Fort Sandmoth
16th of Last Seed, 3E 427

All night, lightning flashes, and thunder rolls. In his prison barracks in Fort Sandmoth, Francios Macile cannot sleep. In his mind, he replays the injustices done to him, the cruelty of those he once considered friends, the treachery of the woman he was betrothed to marry. Arrested and convicted in a sham trial, he has been brought here, to this gods-forsaken prison off the coast of Vvardenfell. He spends his days working in the fort’s saltrice field that occupies the fort's central courtyard. His nights are spent locked in this tiny cell, with a thick steel door and a small, barred window looking out on the Inner Sea.

Tonight, as lightning streaks across the sky, a small boat passes driven by the storm, headed for the Vvardenfell landmass.

The next morning, after a breakfast of watered down saltrice porridge and crusty wickwheat bread, a guard arrives as usual to escort Macile to his day's work. First, Macile’s arms are manacled. However, instead of leading the prisoner out toward the courtyard, the guard escorts Macile to an unfamiliar wing of the prison.

Arriving at an oak door, the guard knocks twice on the door, and a voice inside says, "Come!”

Entering, the guard leads Macile into a small office. Behind a large mahogany desk sits a short Bosmer wearing Legion Dragonscale armor. Francois recognizes the Wood Elf as Captain Allimir, Knight Bachelor of the Imperial Legion and commander of Fort Sandmoth.

“Thank you. You may go, Trooper Essagan.” The trooper salutes and exits the room, leaving Francois alone with the commander.

To the prisoner, the Bosmer says, “Francois Macile. Have a seat.” His voice is high-pitched, contrasting with his brilliantly polished mail. Allimir gestures to a chair in front of his desk.  “I wonder if you might help me. I have a proposition for you which could benefit us both.”

OOC: Welcome, Francois Macile!

This thread is only for Francois.

I took some liberties with your background. Please let me know if I went too far.

You are currently being held a prisoner at Fort Sandmoth, an Imperial fort off the southwestern coast of the island of Vvardenfell. You have been held here as a prisoner for six months. In general, the guards are civil and respectful of your Rank and Status. As you are unfamiliar with agricultural labor, the work is hard, but not exhausting. The prisoner population is small, perhaps two dozen others. The guards and staff are members of the Imperial Legion.

The prison itself is on a small island and is generally only accessible by boat.

For reference only:


This message was last edited by the GM at 03:51, Sat 20 Aug 2022.

Rage.

It's been my lifeline these past six months.  The only thing that’s given me the strength to rise every morning and shuffle off to the fields.  The only thing that keeps me from choking the snot out of the guards who call me ‘Commander’ in mock respect of my former status.  I, the golden child, the youngest squire in Daggerfall to ever command his own Battalion.  I, once betrothed to the daughter of Marquis d’Vos –  his beautiful Lady Evanine.  I, privileged, financially comfortable, and destined for greatness, who now spends his days wallowing knee-deep in the slimy fens like a peasant, yanking saltrice hour-after-back-breaking hour.

But I’m still here because of Rage.  It’s all I have left.  The only thing that keeps me from slitting my wrists with the shard of broken crockery I’ve got hidden in the dirty straw that is my bed.

O what a fool I was to actually believe she loved me!  To fall for her flattery.  To feel so… important every time her Father sent for me and breathed brandy-stinking lies into my ear. And so, like a fool I believed them and did their bidding.  Committed treason.  Betrayed my Order.  And, worst of all – failed my Men.

But Rage is getting me through this.  No matter how hard it gets or how long it takes.  It's going to get me out of this place. Send me home. It’s going to make me right the wrongs they duped me into committing.  It's going to seat me at their table to feast on Revenge, the sweetest morsel to the mouth that ever was cooked in Hell!”

     *     *     *     *

But Rage’s plans got foiled this morning by an unexpected change in schedule…

Trooper Essagan woke me up half an hour earlier than usual and handed me a bucket of soapy water, a towel, and a freshly-laundered tunic. I was not shackled. I ate breakfast alone and the serving was generous.  When I turned for the exit to the courtyard which leads to the fields, Essagan touched my arm and redirected me with a flick of his chin to the long hall that leads to a wing of the fort I've never ventured before. I wondered if it led to the gallows.

It didn't.

It led me here, to this chair in which I sit, like a welcome guest, opposite none other than HighElf, Allilmir Bosmer, Knight Bachelor of the Imperial Legion and Commander of Fort Sandmoth.

“A proposition?”  I ask.

I pretend to think about it for a moment, nodding my head as though weighing the options:  Do I agree to hear out his proposal, whatever it may be?  Or, do I, instead, decline politely and head out the door for another day’s slave labor in the swamps. For the rest. Of my life.

Hmmm….   Tough choice.

“Commander Bosmer.”  I reply perkily.  “As much as it grieves me to abandon my duties caring for the crops of which I’ve been charged – for a Man of your esteemed station I would be most honored to assist you in any way I can, Sir!  And I need no more benefit from your proposal than the joy and privilege of helping you."

