Open The Bannered Mare Tavern

Alla'Amir shifted uneasily as it caught sight of the other Khajiit look it up and down.
'This one seeks business ventures. It has heard Skyrim is the most profitable in this regard.'
At that same moment, the innkeep became shocked and surprised and reach under the bar counter before producing a letter:
'Uh...sorry. This must be for you then. I was told to give it to a newcomer Khajiit sure to stop by here.'
Alla'Amir turned its attention to the latter presented to it and regarded the expression on the woman's face. It snatched the letter from the feeble hand that grasped it and read whom had sent it:

The Khajiit screwed away its eyes before repeating:
'Anonymous. Such a strange name. Perhaps many in this land have this name, yes?'
And it read the rest of the letter -

Dear colleague

It has come to my attention that you, a newcomer in Skyrim, happen to possess a set of skills which would be fitting for the task I have - one that would be in your best interests, perhaps.

If you see a chance to engage such a transaction, please meet in The Winking Skeever and further regulations will be discussed from there.

Regards
Anonymous

Alla'Amir turned up its upper lip into a snarl and then smiled greedily before presenting the letter to the female Khajiit that had eyed it earlier:
'See? This one did not come to this land without promise, and promise has presented it with a letter from the other one named Anonymous.'

Alla'Amir smiled as it regarded the generosity of the offer:
'This one appreciates and accepts the other one's offer. It would be most pleased to be shown the way.' And looking at a Breton that eyed the Khajiit up and down with disapproval before it smirked and offered: 'Perhaps others would approve of its leave as well.'
The Khajiit touched the underpouch of its studded armour checking the place of where it had stored its supply of skooma, just infront of its favoured dagger. Once it was satisfied it grinned from its one tall, multi-pierced ear to the other: 'This one would like to leave whenever the other one is soonest ready.'

A large Khajiit relaxed in the corner of the tavern shuffling a deck of cards. On the table in front of him were a well used pair of dice and a half empty mug of cold ale. He had intentionally left a chair directly across from him, pulled slightly away from the table. He found the best way to learn the lay of the land in unfamiliar territory was to spend a night in the town's watering hole getting to know the locals. As someone in the market for some under-the-table work, it helped to have contacts. So far noone had accepted his unspoken invitation to a game, but no matter. He was in no rush. He grinned, took another swig from his mug, and went back to shuffling his cards.

Dar' Shajiir smiled amiably, pleased to see another Khajiit in this foreign land. struggling hard to avert his eyes from her plunging neckline, He says
"You are correct! Can you believe you are the first person to ask? I don't think these Nords take too kindly to the sight of fur in their mead hall."
He recognized her dialect as that of an Elsweyr native, and decided to stick with his more familiar Imperial speak to avoid embarrassing himself.
"A simple game of chance, with several short rounds. But perhaps I could buy you a drink first?"

"Oh this one believes that. It is the worst with the Stormcloaks. Kivuli has had to go far above the call of duty to earn their respect." Kivuli sighs before nodding to Dar'Shajiir's request. "Yes please. She favors the Firebrand wine personally." He talks like an Imperial...interesting.

He motions to the barkeep and orders the drink. When she returns he smiles and slyly slips a couple extra septims into her apron.
"That sounds like no small feat, and I derive that you have called Skyrim your home for some time. What brings you this far from Elsweyr?"
As he speaks he deals them both their cards and places a Septim in the middle of the table, motioning that she should do the same.

"Family move. Careesareeth Clan wanted to escape the Thalmor, so they moved to Markarth Hold. A deal with the Forsworn earned the matriarch the Jarl's throne and the Forsworn earned the Reach so long as they left Markarth city itself alone. Since then, Nords, Imperials, Altmer, and Bosmer have been unwelcome there, abused like the Nords abuse the Argonians and Dunmer in Windhelm." Kivuli lets out a sad sigh, she didn't approve of such treatment. Wariness, definitely needed, but not outright racial abuse. She places a septim in the center as well, picking up her hand of cards.

"A place that those like us can call home. Have many of the dunmer refugees arrived at your gates seeking refuge?"
He was slightly less opposed to racism when it was in favor of his own race, any advantage in a foreign land was welcome. He straightened up in his seat before saying
"Also, this would mean I am playing cards with royalty, if I'm not mistaken. I consider myself well traveled, but can admit that this is a first even for me."

"Oh yes. Once word reached Windhelm most of the Dunmer and Argonians packed up and left for Markarth. More pour in every day. It's forced ma to start clearing out and renovating the Markarth Ruins underground to create more homes." She lets out a quiet sigh and takes a sip of the wine. "This one could get you a home there if you'd like."

Kivuli was proving a natural at his own card game and slid another pair of septits toward the ever growing pile on her side of the table. Dar' considered this a small price for a new friend and never lost his casual attitude.
"A gracious offer, I wouldn't mind a more permanent residence during my time here, but this brings me to my real reason for being in the tavern this evening. Should your clan ever need my services, my sword is for sale. My skills reach beyond just open fighting. I specialize in... subterfuge. A skill that a family with such political aspirations as your own may have use for in the future."
He placed another Septim on the table and raised his mug to his drinking partner Before taking another swig.

"This one will be sure to let the matriarch know. Though she will definitely want to see you in person. She is alot like Maven Black-Briar. Has no faith in anyone, and trust in no-one." Kivuli remarks, returning the mug gesture with her own wine. "Until one is free you can stay at this one's home. Vlindrel Hall. Friends are always welcome there."

