Rumble In The Jungle (IC, SignUp only)

[Rohane Alista]

A hidden building, deep in the Arasdal Jungle, 7:13 hours

“Cardinal Walsh,” a man in a disheveled, vaguely military, uniform spoke, enunciating his words with clear care. “I have a question for you, or more of a request, Your Holiness,” the man finished, bowing slightly.

“Ah, yes, Colonel Moore. What could you possibly need me for, valiant son?” The Cardinal answered powerfully despite his advancing age. The bald spots were now more common than his hair, connecting to each other to form less spots and more general baldness, and liver spots had begun to show up. Creases ran from his eyes and the corners of his mouth, looking like tree roots growing on his face.

“Well, Your Holiness,” the disheveled young colonel responded, running his hand through his brown hair and giving the Cardinal a tired glance with his sunken eyes. “We’ve discovered that the blasphemers are moving a fairly lightly protected shipment of heavy weaponry to one of their mining camps- protection against us and the bear panthers, we think- and we’re going to strike the shipment. We were hoping you could bless the soldiers and the mission before we departed?”

“Of course, son,” Walsh replied, gathering his robes and following the Colonel. “It would be wrong of me not to bless such an important mission in the of Oromias, of course.”

Arasdal Jungle, Route 113, 14:25 Hours

“I don’t like this, sir. We shouldn’t be out here without heavier protection,” the private manning the machine gun turret of the jeep nervously said. “I mean, crazy religious extremists would be bad enough, but with bear panthers as well, I just don’t like it.”

“Quiet son,” the commander of the column spoke to the private. “We’re transporting sensitive things, we can’t draw attention. And even if we could, there’s no way they’d send any large groups out here to get slaughtered. Smaller groups move better in the jungle, you know that.”

Elsewhere in the column, silence reigned. These were experienced soldiers for the most part, but travelling deep in the jungle with only three squads and their jeeps to protect another three trucks made everyone nervous. Most had never seen a bear panther, but they’d all heard of them, and there wouldn’t be much they could do if they ran afoul of a pack. They didn’t think the extremists were stupid enough to move through the jungle, at least, but that still didn’t give much solace.

It proved even less solace when one of the soldiers shouted across the column without warning. “Shooters in the tre-!” was all he got out before a bullet whipped through his head, introducing his brain to his seat. The Rohanian squaddies scrambled to defend themselves, but three more had fallen to the ground before they could fire back.

“Keep calm!” the column commander shouted, shooting at a quick glint in the underbrush and getting a satisfying scream in response. “There can’t be that many of them!” He continued, as the rearmost jeep flipped over in a ball of fire. “Watch out for explosives,” he attempted to shout, but found himself flying backwards into the trees on the other side of the road instead. His vision was blurry, but he could tell enough to see an RPG had apparently gotten his jeep. He figured he was fortunate to be alive until he saw rebels in stolen equipment crawl out of the jungle and began to pick through the wreckage. One in particular seemed to notice him, a tired looking man with bags under his eyes, and approached.

“I would say I’m sorry,” the man spoke in a cold voice, “but I am not. Blasphemers and heathens do not deserve to live, much less rule. You can take your heretical atheist ways to the hells with you, cretin.” At that, the man rose his hand and shot the commander in the head, killing him. “Loot everything you can, boys! The had weapons, and possibly food! Everything helps!”

A hidden building, deep in the Arasdal Jungle, 23:19 hours

“Cardinal Walsh,” Colonel Moore began reminiscent of earlier that same day, “We found an artifact in one of the trucks they were using to transport things. It looked like objects for experiments, but this was out of place, and seemed special. You should see it.”

“What was it you found, though, my son?” the Cardinal asked the Colonel, yawning as he got up and looked for his robes and shoes. “It must be amazing if you woke me in the middle of the night to investigate it.”

