18+ New Beginnings

[Rextoret]

Ciel was about to answer Nachael's question, but was interrupted by the arrival of the dwarf from earlier, Gorim. He sat in silence as Gorim, Nachael, and Ferisa conversed. Taking a look around, Ciel spotted the druggie as well. And in a few moments Nike, Adidas, and Avitus arrived as well.

He decided to wait a few minutes, to see if anyone else would show up, before giving his debriefing. He motioned to the innkeep, then ordered himself another glass of wine. Only the finest, of course.

 

[Gentleman Adventurer]

Avitus entered the hotel behind Nike and Adidas, toying with his new dagger as he did. His 'handlers' had seemed fine with him carrying an unsheathed weapon, so they must not have assumed him a threat. He would have been offended, but they were, to be quite honest, right. Until he got a weapon that could cut through armored plating, Avitus would need a miracle to take even one of them in a fight. Not that he'd want to, of course. He was more of a 'blade in the dark' kind of guy. It came with being a thief. And now that he'd conned Nike into buying him an expensive ebony knife, he was equipped with a weapon practically blended with the shadows. Suffice it to say, he'd be able to spring an escape as soon as the group fell asleep. In the meantime, that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy himself. After all, he was living off another person's coin, and the only sensible thing to do was spend as much of it as he could.

Striding across the hotel's polished wooden floor, Avitus headed over to the bar, desperate for a drink. In accordance to Thieves Guild guidelines, he tried to stay away from alcohol when he could. "The bottle can turn even the best of thieves into amateurs," Avitus thought, recalling the words of his Doyen. The man may have been crazy, but he certainly gave good advice. This, however, was not the time to follow it. Avitus ordered a bottle of mead, reconsidered what he was doing, then bought another bottle of mead for good measure.

He turned, searching the room for a place to sit. There were several empty tables, but Avitus passed them by and moved instead towards the table where the Breton man, the group's leader and his current 'employer', sat alone with a glass half-full of wine. Avitus pulled up a chair and took a seat next to the man, giving him a nod of greeting and a weary little smile. He popped the cork off his first bottle of mead and took a sip before speaking.

"So, while you have a moment, I was wondering if we could discuss a possible renegotiation of my current...um...obligations."

 

[Rextoret]

"So, while you have a moment, I was wondering if we could discuss a possible renegotiation of my current...um...obligations."

Ciel turned to the thief. "Renegotiation? That is very doubtful." He took a sip of wine. "Look, you're not being punished for thieving. You're being punished for failing that thievery. At least, in my eye." Ciel set the glass down and turned to Avitus. "I don't know what in Oblivion made you think that stealing from Nike was a good idea. Because it wasn't. Not in that situation." He turned back to the bar. "Maybe at the end of this trip, you'll have better judgement. Now, unless you have something else to talk about, I'd suggest going to a different chair. In a few minutes, I'll address everyone." He sipped his wine, before adding a last statement. "And, if you try to run, I won't hesitate to plunge my blade into your throat. Know that only my goodwill towards fellow thieves saved you. Otherwise, you'd be rotting in the dungeon or dead."

 

[Gentleman Adventurer]

Avitus took another swig from his bottle, grimacing at Ciel's words. "Well, I suppose as long you keep covering the expenses, there's nothing much to worry about." In one swift motion, he reached his spare hand down to his side, retrieved the ebony dagger that he had belted there, and plunged it into the table. "He'll pay for that," He called over to the innkeeper, pointing towards the Breton. He turned to face his, well, if he was going to be blunt, his kidnapper. "Sorry," He said, in a bored tone of voice. "It's just, you know, a hostage has to relieve his stress somehow. You know the feeling, I'm sure." The thief got up from his seat, pulling the dagger free and sheathing it once more.

"See you in a few minutes, you pompous bastard." He snatched his mead from the table, took a longer drink, and walked away.

