Cynlius looked up at the burly Orc, pushing the once sealed parchment back towards him across the old wooden table. "I don't deal with anything that can talk unless it has feathers and was never human."
The Breton slouched back in his chair, tilting his tankard back and downing its contents in a deep drink, watching the over-sized beast of a man the entire time. Last thing he needed was the guy turning feral over the rejection and trying to catch him while he was too busy wetting his throat.
"Talk to the Khajiit, they deal in that shit, I'm sure they'd have no problem snatching up your girl for ya'." He set aside the now empty drink, never letting his eyes leave the Orc's; the man did have an intense stare that would have anyone shaking in their boots and agreeing to whatever it was that he wanted. Well, everyone except for the over-sized Breton who was a bit too tall for his race and too filled out for preferring mostly magic over metal. Out of all the people in the tavern it was a curious thought as to why exactly this Orc chose to come to him.
Wait, no, actually it wasn't. Most of the mercs in here were young-faced, too shit-faced and more interested in the girl hanging off their arm than the job that just walked in. The slavers never picked up this kind of shit, they wouldn't touch it unless they thought they'd be getting top of the line merchandise out of it also and the agreement of 'no harm' would be tossed out the window. So it made sense after all, why this Orc found his way to the lone man sitting alone with battle worn armor and the scars to prove he'd at least seen enough battles to survive; just trying to enjoy his drink.
The Orc suddenly groaned, pulling another sealed parchment from somewhere within the breast of his armor. Cyn pushed it back towards him, eying the beast as he slowly stood. "I said I wouldn't take the job." He tightened his jaw when the Orc stepped forward. "Find someone else." He spoke through clenched teeth, voice deep and threatening with a look to match.
"You were requested." The Orc matched him in tone and body language, though he came off a lot more intimidating than Cynlius ever could. Tall and a unmoving, like a mountain, every inch of him covered with wiry muscle. He shoved the parchment into the Breton's chest, stepping even closer into the human's space as a dare for him to do something, anything. Any reason for him to open up that soft flesh and fill the room with the metallic smell of blood that would have his mouth watering and senses on edge.
"Back down, Krohel."
Cyn's eyes snapped to look over the Orc's shoulder at the Imperial female who had appeared behind him. Her yellow hair pulled and braided into a bunch on the back of her head with a few strands falling in front of her emerald colored eyes. She looked up at him through dark lashes and he immediately knew her game, the way she pulled her her shoulders back and folded her arms just so. He laughed at the stupidity of this game, the desperateness in all of it was mind-blowing. All this for some Bosmer girl and why in Oblivion did they need him? He was good, that's one thing he could brag about with confidence, but all this trouble for a smuggler. He was no slaver and they'd obviously done their homework enough if they were pushing this hard for him, so they'd ought to know he'd never pulled this kind of job.
"Viviera" She spoke, coming to stand next to the Orc, still doing her best to make herself seen to him. "This here is, Krohel." A nod to the Orc and then her eyes settled on the parchment still held in his hand, sealed with the familiar golden wax. "Your friend's name is Rindvul Nethhryon, correct?" A slight tilt of her head and a too eager smile, yet wasted on the Breton who'd played this game before.
"Is that what he told you?" Cyn glanced up at the Orc before falling back into his chair. "Did he also tell you that the last time I saw him he drove his sword through my throat and gave me this beauty." He swiped his fingers across the deep scar on the left side of his jaw. "If he was what you planned on using to get me to agree then you're fucked." Cyn laughed, waving down one of the wenches. He held out his empty tankard to her, demonstrating it needed refilling before looking back up at the pair. "Like I've tried telling you, I'm a smuggler not a slaver. I do not deal with the kind of goods you two are wanting me to handle."
"Twenty-thousand gold." A new player appeared, dropping a satchel onto the table that sang to Cyn's soul with the sweet clank it made when the coins rattled from within. "Half now, half when I have the girl."
Cyn kept his face straight, doing his best to not betray the fact that his subconscious was singing in glee by the offer. "And who are you exactly?"
"Lylmen Aedious," The new addition, an Altmer, in the all too familiar black robes lined with gold. His presence was advertised with his unique attire, and known as a way to mark anyone as a Thalmor. Yet he was concentrated, glaring, at the Breton with golden eyes that almost matched his skin. "I am your buyer."
