18+ Tʜᴇ Rᴏᴀᴅ Bᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᶳᵉᵐᶤᵃᵈᵛᵃᶰᶜᵉᵈ

By this date, Lesli could have been at the family home in High Rock, none the wiser of these tales of dragons in Skyrim and Redguard pilgrims. She could have spent her entire life without leaving her home province. But by a mere restlessness she found herself sitting in an inn in Skyrim with strangers. It shocked her how similar she and the Redguard man could have been.

She was about to respond when Dian-Mie stood and entered the kitchen. She watched him leave, then looked at the other patrons. Several minutes later, he returned and spoke to Hulda. Man has the nose of a Khajiit, she thought. She watched as the door closed. A cold breeze escaped into the room. Still garbed in her leathers, Lesli did not shudder at the slight change in temperature. The flames in front of her moved at the breeze.

Lesli sat down on the nearest bench, finally, not sure who she was sitting next to, and raised her head to look at the other patrons. What a lot I've stumbled into. What a pleasant lot.

(Sorry for this kinda weird/off post. It's 11:32pm where I am, and I've spent around 5 hours in intense concentration to finish one piece of homework... and there's MORE tomorrow.. I'm creating a new character, too, and might release the new cc soon.. but no new threads from me. I'll just join one.)

Jen nodded when the Breton provided a doubtful response to his offer and understood her reasoning behind it. The rebels were nothing short of patriots and Jen knew their routines for upholding such nationalism, but he knew their reserve and witnessed their respect for their enemies. Not to say they had reserve once in battle, but that didn't mean they'd simply leave the corpse of their enemies on the ground.

It appeared to be a good choice that Jen personally surveyed them incognito the first few weeks he arrived in Skyrim. The Imperials proved harder to observe with their heavily guarded camps and airtight routine patrols.

But they weren't vigilant enough to detect him.

When the Breton asked about the local bandits, the Dunmer whom replied to Jen's inquiry earlier (though he had yet to formulate a response), answered simply but continued to explain in crediting the Nords to their land. As long as Jen had been in Skyrim and as much as he felt he was tied to the land, Jen knew he'd never know the land better than the Nords themselves.

For centuries they bred and bled on the land, and took care of it all the same, all while overcoming the several trials their kinsmen faced. From this history, Jen could understand the concept behind why Nords were among some of the most feared and talented warriors in Tamriel.

A voice across the room, directed at the Breton after she'd asked her question, caught Jen in his pondering and he perked up slightly to listen. It was the redguard man who came down from the second level earlier. Likely the one who'd screamed. The two locked eyes for several moments and Jen sensed tension in the air, before the redguard formally delivered his apology and cleared it. The breton was emotionless in the time-being, Jen noted, and simply stared at the redguard before he apologized. Interesting.

“I even encountered a Dumner near Falkreath with his own band of thugs.”

Shock flowed through Jen as he re-evaluated the Redguard's previous sentence and the one that currently related to him; the only sign of his increased interest was a slight shift of his feet and a tilt of his head. The Redguard undoubtedly ran into Farano and his circle of poorly trained thugs who had much trouble just swinging a sword.

He could prove a very valuable asset in taking Farano down and the Breton too would prove a very vigilant soul. She may also prove a good student, if Jen could convince her a bow would be necessary in the journey to Solitude. Though, she wasn't aware of the detour they might take through Falkreath, he memorized the amount of gold to be paid and would be able to evenly distribute it, even if the other two Patrons joined their group.

But he needed to convince the Breton first.

A familiar atmosphere of hospitable warmth washed over Jen as the two quickly introduced themselves to one another, the Breton accepting the Redguard's offer to accompany her on the road to Solitude. After the Redguard departed on the subject of rotten meat, it seemed, and the Breton sat down at a bench by the fire, Jen walked forwards a little, getting the group's attention.

"I, too, would like to offer my service in your travel to Solitude. I am currently following up and tracking down a bounty on a rather deadly Dunmer Bandit Lord. Likely the one Dian'mie spoke of." He pronounced the name flawlessly.

"The bounty on this particular bandit is rather high paying and, if you and the others," He gestured to those gathered. ", would be interested, I'd like to finish this bounty and evenly split the payment. But please, do not underestimate the danger of this man. I've encountered him on several occasions and he is quite precise with his swords."

The Breton seemed to be thinking, so Jen added to his offer. "I do not know what your current skill with the blade is, but if you'd like, I could give you a few pointers to refine your skill. I also noticed you don't carry a bow. I assure you, in this journey or the next, you will need it and it will save your life, as long as you respect it."

