On the Road to HelgatheThere was a reason Gorzath didn't visit the deserts often. Other than the fact that he seemed to make more enemies than friends there, he hated the heat. Not as much as he hated boated boats, but enough to make him avoid the desert lands. Yet here he was...trekking through the desert. To overthrow the Dwemer. Ah, the life of a fugitive going against a stronger power that's trying to kill him. It was almost reminisce of when he was fighting against the Emperor. The only difference being that there was a much higher chance of his death now. As the heat beat down upon the Spellsword, away from the main party a little bit, he was grateful for the fact that he had decided to wear the lighter armor. Saved him the effort of creating a spell that would have prevented him from overheating inside of his orcish armor. A lifesaving spell, certainly, but not permanent. He would have had to renew the spell more times than he would have liked. Besides, it wouldn't have been something an Orcish mercenary looking to make his own way in the world after serving with the Legion for years, his name is Olfin, in case any strangers asked. That was his excuse for being in Helgathe anyways, should the Dwemer come asking questions. And they undoubtedly would, when a party of this size and variety came waltzing through their doors.
"Please let their commanders be idiots." Gorzath muttered a prayer Malacath. It was doubtful his wish would be granted, given that he was likely the most unorclike orc to ever exist, but hey. Maybe the Divine would help. It certainly couldn't hurt to try, could it?
Helgathe, outskirts of the Marketplace, 16 Rain's Hand"I'll triple whatever they're paying you!"
Gorzath cursed. It wasn't subtle, and it very clearly displayed the coming end of his patience. The merchant didn't seem to understand that he wasn't for hire to get him out of the city. The man wanted to leave, given all that he had heard was about to happen. But, he didn't want to leave without protection. Apparently, he feared bandits. "No! For the last time! No! I'm not leaving the city until my employer leaves, and that's my final answer!" The Redguard opened his mouth to protest and perhaps make another offer. Gorzath didn't give him that chance. "If you make me another offer, I swear in Malacath's name I will show you to Oblivion personally!" That seemed to get the message through. The man backed off, albeit reluctantly, and disappeared into the crowd. Gorzath allowed himself a sigh of relief. Now, maybe, he could actually wander the city a bit, explore it. He always liked to explore new areas, and that's just what this city was. A new area whose secrets he hadn't yet found. Admittedly, those secrets could possibly get him killed now that the city was under Dwemer occupation, but hey. He wasn't called 'the Wanderer' for nothing.
First, though, he'd visit the Marketplace. You could pick up all sorts of interesting things just by listening to the conversations around you if you just wandered the Marketplace. Primarily it would be useless gossip, but occasionally there was a useful bit of information. It was a way to pass the time anyways, while staying close to his allies. Who knows, maybe it would keep him from being besieged by another idiot trying to get out of the city before chaos erupted. He didn't get five steps into the market before another voice called out to him. "Gorzath? Gorzath!" Heaving a private sigh, the Spellsword turned around to see who exactly was calling out to him. When he saw who it was, however, a broad grin crossed his face. "Artena!" A
female Argonian was making her way through the crowd towards him. A mercenary, as was obvious from her leather armor, the dual steel axes at her hips, and the imperial bow and arrows on her back. When she reached him, she promptly punched him in the jaw. Gorzath stumbled backwards. "Ow! What was that for?" "That," She said, "Was for leaving me in the Marshes thinking you were dead!" At the mention of that particular favor and subsequent battle, Gorzath's expression darkened. "I damn near was after that boat you put me on.." She hit him again.
"So. Where in the name of Oblivion have you been all these years?" Gorzath opened his mouth to speak, when he saw a familiar face that caused his blood to run cold. "Gorzath? What's the matter?" He ignored Artena, and pushed his way through the crowd.
No..not here..not now... His Argonian friend followed him, trying to get his attention. She almost ran into him when he suddenly stopped dead. "Gorzath what's the ma-hey, watch the tail!" She snapped at an unaware Redguard, before turning back to Gorzath. Before she could open her mouth, however, he spoke. "We may have problems Artena. Have you been using your axes recently?"
Gorzath was staring at seven people. Six of them were obviously bandits, and were obviously following someone. Likely his companions(Zainat, Thyra, and Elayna). The person who really grabbed his attention, however, was the scarred(most noticeably a crisscrossing pattern on her face) Redguard woman with the spear who was alternating between leering at Thyra and Elayna. Thyra appeared to be her favorite, as her gaze rested on the Nord the longest. Sash. Here. Which meant...
Gorzath cursed again, softly. "Falir. Why can't you just leave me alone you bastard?"
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