[center][h3]MISSION START: FIRE WATCH[/h3][/center]

“I admire your enthusiasm, Keegan.” Daelin said flatly. For those who weren’t acquainted with the bosmer, his disposition could be either interpreted as dry sarcasm or indifference, but the reality was quite a bit different. The memories of the retreat from Windhelm still weighed heavily on Daelin, the memories of the terrified flight from the Kamal cavalry and the screams of the dying, many of which were his men. It had shaken him to his very core, and for the last few days, he made himself scarce, not able to face the survivors for his failure to lead his men safely, for their untimely fate. He was alive and they were not; it was shameful. He could have done so much more, but instead focused entirely on saving his own worthless hide. And now, Ashav was forcing him to lead a new team. He would do his duty as diligently as always, and he would put on a brave face, but it was going to be hard to look at even the new recruits and not see the faces of those he’d failed. As the company departed for the night, Daelin remained behind nursing a clay mug of rotmeth, forcing himself to come to terms with the simple fact that the company needed their lead scout back. There’d been enough time to mourn; they needed Daelin if any were to survive the upcoming assignment. Pounding back the fermented meat, the bosmer vowed he’d do better. For all of their sakes.

~~~
[I][center]Sunrise, 20th Sun’s Height, Outskirts of Dawnstar[/center][/I]

“Alright, listen up.” The bosmer called, standing tall on a large rock on the periphery of Dawnstar where his team would be volunteering. “Red-Bear, Keegan, Marcel, Rhasha’Dar, Daixanos, Huntress, gather around.” As the mercenaries gathered from the loosely assembled company that were preparing to depart for their next assignment, Daelin was quietly congratulating himself on his foresight to commit his group to memory, as well as the five minutes or so it took to actually pronounce the argonian’s name. It was so much nicer when they called themselves something simple like “I-Eat-Rocks”, or “Cover-With-Butter”, or “Don’t-Skin-Me”.


Looking at the assembled faces, some eager, some looking already like this was the last thing they wanted to be a part of, the bosmer continued, “I trust you all have your affairs in order. This is a scouting mission, we will only engage if we find imminent threat to ourselves or citizens of the Pale, and if it’s a battle we can win without risking unacceptable losses. Like Ashav said the night prior, there’s been a number of reports of pissed off Spriggans… well, more so than they usually are, anyway.” He said with the slight upturn of his lips. “Leading theory is that someone or something’s been causing quite a few rather unnatural fires, we’re going to see if we can’t figure out who that is, so in a way this might turn into a bounty hunting operation. Huntress,” Daelin said, turning to Sevine, regarding the fiery haired Nord with professional admiration. “I trust this will be familiar ground for you. It’s why I personally requested you for this assignment. We may have to look for signs and clues of the culprit, and your reputation precedes you.

“Likewise  Daixanos, first off I’d like to welcome you to the company. Ashav speaks highly of your skills, and we all saw how you handle yourself in a fight.” He said, his tone still light and accepting, as if the events surrounding Farid’s death were either unimportant or never happened. “Ashav assures me you have skill with tracking, and your physical prowess will be handy if we run into Spriggans. Likewise, Red-Bear, you will be our vanguard if things get rough, along with Daixanos. We need Marcel’s detect life spells and spell absorbsion abilities to both detect our Spriggans and anyone of interest, including potentially any responsible parties for the fires here. Marcel,” Daelin continued, eyes fixed on the Breton, “If you haven’t stocked up on magicka potions, get some before we depart. We can’t depend on you absorbing hostile magic just to make use of your talents.”

Reaching the end of his briefing, he at last focused on Rhasha and Keegan. “Rhasha’Dar, I need you to be quick on your feet and support our fighters with healing spells, and in our rests, to work on potions as you see fit. The forest is bountiful with ingredients as I’m sure you know, but if you see a target of opportunity, I expect you’ll strike true with that spear of yours. And finally, our volunteer, Keegan.” He said with some finality. “I’m guessing you’re sick of ships after what occurred heading back from the College? Heard you vomited anything that went into you the whole time.” He said, grinning teasingly at the altmer. “You’re handy with quite a few schools of magic. I’m sure you’ll have a better idea than I what spells will work for whatever situation we come across.”

Clapping his hands together and rubbing them with somewhat forced enthusiasm, for he did dread the prospect of reliving the hell that was the retreat from Windhelm once more, Daelin shared his final thoughts. “Right. We’re projected to be gone perhaps two days, three at most, and as such we’ll carry four days’ worth of rations to be on the safe side. Red-Bear, I’m counting on you to keep an eye on the party when I’m taking point and scouting ahead with the Huntress and Daixanos. The three scouts will go forward two at a time, and periodically one will return to the party and report their findings and the next one will go forward in rotation. This makes sure we don’t lose anyone, information is constantly coming in, and it shares the burden evenly. Well, that about covers it; say goodbye to Dawnstar, and hello to the great unknown.”