He nodded, taking a pause. "But let me not overwhelm you." He bowed respectfully, absorbing the mixed expressions of the group. "I am Jen, born and raised of Woodhearth in Valenwood. If you'll allow me, I'd like to accompany you as well on the journey to Solitude. But if you need until tomorrow to think this over, I understand."

He had caught a glimpse outside to where the Redguard had gone. Midnight. Full moon. He still needed to check on his horse before turning in for the night.

"But for now, I have something I need to do. We'll speak in the morning, if either of us are still around." He bowed once more before the group, before turning on his heel towards the exit of the tavern. He pushed open the doors, once again letting in the cool, midnight air, before gracefully departing into the moon-washed night, the doors closing quietly behind him.

Lesli's attention was caught by the Bosmeri as he stepped forth, closer to the fire, and spoke to them. "I, too, would like to offer my service in your travel to Solitude.” She watched him curiously, back stiffening slightly. “I am currently following up and tracking down a bounty on a rather deadly Dumner bandit lord.” Dian-Mie mentioned a Dumner bandit leader in Falkreath, didn't he? I honestly can't remember. “Likely the one Dian-Mie spoke of.” Yes, perhaps. Wait, did.. He spoke Dian-Mie's name without hesitation, without flawing the pronounciation. Her lips thinned slightly as she watched him, now more interested, as this man was more than he had seemed to her at first. That being said, she had not been paying close attention.

“The bounty on this particular bandit is rather high paying and, if you and the others would be interested,” he said, looking at her. She found it hard to stare directly into those eyes on that face. “I'd like to finish this bounty and evenly split the payment. But please, do not undestimate the danger of this man. I've encountered him on several occassions and he is quite precise with his swords.” Lesli considered his request. She was experienced but novice with her sword and shield, just enough to get by. It were daggers in melee that she had more of a talent with – and what good would an iron tanto do against a Dumneri bandit boss (surely “lord” is an overexaggerated term)?

Still, she was in no rush to get to Solitude. She did not expect the city to meet her expectations, nor to exceed them, but to fall short. She was not fond of Imperial settlements, nor was she of Nordic buildings, but perhaps she could still find a home here. In the meantime, however, why not make possible allies in this province? Even if it put her life in danger, the pros far outweighed the cons. Still, the Dumner.. “I do not know what your current skill with the blade is, but if you'd like, I could give you a few pointers to refine your skill.” That would be incredibly useful. “I also noticed you don't carry a bow.” She shifted slightly. So what? She had tried her hand at marksmanship, and the result was disastrous. She wasn't sure what combat style she preferred, but archery demanded too much precision and patience. The only precision she felt she needed was finding the right place to sink her dagger – ahem, or sword. That too. “I assure you, in this journey or the next, you will need it and it will save your life, as long as you respect it.” Respect a weapon? She knew from lorebooks that Bosmeri were “respectful” to items crafted from nature, but..

“But let me not overwhelm you.” The Bosmeri man bowed. She noticed – finally she took the effort to focus on her surroundings – that his eyes lingered on their faces. He is watchful, then. How much and why? "I am Jen, born and raised of Woodhearth in Valenwood.” Ah, a name. “I'd like to accompany you as well on the journey to Solitude.” She was pleased that he had cleared that up. “But if you need until tomorrow to think this over, I understand.” Why? Who would need to? Lesli would not argue with possible building friendships in Skyrim, if that might be the case, or at least to memorize a friendly or even just familiar face. She had made her decision.

“But for now,” he said, drawing Lesli's full attention again, “I have something I need to do. We'll speak in the morning, if either of us are still around.” “Either of us.” So he's considering only myself. Might he remember Dian-Mie as well..? Will Dian'Mie join us? He bowed again, a notedly odd and pleasing gesture. Then he turned prompty and exited outside through the main door. Lesli's brow furrowed mometarily. What might have ushered both men outdoors? She knew the reasons were not connected. ..No matter, it's not my business to pry into theirs. She looked at the Dumner man in front of her, and got to her feet. “Will I see you in the morning?” she asked him.

(OOC: Short response to Lesli to complement her post.)

Neleras affixed his gaze to the Breton woman, his eyes softening. She seemed interested, at the very least.

"Well, the obvious answer is Draugr," the dark elf conceded. "Nordic undead, usually associated with the dark arts. How they came to be is unknown, which is another reason why I'm so keen on delving into Bleak Falls. I'm hoping that I'll be able to study a specimen or two, assuming that I can quarantine it... Anyway, they're easily killed. Whatever force is keeping their sinewy parts together is quite a flimsy one. Though, I've heard rumors of more reinforced Draugr in deeper, older tombs."

His eyes slid out of focus for about a nanosecond, indicating that his body wanted him to turn in fairly soon.