"This one is gracious for your hospitality"
He flinched from his lapse into the Elsweyr dialect, brought out by conversation with a native speaker.
"I require little, you will hardly notice my presence. As much as I enjoy being robbed blind," He motioned towards the pile of coin on Kivuli's side of the table,
"I think I will be calling it a night. I will set out for Markarth in the morning. I doubt that you will be difficult to find."
He finished the last of his mug, stood, and bowed.
"I wish you safe travels and warm sands, friend. I will be seeing you soon"

"When you reach the gates, ask to see 'Zaraji Careesareeth'. If this one hasn't made it back there before you, just tell her you're a friend of Kiv's and she should direct you to Vlidnrel Hall." Kiv bows to Dar', smiling. "It is always good to meet friendly folk, especially in these dark times."

To look upon him was to be deceived. He glided through the people as a snake on the sand, giving the impression that where others would falter, stumble and fail he would dance forth undisturbed with that same elegant walk and far off gaze. His face looked almost serene in those moments, though his heart would have been beating wildly had it still been in his chest. He tapped his leg once, twice, thrice as he approached the counter, she lingered behind the barmaid.

She liked to linger more than the others, at times in silence and at time screeching so loudly that he covered his ears in pure agony. This time she was much too busy choking, drowning in her own blood to sputter more than a few words. His chest hurt at the sight, just as the day he had first witnessed it, swallowing hard he fought back tears.

"Where?" She sputtered, blood bubbling from her mouth, her voice raspy as her lung collapsed onto themselves with every intake of air.

"Were you." He quietly finished her sentence, his haunted eyes focusing just past the nord as the female Dunmer attempted a scream only to have it muffled by her failing body.

They all asked him the same thing as If he, a ghost of his past failures should know, should have answers but he had none to give, not anymore. His answers had run dry long ago, his explanations but they never sated her, or any of them for that matter. What could he give that he had already not given to them? What words would put him to rest, kept alive by their spite?

"What?" The blonde questioned as he watched some invisible creature tear viciously into his apparition, eating her alive.

"I was asking after a room." He managed as his head dipped slightly, a feat despite the reproachful look he received, "Forgive me if I sound odd, I am parched from my long journey."

He let some coin fall to the counter, his hands sweeping across the polished wooden counter in a subtle flourish. This seemed to please the woman in tangent with his apology earning him a new face to look at, one much more pleasant. With her brow raised and a slight look of intrigue, she gathered the coin together with a practiced hand.

"There is a small group just leaving, you may take their room when they go but you'll have to wait." She instructed, eyeing the Redguard woman who addressed each patron in turn. "It will give you some time to quench that thirst."

He nodded curtly and spun on his heels in a neat fashion, lifting his hand to run it through his hair. As it passed his face however he saw and felt the hot red liquid dripping from it, his lungs heaved and his stomach churned as his hand shot down to his side. Whose blood is it this time, whose blood have you spilled? An eye for an eye...He gritted his teeth and with his opposing hand tapped his thumb to his index finger once, twice, thrice. Once, twice, thrice. He tried to focus on finding a place within the crowded room, rather than his bodies desire to expel its contents.

"If it's work you need, how about chopping up some wood for the fires?" says Hulda. Followed by a crunch noise. Must be Sinmir eating the bread of hypocrisy and complaining about the security in Whiterun.
Hulda must know I have just returned from the most recent bounty at Valthiem towers. So there are no new leads for this Nord bounty hunter. Outside I met with a man named Sigurd who told me that he works with Belethor at the general goods store. "Well met kinsman." says Jon Battle-Born.
After waiting an our for Sigurd to let me hit some wood on the chopping block I ran into him again and he told me again that he works with Belethor at the general goods store.
Upon re-entry to the Bannered Mare I say to Sinmir with a load voice "Name ofan ollum nofnum! Jesu Kristur er konungur og Gud vor!" A not so strange tongue from an island in the sea east of Hammerfell.
"If it's work you need how abo..." gets interupted by "I have firewood to sell." "Honest gold for honest work." says Hulda. "I'd like to rent a room." "Sure thing, it's yours for a day.'' retorts Hulda. "I'll show you to your room, right this way." she adds.
Only that Sam Guevenne is blocking her path. Sam suspicious man I don't need to get tangled up with. Wine is a mocker and beer a brawler and anyone who is led astray by either is not wise.
However I think back to when Saadia would fill my flagon to the lid before I handed her over to the Alik'r warriors for 800 gold last week. From a thanes perspective Skyrim will not arbor fugitives knowingly within the gates of a hold.
Not only do I need to maintain positive relations with Hammerfell but those Alik'r warriors were harrassing women out on the roads and were posing a general threat to the peace in the hold.
So up the stairs to the left I march and make a stop before the door looking down at 4 candles and a large vase. Open up to my items and behold my alto wine and bread. Take and eat I think to myself.
So at about 7:35pm I rest for 11 hours remembering the words of Jon Battle-Born "It's my desire to enter the bards college, but my parents are hesitant, but I pray they let me attend."

I enter the Inn, followed by my black wolf companion, 'Storm'. The innkeeper came to greet me, she then gasped when she saw my pale face and ice like eyes. 'Don't like those eyes you have there's a bad hunger to them!' I glared at her and she left me be for now. The air was ripe with a variety of different smells, mainly mead and sweat but the one most noticeable to me was blood. I had just come from a long journey and I was tired and thirsty but I knew now was not the time or place to fix the latter. I had entered this Inn solely for warming myself by the fire on this cold night.