"Mmm," Cyn relaxed in his chair, now intrigued by this new addition and fully playing into the game. Curiosity was peaked, just what exactly was this Elf getting at, or more so, what was he wanting to get Cyn in to. The woman returned with his drink, nervously eying the Altmer before turning her back and scuttling away. Not that it was a rare thing to see Justicars out this way, quite normal in fact since the whole Dominion thing had been brokered years ago. Though the stories that swirled never helped anything and from everything Cyn knew, they held more truth than ever lie. "Twenty-thousand gold to kidnap, smuggle and deliver a poor defenseless girl to you?"
"I'd take the deal."
Alright, the additions to this group were becoming annoying, he could do without the added voices each time he disagreed or tried to move them onto the next person. But the face of their most recent guest had Cyn standing up right faster than all, but the Altmer, could react. Just when he began to pull his sword from his hip, a hand pressed into his chest, he looked down at it with fire in his eyes, jerking his head up to its owner. Golden eyes bore into him, daring him to move, and oh how badly Cyn wanted to take him up on that threat. He'd run them all through and save the fucking Dunmer for a laugh, flay him alive and get drunk while he watched the bastard slowly die in agony. He deserved no less after the shit he'd pulled on the last job they'd done together.
"I would suggest you sit down!" The Altmer hissed over his shoulder at the new comer, eyes intense, but still focused on Cynlius. "I told you to stay out of it." His words were forced though a clenched jaw, the irritation of being ignored was evident in the tone and aggravation of his voice.
"Taking direction is not one of his strong suits." Cyn glared at the offending Dunmer, willing him to make some kind of move closer to him.
The Dunmer did no such thing, instead rolling his eyes which caused more irritation to rain over the Breton. "If you'd followed my direction things wouldn't have ended the way they did."
"Oh? You mean you trying to fucking kill me!" Cyn snarled, pushed back once more by the Altmer who placed his body between them. "But you can't expect much from the son of a whore."
"Watch your tongue, Breton!"
Cyn smirked at the rising tension coming from the Dunmer now, he'd known insults were the way to go to get under the man's skin. He'd never been one to take hits to his ego well. "You couldn't finish the job the first time, why would you think I'd take any threats serious coming from you?"
The Altmer, with a bit too much force, pushed the Dunmer back when he moved towards the Breton aggressively. The man, stumbling backwards into the table with enough force to send the drinks scattering to the floor. "I said enough!" His voice cut through the tavern, causing silence to those who had not taken notice of the confrontation happening between the group. "So help me, I will pull your stomachs out through your mouths if you both do not shut them and sit down!"
Rindvul propped himself on the table, Cyn eying him as he fell back into his chair.
"I said sit, Dunmer!" Lylmen turned on the Elf and pointed towards a chair, his voice dripping with fire hot anger. "I should slit your throats and be done with it!" He glared at the two men.
Cyn caught himself, deciding to keep his smart mouth shut. Instead, glancing over at the Dunmer who wore a terrified look on his face that had Cyn letting out a snort of disapproval. How he had ever let the weak man get a jump on him was over his head.
"Sixty-thousand gold, that's triple the original offer." Lylmen spoke suddenly, gaining all of Cynlius' attention.
"Why are you so desperate to have me?"
"Because we've heard the stories and if we are going to get this job done then you're the man we need." Viviera answered him, stepping to stand next to the Altmer.
"Stories are just that, stories. You cannot believe everything you hear." He frowned, realizing his drink had been one of the many, now laying scattered on the floor. Viviera took notice, beckoning one of the females to her. "Like I said, I don't deal in people."
"Eighty-thousand, that's as high as I go. There won't be another offer, Cynlius."
«·´`·.(*·.¸(`·.¸* *¸.·´)¸.·*).·´`·»
Viviera pushed open the wooden door to the lower cabin where a rather decorated room hid, a large four poster bed with thick blue blankets and fluffed pillows to match. She stepped aside to let the tall Breton in, his eyes darting across the room while he silently mouthed his amazement; dropping his over-sized pack on the floor.
"Better than what you are use to?" She smiled up at him when his eyes stopped on her.
"Yeah, I'd say." He chuckled, moving towards the bed and falling back onto it with a groan.
She pushed the door shut, leaning against it for a moment while she worried her lip with her teeth before moving towards the man stretched out on the bed with his eyes closed. Cyn's eyes shot open at the sudden weight on his thighs, looking down to find the green-eyed Imperial crawling up his body, fingers dancing up his torso.
"Does everyone get this kind of welcome?" His voice was husky, hands resting on the tops of her thighs when she came to straddle his hips.