 

[Ponder]

Lambs and hoggets, the lot of them. And the worst part, thought Adidas, leaning against the wall, the absolute worst part is that they don't even realize it. Watching his new companions drink and converse, the mercenary felt knots of regret tighten in his chest. Not even Ciel, who hired Nike and Adidas for the expedition, seemed to grasp the danger of Ayleid ruins. He was a kid who fancied himself a mercenary; a lamb who fancied himself a ram. And he, like the rest, would end up as mutton.

Nobody was paying Nike or Adidas to go into ruins and bring back mutton.

He wanted to cancel the contract, to shear himself of all responsibility to his employer, but he knew Nike would never allow such dishonor. The pair had been hired in good faith, whatever that meant, and good faith bought unshakable loyalty. Even if he pointed out the likelihood of their companions' imminent deaths, Nike would not abandon them. She would only feel further compelled to stay and protect other lives. So Adidas would stay too, and play his role in the flock, although whether that role was of shepherd, sheepdog, or bellwether, he had no idea.

So, to pass the time, he tried to guess which companion would die first. The half-breed healer and his blushing sister? Not likely. They were inexperienced, but not stupid. The drug-addled archer was a better candidate for early expiration, probably by accidentally following the pink rhinoceros into a trap, and the drunk dwarf wouldn't fare much better. Death by skeleton horde, no doubt.

There was a thunk from Ciel's table, and Adidas grinned. Ah, yes. The boy thief. He was a dead man walking. Adidas had watched him toy with his new blade all the way from the market to the hotel, the boy proving only that he had absolutely no clue how to use a weapon. Now, by brandishing his blade at Ciel, he'd shown not only incompetence, but idiocy as well. The thief had ignored the most basic rule of swordsmanship: any weapon you don't know how to use belongs to your opponent. As Avitus walked away from Ciel, Adidas grabbed him.

"Idiots earn their weapons," he said, pulling the dagger from Avitus' belt. He pushed the thief aside, and approached Ciel. "Debrief them. I have other business." Then, shooting a glance at Nike, Adidas stalked out the door.

 

[Aerin]

Vanya had obediently waited for Nike outside the shop alongside the warrior's...associates. The elven smith wasn't quite sure what to make of the two men, neither looked like she would get along too well with them, and from their glowering expressions she felt the feeling was mutual. Best leave them be in that case. No sense prodding a sleeping wolf, you'll only get bit. That was the phrase wasn't it?

After a spell Nike returned and the group made their way through the districts till they reached a rather nice looking inn. It was far cleaner than any of the places she'd been staying at, that was including the inns she hadn't officially stayed in. She thought she might have enough coin to get a bed here, and it would certainly be worth it. Months of sleeping in doorways and in crates had eventually worn thin on her.

Once they were inside everyone seemed to dissipate into their own groups, leaving Vanya stood in the middle of the entryway. She wondered if the kindly and terrifying warrior woman had actually meant for her to follow, but surely she would have said something if her presence had not been wanted. Sighing to herself Vanya reached for a small vial of healing potion from the leather pouch at her waist and sipped from it carefully. She didn't need much really, and it would be better to spread it out as much as she could. Who knew when she'd next be able to buy some more supplies. Coming to the big city had proven not quite as profitable as she had hoped. Then again this group looked like they had some purpose. Perhaps she'd be able to find some work with them.

With renewed spirit Vanya endeavoured to make herself presentable and useful, slipping to the side to listen in on the numerous conversations happening around her. It looked as though the nicely dressed breton was in charge, perhaps he would be her best bet on getting information, and more importantly, coin. Just as she'd been about to approach thr man however there seemed to be some kind of commotion. The shadowy blob from before having just sunk his lovely new dagger into a table. Vanya tsked and shook her head in silent disapproval. Such a beautiful blade should never be mistreated like that. If that was to be the kind of attitude these people showed their weapons and armour, then her services would definitely be of use it would seem.

Cringing away from the imposing nord who strode past Vanya quickly took the opportunity to approach the nicely dressed man with the wine.

