Open The Bannered Mare Tavern

(( SORT OF OOC: Suddenly Calina felt strange. As if being possessed by a demon. It was as if her soul, while unchanged, was somehow different. A voice came to her head.
"Yo, it's cool. It's just me. I changed profiles on Skyrim Forums because my username sucked. A word of advice: never choose a username for a new forum at three in the morning."
Calina cursed. "Are you kidding me? What was your last username?"
"TheAnonymousLifeChoseMe." It said.
"Is that supposed to be some lame knock off of 'the thug life chose me'?" Calina asked.
"...yeah."
"Ugh. I'm being controlled by a complete idiot. And...what is that? Why is that your avatar?"
"My email is connected to--"
"Never mind."
Yep. It's me. That username really bothered me. So I made a new account with my other email, which is connected to this manga avatar thing...I forget what it's called. So that's why my avatar is weird. Sorry about this XD I tried doing something besides my usual roleplay-based username, but it just wasn't the same. So sorry again for the inconvenience!))

"No, I've never even heard of such a creature." Calina replied. "But it certainly sounds life a perfect traveling companion."

(IMPOSTER MUCH?! Wtf???)

Ha just kidding. This post confirms that the above is true, just to erase any doubt.

"You will love the silt strider! I named it Todd." Indaryl said. "Are you sleeping on the top floor? Or the bottom? I'm on the too floor thanfully. Though there will be a lot of noise regardless. How long have you been in the Thalmor? I heard rumors that members are born into it. Sounds sort of like the way the Telvanni operates."

"I am sleeping on the bottom floor. And I don't think it's just because there's less room up top, either. I've been a member of the Thalmor since a few years after the end of the Great War, though it might seem that I've been a part of it sense I was born. I may not have realized it in my younger years, but it was as if my family had been preparing me for my membership since I was a small child. Although I wouldn't find it hard to believe if some were born into it. Some act that way. What about you? How long have you been in the House Telvanni?"

Alaric calmly strolled into the Bannered Mare, as he opened up the closed door he was greeted by the fires of the pit and the warm laughter of the peasants who reside inside. "A mug of mead please miss." he asked nicely to the barmaid. she smiled and quickly gave him his order. He gave her a nice wink in returned as she blushed and began to served the other patrons. He glanced around looking firmly at some of the adventures in the Inn seeing nothing of particular interest he returned to sip his mead. While making sure he was concealed in his spot in the corner of the inn, he took out his Amulet of Talos and said a soft short prayer before tucking it back under his leather armor. "Talos preserve me" he whispered.

(I am posting as my CC Aharon [link]. I am posting this in prep for an RP that he is to take part in.)

I pushed the door to the Inn hesitantly. The last time I came into a place like this, I was attacked. Not an experience I care to relive. I walked in, my cowl guarding my face, my hood on. The stares from those around me made me think. I look like a damn fool. I pulled the hood and cowl off of my head and face, revealing my identity. The Barmaid stared at me with suspicion. I could feel her eyes staring at my scars. "Mead," I spoke sternly, dropping 5 septims on the counter. Why do they always stare?

She set the bottle on the counter, then collected my coins. I grabbed the mead, and turned in my seat to survey the room. The cold mead passed down my pallet, delicious and refreshing. A privilege I wish I got more of, I thought, continuing to look around. "Talos preserve me," I heard to my right, from a secluded corner. Some murmers of Thalmor and the Great War near the door. Busy night, guess I should do the same.

I took another sip of my mead, then set it on the counter. I pulled the small blue flower from my belt pouch. Damn, I hop the rumors are true. Redemption awaits me. Just then a Nord man approached me. "You an Alchemist?" he spoke loud, and slurred. Drunk rot, I thought staring at him. "I dabble," I responded vaguely, staring at the flower, hunched over the counter. "Meh," He moaned, "Who needs potions, When you got the Blood of the NORTH?" He half yelled. His hand swung, and struck me in the back as he spoke. The mead in his tankard spilling to the floor.

Drunk oaf, I continued thinking. I looked at him, while standing, to meet his gaze. Time for some fun, I placed my hand on his shoulder. Guiding his gaze. "Well, Draiif was just telling me Skyrim belongs to the Dunmer," I said, with a sense of control, "I think it belongs to Ulfric and the True Nords. Friend." I stared at him with a grin, as he stared at me with a sense of agreement. "Skyrim belongs to the NORDS!" He yelled, throwing his tankard across the room at a random Dunmer man. Feeble minded fool, I thought as he continued to walk towards him.

I returned to my thoughts as the Man started the small brawl. Best depart. I finished my mead, then returnd my cowl and hood on my head. I walked to the door, dodging a plate as it flew past my head. The door opened to reveal Whiterun. I gazed south, towards my destination. The Throat of the World was glowing faintly in the Dawn's Light. Long journey, it better be worth it all.

Nomad walked into the inn, looking for adventure. He sat in a corner. Probably not the best place for socializing and finding adventure, but he was on the run. The waitress, a redguard, walked up and asked him if he wanted anything. He asked for a flask of water. He knew whiterun inside and out. He had lived there the first ten years of his life.
(I am posting this because I am looking for a roleplay. Preferably one that isn't 18+)

Sent from my KFOT using Tapatalk 2

Head held high, an Orsimer trudged into the inn, her head covered by an orcish helmet, as the rest of her body was covered in her native armor as well. If you hadn't met her, you'd expect her to be a man, as her armor wasn't fitting to her curvy shape, but looked as though it'd been made for a tall, muscular man. A small bag of gold was in Ropel's first, and as she neared the counter, she coughed, "One room for tonight.. and a bottle of meed." she said, lowering her voice to make it sound somewhat like a man's. The innkeeper smiled, "Is that you, Ropel? Sometimes I do forget that you're a woman.. here you go." she laughed, tossing the key to her room and a bottle of Black Briar Reserve towards her. The Orc smiled, "That's a good thing." she whispered, and quietly headed up the stairs into her room.

