Open RP: The Three Elk Inn

[Writes-Many-Posts]

In the middle of the forests of Skyrim, a building made of rock and wood stands still, fighting the wind. A hunter owns it and gladly sells mead to all who attempt to hunt between the trees he once did too. His name is unknown but he has glory among everyone who drinks there. The structure of the building is big but warm inside. Room is plenty and at least three barmen or barmaids serve mead and food to the adventurers. Come in. Drink and share your story, learn tricks about hunting different animals, master the art of predicting the blows of your enemies, evolve with your fellow fighters. Despite not being known, this inn handles itself quite great in economics and has accecible prices.

 

[Mesmerize]

Arrow fastened onto the drawstring. The wind is calm, and the prey is right where he needs to be. A small thump is all that can be heard as the arrow finds the heart of it's victim. The young Breton just grins as he returns his black hood to his head. He walks up to the victim and bends down over him, grabbing the prize from his still warm corpse. The contractor wants proof. They always want proof. The assassin grabs one of his throwing knives strapped to his dark leather belt, and cuts off the man's finger. Here's his proof. He wraps the finger in a linen cloth and shoves it in his bag. The target this time was one Arien Delnares. An infamous Dark Elf who has been stealing from the people of Skyrim for years. But nobody is safe once Jociel Dalomax, master assassin, is on chase.

He straps his bow to his back, and walks quietly through the forest. The sun is beaming down on his skin. The warmth is so soothing. The young assassin is glad to have made the country a little safer. He sees a building in the distance, through the trees. It's a rather big place. Jociel walks slowly and cautiously up to the building. There's a sign up front that reads "The Three Elk Inn." It's getting late. so the young Breton decides he should grab a drink, share some tales, and sing some songs before venturing off once more to get his reward.

Jociel opens the wooden door, a blast of warm air tickles his face as he silently walks in. Approaching the bar, he sits at a stool. "One Honningbrew Mead, please." The barkeeper gladly hands him the requested drink, and returns to his duties. The Breton then gets up, and walks off to find an empty bench beside the fire. He sips as the blaze flashes and crackles before him. The bard's music is so soothing. It has been so long since Jociel has been this comfortable.

 

[Writes-Many-Posts]

Maquiavel notices a breton enter the inn. Seemed quite sure of whatever he was doing. Somewhat glad to find another breton within the vast province, he decided to share some stories and acknowledge this new face's background. The inn was almost empty and the bard was asleep. The quiet environment could provide comfort and trust, making it easier to spot thieves or wild animals if they were noisy enough. He sat in the stool next to the brown haired breton and greeted him. "Nice to see a familiar face around here. What's your name?" He gestured the nord bartender for a goat leg and a bottle of Black Briar Mead. "Don't tell my boss I drink these... She will kill me." The big leg arrived soon, and its softness revealed the goat was hunted recently. "How did you hunt a goat around here? I found nothing but wolves." He spoke with his mouth full. "Want a bite?"

 

[Mesmerize]

"Name's Jociel Dalomax. And you're right. Don't see very many Bretons around here. Of course, it is Skyrim." Jociel studies the man, just like he's trained to do. Exploiting any weaknesses in case he tends to be trouble. Satisfied with himself, he returns to the conversation. "Oh don't worry. Your secret's safe with me." Jociel gives a light chuckle. "Sure, I'd love some goat." He grabs a piece and shoves it in his mouth. Savoring the warm and juicy feel on his taste buds. He smiles at the Breton warmly. But still, always on guard. It's hard to trust strangers in these parts. "So what's your name?"

 

[Writes-Many-Posts]

The breton seemed to enjoy the goat as much as he did. After skulking the whole bottle of mead, Maquiavel nods and tells the story about his name. "Honestly... It has been so long I don't use my real name I forgot it... The kids in called me Maquiavel as a nickname for... er... experiments I did on birds and so on, and since my parents abandoned me, I refuse to use the name they gave me. So... Maquiavel it is..." The meat of the goat was soon gone and Maquiavel threw the bone to the floor, where a dog immediatly took advantage of his opportunity and bit the remains of fat and calcium in it, groaring not very loudly while chewing. "So, Jociel, what brings you to these parts? Hunting? A holiday from your wife and kids? Escaping the law?" He knew the inn was not "inside" any hold, and the only guards that ever set their feet there were to drink and find a female company for the night, so no one really needed to hide their crimes.