"Beg your pardon sir," It always did you well to speak nicely to the young ones her father had always said. They don't understand our ways and it scares them a bit, so you have to be extra nice, especially to the taller ones. They don't like it when you talk down to them, they find it odd and rather disconcerting.

"So sorry to interrupt you, but I was brought along by the warrior with the pretty eyes, Nike I believe her name was. I don't know if you're planning some kind of trip, or if this is all just a friendly gathering, but I was hoping I might be of use to you. You see, if you are planning a trip, especially a long one, then you might need me. I'm a smith you see, I'm good at mending things. I know I'm presuming but I'm in a bit of a bind money wise and I'm really just hoping to get any work I can you see, surely you understand." Vanya paused, well aware she was probably crossing some confusing social boundaries the young ones likes to impose. If Y'ffre was looking down and feeling benevolent, perhaps this breton would be kind enough to offer her a job, and then she could finally leave this awful, awful city. She missed the grass and sky and trees, and the rank stench of brine and piss was too much for her to bear any longer.

 

[Rextoret]

Ciel watched with boredom as Avitus did his little 'performance'. Ciel was not impressed. The boy was lucky that he didn't get angry easily, lest the blade would be out of the wood and into his throat. He slowly watched as Avitus walked away, proudly, it would seem.

That was, until Adidas pulled the dagger from his belt on his way towards Ciel. "Debrief them. I have other business." Ciel nodded. "Gladly", he said, as Adidas left the building.

"Beg your pardon sir. So sorry to interrupt you, but I was brought along by the warrior with the pretty eyes, Nike I believe her name was. I don't know if you're planning some kind of trip, or if this is all just a friendly gathering, but I was hoping I might be of use to you. You see, if you are planning a trip, especially a long one, then you might need me. I'm a smith you see, I'm good at mending things. I know I'm presuming but I'm in a bit of a bind money wise and I'm really just hoping to get any work I can you see, surely you understand."

She seemed odd to Ciel, mostly because of her manner of speech. He wasn't used to hearing one speak with such elegance, or at least feigned elegance.

"A smith? Yes, we might have use of your skills. I won't lie to you, this adventure will likely be dangerous. Of course, you'll be paid well for your services. I'm Ciel by the way, although we should speak later." He sipped his wine. "Take a seat. I'm about to address everyone." He left her to do that while he stood up.

"Now, I'm going to quickly review our mission. Listen up well, because I'll only say this once. Our first objective is to recover a small Ayleid artifact from the ruins of Vilverin. The second, is to deliver said item to Cheydinhal. This artifact comes in the shape of a ornate sword, said to have been wielded by an ancient Ayleid king. According to Relyn Telvayn's sources, it is lying in a large chest at the farthest point in Vilverin. Problem is, a massive horde of undead have holed up inside. The solution is simple - run in and grab the sword. Once we have the sword in hand, it's off to Cheydinhal. Telvayn's 'courier' will meet us there and take it off our hands, and we shall take our payment off of his." Ciel sipped his wine. "Any questions?"

 

[Gentleman Adventurer]

As Avitus moved to an empty corner of the room, he heard a chair move as someone stood up. Turning, he saw that Ciel was now preparing to address the group. Reluctantly, the thief listened in. "Now, I'm going to quickly review our mission. Listen up well, because I'll only say this once. Our first objective is to recover a small Ayleid artifact from the ruins of Vilverin. The second, is to deliver said item to Cheydinhal. This artifact comes in the shape of a ornate sword, said to have been wielded by an ancient Ayleid king. According to Relyn Telvayn's sources, it is lying in a large chest at the farthest point in Vilverin. Problem is, a massive horde of undead have holed up inside. The solution is simple - run in and grab the sword. Once we have the sword in hand, it's off to Cheydinhal. Telvayn's 'courier' will meet us there and take it off our hands, and we shall take our payment off of his. Any questions?"

