth felt the potion's effects rush through his body and he growled in satisfaction. [color=39b54a]"That's the good stuff,"[/color] he muttered quietly. Sadly, it was his last. He suspected it would have to last him a while. 

When Maulakanth showed up by the roadside, he found the little woman and the Altmer already there. [color=39b54a]"So, golden boy, what did you do to end up in prison?"[/color] Maulakanth asked Cyrendil in a derisive tone. [color=39b54a]"Lost your temper, did you? Not so civilized after all, eh? That's alright. Not every [i]High Elf[/i] can be a spineless cunt, I suppose."[/color] Maulakanth bared his tusks at him and chuckled, his chest rising and falling with his mirth, hands on his hips.