“Yes, Your Holiness, it is. You see, we found a saddle… none on the strike team were qualified to analyze it, of course, but it looked so strikingly like the Supple Saddle from the great tapestry we could not believe it to be a coincidence!” the military man whispered excitedly, eagerly waiting for the elder to get ready.

“If you are correct son, it would be a clear sign that it is time to overthrow these atheists and restore Rohane to its proper religious roots! Lead the way, so I may examine this portent! And contact Mister Patterson in Calihain… it may be time to call in the favors the black market owes us.”

[Dyste]

Dystan Embassy, Calihain

Myrah Shadux had resided in Rohane Alista for a few months now. After the looks the ambassador and her husband had gotten from the locals had subsided, she had found the Rohanians quite pleasant to be around; unlike most humans, they seemed to cast away those uncomfortable garments many of their kind seemed fixed on. Certainly there was nothing wrong with showing the world your natural self. They also were quite friendly with her home country of Dyste, offering many things in exchange for their own knowledge. It was because of this that when she had heard of the rebels, she had asked Dyste to send whatever aid they could.

The ambassador and her husband were relaxing in their pool with some locals; on certain days, the Draconid couple offered access to some of the humans who were willing to spend time with them, allowing them some relaxation in exchange to teaching them about their culture. They were joined by some of the kobold staff, who were there less for the company or history lessons and more for the chance to practice their swimming.

"I hope I have not come at a bad time, Lady Ambassador," A hulking Draconid with brown scales had arrived by the edge. He carried a massive warhammer, its head the size of an adult human. He wore a forest green cloak upon his back.

"Ah, Sir Riks! Please, just a moment..." The ambassador climbed out of the pool, her purple scales shining in the sunlight. "Hylam can continue the lecture without me." She had gotten used to looking down to see people, so seeing Riks made her feel small. Taking him inside, she sat down, still soaking wet, "I am glad you have come, Sir. Does this mean His Majesty has approved my request?"

The Royal Knight sighed, "Well, about that, Milady... while he understands the plight this nation is going through, you do know that the Royal Knights are primarily focused on defending our land, correct?"

"Yes, but it is not like I am asking you to go out and fight the rebels directly. I would just like some extra defense for the major cities. It is the duty of a knight to protect the people, is it not?" Myrah had grown rather fond of the Rohanians, and what she did know of the rebels would not be desirable for relations with Dyste.

"I see... after speaking with the local government, Lord Tyroth did grant your request, so my platoon will be patrolling the major cities, and some of the towns if we are able. We shall offers defense and medical aid, but we will not be the aggressors here. Is that acceptable, Milady?"

Myrah nodded, "Yes, I have spoken with the government myself on the matter. Just... please be careful, Sir Riks." As the Royal Knight left to speak to his troops, she returned outside. From what she had seen of the Rohanians, she could still hardly believe there could be people who felt the way the rebels have, but she did not have that much experience with humans after all...

[Shrillland]

House of the Glaciers
New Maxia

Winter had come to New Maxia, the mists surrounding the island now covered with snow. Rarity, the President of the Shrill Federation, had been looking forward to a few final quiet days to fill out her final term. Yet, the news out of Rohane Alista had been unsettling. The Daristians, who had been a minor irritation, seemed to be in the rise with more activity. Some news had arrived that they had started attacking convoys in the Arasdal Jungle, though the gravity of the situation was not yet apparent.

After reading the latest dispatch from Rohane Alista, she summoned her cabinet to discuss possible actions to take. Now, they were all sitting around a large rectangular table in the Presidential home.

All save one.

Her foreign secretary, Orange Blossom, was still in the nation of Menelmacar awaiting a debate among those who wished to succeed her. In his normal chair, a monitor was set up ready to go up when she gave the word.

"All right, Tom. Turn it on."

Orange Blossom's face suddenly appeared on the screen, looking serious as ever,

"I've read the dispatch you gave me," he said. "What's the situation?"