Serah stretched her limbs and answered with a nonchalant shrug the rejection of her offer to escort the band to Helgen. Never hurt to try and make some new connections, no matter how awkward she was at making said connections. Socializing had never been her strong suit and to this day she was trying to overcome her natural inclination to being a lone wanderer. She watched the next goings-on around her with a small amount of interest before deciding she should go to the Drunken Hunstman and try to find a bedroll to sleep on - it was getting late. Not to mention, if the mixed Bosmer male needed a bow and arrow, she was the one to ask. Perhaps she should offer her services to him before turning in for the night, and he had just exited the inn.
She slung her travel bag over her shoulder and exited the inn herself, with a quick shiver due to the sudden change in temperature seen before the door slammed shut behind her.
Serah jogged a bit to catch up to the Bosmer man and then walked by his side, facing him - she hoped she wasn't coming off threatening, she didn't mean to, she just wasn't to good at this kind of thing, especially with others of her race. She always had this irrational fear that they were going to denounce her, just as her old tribe had before she came to this land.
"Hello there, I couldn't help but overhear you have need of a marksman? I'm afraid you may be barking up the wrong tree with the Breton, and I just wanted to offer my own bow to help you hunt down that bandit. I've done bounty hunter work before, so I'm sure I could be of some help, if you need it, that is," she said to him, letting the words out in a bit of a rush and an exhale of breath. Why does this always happen around other Bosmer! Serah was berating herself in her mind. This man was not of her tribe, after all, there was no need to feel this way.
"I'll be staying the night at the Drunken Huntsman, as I said earlier, if you want to come find me in the morning," she said to him, a bit calmer this time; deciding to wait for a response before turning off to the aforementioned inn.




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Simply put, the evening sky was gorgeous.

Thousands of white dots littered the cloudless ebony tinted sky like grains of sand, the pale light of the midnight moon flushing Skyrim below. The distant lands beyond the walls of Whiterun held the brilliance and reflected it from afar, the seemeing endless peaks and valleys lighting up to show their deep-rooted wrinkles. The forests and lakes reflected the light rather sharply, easily mapping out the endless streams of land as far as the eye could see. Endless opportunities, at a moment's grasp.

He felt the swift breeze sweep over his body and combe through his silky hair; a soft, chilly wind that left him both cooled and refreshed. The moonlight absorbed to his skin, resonating his blanced elven complexion to fullest, but a delicate brightness that was easy on the eyes.

And in this moment, as Jen sauntered elegntly through the market and along the road towards the main gate, he accepted the fact that this land was beautifully flawed. By day, Skyrim endured countless hardships and struggles, it's lands running red with the blood of its inhabitants and set aflame by the hundreds of battles taking place. Plagued with the sickness of war and beaten after years of conflict.

It reminded Jen of home.

The peacfully encumberebd forestland popularly called 'Tamriel's Garden';he wondered if his mother was still at home, making her delicious Helin Suilpar (Violet Soup) with fresh bread loafs and crumpled lillies. He had to trust she was alright and that the Thalmor hadn't found her out, though she was sure to still be a danger to them; he knew she could handle herself quite well, however, even in her eldership. He looked southeast. He missed her.

But time goes on it seems, with or without us.

He shook his head lightly as he was closing in on the gates, hoping to subside the thoughts and eventually, succeeding. He now thought of his steed and flooded his head with images of the creature. A dominant breed in Summerset and commnly found in Valenwood, but not so outside of the two provinces. Due to their speed and stamina, they were often bred for war and had been near exctinct after the Great war.

Luckily, Jen stumbled across Isilme (Moonlight) during the sacking of the Imperial City; he'd been trapped under a burning cart, abandoned by his rider. Ever since then, Isilme had shown a fierce likeness to Jen and had, on several occasions, disregarded his master's wishes, and physical restrictions, to intervene in closly-won battles. A brave steed no doubt, if foolishly so. Jen admired him for that.

He'd made sure to keep an eye out for the Redguard, but had yet to find him. WHen he did, hoever, he had means to ask about Farano. Dian-mie could've possesd invaluable information.

Footsteps, far off caught Jen's attention and his body tensed in response, though he kept his grace. They were fast-paced and closing in quickly and judging by the light tone, belonged to either a hurried messenger or a mer. Both weren't too popular in Whiterun as the night proved, though Jen had seen both in the tavern earlier so they were possibilities. If it was an attack, Jen would've heard the sword unsheath for afar.

He turned his head to the side expectently as the female Bosmer from the inn slowed her jog to walk beside him, making conversation. She ran awfully far and fast to talk to me. It must be urgently important.