There was a pause, where the Breton man sipped his wine calmly. Slowly, Avitus raised his hand, still clutching a half-empty mead bottle. "Yes, I have a question. Me, the slave." He lowered his hand and took a swig of the mead. "Are you a damned madman? I thought you were some kind of expert at this sort of thing! Ayleid ruins are bad news, and one wrong move from one of your brainless compatriots will get them crushed, burned, or impaled. Presuming that this horde of undead abominations doesn't finish them off first. If you wanted a useful team, you should have hired some respectable thieves."

 

[Delusional]

Alleras sat quietly at the bar, enjoying his drink, as he watched others--some he recognized from earlier, others, not so much--enter the hotel and approach the bar where the ragtag group was assembling. Conversations sprung up across the bar, between his to-be companions, but Alleras paid little mind to it. Though the Imperial didn't mind a drink, he was itching to get out of this posh hotel and onto the road. He did not appreciate the refined atmosphere of the hotel, and would have much rather preferred a, well, rowdier tavern to convene at.

Eventually, after some time of idle conversations, the well-dressed Breton stood. "Now, I'm going to quickly review our mission. Listen up well, because I'll only say this once. Our first objective is to recover a small Ayleid artifact from the ruins of Vilverin. The second, is to deliver said item to Cheydinhal. This artifact comes in the shape of a ornate sword, said to have been wielded by an ancient Ayleid king. According to Relyn Telvayn's sources, it is lying in a large chest at the farthest point in Vilverin. Problem is, a massive horde of undead have holed up inside. The solution is simple - run in and grab the sword. Once we have the sword in hand, it's off to Cheydinhal. Telvayn's 'courier' will meet us there and take it off our hands, and we shall take our payment off of his. Any questions?"

Seems simple enough, Alleras thought. A few undead hordes shouldn't be too awfully terrible to deal with all these companions. As long as they have some inking of how to fight... Alleras chuckled to himself.

After a short pause, the man who had so graciously received the broken jaw earlier spoke up, visibly annoyed. Or maybe annoyed wasn't the way to put it. Alleras wasn't exactly sure what the man's deal was. He could use some skooma.

Alleras sat silently, sipping at his beverage, waiting for a chance to hurry the group up and get out of this horrid, fancy place.

 

[Rextoret]

"Yes, I have a question. Me, the slave. Are you a damned madman? I thought you were some kind of expert at this sort of thing! Ayleid ruins are bad news, and one wrong move from one of your brainless compatriots will get them crushed, burned, or impaled. Presuming that this horde of undead abominations doesn't finish them off first. If you wanted a useful team, you should have hired some respectable thieves."

Ciel responded after another sip of his wine. "No need to worry. I've already enlisted a capable young thief to lead us into the ruins, and he shall also serve to test the traps. We simply follow his steps, and if he triggers any traps, then the rest of us are fine!" Ciel gave a slight smirk. "Of course, he's currently in this room. In fact, he's right in front of me now, drinking some mead!" He paused for a moment. "Now that we have that squared away, does any else have any questions?"

 

[Gentleman Adventurer]

"No need to worry. I've already enlisted a capable young thief to lead us into the ruins, and he shall also serve to test the traps. We simply follow his steps, and if he triggers any traps, then the rest of us are fine! Of course, he's currently in this room. In fact, he's right in front of me now, drinking some mead!" Ciel said, his typical Breton superiority complex showing through once more. Avitus simply sighed, took another sip, realized he had finished his first bottle, and opened the second. Even as his current 'employer' went back to work, he couldn't help but snicker at the man's idiocy. Was he seriously going to put Avitus, the only one with full reason to want him dead, in charge of spotting the traps? Dear gods, what a fool.

Avitus supposed that if he was unable to make his escape that night, it wouldn't do him much harm if he 'forgot' to tell Ciel about one stray gas chamber trap on the way through Vilverin.