Rarity looked around the table and said, "Right, everypony. As some of you know by now, the situation in Rohane Alista is recently worsened. Those pesky Daristians have started attacking army convoys according to the latest dispatches we've gotten from there, and they're going after weapons. Now, I'm not completely convinced that we need to go in there for any reason...buuuuuut, I want a plan ready just in case. Here's what I'm proposing!"

She then used her magic to put a large folder down on the table. "I think what we need to do is send a force totaling about 2,500 special ops to the country in event of a worsening situation, complete with four Borealis-class Missile Cruisers led by the Borealis herself."

Since Orage knew where everyone sat, it was easy for him to cast a glance towards Mailed Hoof, the Defence Secretary. They both rolled their eyes at Rarity's somewhat excessive suggestion. "Um, Madam President," Mailed said. :What you're proposing is a little much. With 2,500 special operations troops, we could basically bring Rohane to its knees, but that wouldn't help us. Moreover, this is over four-fifths of our total special operations roster."

"I'm sorry, Rarity, but Mailed's right." Orange Blossom added, "This isn't an all-out war that we would need to launch, just a few teams would be required to assist the Government forces out. 2,500 and four ships of any class are way too much."

At that, Rarity actually laughed. "Oh, you two! I don't actually intend to send them all into the jungle, that would be too much! In actuality, only three or four teams totaling 70 troops at the most would actually land. The rest are mostly for show, unless the situation gets so severe that we would actually need to bring the nation down, and that would only happen if these faanatics actually got in charge. I don't think they would, but after our own little adventure, I wouldn't subject that to anypony. I'd rather wear white after the Running of the Leaves! Besides, it's time we got back onto the world stage, and this is the perfect way to do it. So, what say you?"

"I'd like to reserve some changes to the plan if they're needed. But I will support it as long as it isn't excessive." Orange said.

"As will I." Mailed Hoof added.

And all the cabinet agreed to this tentative plan, subject to any changes that might be needed.

[Allanea]

“I’m not clear on the logic.” - said Thompson. - “Aren’t these the lovely people that have backed up Edolia in the recent crisis? We’ve come this close to having the Sixth Edolian War happen, people. That’s just not sensible.”

The aide shrugged. “That’s all true, but you must consider how totally batshit crazy those rebels are.”

“Alright, I’m not saying help the rebels, but why can’t we just let Rohane Alista rot? What would we be gaining from this story?”

“For one, we’re going to be hopefully stopping some crazy religious fundamentalists from gaining a supply of hi-tech weaponry,” - the aide listed off - “And hopefully we’ll also try and gain the friendship of Rohane Alista, which would of course weaken the Ancestral Enemy.”

“Hm. Crafty. I like this. Is this from the Queen?”

“No, from the King.”

“Heh. I thought he was ill?” - laughed Thompson, at a joke that only he could understand.

“I don’t know anything, Sir.”

“No. No you don’t. Let’s think of this. I think we should send a team... seventy people should be enough, just enough to fill a C-53. Inquire with the Alistans. See if they will accept help from us.”

[Malgrave]

Government Sector - Epping

In response to the growing threat posed against the capital by anti-government forces the Magnus Administration had ordered the construction of a fortified bunker under the Prime Minister's residence in order to conduct cabinet or crisis meetings when the time required regardless of the threat level in the capital. Sine that date more additions to the original bunker had been made with senior positions like the Defence and State Security Ministries receiving their own fortifications alongside connections to the central meeting point under the PM's residence.

Since that date the fortifications had received extensive usage with the threat of anti-government forces and the establishment of international allies and aggressive state actors it seemed to some that the fortification was almost in constant use and looking at the walls Prime Minister Rachel Berry could sense the emotional baggage that came with that history, a strange mixture of triumph, sadness and fear that seemed to ebb and flow around every corner and at this moment looking around at the faces of her colleagues she suspected that this would be another addition to the sea of emotions.