"Hello there, I couldn't help but overhear you have need of a marksman?" A marksman? Perhaps she misheard him. It was interesting she'd listened that closely though "I'm afraid you may be barking up the wrong tree with the Breton, and I just wanted to offer my own bow to help you hunt down that bandit. I've done bounty hunter work before, so I'm sure I could be of some help, if you need it, that is."

Jen noticed her pause and waited patiently for her to continue. He respected her skill and appreciated her hospitality; another warrior like her alongside the others was a sure end for Farano.

Around this time, Jen had already calculated the numbers and, if a maximum of three other patrons joined in, he'd have to leave himself out for the payment, but it hardly bothered him. There were plenty of the lousy bandits and plenty of bounties on their heads.

Skyrim's disraught had it's advantages.

"I'll be staying the night at the Drunken Huntsman, as I said earlier, if you want to come find me in the morning." Jen nodded and began to reply, his electric blue eyes glossing over the Bosmer and absorbing every distinguishing detail of her person. He noted her hesitation and the tension in her facial expression. Nervous, but why? He hoped she wouldn't mistake his prying for flirt or sexual desires. His eyes met hers.

"Many thanks for the offer, Bosmer. As i have said earlier, Farano is not to be underestimated. He is a warrior of great skill and speed, and can be unpredictable in combat. If you say you know the blade and bow well, i'll trust you in that. But be aware of the danger ahead." He bowed his head in mid-stride. "It's good to have you with us. I advise rest. The journey in the next few days will be long, so i'd stock up on food. Practice of your skills would be advised as well, if we have that kind of time. But for now, i'll bid you farewell." He nodded to the Bosmer as she departed towards the Drunken Huntsman.

The walk to the stables was uneventful, suspicious glances and awkward stares aside. The fine beast of a steed awaited him in stall three, laying on a pile of hay in relaxation but stood to his full five foot height when he saw Jen. Isilme still retained his original muscle mass, though slightly increased likely due to daily canters. Jen checked his mouth and felt around his stomach. He hadn't been eating bad foods and hadn't been infested with worms or any other ailments by examination.

But the night had grown chilly and Isilme lacked the fur neccesary to stay warm on his own. So Jen stepped into his stall and eased him to lay down, then blanketed him with thick sheets of hay and straw as he passed into deep sleep.

And with that, Jen began to make the journey back to the inn for a hot meal and a decently warm bed.

(OOC: Sorry for the sucky quality in this one. I have a tendency to spend too much time working on posting. That said, I'm free to edit it, if needed.)

As long as she must wait for the two to return, Lesli figured that she would make the most out of her time and the late hour. “Right back,” she said quietly, rising to her feet and making off to her rented room. Once inside, she fiddled with the knapsack and withdrew a linen map of the province of Skyrim, which she had borrowed from Maj'riik back in Bruma. She returned downstairs and approached Hulda at the bar. She set the map down and looked up at the innkeeper. “Six days to Solitude,” she began. Hulda stepped closer and moved to see the map better. “What of .. if we take this road to..”


The two women began to speak quietly of various routes to and from the small town of Riverwood and, for good cause, also Falkreath. She suspected that hunting the bandit might be more of an immediate importance, but she didn't wish to make anyone wait. For so many travels, planning is required. And she's have to speak to Jen and Dian-Mie to truly further that planning.

A protege? Hardly, Neleras thought. Nevertheless, with his previous reasoning still fresh in his mind, he figured that bringing along another soul wouldn't be too detrimental to his work. He just couldn't fathom her getting killed in his stead. Not again, his mind continued. Aldaril, I've apologized to you for nearly thirty years now... mere words cannot fathom the sorrow I feel for you and the rest of our estranged family, and the contempt I feel for myself...

As the Breton woman briefly stepped out to retrieve something, the Dunmer allowed his mind to scan the potential scenario one final time. She would be a valuable asset; if the duo encountered any rogue mages, her mixed blood (of mer and man lineage alike) was slightly more resilient to hostile spellcraft than singular elven blood. Though Neleras had no inkling of her abilities, she surely wouldn't have volunteered to accompany him if she didn't demonstrate at least some prowess in survivalism.

"I'll allow you to accompany me," Neleras declared as the Breton woman returned, linen map in hand. "If we manage to get through Bleak Falls and Riverwood, we can detour through Falkreath to get to Solitude, just as an added precaution. The more direct road from Whiterun is primarily covered in flat plains. We'd be more easily spotted if we went that way - regardless if it's bandits, highwaymen, or even, Azura forbid, dragons."

He turned to Hulda, who nodded at his observations, indicating that they were true.

"I approximate that taking this detour will expedite our arrival into Solitude by about four more days. Not including Bleak Falls, this will be about ten full days of traveling, so figure about two weeks," Neleras concluded. "And if anyone else wishes to accompany us, the rest of you have my trust as long as you can defend yourselves."