OOC: I couldn’t resist posting anymore, so here I am! If I mention any term, location, name, cultural thing, or whatever, that clashes with your vision of the Morrowind setting (of which I am completely ignorant), you don’t even need to run it by me, just replace it with your own edit and I'm perfectly fine with that.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:28, Mon 22 Aug 2022.

When Francois calls Fort Sandmoth's commander Bosmer, the Knight frowns and looks at Francois suspiciously. "There's no need for incivility, Breton." Allimir's voice takes on a frosty tone.

He leans forward in his chair and steeples his fingertips for a moment. Then, he says, "Very well. I hoped you would agree."

"A fortnight ago, my men were digging a new cellar for the fort's kitchen when they broke through to what seems to be the remnants of a previous ruin here on the island. I believe the Dunmer had constructed a fort here in the days before the Empire came to Morrowind. I sent a couple of my men to investigate it, but they did not return."

He frowns for a moment and adjusts himself in his chair. "I am familiar with your background, Macile. You are a competent man, I know, whatever you may have done in the past. If you will explore what lies beneath Fort Sandmoth and uncover what has happened to my men, it is in my power to release you for time served."

"I cannot arm and armor you, of course, but I can give you help. Essagan will accompany you, and I will draft another prisoner as well."

"What say you?"

OOC: Bosmer = Wood Elf, so calling him Commander Bosmer is similar to calling him Commander Wood Elf. =P

Regarding surnames, some races do give their surnames, and others do not. With some exceptions, Bosmer do not have family names. Altmer do, but they are so lengthy that they usually do not give them. An example Altmer full name is Rumilion 'len Inecil Culanarin Salolinwe 'ata Piryaden-Itelnoril Hilnore Firlamil 'cal Ternerben-Nivulirel. Quite a mouthful! (The Altmer family name is basically a genealogy.)

Just to add some randomness, please roll on this table for the other prisoner's race: http://www.imgur.com/c6jenyE.png

I’m not typically one to get embarrassed, but when I see the reaction Allimir makes to my faux paus I feel the blood rush to my cheeks.

“Apologies, Commander.” I say sincerely, rising from my chair and offering him a short bow. “I hold the Bosmer people in high regard and meant it as a compliment, even if it did not come out that way.”

I listen to him describe the mission.

I'm to investigate some old cellar hole beneath the Fort to learn what became of his missing men.  A recon mission … a search and rescue if the poor sods are still alive; and if not, maybe a search and destroy of whatever's down there that's causing all this mischief.  Seems simple enough.  But even if it is not, the incentive Allimir dangles in front of my face makes my heart leap.  Early release from this shithole?!

He had me at ‘hello’...

“Commander, for a reduced sentence, I’d quite frankly tackle a dungeon full of Bonewalkers for you, Sir!” I say with a grin.

I exchange glances with Essagan, when I learn he'll be coming with me, wondering how reliable he will be.  I wonder which prisoner will be recruited for the job, too…

OOC: Sorry for the delay. Juggling a big event I have to put on for work plus trying to keep up with the ferocious posting of Tomb.  At any rate, I tried to use the link you gave me for the random race generator but it didn’t work, so I went online and found a different site that generated “Ilead Treium. Race Imperial. Chaotic Good. Handicap Hydrophobia, Narrow Minded, Condition “Werewolf!”  Not sure if you want to use this one as the other prisoner or choose another.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:28, Sun 28 Aug 2022.

Francois Macile's apology seems to mollify the commander, who nods his head. "Fair enough. For your sake and Essagan's, I hope you don't run into a pack of Bonewalkers. The Dunmer may claim they abhor necromancy, but their tomb guardians seem to indicate otherwise. Good luck, and may the Nine guide you."

* * *

Essagan leads Macile and another prisoner, Ilead Treium, through the keep and into a half-completed cellar off a back corridor in the fort. Like Essagan, Ilead is an Imperial. However, Ilead is short and stumpy and seems to lack the natural charisma most Imperials are blessed with. When spoken to, he mumbles short, barely comprehensible responses, and a number of his teeth are missing. However, Francois can see that Ilead is a powerfully built man. The other prisoner carries a smoky torch and is dressed in an ill-fitting, shabby prison uniform.

"The ruins they found are through here," Essagan says. He is dressed as most of the Imperial troopers are in the fort, with an Imperial leather cuirass; chain coif, greaves, and gauntlets; and steel helm and boots. He wears a longsword at his side. "After the diggers broke through, we erected this makeshift barrier just in case. Here, give me a hand." With Francois's help, Essagan moves aside a collection of construction scaffolding to allow the three to pass. Once they are on the other side, he pulls it back in place. "Just in case."

Francois finds himself in what seems to be a long-abandoned storeroom. The room seems relatively dry and is filled with crates and barrels. Francois's nose wrinkles at the smell of rotten food. By the torch's flickering, Francois can see a door at the other end of the room.

OOC: I rolled for you versus Savoir-Faire, and Allimir seems willing to overlook the faux-pas.

The Nine refer to the Nine Divines, the faith of many in the Empire.

You know, I've had problems with links in another game, too. Sorry about that, but nice job on finding an alternate site. Intriguing results.