 

[Aerin]

Ayleid? Oh this was going to be dangerous, very very dangerous. She felt no ill-will towards the Ayleids of course, but by the gods did they know how to protect what was theirs. The elf saw a great deal of battered equipment coming her way. Perhaps she had a few scrolls packed away that would be of use, or maybe she'd be able to add her own notes to those she already possessed. Oh that would truly be wonderful. Imagine her a lowly smith, being able to add to the great tomes of knowledge. She could write a report, perhaps take it to one of the mage guilds, they loved this sort of thing. Vanya was practically vibrating with excitement, her toes tapping out against the floor. Oh that was a pleasant surprise, the floor was hardly sticky at all! She didn't realise the inn was that fancy. Perhaps she should have washed before coming here. Would they mind at all if her feet were less than spotless?

The elf blinked rapidly and tried to focus her mind. No more thoughts of sticky floors. Think about the job. One of the men she'd entered with seemed to be quite spirited, and though she would never say it out loud, a bit crass. He appeared too preoccupied with his own fate to realise the opportunity that was being offered to him. Sighing to herself Vanya wondered how long he'd last before he got himself killed, either from his own carelessness or at the hand of another. She didn't sense much patience in her new travelling companions, tensions seemed to be running a bit high.

Vanya had shifted over just to the side of the group, perched on a stool so she might have a better view. There seemed to be a fair number of them, she didn't know how on earth she'd remember all their names. First there was Nike, the lovely warrior who she'd run into before, then there were the two shadowy blobs that had been with her. One had left in a poor temper and the other had no respect for hi blades. Vanya wasn't too sure what to make of that. Then there was an odd looking pair, almost mer-like, perhaps a mix? Another who seemed remarkably quiet...


And then she saw him.

It was as though the secret hopes and wishes from her dreams had been brought to life. Of course he wasn't....they were all gone now. But he could be. A dwemer. Vanya's breath caught in her throat, her mouth seemingly unnaturally dry. She could feel her pulse racing as she tried to keep quiet, her mind desperately trying to clutch at reality while her heart beat out a staccato rhythm in her chest.

It's fine Vanya, he's just short. You're short too, it doesn't mean anything. You're being absurd, the dwemer are long dead and buried beneath the surface, you're imagination is getting the better of you again.

This was embarrassing, she was acting like a child. Well she was only thirty, she was exceptionally young, but that hardly excused such infantile fantasies.

Oh but it wouldn't hurt to introduce yourself, surely.

The small elf's mind was beginning to travel down a dangerous path, and she belatedly realised she had in fact been staring at the man for quite some time, quietly whispering her thoughts to herself. She must have appeared completely bereft of sanity to anyone who saw her. Awkwardly she lifted her hand to her head, smoothing the shaved sides of her head in a soothing way. The small action seemed to slow her down enough for her took exhale the breath she hadn't known she was holding and look determinedly at her feet that was now settled on the non-sticky floorboards. This promised to be a good job, providing they actually survived, and she wasn't going to jeopardise her chances of accompanying this group by assaulting one of the company. No. She would stay still and quiet and not move until the group dispersed. Then maybe she would introduce him to Jagga. He seemed the drinking type.

 

[Farthlion]

Nike enjoyed drinking. It was one of the few activities that she still participated from her life as a fighter. Not only did it relieve stress, it was a way to pass the time and forget about her worries. Not that she had too many. Adidas helped relieve the burden of their condition, and there was rarely a job that caused her stressed.

The Imperial observed the interactions between her new companions and old. Ciel seemed to be getting frustrated with Avitus, who was equally disgruntled about whatever they had been speaking about. The elfish-looking Redguard had a new companion with him, a woman similar in appearance. Nike's attention turned to Adidas. Judging by the way he grabbed the thief's new dagger, her friend seemed to share a similar dislike for Avitus. Nike nodded at the Nord before he left the building, a mutual understanding that he would be back, but he had something he wanted to do alone. As Nike glanced back at the leader of the group, the odd elf she had picked up earlier in the market district was addressing Ciel. Probably something about joining the group. If the elf could defend herself, Nike wouldn't mind having more females to talk to within the group... even if the Bosmer was strange to converse with.