As Dian'Mie reached the outside of Whiterun's city gates, he looked up at the midnight sky littered with little balls of white light in amazement. He had never seen so many stars in the sky before even in Hammerfell. Was it Skyrim's true nature to be this way in the nighttime or was it simply an effect from the Night's Eye? The growl in his stomach urged him that pondering about it wasn't worth the time right now. He came out here to get the meat needed to make the Crown Stew, not gaze upon the sky like some wandering Khajiit merchant.

Dian'Mie jumped up onto the top of the walls of the gate to get a better view of the surroundings. If it was with his regular eyes, this tactic would prove difficult as the plains reached far towards the horizon and spotting certain things in the dark wasn't something easily done even with the faint light from the stars and moons. However with Night Eye, it proved a very simple task as from his position he could count at least 20 elk off a head running around the plains, having no idea that one or two of their lives would end right here tonight.

With a somewhat graceful tone, he jumped off the castle walls into a backflip and landed perfectly on both of his feet. The sound alerted one of the elk nearby and started running. Dian'Mie noticed this and took out his bow running after it at top speed. The speed of a Redguard trained in the art of hunting is second to none as they're used to running after their prey on a constant basis. When he got to a decent 50 paces away Dian'Mie drew an arrow and while running strung it off of his bow. He watched the arrow fly through the cool air as it caught up to the elk in record time and struck it straight in the neck. With a cry of pain, the elk slid and dropped to the ground. Dian'Mie pumped his fist in excitement over his successful kill as he ran over to the fallen elk. He knelt down to it and gave a little prayer for it's soul before he took out a dagger and cut open the elk's stomach to get to the meat.

After closing and dressing the meat of all its' impurities, he placed the meat in a cloth from his pack and wrapped it around the meat. Satisfied with his work he headed back towards the city when a spark from what he'd guess was a lightning bolt and a neigh from a horse north of his location got his attention. What's going on over there? Dian'Mie thought to himself. Ever the overly curious soul, he ran over to the source of the commotion before a few hurled fireballs came his way. Dian'Mie easily dodged it by ducking under it. When he came upon 50 feet of the camp he was able to identify the owner of the fireball: a Breton man dressed in fur armor, looking to be in his late 20s. Dian'Mie thoughts went to Lesli in the Bannered Mare. I guess not all Bretons are as friendly.

"What do you think you're doing here Redguard? Leave before I- Uragh!" Dian'Mie was not in the mood hearing threats from some bandit that tried to kill him as he threw the dagger from his side and watched it land in the man's forehead. Dian'Mie quickly ran over to retrieve his dagger when footsteps from behind him gave him notice that more were coming.

Reinforcements. Great. Dian'Mie drew one of his swords just in the nick of time as he was met with a forceful blow from a greatsword. The force pushed him back a couple of inches but he kept his composure. The Nordic bandit charged for another strike but Dian'Mie read right through his antics and easily dodged it before driving his left sword into the bandit's stomach and kicking him off the blade. As he did this, another bandit, this time an Imperial woman donned in steel armor, struck at Dian'Mie with a mace which was met with a blocked with both swords. He noticed that this woman seemed much more experienced then the Nord but was still lacking compared to him. The bandit swung at Dian'Mie with force but was playfully dodged as she was spun around by the momentum. In a short moment of confusion, Dian'Mie lifted up his leg and literally kicked her ass, causing her to stumble forward a few feet. Angered, the bandit went for another of what would be 5 strikes one after the other which were all blocked by Dian'Mie. "Not bad lady." The bandit attacked again with her mace but Dian'Mie caught her weapon with his free hand and pulled her closer. "Show me what else you can do."

"Don't you dare look down on me!" yelled out the bandit. She pushed him away and charged him with her mace taking advantage of the small opening. However Dian'Mie took advantage of her recklessness as he slashed the woman diagonally in the stomach. The shock of the cut caused the woman to drop her mace and stumble backwards. Dian'Mie ran up to her and did a spin kick in her face and again to trip her legs in a sort of combo attack. AS the bandit fell to the ground Dian'Mie walked closer and prepared for the finishing blow before she held up her hands in surrender. "Wait! I submit! I don't want to die! Please don't kill me!" Dian'Mie stopped his advance and lowered his weapon upon the bandit's request.

"Fine. Get out of here. But if I find out that you're doing more deeds as a bandit I will find you and I will kill you." The bandit got up rather gingerly holding on to her wound and bowed towards Dian'Mie.