Taking off her helmet, Ropel sighed, setting it on the dresser in the room, along with her gauntlets, boots, and cuirass. Smiling, she wrapped her naked bod in the yellowed sheets from the bed and sat on the chair that was on her balcony, which stood at the level of the rafters. Relaxed and feeling free of the burden of her father's old armor, the she-orc took a swig of her meed, letting out a satisfied sigh as she swallowed.

John opens the door of The Bannered Mare tavern and walks in it had been a long day slaying bandits and now he was looking for a nice mead and a long sit by the fire as he entered he saw an wide range of different people in the tavern, strolling up to the counter he takes a seat "mug of mead please if you kindly miss" I said to the barmaid pulling down my hood and mask

Come on Baroth! You're not dying this alley! Get up! Move!

Baroth's mind ordered him, as he lay in the small space between Whiterun's merchant and alchemist shop. The sky let him know it was midnight. The two moons set over head and shone their pale brilliance on the glamorous land of Skyrim. To the opposite of him, on the wall of the alchemist shop, there was a hooded thief bleeding from two stab wounds to his abdomen and a deep cut to his esophagus. He was dead alright, but the knight fared no better. A stab wound to his lower left thigh and left rib made it difficult for the man to regain his feet. Damn he hated thieves. He used what strength he had left by ounce by ounce to push himself up wall as he pushed himself to his feet, using the wall as support. His blood stained the wall as he slowly limped his best towards the Bannered mare.

He was a stubborn old knight, yea. He didn't want help. His mind just figured it didn't need help. It could heal on it's own. That's what he convinced himself anyway, in the past few years. He weakly reached up both hands on his way to the well and unclipped his armor, the shoulder pauldrons clattering to the ground. His breastplate and backplate fell to the ground as well, and he bent slightly to pick them up. Holding all his armor under one arm, he trudged up the steps and into the Inn. His hand left an imprint of blood as he pushed the tavern's doors open. It was fairly empty, aside from a few patrons who stuck to their mugs and kept their heads down. The Innkeeper washed the counter with a wet rag, scrapping the bits of food and stained ale from the oak wood. The Barmaid was opposite the counter, washing out a few mugs. Good. He wouldn't be noticed. Walking up to the counter, Baroth inquired a few requests from Hulda.

"Excuse me... Can i have...a rag, two apples, a hot bowel of water, a loin cloth, three pints of ale, one of your open rooms, a bottle of wine.....and a...uhh...a healing potion. Would it also be at all possible to warm my sword in the fire for a minute or so?"

"Sure. I'll have Saadia bring it u.... Oh my god, are you ok?" She said, realizing there was a bleeding man infront of her. The tavern seemed to stir and Baroth took a quick glance about before nodding to her, pulling the coinpurse from his belt and putting it on the counter.

"Yea...i'm fine.. How much?"

"One-hundred fifty-seven."

Reaching into the sack, Baroth retrieved the amount and set it on the counter, pushing off to his room without another word.

"It was only a matter of time," said Brendalyn Dragon-Born, "before somebody did something about the guards' sweet roll pilfering."



"The guards aren't doing the stealing, whether sweet rolls or anything else," said Idolaf Battle-Born, handling his copy of the book. "It seems like ever since the Thieves' Guild started making trouble again, the guards have been looking the other way too many times. It's almost as if someone had bought them off. Finally, here's something that my family and the Gray-Manes agree on."

Brendalyn did not reply. The corruption of the Whiterun guard was as much her fault as anyone's, since she'd taken over the Thieves' Guild herself, temporarily, in order to pursue her greater purpose of saving Tamriel from the dragons. Not to mention all kinds of other trouble. She'd done quite a bit that she hoped nobody would ever find out, even though Skyrim was infinitely better off for her having done those things.

Gromjunar shivered a bit as he stepped over the hearth. Even as a Nord, he didn't enjoy the cold. Unstrapping his greatsword and removing his bow, he stepped into the warmth of the fire. A young Redguard woman rushed over to him, but he quickly waved her away, "Just need to rest a minute." He muttered.
The warmth of the fire washed over him as if a bucket of head been thrown onto him. Gromjunar just sat there and proceeded to listen to his surroundings.

(seems ive missed a fair bit, but ill see what i can do to get in.) As he noticed the Khaljit making his exit, Garund stood and gave chase, his Dragonplate armor clattering like a thousand nails against a cast iron pot. "Seems there's nary a boring moment this day..." as he exited, having left a sizeable tip along with his payment for the half dozen tankards of ale he had consumed, Garund realized he had all but lost the Khaljit. "Curses! I lost him..." Garund cursed his slowness in getting up and his poor ability to follow.

Suddenly a dark hooded Mer stumbles in as if just running and sits in one of the closest chairs to the door, Sadia sees the Mer and goes to serve his order as he takes down his hood as he takes it down a drop of blood hits his hand from a fresh wound on hid Dunmer face. Sadia gets to the mysterious Dunmer and asks him what he wants its all mumbles to anyone else and Sadia walks away to prepare the order. The Dunmer feels the wound on his face and yelps and stops to see everybody looking at him as he rudly says "Yeah, yeah back to ya' drinks".
Sadia walks back over with a bottle of cheap mead, he sits and drinks it while still mysteriously anxious.

(New at this so sorry if im bad)