"We have tapped every intelligence source both inside the ground and outside in the wider international community and despite the courageous efforts of the Special investigative Service we have been able to provide reliable intelligence on the whereabouts of the Queen, may the ancestors save her soul. I am afraid past the information gathered from a one Amelia Lowwe, a scientist who escaped from the hands of these slavers we know next to nothing on these foreigners apart from what songs they prefer" Michael remarked collapsing to his seat in a state of emotional exhaustion.

The Prime Minister and others in the room gave reassuring gestures to Michael each muttering their own message to the ancestors before they returned to a more professional stance.

"I was also informed that our political allies in Rohane Alista are having a bit of difficulty with an extremist religious group of sorts. What can you tell me about the situation in the country?" Rachel said hoping to distract the cabinet with some foreign affairs.

"As you are aware by now Rohane Alista has been struggling with a group of religious extremists that wish to topple the current atheist Pro-Epping regime and replacement it with their own authoritarian and frankly fascist dictatorship" Michael said the very mentioning of the fascist system causing several disgusted and angry looks to appear in the room. "We have an established SiS presence in the region and I was able to confirm that activity has rapidly increased in recent weeks with some of my sources suggesting that the government is under possible threat. Of course I shall now allow Thomas to speak on the issue of diplomatic affairs but I must add that additional intelligence information is available in your dossiers.

Thomas shock the hand of his colleague before standing, a rare gesture of friendship between the two Ministers who often butted heads over approaches to situations like this.

"I've informed the Alistan government that we are aware of the developing situation in the country and are paying particular attention to it. Alan and myself have also developed a plan to send a mixed force of around 100-200 troops that shall comprise of Royal Marines, TDF troopers and specialised jungle infantry alongside the typical mixture of undisclosed SiS agents that will work inside this force and outside of it either as sympathisers, tourists and loyal government agents should the need arise. It just needs your authorisation"

"I assume this operation has the necessary technological support in the form of intelligence satellites and drones? I'm also supportive of holding additional troops in case these religious fascists get support from the international community." Rachel said

"We're cooperating fully with the Ministry of Science and Engineering in order to get full coverage of the area and if needed we can always borrow certain foreign satellites for these tasks." Thomas said nodding to the holographic image of Claudia in the background, the Science Minister currently away on governmental business.

"You have permission to launch the operation. I want constant updates on the situation as it unfolds including any information on future casualties." Rachel said leaving the room with the Deputy Prime Minister and her aides.

[Alduinium]

As the small schooner pulled into the docks of Erestill, a minor fishing town in the southeast, a man in a dark suit and sunglasses stepped out of the pilots house. As he headed off the boat, he knocked on the door to the basement, alerting the guests that they would soon need to leave the ship.

“Pull up the hoods, we don’t want to stand out,” the man said, stepping into another room and going nude so as to blend in with the local population. “And don’t forget your Tourist cards, or else we’ll run into unneeded problems.”

Fonadas Devadran was, for lack of better terms, an old bitter man. His long, grey hair helped to show this, his surprisingly smooth, if slightly wrinkled, face hid this. Either way, he was ancient by Human standards, 137 human years, and yet he looked as if he’d just turned 40.

“If we run into unneeded problems then I shall solve them.” Fonadas said with a grimace, his red, piercing eyes staring at the man. In his hand was a Makarov PM, perhaps stolen from an Alduinic soldier, which he seemingly examined, before putting it down on a table. He and the other Dunmer with him, all of varying age and appearance, red eyes, grey or dark blue hair, and greyish or blueish skin being the one common thing between them all.

It took them a short amount of time to get ready, most of them simply preparing their robes or cards. “We’re ready, I take it you’re revolution is coming soon?” Fonadas asked again, his followers behind him. Their robes were all drab brown, doing a good enough job of covering them up from head to toe.

“If there are problems, I shall handle them. You shall do nothing whatsoever, you understand? And of course, we have recently received word. The… allies we have in the Arasdal province have recently recovered an item of their deity from a convoy, so they are eager to begin. Here, into the vehicle.” The man indicated at a grey SUV as he got into the passenger seat. “Luckily, this far out, there are many roads without the rails. We should be able to go where we need easily.”