 

[Mesmerize]

"Maquiavel, huh...? Nice. And I'm just not gonna ask you about your 'experiments'." Jociel grins and continues, after watching the healthy looking dog gnaw at the bone. Jociel just hangs his head when Maquiavel mentions family. It's been a year since he's seen his mother. Thirteen, since he's seen anyone else of relation to him. "No. Neither of those. Work brought me here. I just thought I could rest in this tavern for a while. Have a drink and relax for once." Jociel takes a sip of his mead and stares into the fire, reminiscing on times he had with his mother. She used to bring him camping. They would sit by the fire and just talk. Look up at the stars, with no worries in the world.

Jociel just shakes out of his trance and returns to the lone Breton sitting next to him. "So. How about you, huh? What brought you here?"

 

[Writes-Many-Posts]

Jociel looked sad about the family issue. Maquiavel could not do much better about that. He was single and his parents left the province to flee from his "incoming wrath". He just nodded, wondering about what sort of work is done in the woods. "It depends on what you seek. Do you wish some truth or the whole truth?" He had no trouble with telling the truth, but at the same time, it should not be very pleasant to hear the work of a forsworn.

 

[Mesmerize]

"Whichever suits your liking. I only told you some truth, myself." Jociel acknowledges Maquiavel's nod and awaits for the story, sipping on some more mead. He lays his bow across his lap, along with his quiver. Then he unstraps his two swords, propping them up on a large wooden post right next to where he is sitting. He leaves his throwing knives on his belt and in his boots. Just to be careful.

 

[Writes-Many-Posts]

Maquiavel pulls a little of the cloth of his lower tunic, revealing his forsworn boots. He then hits the counter with a forsworn war axe and orders another bottle of mead. "I am a forsworn and I came here to capture goats alive for my clan to sacrifice to please the Old Gods." He takes out of his satchel an enchanted bear trap. "Ever seen a trap that imobilizes you and burns you at the same time?" Maquiavel then hears rain hitting the glass of the window. "Wouldn't like to be outside now... No matter who or what I was."

The breton stood up with a tankyard full of mead and poured it into the fireplace, increasing the heat of the room. "Do you intend to spend the night here?"

 

[Mesmerize]

Jociel's eyes widen once his fellow Breton reveals his true nature. He's killed many forsworn. Never spoken to one, until now. He regains his composure and looks out the window, picturing his latest run in with the forsworn. Jociel was hired to clear an entire camp for a passing nobleman. It was too easy. But Maquiavel is different. More civilized maybe? Forsworn usually kill on sight. So the young assassin will just keep his cool around him. "Forsworn...can honestly say I didn't see that coming."

Jociel looks at the bear trap that the man sets before him. "Nope. Can honestly say I haven't. That's a fine piece of equipment." Jociel has always known how talented the forsworn are with their enchantments and magic.

"I'm not sure. We'll see where the night takes us." The fire rises up and Jociel closes his eyes, welcoming the heat.

 

[Writes-Many-Posts]

The surprise of Jociel is noticeable, but his calm was still there. Not everyone would remain in the same room as he was when he told them the faction that took care of him as a child. "Jociel, you spoke about a work you had to do here... Do you have a boss or you work for your own? Or maybe you are a mercenary that has no boss, but doesn't give the full commands at the same time?" He then drank the drops that remained in the tankyard and sheathed back his axe that was in the balcony. "My boss is a young woman that wants to clean Riften out of corruption. Long path to be followed in my opinion. She is really kind, but that is not a virtue in politics." Maquiavel smiled, remembering how his help was crucial in his boss's needs. The traps and the schemes took him months to organize.

 

[Mesmerize]

"I'll be truthful with you, since you were truthful with me. I'm an assassin. I kill people for money. But I'm not one of those 'kill an innocent person' assassins. I protect my people from all threats. And, I must be honest. I've killed many forsworn. Nothing personal. Just business." Jociel really didn't want confrontation in the tavern. He came to relax, and that's what he planned to do. "Clean Riften of corruption...makes sense to me. But I tend to avoid dealing with things of that nature."

 

[Writes-Many-Posts]

Maquiavel was not surprised about the news of Jociel's previous battles. "A big mistake many of my clan make, is that they attack any being that goes near them. Unless you are a spriggan or an animal, I don't think we will have a problem." He heard about the full truth of his job too. "I was once an assassin of the Brotherhood. But I should't have questioned the Night Mother. I thought the Listener was just a myth and I have no trouble saying what is on my mind. That jester Cicero gone crazy and attacked me. As Astrid agreed a little with me, she let me out of the Dark faction with no fights. Still I am welcome in the sanctuary." He showed his gauntlets of the Assassins' Guild. He was rather curious about what fighting for their people meant. "Who pays for your kills? And what do you mean with fighting for your people against their threats?"