"Thank you for sparing my life. I'll never forget your kindness." The bandit turned around and walked off further into the plains. Dian'Mie watched her go for a few moments before taking his attention to the items around the camp. He noticed all of the food laying around the place, clean and fresh.

Jackpot. This could help Hulda restock her supplies. Finding an empty sack, Dian'Mie opened it up and placed the extra meat and crops inside before closing it back up and heaving it over his shoulder. With a deep breath, he walked out of the camp and back towards the city.

(OOC: Sorry if I was slow to respond. I've been having trouble even getting onto this site the past few days. Also I had a longer post then this but the site acted up before I could post it and I didn't feel like rewriting everything.)

They were around him before he could clear the stables, though he showed and felt no signs of panic or dismay. This seemed to unsettle them.

There were four of them, all men, Nords by their betraying physical features, all garbed in flea-infested furs and stained leather vests, armed with various melee weapons.

The one closest to him, with his hair drawn back into a sloppy pony tail and his one blind eye, held an iron longsword in a one handed grip pointing at Jen with his other hand outstretched. The one behind 'longsword' had his hair in a tangled frizzle with a scar running up his jaw, weilding a steel shortsword in both hands with an iron dagger strapped to his right thigh.

Beside 'shortsword'was a man who held an orcish axe firm in his wrinkled hands, his balding hair and creased mustache showing signs of decades of experience;with what, Jen didn't know entirely, but if these were all Nordsmen, then his estimated guess couldn't be too far off. The one at the back, a long haired archer who looked more imperial than Nord, held a notched arrow to a wooden bow, ready to fire at the command of his comrades.

They had to be bandits, judging by the way they dressed and carried themselves, but Bandits never came this close to the city even at night; unless they were truly desperate for some recognition though it was Jen's understanding they didn't desire this in the first place. Rumor had been spreading of a highway gang who'd stalk a wealthy passerby before striking at the first chance they had. Normally, they'd strike in the wee small hours of the night when their victim was likely to be less and less alert, though they've been adopting the habit of attacking during the day so long as the target was well hidden.

If they were bandits, the raiding of Fort Greymoor may have disturbed them, but still so they knew the routines of the guardsmen and knew their vigilance. Definitely looters of some kind. The following dialogue revealed them to be according to his suspicions.

"Gimme all of your coin, Elf-scum! And make it fast! We aren't fooling around here!"

As the man issued his pointless threats, Jen looked around casually to ensure no soul was witnessing this. There were small fires like dots in the distance, indicating the guards were far off on their routine patrols. Skulvar, the owner of the stables, had retired as he did every night at nine o'clock sharp and would not wake until seven-thirty the next day.

There were never guards on the walls of Whiterun and the ones who usually patrolled the road leading up to the main gate had moved off. For now. He had thirty-seconds, maximum, before they returned and would undoubtedly spot the bodies. He looked past the man as he finished. The plains were clear as well, with no figure in sight. He took an extra pause to make sure he was alone, before responding.

In his mind, he began the mental countdown.

"I have no money, theives. Whether you choose to believe me or not remains up to you. I could care less. I'm going to give all of you ten seconds to decide whether your lives are worth living and if you want to go home to whatever you have left, assuming you have residences to begin with. If you attack me, i will kill each of you without mercy. I'm giving you a second chance to start over and live your lives to the fullest. Take it."

They remained in shocked silence before 'longsword' shook his head, furiously unsettled that a mer had come into his Skyrim and had directly disrespected him. Pride took him over, shortly followed by anger as he began to pace forward. Jen moved forward to meet him as he issued his battle cry.

"Enough of this!" He charged forwards, stabbing outwards. "I'll take it from your corpse!"

And then things slowed down for Jen, as they always did in combat. His hands opened up and moved to intercept the blade, as his body followed suite. He was in his element now, and sadly, these men would feel his wrath.

Sixteen one-thousand, Seventeen one-thousand....

In an instant Jen turned to the side as the blade stabbed the empty air beside him, leaving the Nord open, and shot his hands out to grip the sword handle, making him release the blade. In one fluid twirl, Jen brought to the blade down to slach across 'longsword's neck, killing him instantly.

Jen turned and caught 'shortsword's downward thrust with his freehand, running the blade through his abdomen as his hand shot up to grip the shortsword from The Nord's dying hands. Jen's other hand grabbed the dagger on his hip and sent it to gash the archer's neck severely.

With the shortsword in his right hand, Jen stood and faced the axeman as he charged in, hopelessly valiant. Jen dropped into a crouch in order to avoid the overhead slice and stood as his blade pierced the old Nord's armor, beneath the breastplate, and slid like butter into his ribs, puncturing his lung. The warrior let out a defeated groan of pain as Jen kicked in the back of his knee, gripping his jaw and the back of his head, twisting with a sickly crunch.