Fonadas shrugged at the man’s initial response, before growing interested in the apparent item. Truth be told, none of the dunmer particularly cared about the deity or the rebels themselves, being far more interested in the possibility of simply getting rid of the accursed World Eater that dared claim to rule over their lands. They all got in the SUV’s, staying quiet as they got in, and deciding to stay quiet for the trip that would ensue as well.

Getting in the drivers seat, the black market member took their vehicle out of the small town, turning off almost 40 miles away and heading through a small wooded path. He pressed a button on his steering wheel, and suddenly a tunnel rose up in front of the vehicle. Driving within, the Dunmer were taken to the tunnels, also called the Underroads, an ancient system of thousands of tunnels stretching underneath the entirety of Rohane Alista, allowing one to move unseen across nearly the entire nation.

"Hold on," he spoke to the back, "this post gets a little rough." As he finished spreading, he punched the accelerator, throwing the vehicle and is occupants forward at full speed, and suddenly taking curves and narrow bridges, some of which collapsed as soon as the vehicle had finished passing over them.

“Well, looks like we won’t be going back then.” Fonadas replied dryly as he saw some bridges collapse, seemingly unaffected by the speed of the vehicle. The other Dunmer stood quiet, or talked amongst each other in an alien tongue. “So, these under roads give you access to the entirety of the country?” Fonadas asked the driver of the vehicle.

“We could go back easily, they’re not permanently collapsed. Mostly, yes,” the driver replied, not bothering to spare even a cursory glance at his passengers. “but some of it is impossible to reach. We can’t get right underneath the Capitol Building or Imperial House, for example, though we suspect both must have a tunnel network similar to ours. Maybe one day, who knows.”

“I see.” Fonadas simply replied, mildly impressed by the tunnel work. As he had predicted, they had their limits, but it was impressive nonetheless. Afterwards, he simply waited for them to finally arrive at their destination, not planning on saying much unless something interested him.

The car zoomed along through the tight tunnels underneath the country, eventually coming to a stop in a small, poorly lit cavern. Though there were no proper parking spaces, there was a flight of stairs leading up to a heavy metal door. The driver silently got out, turning off the vehicle, and walked to the door. He unlocked it, then ushered the elves inside, bringing them into a white tunnel that seemed to stretch for miles. “Welcome,” the driver said as he entered behind them, “To one of many entrances to the Black Market. IT is almost certain you will not be leaving this same way.”

“Impressive, reminds me of the tales we’ve heard of Blackreach.” Fonadas said, as his Dunmer began to speak amongst each other. It was all in their alien tongue, mostly talks of events back at home, or of what exactly awaited them at the Black Market once they reached it. “So, what is this item your. . . allies, have found, anyways?” Fonadas asked, feigning interest in the item. He highly doubted it was anything more than a relic, but as many tales and personal experiences back in Morrowind taught him, relics could be very dangerous tools, especially ones made by deities.

“To be honest, they will not be very clear about it. What our spies have discovered is that it appears to be a saddle of some kind. Legends that we’ve tracked down say it’s probably some kind of artifact of their highest God. We have not a clue what it does, but magic is… well, magic is so ridiculously uncommon in Rohane the government officially denied it existed until we suddenly found the entire nation in Mystria. Supposedly they’re running some experiments to track down where it came from, which means we may be fighting magical people as well eventually.”
“Interesting. . .” Fonadas seemingly murmured to himself, still curious about the artifact. Magic was far less prevalent here than back in Morrowind it seemed, something of an oddity to the Dunmer. Back home almost anyone took even the most basic things like healing potions and spells for granted, with wizards even being capable of levitating or teleporting from one part of Morrowind to another. Perhaps the artifact was truly an item worthy of the gods, perhaps it was simply a trinket, who knew.

