Open The Bee and Barb Tavern

[Space Hamster]

waaat

 

[Sethman27]

Velixer was a stranger to the citys of skyrim prefering the company of his leigion of the dead than the liveing but nontheless he decided it was time to scout out new "recruets" and possibly make some coin

 

[mast3rlinkx]

A Khajiit, one that was slim, with brown tabby markings, and short, slipped into the tavern soundlessly, as was her habit. Although, you couldn't see her markings due to the faceplate of her armor. None here would recognize it, for the organization it represented was very secretive. It was a branch of the Thieves' Guild, of a sort. Even the Thieves' Guild itself didn't know of its existence, only believing them to be a myth. This Khajiit was a member of the Nightengale Trio, and wore its armor. The black leather shined almost like metal. It was a very fine set of armor, and likely would sell for a lot if she had the need. But, in her line of work, someone as skilled as her made a lot of coin. She walked to the bar and put a few Septims on the table. "Ale, please." Her words were heavily accented, as with most Khajiit. The barkeeper recognized her voice, though, and said, "You've got some nerve coming here after what you did to Keerava." The Khajiit waved her hand dismissively at such a comment. "Shut up and give me the damn ale I paid for, Talen-Jei. I could just as easily have stolen it." Talen-Jei gulped audibly, but nodded and gave the Khajiit her ale, who took it wordlessly. It was obvious that he was afraid of this Khajiit. Divines know what it was she did to his lover, but he obviously didn't like it. Riften was a very dangerous place to live, what with the Thieves' Guild returning to power. No one knew what happened, but the Guild's grown much stronger in a very short time.

The Khajiit was not well-known, as far as adventuring goes, but she was not adventurer. She was a professional thief as well as a trained assassin. Her name was Lai'Quir, and she was a Nightingale as well as a member of the Dark Brotherhood. As such, she earned a lot of gold, which was due to doing jobs for the Thieves' Guild, and fulfilling contracts for the Dark Brotherhood. Ever since the Listener was found, the Night Mother was able to communicate with the rest of the Brotherhood and tell them when someone performed the Black Sacrament. Not many would recognize her, for she works in the shadows, out of sight and out of mind. She'd only been jailed once, but she'd quickly escaped. It had been here in Riften, actually, that she'd been caught. But, after all, she had escaped, only being in there for a couple of hours. For now, though, she removed her faceplate, revealing her brown muzzle, and drank the ale she'd paid for.

 

[ryguy90]

Beaker, a young tall, skinny, red scaled Argonian with a white rob and steel gauntlets and boots, walked into the loud and crowded inn. Beaker felt his heart speed up in his chest, as if it was trying to escape from his chest, and his lungs began tighten up, making his breath deeper and shallower. He hated going into places like this and wished he could just camp outside by himself, but he needed work so he could pay to join the college in Winterhold. The money his master Honni gave him was almost dried up and his skills as a healer weren't paying to well since the major cities had temple's who did it for free and in the smaller cities and villages he passed through people could only pay in food and supplies, not in the gold he needed.

So he was stuck facing his worst fear, social interaction. He took a deep breath and walked up to the bar. Once there he sat down and waited patiently waited for the bar tender, who just happen to be a very pretty Argonian woman with golden scales.

Finally Keerava finished serving her other guest before turning her attention to the incredibly stiff male argonian who looked barley old enough to have gone through his second molt.

"You Ok kid? You look like your ready to break like an egg." All Beaker did in response to Keerava's questioning was nod his head up and down very quickly before sliding a note towards her across the bar. Confused by this, she took the note and read it.

"Dear Inn Keeper of The Bee And Barb

My name is Beaker Sharpen Claw and I am sorry that I can't tell you this but I am unable to speak. I am looking for work and was told you could help find a quick job. Also can I please order an apple, a chunk of bread, and a pint of Black Briar Ale."

"Your from the Sharpen Claw Clan...?" Asked Keerava who was shocked to learn that this skinny kid was a member of one the most dangerous clans in the Black Swamp. But when she looked at his hands resting on her bar, she saw the long sharpened claws that were the hallmark of the clan.

"Oh... Of course, here is your apple, bread and ale." Keerava said quickly, not wanting to have her face removed by an enraged member of the Sharpen Claw. "And I will see if I can get you work as soon as possible."

And as Keerava hurried off to deal with other business, Beaker just chewed on his bread embarrassed by the way his fellow argonian behaved when she learned what clan he was a member off.

 

[Aerin]

Elsa walked into the tavern, softly closing the door behind her. Readjusting her black metal bracers she rolled her shoulders back and strode purposefully towards the bar. She gracefully navigated between the patrons, seeming to glide through the room.