Twenty-seven One-thousand...

After casting a glance about the heaps of corpses and mumbling an 'I'm sorry' to the dying archer, Jen swiftly made for the gate, only a few second a head of the guard patrol on the bridge. The archer died before Jen reached the main gate. Once within the city, Jen immediately headed for the inn, his appearence revealing nothing of the previous encounter as he entered.

He saw the Breton holding a linen map with the Dunmer and imagined she'd want to discuss how the trip would work, so he approached, and allowed her to notice him.

"I see you've begun to plan the journey." His eyes met hers for a fraction of a second before they fled to the map. "What've we figured out already?"

Serah nodded in return to Jen's words - nothing else needed to be said. She then set off toward the Drunken Huntsman. She had some coin left, more coming after collection of the Fort Greymoor bounty, but she was starting to run low on funds and that always worried her. She figured between the two bounties, they would re-stock her coin purse enough to pay for expenses and have a little left over. Just the way she liked it.
One good thing is that she wasn't in need of to much as far as supplies went. She usually hunted as she roamed Skyrim and so had an ample supply of meat, not to mention the fact that she kept a certain stock of foodstuffs with her at all times, so as to be ready to take off at a moments notice. However if the trip was to be longer than a few days, she would need to get a few more things. She'd have to ask Elrindir for help with that. She also was running low on arrows; if she was to be a marksman on this trip, she would need to buy some more from Elrindir, as well - and good quality ones, too, as their opponent sounded fairly tough.
Calculating the things she would need and the coin she had to purchase them, she walked up the small stone stairway to the Drunken Huntsman and pushed open the door. Lucky for her, Elrindir was quite the night owl and was almost always up at all hours. She greeted him once she entered.
"Hello Serah. Need to borrow that bedroll again?", Elrindir greeted her back with.
"Yes, just for tonight Elrindir. I'm sorry to bother you so late. Would you mind also talking to your brother, Anoriath, for me? I'm going off again in the morning and I'm running low on supplies. I also need to stock up on some good quality arrows before I leave; 20 Elven arrows should do," Serah replied, figuring if that wasn't enough she had her magic to fall back on - she couldn't afford much more than that at the moment - taking her coin purse out of her travel bag and pulling the correct amount of septims out, then placing them on the counter before the Bosmer innkeeper.
Elrindir, used to Serah's ways by now, just nodded, handed her the bedroll and waved her off to the back room. She thanked him and entered the back room, smoothing down the bedroll then climbing inside. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.


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Jen, hiding his inner emotions only one with professional skill could, offered a friendly smile to the Breton's apology and waved a dismissive hand. Her eyes were on him but he felt not pressure nor haste to reply, though he did so to keep the casual tone of the conversation going.

It had become evident she was looking for something. Something like his reaction or what his response would be. Considering the type of person Jen estimated the Breton to be, this was the case. It must've been his eyes that did it, or perhaps his shady manners earlier; it was enough to get her attention, either way.

"No, they don't. But think nothing of it. I'm in no hurry to stop Farano though he is a threat while he still lives, in and out of jail. There are few who can match him." He shrugged. "That said, Farano will likely find much to occupy himself in Falkreath, so I'm sure he won't be going anywhere soon. There are always more bounties to collect, though I'm in no particular hurry to do that either."

He turned his attention to the Dunmer. "Bleak Falls Barrow is quite a treacherous climb. If you wish I can tag along and assist in the investigation, unless you'd find it more logical for us to split into two groups and meet at Falkreath."

He turned back to the Breton woman, whom was watching him. Interesting. "Dian-mie," He once again pronounced the name flawlessly. He noticed the Breton's shift in movement like the last time he said it. ", will follow you to Solitude as he promised, so he will go with you to the tomb, if I'm not mistaken."

"Though I will say, a group of our size, with the other Bosmer archer in tow, will undoubtedly draw attention. Three mer, a Breton, and a Redguard all in varying and...unique armor sets may stir up suspicions. Of what I don't know; perhaps an attack on some village or an assassination attempt on some king or queen, knowing the locals. I'd advise caution, however we proceed."

Finished, Jen watched idly as the others chose their responses, ordering an ale from Hulda in the meantime and hoping she hadn't taken offense to what he'd said.

She was much more smarter than the average Nord and often times wouldn't even bother in the patrons' conversations. But she herself was a Nord and in the time Jen had come to know her, he knew her feelings towards such subjects. Perhaps she wasn't a full on patriot or one of the Stormcloak Rebels, but she was a Nord in a Skyrim plentiful with racism and conspiracy and that was enough for Jen. Even if it was Whiterun.