"Just the pretty ones." She remarked, leaning down towards him.
Cyn shifted his weight, forcing her onto her back and pinning her arms by the wrist on either side of her head. "Too bad for you that I don't fuck those who are my employers or who are either in any way related in a hierarchical manner." He released her, standing up and nodding towards the door. "I'm tired and I'd like to get some sleep in this bed if you don't mind, the night is null."
The woman glared at him, pushing herself up off his bed with mumbled insults before slamming his door shut as she went.
"What a bitch." He groaned, pulling the heavy desk chair across the floor and jamming it under the door knob. If they weren't going to supply him with a proper door lock then he would make one himself.
«·´`·.(*·.¸(`·.¸* *¸.·´)¸.·*).·´`·»
The sun was about mid-day on the date they finally docked, six days after their initial departure. Cyn had kept himself hold up in his cabin for most of it, he didn't mind the solitude and he had no interest of running into the Dunmer while confined on the ship. There wasn't gong to be any avoiding him on the ride down to their next destination though.
They had six of them crammed into the wagon and just his luck he was pinned between the Dunmer and the Imperial who was still sour that he'd not allowed her a night ride. A Bosmer he had yet to meet sat across from him and next to his Altmer colleague, his eyes staring down at his dirty hands that looked like they hadn't missed a day working the earth. His face was painted or perhaps tattooed with an elegant design that started at his forehead, trailed down his nose to spill onto his cheeks until finally ending under his chin just above his collar bone. The sun made his dirty copper colored hair shine, cut in a thick strip in the middle of his skull with sides shaved, the trail of hair disappearing back behind his head. It was cut in different lengths to where it rested evenly atop his head to appear as if it would feel fluffy to touch, it made Cyn chuckle to himself at the thought of this Elf and the word fluffy ever meeting in harmony. The rest of his body had crude paint or mud that looked as if it had been applied by multiple hands just dragging across his skin with no real pattern.
His eyes suddenly darted up to the Breton's, Cyn forcing a lopsided and awkward grin at being caught studying the man. The Mer's stare made him feel uncomfortable, more uncomfortable than usual. The almost animal like look to the golden colored iris that stood out against that trademarked Bosmer tinted sclera, where most of the other humanoid races had white; the Bosmer differentiated between brownish, almost leather tint that was mixed with a pink or blood-shot color in some places. His dark brows knitted suddenly and his animal eyes narrowed, as if sensing something within Cyn; it made his skin prickle for an odd reason.
It was like this man had grasped Cyn's darkest secret just by looking at him. Granted, he did have some different features, but not enough that they'd be picked up on and his magic was just placed on him being Breton and played off on him having studied with some of the greatest minds. Few knew the truth, fewer of those knew his Father and even fewer of those were still alive to have anything to say.
"Ah, we have arrived." Lylmen spoke, calming the Bosmer who suddenly took his attention off the Breton and jumped gracefully from the wagon to jog towards what looked like a crude village.
"Cynlius," The Altmer drew the Breton's attention with his full name. "You'll be leading this little party, the Bosmer there will introduce you to the Shaman. Get as much information about the girl as you can from them, but do not let them know that you plan to bring her to me. As far as they are informed you are here on the behalf of the Dominion to provide aid in searching for her to return her to her tribe. That will not be what happens, once you have the girl make your way back to Haven and take ship to Cyrodiil. From there you will meet up with who ever else was not able to keep pace and you all will then take ship from Anvil to Skywatch, someone will meet you to take you inward to the capitol where I will meet you and take possession of the girl and you'll receive the rest or your payment."
"If any issues should arise just continue on with the plan." Viviera added. "We don't leave Anvil until we've all arrived or received word of death."
"Cynlius is to be with the girl at all times, no one else. She is his charge." Lylmen locked eyes with the Breton. "Do you understand? The girl should never leave your side, tie her to you if you must, but you and you alone must be the one to transport her."
"Why only me exactly? It seems like you have quite the capable team here."
"Because you will do the job correctly and your 'circumstance' leaves you almost untouchable to what plagues her."
"Plagues her?" Cyn raised his eyebrow, almost missing where the Altmer all but announced that he knew just what Cynlius was and planned to use it to his own advantage. Not that it would be the first time some fool had thought this way. At least it didn't involve taking his blood or forcing him to impregnate someone again.
"Enough, you will learn in time. We have no more time to speak of this." The Elf's voice was low before he suddenly stood, the others following while leaving only Cyn sitting, confused and a bit flustered.