The Dunmer were led through winding underground tunnels, occasionally splitting off into side tunnels. Through low light they suddenly emerged into a well lit chamber, circular in size, with a walkway with only one hand rail across a large chasm. “Watch your step,” the driver cautioned, swiftly walking across the walkway. “This used to be some kind of mine, we think, but it has been roofed over for so long most have forgotten it existed. We’re almost to the meeting point, by the way.”

They continued to walk through the tunnels, the chamber seemingly eliciting no responses from them as they walked across the walkway. They continued to mostly listen to what the driver had to say, with only Fonadas adding the occasional comment, though it seemed as if a sense of relief passed over them once they were told they were almost there. They would continue to walk with little fanfare until they reached their destination, wherever that happened to lie.

The driver opened a door, ushered them in, then shut it behind them. The Dunmer found themselves in a dark room, with the barest minimum of light illuminating them alone. Several chairs, all metal and plush, were arrayed in the center of the room.

“Sit,” a voice called out of the darkness. “State your intentions here.”

The Dunmer all sat down, a few showing signs of confusion or irritation once the voice called out. “We’re here to help.” Fonadas answered calmly, trying to hid his own personal annoyance with the voice. Of course they were there to help, why else would he and his group bother coming to Rohane? Then again, Fonadas knew that he probably wouldn’t trust himself, making the voice’s purpose seem more logical as a result.

“What kind of help do you offer? What do you want in return? What about our situation caught your attention? These are things we need to know,” the voice stated calmly. “We can not, after all, just blindly trust those we do not know.”

“Simple, you need some spies, need someone dead, need some extra firepower, we can provide those things.”

“But you have still failed to say what, exactly, you expect in return for your… assistance,” a voice on the left side of the chamber stated with a drawl so heavy the man might be half sleeping. “Or how you came to know about us in the first place. We are rather… secretive, after all.”
“What I expect in return is some assistance, coincidentally.” Fonadas began once more, a minor sense of irritation clear in his voice. “And I know about a lot of things, that was quite impressive, by the by, stealing the artifact from the military, certainly your hold on the jungles is much greater than I anticipated.” Fonadas did have his way of learning things around the world, he would never reveal it, especially not to such a group.

“Regardless of how you learned of something we have only recently heard of,” the first voice to speak rang out, “we do need all the alliances we can get. We can certainly supply you in the future with weapons, medicine, illegal products, and possibly even soldiers. But know that if you cross us,” the voice continued, taking on a tone full of the darkness in which it sat, the voice of a man who had killed many before and would not hesitate do so again, “it will end poorly for you.” The person concluded with this statement, the voice that clearly portrayed it would not have difficulty in killing when needed echoing softly in the chamber. Not once had the volume raised or the voice been amplified; the deadly power it wielded was natural, and obvious.

Fonadas showed signs of having seen it all as he heard the ominous warning, clearly undisturbed by the thought of dealing with people who didn’t like to be stabbed in the back. “I won’t cross you, I have no reason to after all.”

A half truth, though Fonadas did see that crossing them as of the moment would amount to little, obviously enough. “Now then, are my services needed as of the moment?”

“Not immediately. But soon, I am sure, we will have use of them. The jungle is heating up, and already allies have begun moving in the government's defense, expecting, it seems, something large. We hope to give them something more than even they expect, however,” one of the voices rang out, this one a woman’s, smooth and soft, the kind you might expect from a school teacher, but not in a room such as this.

“I see.” was all Fonadas responded with. He was not entirely surprised to hear such a voice, after all, he knew well that sometimes the least assuming people were the ones who were major members of any ‘rebel’ force. It was quite amusing, really, everyone always focused on the leaders, the ones who always appeared on camera with a rifle in one hand and a declaration of war on the other. And yet nobody paid attention to the young, unassuming child relaying information between one cell and another, or the librarian who makes IED’s in her spare time, yet would never look like the kind to kill several soldiers patrolling the streets. The way the woman spoke about surprises led Fonadas to assume that there were plenty more unassuming folk to go along with whatever artifacts they held in their possession.