The way back seemed to have felt much longer than it did, primarily due to the heavy sack lumped over Dian'Mie's shoulder. It had a decent amount of weight on it but it was nothing he couldn't handle. A spark in the sky caught Dian'Mie's attention as he looked back up towards the sky, noticing that it has been accompanied by something large and green in the shape of everlasting serpents of light. Skyrim was impressing him more and more. Unknowing to him, Dian'Mie bumped into a guard as his fascination with the sky commanded all of his attention.

"Stay out of trouble Redguard," said the disgruntled guard. The words of the guard broke him from his concentration as Dian'Mie shot a seething glare at his head. If he didn't care about making unnecessary trouble the guard would've been dropped right where he stood. Nevertheless Dian'Mie struck the intent and the guard from his memory as he opened the door to the Bannered Mare.

"Ah Dian'Mie! Welcome back!" said Hulda from her bar counter. The counter was surrounded by Lesli, Jen and the Dunmer from earlier who all turned to look at him for a brief moment before returning to their activity. He wondered what they were doing but that was down the list of his priority right now. Right now he was starving and wanted to start cooking as soon as possible. Upon reaching the kitchen, he caught the stench of the rotten meat and briskly walked over to dispose of it in one of the empty barrels around the room. Content with his confinement of the bad meat, he took off the sack from his shoulder and rested it onto the table behind the cooking pit. Dian'Mie took out one of the cuts of venison along with some potatoes, leeks and carrots. After cutting up the ingredients, he placed it all into the pit one after the other and stirred the contents together for several minutes. The smell coming from the stew was wrapping Dian'Mie in a sweet aroma of flavor, causing him to drool a little bit.

I wonder if the others would like some. Well only one way to find out. Dian'Mie searched the kitchen and found 5 clean bowls on top of the cupboard. Bringing them over, he picked up a ladle and evenly distributed the soup into all five bowls. He then placed the bowls on top of a tray nearby and walked out to the tavern where everyone else was. "I hope you don't mind but I made some stew for everyone." Dian'Mie set the tray onto the counter in the middle of everyone before taking a step back. "Now then might I know what you are all planning?"

As it way, Lesli was not concerned about the criminal. Perhaps she should have heeded Jen's words of advice, listened to his warnings. But as his response proved, he was not overly concerned about stopping this Farano bandit immediately. In Cyrodiil, there were few bandits that were true threats. Most were commoners looking to make easy coin; the dangers were in the brutes and foxes that enjoyed the hunt and the piercing of flesh. Is Farano one of those? She wondered at how dangerous the man must be. It would not be an issue at the time being unless Farano moved further northwards. But as Jen claimed, the bandit would be occupied in Falkreath. Lesli's wellfare likely rode on that assumption.

He suggested tagging along. Briefly, Lesli wondered if there was another reason, hidden deep in his mind beyond the twin sapphire balls. As he continued speaking, she set aside the suspicion. He pronounced her other companion – Dian'Mie, who had promised to accompany her to Solitude – perfectly. She had not heard it enough to set it to memory. If she had to spell it, however, she figured she might succeed. Jen had a point there, also, repeating her own conclusion that Dian'Mie might be interested in joining her – them – to the tomb. He claimed a desire to travel, after all, and he seemed more than capable. There were uniquities about these patrons; some drew her closer in interest, others remained shadowed and bland to Lesli.

He was attentive where Lesli was relatively clueless. Their armors.. she did not wish to cause trouble in Skyrim at all. She listened to Nelera: "Indeed. I'll see you lot in the morning." She made to fold the cloth map. The door opened; She looked over and paused. Dian'Mie had re-entered the scene. Hulda welcomed him back to inside the inn. He immediately took off to the kitchen without a word to anyone. She didn't watch him leave, looking back to Jen. The scent of cooking venison and various vegetables caught her attention. She was not starving, as she had eaten at Falkreath, but many hours had passed since she had first stepped into this inn. Dian'Mie returned from the kitchen, carrying a tray in his hands that she did not know existed here. A scattering of bowls was placed on it, and he was walking towards them. He set the bowl between them and asked what they were doing.

“Thank you for the stew,” she said first. “I'm sorry to have to fill you in. Jen is going to track down a Dumner bandit, and I'm coming with him. And,” she added, managing to avoid sheepishly flushing, “I am also joining Neleras to a Nordic tomb near a Riverwood.” She realized that he may not be bothered much at all. He had, after all, admitted to her that he wasn't busy. “So the trip to Solitude will be delayed.” She moved the map a few inches so he could see it, but did not mention the path they would take. She awaited his response, less concerned than she had been about Jen. Dian'Mie was not chasing after a criminal in the meantime. “What do you make of that?”