"Now, I'm going to quickly review our mission. Listen up well, because I'll only say this once. Our first objective is to recover a small Ayleid artifact from the ruins of Vilverin. The second, is to deliver said item to Cheydinhal. This artifact comes in the shape of a ornate sword, said to have been wielded by an ancient Ayleid king. According to Relyn Telvayn's sources, it is lying in a large chest at the farthest point in Vilverin. Problem is, a massive horde of undead have holed up inside. The solution is simple - run in and grab the sword. Once we have the sword in hand, it's off to Cheydinhal. Telvayn's 'courier' will meet us there and take it off our hands, and we shall take our payment off of his. Any questions?" Nike took her drink in hand, bringing it up to her lips before watching the others in the room.

"What's your weapon of choice?" she questioned Alleras, one of the Imperials from earlier at the arena. He seemed friendly enough. Slightly out of place in an establishment such as the Tiber Septim Hotel, but friendly enough to share moon sugar with strangers. Friendliness aside, Nike was mainly interested in understanding how her companions fought. After working with Adidas, the Imperial learned that understanding her allies was crucial to success.

 

[Delusional]

"What's your weapon of choice?" The words took Alleras by surprise, and he turned to face the woman who had spoken. It was the Imperial woman who had so eagerly accepted the moon sugar from earlier, whose name he did not recall from earlier--most likely due to the fact that he was slightly buzzed when the Breton man, whose name he did not know either, had given his speech in front of the arena. Oh well, there's no harm in asking.

"My weapon of choice? That's an easy one," Alleras replied, resting a hand on the handcrafted bow slung across his back. "Archery. I'm not too great with melee weapons, but I don't really need them, since I've got excellent accuracy with this ol' thing. Or so I've been told." He gently smiled. He already liked this woman; she was very friendly.

Alleras had nearly emptied his drink, and took one last sip before setting it aside. His head was slightly throbbing; he didn't exactly know why.

"Well, I'm Alleras. What's your name, again? I know the Breton had introduced both you and your companion earlier, but forgive me, because I was somewhat high when he had given that speech. I tend to forget things when I'm high." He lightly leaned against the bar, reaching his other arm up to scratch his head.

 

[Rextoret]

"Alright then." Ciel moved over to where the innkeeper stood behind the bar. After a small conversation with the man, he placed a pouch of coins on the bar. He turned to once again address the group. "I've purchased rooms for everyone. You had all better get some sleep, lest you'll find the trip to Vilverin difficult, and the fight inside even harder. Just ask the innkeeper for the keys to your room, which I've entrusted him with. I'll see you all in the morning."

Ciel walked to his room on the second floor, unlocked the door, and entered. He locked it from inside, then stacked two chairs against the door. He didn't want anyone coming in without him noticing. And like this, they wouldn't. He moved to the bed, laid down, and closed his eyes.

 

[Gentleman Adventurer]

Avitus drained the last drops from his second bottle of mead, just in time to catch Ciel's final words to the group. "I've purchased rooms for everyone," He said, taking a key from the innkeeper. "You had all better get some sleep, lest you'll find the trip to Vilverin difficult, and the fight inside even harder. Just ask the innkeeper for the keys to your room, which I've entrusted him with. I'll see you all in the morning." A brief pause followed before the Breton headed for the staircase, leaving the group to bid each other good night. Of course, being a thief and a prisoner meant that no one bothered to approach Avitus. He was perfectly okay with this.

Not wanting to stick around and risk getting another 'try to leave and you die' speech from Nike or Adidas, he followed Ciel's path to the bar, where he accepted a room key, and then towards the staircase, which he rightly assumed led to the rooms. As he placed his hand on the door, the thief turned around to look at the group. Catching sight of the healer who had saved him earlier, he offered a quick nod of thanks before opening the door.

