With information gathering in mind, you decide to avoid as much unwanted attention as possible and separate yourself from the levitating young woman with exotic hair. Passing Louise a sack of money, you send her and the zombie off to locate an inn for the night. As the girl floats off over the crowded street, you watch the people stare with open distrust.
Lowering your hood, you lean against your staff and hobble down the road in the direction of the docks. Of course, the distance is immense, so you wind up passing quite a large portion of the city along the way. Feigning weariness, you rest on a low wall across from a group of children and watch them as they work.
Little fingers flow through well practiced motions as they attach tiny bits of metal to curved wooden handles. The octagonal steel tubes slide into chiseled out slots and smooth plates are attached on the outside to protect the delicate mechanisms inside. As each is finished, the object is passed off to one of the older children who pull back the lever on top before clicking it back in place by pulling the trigger. The whole contraption is similar to some crossbows that you've come across, but they appear have replaced the bow portion with another method of launching that you are unable to divine.
After around an hour of memorizing the assembly process, you wave one of the children over to you as the next shift relieves them. The smiling young boy runs over immediately. "Excuse me lad, but what are those things you kids are making?"
"You don't know what a musket is mister?" The boy asks in amazement. You shake your head. "It's like a cannon, but smaller so you can carry it! I saw one of the musketeers shoot one once, it was really loud."
Chuckling indulgently at the annoyingly hyperactive child as he bounced in place, you wonder at the devices before you. Hardly anyone in Tamriel used cannons because of the prevalence of magic, but you do recall that those superstitious Redguards used them on their ships... maybe you should have payed more attention to Tamrielic warfare for more than magical feats, considering your recent course of action, it could have been helpful.
"Why are you children making so many of the contraptions?" You ask, interrupting the boys tale about exploding wildlife.
Uncaring of the potential uses of such information, the boy declares, "A Dragon-knight flew in last yesterday and asked for a bunch of 'em, so papa and his friends got all us kids together to help out. Says we're gonna help win the war or something, but I just like making them because sometimes..." The boy does a poor job of looking around for eavesdroppers. "Sometimes my cousin helps me sneak away to play with the things we make... hopefully we can keep one of these!"
Patting the boy on the head as you stand, you make one last remark and prepare to leave. "Be careful in the forest young man, they say that the capital was cursed by the Founder and now the dead have risen to attack the living."
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Hours of free drinks, courtesy of Londinium's coffers, had bought you a rather large group of listeners. "Did you hear? Londinium was overrun!" You say as you sit in the tavern up the road from the docks. The gathered sailors, dockworkers, and general merrymakers emit various sounds of alarm.
One blonde man a few seats away slams his mug on the counter-top. "Impossible, no army could take the capital before Lord Cromwell's men sent for reinforcements."
"Ah, but what if it weren't no ordinary army that done the sacking?" A leathery old man in soot-stained clothing asks, silencing the crowd as he leans forward over the bar with his singed beard and gazes into the eyes of those within earshot. "The way I hear the men at the smithy tell it, Old Oliver's done fled the coop like the cock he is, orderin' up a hundred new cannons, thousands o' muskets, and as much shot as they can give'm."
Outraged, the blonde shouts, "Come on people, of course they need more cannons, we're at war! Don't listen to these gossiping old men's lies, I'm sure the city's fine and this is nothing more than fanciful rumor-mongering."
"It's true!" Another man yells out from across the room. "My ship was supposed to make port in the capital this morning, but the docks were naught but cinders. The few people we saw in the streets looked rather sickly and the captain had us head here. Next thing we know, some wand waving noble walks up and says we've been conscripted." Staring down into his drink, the man sighs. "Poor ship, been loading up so many guns all day, I doubt she'll float unless we leave her in the river like a bunch dirty fish-folk."
Looking out over the stone masonry that makes up the docks, you watch as burly men load crate after crate onto each ship as they take their turn lowering into the water to be filled with cargo. Dozens of the flying vessels wait there turn above, the majority of the crews having disembarked for the long wait as the port's three docking areas cycle through the impromptu fleet.
"Sounds about right." A voice says from behind the bar, cutting through the murmurs. "Ever since those knights came into town, I've been hearing stories of how the dead walk the streets of Londinium. Mark my words, Lord Brimir has turned his back on the Reconquista, just as they've turned their backs on his descendants."
The following half hour is chaos. Fights breaking out among the more intoxicated patrons, shouting for order from assorted men and women, and two men take to gambling over the fighters. With a cloud of smoke and a thunderous crash, the room falls silent as everyone looks to the sailor from before. In his hand is an even smaller musket-cannon thing than what the children were making. "Enough!" He barks out into the quiet. "Enough. Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't intend to die by no curses. I'm getting out of this country, I suggest you all do the same." True to his word, the man opens the door to leave, followed by several others
"You cowardly traitors!" The blonde roars, before being restrained by those around him.
Turning to the old man from earlier, you ask, "If it's true... could the people use the mines for shelter?"
"Aye, I suppose there'd be enough room, though we'd need to plug the lifts. Got water a plenty seepin' thorough from where the river runs above." The old man says, stroking his beard in thought.
With false concern, you wonder aloud. "Is that safe? What if the roof collapses or the chambers flood?"
Laughing, he replies, "No, no... long as we have those magic stones in the supports, we don't need to worry 'bout that. Food's my concern, only thing to eat down there's Orcs."
Nodding to the man in understanding, you make to leave. "Hopefully it doesn't come to that." You say honestly, after all, you're no bosmer. "I really must be getting back to my granddaughter, take care of yourselves and be careful." You say to everyone as you head out the door. Turning a few streets, you wander into a secluded alleyway and cast Recall.
Appearing in a small room, your entrance startles Louise. Jumping from her seat in front of the alchemy supplies, the young woman launches into a tirade. "Where have you been?! You can't just send a young woman off on her own in a strange city without telling her how to find you. It didn't even cross my mind that you could just flash around like that, do you have any idea how worried I was?" Looking at the clock, she shrieks, "It's almost midnight! I've been up all night ho-w-waiting for you to come back..." Turning away to hide the gathering tears, she whispers, "I thought you abandoned me."
Two steps forward, one step sideways. At least you learned a lot today.
Create a plan of action:
[] Write in.
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A/N: For large scale strategy, do you guys prefer this create a plan type vote or would you prefer suggestions and a write in option? If it isn't obvious, I'm only doing this type of vote for certain situations such as this, day to day outside of warfare is still multi-choice and smaller scale fights are shorter chapter to allow you to have more control and make appropriate use of magicka and other resources.