It had been a long time since she'd last visited Riften and she hoped that the two argonians who ran the place didn't recognise her face. She had a noticeable scar running down her left eye, a new addition since she was last at the Bee and Barb, perhaps that would be enough to at least put them off. Sitting down at the counter Elsa smiled to herself, shifting the impressive looking dagger at her waist, before tapping the wooden counter to grab (Keereeva? Karava?) Keerava's attention. "Ale thanks. And a sweet roll. It is Fredas after all." She didn't miss the way Keerava's eyes narrowed at her order. So she does remember me then

Elsa looked around the tavern as she waited for her order, slipping the gold across the counter to the argonian barmaid as she did so. To her left was another argonian, he seemed different though. Quieter, more closed in on himself. It was a sight to se after seeing so many would-be-adventurer types strut around the place. Much like herself she supposed. Leaning over to him she noticed the claws. Something about this guy suggested he wasn't someone to be messed with. With that in mind she plastered on her best neighbourly smile and took a swig from her tankard. "Hey there, haven't seen you around this joint before. You new to Riften?"

 

[Aerin]

OOC - I would be interested in that. Is there any room for a slightly sardonic archer/thief type?

 

[FusRoDovah]

OOC-I posted a dedicated OOC thread to the dragon story in the Roleplay section,check it there (AerinBenoch)

 

[Blair Mayers]

Bilaar,the Mixed Argonian-Nord-Dunmer tries opening the tavern door,pushing hard.He fails multiple times and follows the young breton girl into it.He walks up to Hulda & asks in a deep nasal voice "Can I have mead...Black Briar. I have heard all of the way from Leyawiin that they have good brew!To bad I cannot go back to Leyawiin.Long story short,I helped the poor in frowned upon ways."Hulda looks at Bilaar like he is mad.Bilaar coughs as he walks near the hearth.He then yells, "Throw tips if you'd like!" as he picks up his lute & sings "There once was a man from Cyrodiil,just south of Bravil,who helped the poor,who had trouble opening doors,and when drunk fell flat to the floo-".Bilaar drunkinly falls onto the floor dropping his lute...He wasn't half bad...He was better than Mikael.

 

[Bambi]

Johanna slipped into the Bee and Barb, hesitating at the doorway before entering. Being in Riften made her uneasy. She was a thief, but not a member of the thieves guild, which meant that she was in their territory.
The first thing she sees is a man sprawled on the floor. He was a strange mix of races, and by the looks people were giving him, she guessed he wasn't the average drunkard.
Her curiosity got the best of her and so taking small, tentative steps towards him, she clears her throat and speaks, sounding unimpressed and slightly confused,
"What are you doing?"

 

[Osiris]

Kazaar opened the door to the Tavern, and to his surprise it was very loud and crowded. Regardless, night had fell upon him and he needed a place to bunk for the night. He walked in, being a Warrior, an Orcish one at that, managed to get a few looks from the merry customers that often spent their hard earned coin in this very inn.
Kazaar, being an Orc, easily looked above the heads of the numerous Nords and spotted another Orc, in Conversation with a Khajiit. Feeling more comfortable around other Orcs and "BeastFolk," he brought himself over to their table."You wouldn't mind if a Weary Adventurer sat at your table would you Brothers?" Kazaar asked the Orc and Khajiit, Kazaar considered Orcs and other "Unpopular Races," his allies and as such was usually more friendly to them than to the Many bigoted Men and Elves in Skyrim.

"Please, allow me to buy you strong drinks, I insist." Kazaar Politely Notioned for the Argonian woman to fetch 3 Cliff Racers. "Tell me, where do you folk hail from?" Kazaar asked with genuine interest.

 

[Captain Nagisus]

Nagisus walked into the door, adorned in a black and white set of robes with a thin, gold trim and embellished boots. He grunted at the drunkards. Impertinent Haelga, he thought, I'm the only Argonian here who isn't a worker, but that shouldn't exclude me from the Bunkhouse. He ordered a glass of Colovian brandy and went to stand (The nerve of it all! he thought,) by the Orcs and the Khajiit.

"Hello chaps. How are you three?"

 

[Ozan]

From the basement ((because the front door is overrated)) walked a Khajiit adorned in white apparel with gold trim holding a piece of paper with notes and words written on front and back, the most obvious of the notes being "property" written larger than the other words, circled, and surrounded by a fury of question marks. The Khajiit mumbled loudly to himself. His slightly verbal tantrum ended nearly immediately as soon as he noticed the crowded room.

"Ah... most assuring for Ozan... Surely, one of these fools would be far more than delighted to return to Ozan with an Elder Scroll..."

He placed the notes within a pocket, stretched his back, and spoke to himself, once more before leaning against the wall. "No such thing as victims only volunteers..." He cleared his throat once more intentionally announcing loudly to himself "if only a brave, brave wanderer would assist Ozan and retrieve the mighty treasure! Why, Ozan would be ever so grateful, perhaps generous!"