The hallway, by his initial estimation, contained about a dozen doors, six on either side, Each one presumably hiding a luxury bedroom behind it. On the far end of the hallway, was another staircase, leading upwards to another floor. Avitus headed towards his room and unlocked it, stepped inside, then quickly locked it once more. He tucked the key safely into his belt, then proceeded to strip off his upper armor and boots, leaving him in a thin cotton shirt and a pair of leather greaves. It might have been risky, but he was going to make his escape that night. Of course, it wouldn't hurt to rest his eyes for just an hour...

He collapsed onto the bed, and was asleep within seconds.

 

[Mr.Self Destruct]

"I think it's time Gorim had a nap," the small man grumbled as he dropped down from the counter, which was a mess of empty flagons and bottles. Gorim stumbled, nearly tipping over before he managed to grab hold of the bar stool and brace himself. "Tomorrow morning'll be fun, heh," he drunkenly remarked, grabbing the key to his room left behind by Ciel and blundering his way towards the ornate staircase which led to the upstairs rooms.

Holding onto the golden handrail with both hands, Gorim made his way up the first few steps very slowly. He managed to climb about three of them before he collapsed, laying sprawled across the staircase. In his current state, Gorim mistook the carpeted flooring for his bedroom, and the small man curled up against the handrail and closed his eyes with a smile on his face. "Wow, never thought it'd be so cozy," he slurred before immediately falling asleep, snoring loudly.

 

[Aerin]

Vanya listened quietly, surprised at the breton's wealth if he could so easily afford rooms for them all. So much coin. It was a novelty for the small elf and not for the first time she hoped that this job would be the one to set her up to pursue her more scholarly interests.

Quietly accepting a house key Vanya avoided eye contact with the others. It wasn't out of rudeness or fear even, simply a desire not to stub her still tender feet on any of the chairs and stools that were arranged haphazardly throughout the room.

It was her keen attention to the ground that meant she failed to see Gorim curl up on the stairs, soundly asleep before she could even ask why he had chosen the stairs of all places to rest.

"Excuse me?"

Her query was simply met with a thunderous snore that seemed to send reverberations through the air. Vanya looked behind at the others but for the moment they seemed far too engrossed in conversation to notice the drunken dwarf blocking their path. The bosmer steepled her fingers and rested he fingertips over her mouth in thought. Was it polite to move one's travelling companion to their room if they had fallen asleep so inconveniently? Would she even be able to lift him if she did decide to? Would he be likely to use that big axe of his if he woke up while she was moving him? did he dislike elves like so many of his countrymen? How difficult was it to keep his beard maintained?

Vanya was sat cross-legged staring up at Gorim while she tapped her knee with her hammer when she realised she'd gotten distracted once more and had spent several minutes concerning herself with the dwarf's beard and its care. Shaking her head Vanya resolved to try and move him, if not simply because he'd regret sleeping on the stairs later. Holstering her hammer Vanya tiptoed around the drunk and shifted him so that she might be able to drag him upstairs. It was a little difficult considering the size of his weapon, and despite him being considered a dwarf he was probably just a little bit taller than her. It was not easy hauling him up the stairs, but if he minded being dropped a few times and having his head knocked against the ground when he had slipped from Vanya's grip, well, he didn't mention anything.

"Fascinating. Oh is this really a good idea? He looks northern, he probably doesn't like elves much, but I am trying to help him...in the long run anyway. He'd be annoyed if he woke with a crick in his neck, that's all. I'm being friendly. Perfectly friendly."

The bosmer's rambling gave way to a moment of striking clarity and while Vanya managed to open his room she wondered why in all of Tamriel had she just hauled Gorim up the stairs. Looking down at the sleeping nord as if for the first time in her life Vanya wondered once more what she was doing. After sorting through an expansive list of excuses and explanations she finally settled on one.