“We have set up rooms for you. You will be guided to them. We will let you know when we need you, or if we need to speak further. You will be safe here, and your rooms your own for the duration of your stay. Good day, Gentlemen, ladies.” The first voice rung out again, before there was the sound of closing doors on the dark podium above.

[Alduinium]

All it had taken was a few pictures to confirm the Ministry’s suspicions, it seemed. a few scant traces of one of their most wanted, and they were fully willing to support a nation they had otherwise little real care for. And of course, what better way to show support than to bring out the supposed best Alduinium had to offer.

That was, of course, what one of Alduinium’s many TARO teams was led to believe, that it was indeed part of the greatest special forces force in Alduinium. The validity of such a statement was perhaps questionable, but as far as they and the public eye were concerned, when the worst comes to worst, they’re there to start fixing and breaking things that need one or the other.

“Alright, Ladies and gentlemen, our task in this operation is simple.” An old Nordic man spoke, clearly older than the norm, but not yet completely gray. “We’re going to support the Rohanians with dealing with mister most wanted in Alduinium, as well as the rebels he’s helping out.” He continued, a machismo in his voice. Around him stood three other TARO Troopers, each dressed rather casually, not unsurprising given their role and lack of things to shoot at for the moment “At the same time, we’re going to babysit an Internal Affairs spook around and make sure they don’t get themselves killed somehow, do I make myself clear Troopers?” He triumphantly ended his little spiel, earning three “Yes Sir’s” shortly after.

“Alright, get your shit ready boys and girls, cause we’re heading out in five, if you ain’t ready by then, then this boot’s going to go up your ass so deep that you’ll never appreciate anything else going in there ever again-”

“Ah ah ah, before you leave, Captain.” A sudden voice rung through the room, clearly not belonging to any other member of the team. Before too long, a figure emerged in the center of the room, a young redguard in a simple two piece suit it seemed, quite elegant and formal, and all the while elliciting a quick chuckle from one team member. “I think your team should know a little more about their bounty and his lair.”

“We’re being bossed around by a young girl?” An Argonian, buff and red scaled, looked at her with a small sneer in his eyes and face. “She looks even younger than Mudcrab here does, though at least she looks like a girl.” He continued, earning quite the glare from the Redguard, and a blush from ‘Mudcrab’.

“Ah yes, Corporal Veeger, you are indeed being bossed around by a young girl, one who of course knows much more than you ever will, and is far more valuable than any member of the SOTF combined, if you wish to file a complaint then do so with the Ministry.” The Spook had already established a feeling of arrogance and superiority to her, regardless of deservedness or not. It certainly had a grating effect on the rest of the team, and brought quite the frown to Veeger’s face.

“Now, as I was saying, Fonadas and the rest of his little cult have allied themselves with the Rohanian rebels. Said rebels are little more than religious extremists and social conservatives, or what qualifies for a social conservative in Rohane.” She began, earning a quick shrug from a few members.

“Why a daedra worshipper is assisting them is. . . intriguing, though considering Fonadas’ current record, it’s likely that his assistance is temporary, at least until he fulfills some possible goal of his in Rohane.”

“Any idea on what said goal might be?” Asked yet another member of the team, this time the titular ‘Mudcrab’, a young breton, boyish yet still feminine enough to be distinguishable, asked, earning a scoff from Veegar before her question could be answered.

“That’s what we’re going to Rohane for, Mudcrab, don’t expect the spook to give you an honest question anyways.” Veegar would further reply. ‘Mudcrab’ was a fairly special title, often reserved for the rookies of a TARO team, and generally one met with derision by those who held it. ‘Mudcrab’, in that regard, was at the very least different in the sense that she never gave more than a rather disappointed look at the name, before acknowledging it.

“Veegar is right in the sense that I don’t have an exact answer for you, Private. Either way, do as your captain says, prepare yourselves, ladies and gentlemen, and remember, if you fail at your task, Alduinium has one more problem to deal with, TARO.”