The group set off in pairs with Daelin walking slightly ahead of the formation as Dax and Sevine were sent ahead to scout the terrain. One would report back in an hour, and Daelin would head out to take their place charting a course. It was the beginnings of an assignment that Daelin found most pleasurable, the escape into the wilderness and the hustle of the company dynamics. He liked people, sure, but a part of him still yearned for the simpler time in Skyrim’s wilds with his clan, where the biggest concern was hunting and keeping your people safe. In a way, it wasn’t so different from what he was doing now; as far as Daelin was concerned, those he marched alongside with the moss and flower hewn fields of the Pale were his other clan, and he owed them a responsibility to lead them well. 

The hours passed and the sun crested over the sky, giving brilliant illumination to the mountainous passes and dense forests that made up the Pale. The weather was finally returning to more seasonal Summer-like temperatures, which to most who did not call Skyrim home would feel it were almost like early Spring temperatures elsewhere, where one could make do with or without sleeves and be comfortable. The weather, along with the progressive bird song and buzz of insects made it a rather pleasant day, all considered. Deer were spotted from time to time, either alone or in small groups up to four, and in a couple notable instances, a pack of wolves crossed up ahead, paying only token notice to the group of travellers, and a bear was plodding along aloofly with a pair of cubs close in tow. All in all, it was an uneventful journey, and even when the group stopped for lunch, spirits seemed high and a few of the more comical members of the party earned a chorus of laughs from tall tales and jokes, often at the expense of someone else in the company, bringing up happier memories that seemed long forgotten. The fire was extinguished and the food scraps were left behind for scavengers; the rule of the forest that nothing went to waste.

Nearing late afternoon, a haze was beginning to fill the air, and Daelin knew that it should have been possible to see Whiterun even from this distance, far to the South, but the air was simply too thick to see more than a few kilometers at most. The distinct smell of burnt forest permeated the air, and the bosmer knew they were quite close to their objective. Soon, Daelin crested a ridge and looked down into the desolation below. He had seen forest fires before, and really, who hadn’t, but how through this was definitely leant the region an unsettling air for how complete it felt, as if the flames had taken the time to completely remove all traces of wood and underbrush in an increasing radius, where the still smouldering husks of trunks remained. Daelin felt his throat clench as he took it in; this was not a natural fire. Without turning to look at his companion, Daelin ordered Sevine back to fetch the rest of the party. Their work would start now.  

Around ten minutes later, the rest of the group caught up with Daelin and they began to move into the scorched lands, many covering their mouths with whatever free cloth was available to keep from breathing in the fumes. Daelin did the same, tying a brown scarf around his mouth and nose as his feet pressed through the ground below, the deadfall crunching beneath his feet. It became clear the closer they reached that the central area, where this particular blaze started from, had a thick layer of ash and not much else. “Marcel,” Daelin said, turning to the Breton, “Start looking around, see if anything lives in this waste. Sevine, Daixanos, spread out, look for tracks, remains, anything that might give us a-“

[B][I]”GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!”[/I][/B]

The shout came from a only semi-scorched group of trees to the Southwest as an older Nord man, who looked to be in his late 40s or early 50s with a great braided beard and receding hairline of dark hair crashed out into the beginnings of the clearing, wearing a simple cotton shirt with a rope closure about the chest, that might have been white, but was long stained from the soot, and a brown leather apron fell onto this back, screaming as bees began to overcome him. Letting out a torrent of flame from his palm, the man freed himself of his assailants before he noticed the group standing on the ridge, waving wildly with one hand and holding a wood cutting axe in the other. “HEY, HEY!” he shouted, trying to close the distance. It didn’t take long to see what his issue was; a group of 5 Spriggans cleared the brush, including one of the orange matrons, and a rather thin, mangy and crazed looking group of four wolves alongside them, growling menacingly at the man. The matron raised a branch-like arm towards the man, condemning him. Suddenly the wolves burst forth, closing the distance.

The group was only about 120 meters away, and Daelin knew they had to do something. “Move in to intercept!” Daelin shouted, readying his Nord-crafted bow with a steel-headed arrow as he loosed it towards the closest wolf that was closing in on the fleeing man. The arrow hit true, burying itself in the wolf’s neck and causing it to collapse. He was in the process of notching another as the man swung his axe into the next wolf’s skull, his powerful arms crunching through bone with ease. The other two wolves, having to move to avoid the collapsed leaders, took notice of the oncoming party and moved in to engage.