"I fix things. I'm a fixer. I'm just fixing a problem. He was blocking the way and would have woken to stiff muscles. I'm just fixing those problems." Her reasoning seemed to put her mind at ease for the moment as she managed to successfully heft Gorim onto the bed, careful to remove his axe and rest it within reach next to the bed for when he awoke. Pleased with her work Vanya quickly left the room and closed the door, easily tracking down her own room. Once inside she locked the door and placed her pack on the bed. As she undressed out of her flimsy leather armour she checked over her inventory, making note of any changes. Signs of wear on one of the bound journals she kept with her, a small tear along to edge of one scroll, the loss of a few coins from the days expenses. When she was happy with the state of her things, Vanya pulled out a mangy looking fur cloak and wrapped it around herself before curling up atop the wooden chest at the end of her bed. She had a distaste for soft surfaces, often preferring to perch herself high above the ground on a rock or tree branch. For now the chest would suffice.

 

[Farthlion]

So he was an archer? Nike hadn't ever been one for long range weaponry, but found it fascinating. In the Arena it was rare for anyone to choose a bow as their primary weapon. It just lacked the ability to improvise, which seemed to be a requirement if you wanted to get out of a fight with all of your limbs still attached.

"Well, I'm Alleras. What's your name, again? I know the Breton had introduced both you and your companion earlier, but forgive me, because I was somewhat high when he had given that speech. I tend to forget things when I'm high."

That made a lot of sense. Alleras seemed more at ease and less wild-eyed than before. The effects of whatever drug he was on had certainly worn off for the most part. "I am Nike, and my friend is Adidas. We used to be partners at the Arena, but lately," as in around the last hundred years, "we've been busying ourselves with mercenary work."

Suddenly, Ciel's familiar voice entered her ears, gaining the Imperial's immediate attention, "I've purchased rooms for everyone. You had all better get some sleep, lest you'll find the trip to Vilverin difficult, and the fight inside even harder. Just ask the innkeeper for the keys to your room, which I've entrusted him with. I'll see you all in the morning."

Nike frowned as she watched Avitus sneak off after grabbing his key. While Nike was not the smartest person in the world, her instincts were very good. Her lack of trust for the thief led her to believe that he could not be trusted. While she knew that the entire job would be better off if he was not a part of the group, Ciel had made it clear that Avitus was to be accounted for on the journey.

"Please excuse me, Alleras," she spoke, already heading toward the direct that the thief disappeared in. She entered the hallway, her head turning at the sound of a shutting door and a key locking it. Nike wasn't going to barge into his room in order to assure he wouldn't escape, but she needed to know that he wouldn't flee during the night. The Imperial sat down in the hallway, leaning on Avitus's door. If he opened it, or made a sound at all to attempt an escape, she would know.The innkeeper certainly would not be pleased if he saw her in his hallway, but that thought was beyond Nike as she began to nod off...

 

[Delusional]

"I am Nike, and my friend is Adidas. We used to be partners at the Arena, but lately, we've been busying ourselves with mercenary work."

"Well, nice to meet you, Nike," Alleras said, smiling. "So, the Arena, huh? That had to be a rough life."

Alleras did not know too much about the Arena, other than it was a brutal lifestyle. You trained almost everyday, preparing yourself for the next battle, where you would go toe-to-toe with another competitor, someone you probably knew, maybe even were friends with. Alleras had some serious respect for those rugged Arena fighters.

However, Alleras' remark went unanswered, as Nike politely excused herself, following the thief from earlier up the stairs. Puzzled, the Imperial turned back to the bar and the bartender, who was visibly tired. Is it really that late?

"Hey, could I get my room key? Oh, and another drink as well." The bartender nodded in response, and went to preparing another flagon of wine for the Imperial, who was almost alone, seated at the bar counter.

Alleras gave the bartender a friendly smile of gratitude when he set his drink and key down in front of him. Just one more drink, and I'll get to bed... he thought drowsily as he brought the flagon of wine to his mouth and began drinking.