 

[Mesmerize]

Jociel's face grows red with hatred. Maquiavel is really pushing it with Jociel, as his family has been at war with the Dark Brotherhood for centuries. The young assassin has killed quite a few of them. But again, no confrontations. "Dark Brotherhood, huh?" The tension in his voice was clear. "Sorry. I've got a bad past with them. But you're not a part of them anymore, so it's nothing to do with you." Jociel takes a deep breath, calming himself, and continues. "I have no set contractor. I am approached by different people, they hire me, they pay me. That's the end of it. We don't talk after that unless it's business." Nobody has asked Jociel about his motives before, so he is happy to tell the Breton. "What I mean, is I take care of murderes, thieves, bandits, etc. I protect the innocent people. My family served the King of High Rock, to serve that same purpose. But...things happened, and here I am. Protecting the people of Skyrim, stealthily. For instance, the job I came here to do, involved killing a Dark Elf named Arien Delneras. He recklessly stole and killed people in Skyrim for years. So, I was hired to end his miserable life. I had just finished the job, minutes before I walked in here." He guiltlessly takes a sip of his mead and sets it back down.

 

[Writes-Many-Posts]

"Your cause is good and understandable. And I myself am not a man of the Dark Brotherhood. And I honestly don't do the cults of the Old Gods. My only purpose was to kill for money when I was an assassin, and I only sacrifice because I owe my life to the forsworn." Maquiavel tried to fix the tension in the breton's words. "When my parents abandoned me the forsworn fed me and taught me their... culture? Let's call it that. If I enjoy being threatened to go to the Cidhna Mine, reconquering the Reach and having to side with ugly hagravens to fight a faction of enraged spriggans that use some earth destruction magic to attack and heal themselves? That's another story." Maquiavel asked for a third bottle of Black Briar Mead. Yet the hunter shook his head and explained. "You had enough for today." The breton dropped a purse full of septims in the corner and demanded a room to spend the night, slightly angered by the man's insolence to deny a customer some mead. "Every job has bad sides. My job and culture's bad sides are simply... easier to notice, than the good ones. I bet you had to owe your life to someone too."

 

[Mesmerize]

At those last words, Jociel lays his head back, looking up at the finely-crafted ceiling. Decorated with elk and bear heads from past hunters that have come through here. "Not really. The only person I owe my life to is mom. But she was killed just last year. She watches over me, though. I feel her guide my bow when I'm ready to kill another murderer." Jociel then looks at Maquiavel, "I understand though. You have little choice in your...profession?" He couldn't find a better word to describe it. "Sorry to hear about your parents, by the way. No child deserves that."

 

[Writes-Many-Posts]

(OOC: this is being cool but i have to go now. my char will go to sleep)
Maquiavel shook his head bluntly. "No... No... I deserved more than being abandoned. But my parents were good and only did that. I almost killed my mother when I was born, and I had a conflict with a bully of the village, almost killed him with a sligshot and then my parents thought I was too evil to be raised by them. Fearing my revenge, then ran off to Hammerfell or High Rock. I don't really know... But I don't want to waste my time going after them." He wrapped a wolf pelt around his neck to warm him. "Well, my alcohol bill for today is up, and I cannot stay awake for too much longer. One more question before I go to bed... What do you think of spriggans?"

 

[Mesmerize]

"Spriggens? Hate em. That simple." Jociel then watches as the Breton walks off to his room. He then decides to get a room for himself. He pays the innkeeper, then grabs his things and goes to his room.

Jociel wakes up early in the morning. Knowing he has to go turn in his contract and receive his payment, he leaves the inn without even telling the innkeeper. Jociel thought the inn was nice. Maybe he'll soon return..

 

[Writes-Many-Posts]

Maquiavel woke up once again, ready to face another day and still feeling happy for Jociel's hatred for spriggans. He was no longer there though. Maquiavel ordered for the first bottle of Black Briar mead and a wheel of cheese for breakfast. The inn had no one there now except him and the hunter, who was cleaning some tankyards that were used the day before. While eating, he looked again at his satchel. A taproot in a net was ready to be a spiritual ornament, and a warning to hunters who dared going too far in forsworn territory. He enjoyed the silence and waited to meet another adventurer soon.

 

[LordNaskill]

Molvar walks into the tavern he puts his hood down as he enters reviling his imperial face with a strange look on his face (this place is odd for an inn not in a town nor in a city so why here) He thought to himself once fully inside he sat at the nearest chair in the corner to have a look what was going on only 2 people in the inn he saw "What is this place I did not read or hear of it" Molvar said with a slow voice he looked tired from close