Ozan bowed his head, a sly smirk resting upon his face as he waited.

 

[arctic73]

Regulus barely made it inside the Bee and Barb tavern. Staggering with alcohol, he made his way to the bar to sit. Talen-Jei offered him some sorta weird fancy junk, which he semi-politely refused and demanded something stronger. "I need mead, sir. Real, nordic mead." he cried. Talen-jei scurried away at that. Regulus sighed. The buzz was wearing off, and he was becoming more coherent. "I need money," he thought, "and a place to stay, and food... Augh. I'm falling apart. And where's my mead?" Suddenly, he heard someone talking about a treasure and a brave wanderer. "Sounds good to me," Reggie thought. He looked around, and saw a white-garbed Khajit, who must have been the noise's source. Regulus grabbed his mead, downed a good third, and shambled over to where the Khajit was standing. "I hear you're in the market for a brave wanderer?" Regulus asked.

 

[Ozan]

Ozan's smile faded... for a moment. The stench of alcohol was thick amongst this... "mercenary" but he wasn't a standard freelancer who would follow blindly. This was clear


"Ah... this one who approaches Ozan wishes to help... perhaps the promise of treasure has caught one's ear and one simply seeks to play an instrumental role while it still happens. Or maybe one is just bored... regardless, you have approached Khajiit, offering to help. Before one delves to deeply, it would be best if Ozan explains his scheme... before he makes the request."

The Khajiit scratches his nose and yawns, his sly smile growing into a grin. "As you are sure to know, the Nord are a warrior people... feeders of war, lovers of battle... and this war within Skyrim will end eventually. Soon, Stormcloak or Imperial shall win, ending the war.

Ozan feels pity for the hairy Nord. So Ozan intends to feed his habit by embracing battle. Before one asks, Ozan does not intend to extend the war. He simply intends to... recreate. In combat, it is easy for one to die. But, perhaps they would pay if they could be killed yet survive. Ozan has learned the possibility of many different universes... an infinite number of battles throughout history. If we could harness the fabric of space and time, allowing Nord types to take control of different soldiers in different battles so they need not waste their own lives to do as they wish."

Ozan shrugs. "This is only a theory, but if it works, we will be very... VERY rich. We just need one teeny, tiny, item. A scroll. An... elder scroll. Still interested? Even if Ozan's theory fails, we could sell the elder scroll and split the profits."

 

[arctic73]

Regulus listens to the Khajit's idea. He notes the cat's face upon his approach. Nevertheless, the idea of all the money appeals to his background.
Regulus takes another swig and a deep breath, then replies:
"Look, I don't get all this space and time babble. And not all Nords are entirely bloodthirsty. But I do like the prospect of treasure. And the idea of living through death. Now, I don't see how that would be possible, but I'm willing to believe you. Tell me more about this... Elder Scroll." Regulus smiles, and realizes that he must be cautious. He didn't know this Khajit at all! Still... money was the goal. He'd just keep this cat... Ozan, it was? ...on a tight leash.

 

[Ozan]

"Well... if you do not care for the reason or the cause, it is good you are interested in the profit. Forgive Ozan if he purrs as a kitten would, but he finds great amusement in this mercenary. This shall suffice." Ozan offers his hand in a friendly gesture. "This one hunts with the name Ozan. The Magnificent Bastard. Khajiit of wealth and taste. What may Ozan address you as?"

 

[arctic73]

Regulus smiles and shakes Ozan's hand warmly. "Regulus. You may call me Regulus. When do we start?"

 

[Ozan]

Ozan bows, before retracting his hand. The formalities extinguished, Ozan answered the Nord's question.

"Depends. It is most unwise to approach a challenge with only two sets of claws. We should seek at least one more comrade lest we face absolute demise."

 

[arctic73]

Regulus nods in response to the Khajit's proposal. "I agree that another would be beneficial, but who? Someone in Riften? Perhaps in this inn right now?" Reg punctuates his question with another swig of mead.

 

[Ozan]

((I thought I already responded... Stupid phone. Oh well...))

A single brow cocks as the Khajiit thinks to himself.

"Ozan wonders... Would it be better to seek across the cold lands of the Nord... or to remain in this city. Many here seek fortune, as we do."

He throws his arms up in the air with a subtle grunt. "This Khajiit will admit, his plan was not thought through, least not to this point to next. As impulsive this one is, it is best to remain. What traps and wonders await? Only an impulsive hunter will be prepared, so long as such is managed well." He looks the Nord in the eyes. "Khajiit finds splitting coin and trinkets and other objects of magnificent plunder easiest amongst comrades. Perhaps the Nord has such comrades, yes? Or shall we seek the hunters before the hunt?"