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18+ Passing the Axe

Discussion in 'Active Stories' started by Wolfie, Aug 17, 2014.

  1. Wolfie

    Wolfie Active Member

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    setting

    The civil war continues in Skyrim. Legion soldiers and Stormcloaks alike harass Whiterun, the only province that remains neutral, pleading for their causes to be heard; both sides have turned this ancient soil black with blood.

    Word of dragons has spread. It is said that Helgen was utterly demolished by one such beast – as large as a mansion, with scales as black and rough as Daedric armor and bloodred, bloodthirsty eyes.

    Stories have begun to circulate about the Dragonborn – an ancient Nordic hero who is the only one who can permanently kill a dragon, and has mythical powers. Despite hopes, it appears that the legend of the Dragonborn was only just that – a legend. No such hero has revealed his or herself since Tiber Septim's time, and it seems that Skyrim is on it's own.

    There are many mercenaries here, and brawls have erupted on numerous occasions Adventurers seem to be even more common than the wildlife. Vast amounts of travelers have entered Skyrim, most of them fleeing from Morrowind.


    ooc

    I don't know what to expect from this thread, but I do have my hopes. It would be pleasing to read full in-character posts, in third person with acceptable grammar etiquette. It's good to work out plot and character development with fellow members. I also hope to see people actively contributing to the thread. I promise that I will not disappoint those who decide to join this roleplay.

    Please note that this thread will contain 18+ content – namely, nakedness, alcohol usage, drug usage and mentions of sexual activity. Despite this, however, please fade-out any in-character sexual activity. Thank you!


    ic

    They milled about like mudcrabs in water, their babble thinning as the sun fell behind Dragonsreach. Citizens began to drift off and head home; merchants locked away their wares beneath their hired stalls. Mercenaries and travelling adventurers headed outside of the Bannered Mare for a quick breath. During such tense times, nobody was alone.

    Idoma Petirus sat on the roof of Belethor's shop in the market square, her heels digging into the aged wood to keep from falling. A book, Provinces of Skyrim, lay split open in her hands, rested on a bent knee. She stared at it, eyes flickering between the lines. Pressed within the pages was a letter, otherwise hidden from sight; the paper was white with youth, many straight lines running across it's face from numerous foldings.




    Bounty

    By order of Balgruuf:

    To all able bodied men and women of Whiterun. The bandits located in Halted Stream Camp have been poaching on provincial land. This has caused issues with the local giants. A reward will be offered to anyone who kills their leader.

    Proventus Avenicci



    She closed the book and carefully set it inside her knapsack, a calm, almost bored expression plastered upon her face. Later, she told herself. In the morning, or tonight. She'd have to survey the nightly activity, in any case.

    Idoma looked down at the market square – the stalls circled around a residential well. The air felt temperate and dry; it was the 14th of Midyear, and the weather had been uncharacteristically hot, but not at all humid. It's either this, or return to Falkreath, Idoma reminded herself, edging over to the side of the roof, where the tall fence post made it easier to descend from this height.
     
  2. TallestMouse24

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    As the sun went down the creatures of the night came out. As the dark cape flaps In the wind. The light night armor causes no delay. Lucidia quickly runs upon the top of Whiterun's walls. With her Nightingale armor blending her into the night. She runs under the stars an night in the name of nocturnal.
     
  3. Wolfie

    Wolfie Active Member

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    ooc

    Hello, TallestMouse24! Please note that my first post was recorded with minimal grammar errors. As pleasing as it is to see someone finally reply to this thread, I was hoping to go about roleplaying in a more advanced and in-character manner. I'm honestly not sure how to respond to your post, so I'll just stay silent for now.
     
  4. TallestMouse24

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    I honestly don't even know how to reply to that ^-^;
     
  5. Wolfie

    Wolfie Active Member

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    ooc

    (...) Well. What I mean to say is, I don't quite understand what your initial post was conveying. "As the sun went down", you said, and "causes no delay"; these two phrases suggest that you are roleplaying in present-tense. Although this is not a bad thing by any means, it does make it difficult for some roleplayers (that write differently) to read.

    Could I get some more information about your character, such as in a bio? A more drawn-out post with more detail // description would also be very helpful. I'm not trying to sound rude or poke at you at all, I was just looking for advanced posts - the kind you'd find in a renowned book. That's what's so wonderful about roleplaying; you get to partake in a living novel of sorts! So, how much experience do you have when it comes to roleplaying? Just a friendly question, mate, not trying to get all up in your face.
     
  6. fellowknight

    fellowknight "I am the danger! I am the one who knocks!"

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    Hey there, fellow RPer! I saw your thread and thought I might stop by and inquire a character of mine. His backstory needs work, I grant you, but otherwise I need to expand on his reputation.

    Arigom Bohili
    "Being a warrior is not being able to strike down your foes, but finding good reason to raise your sword in the first place. With strength, there comes power, and with that, comes responsibility."

    Name:Arigom Bohili

    Age: 39

    Birth Date: 14th of Last Seed, 153 4E

    Birth Place: Imperial City, Cyrodiil.

    Birth Sign: The Warrior

    Origin: Imperial

    Class: Warrior
    Strength in arms. Honor in battle. Loyalty in friendship. These are the three virtues the warrior values. As being a warrior requires strength, Honor, and Loyalty. While the archers hang back and fire volleys, or while the magemen hold back with their magic, the warrior is always in the thick of the battle. Being the MOST skilled with any types of blade, the warrior is commonly used as infantry and siege drivers. And it's a wise choice. A warrior's endurance is probably what beffles hi enemies, if not that, it's his sword through their gullet. A warrior is mostly known for his extreme anger and prowess in combat, and is known to yield only through death. If ever you run into a warrior, be ready for a long, bloody fight to the death.

    Gender: Male

    Height: 6'3"

    Laterality: Right-handed

    Sexuality: Straight

    Marital Status: Single

    Health: Well fit

    Affiliations: None

    Afflictions: None

    Religion: The Eight Divines

    Deities: Talos, Akatosh, Shor, Stendarr

    Appearance
    Hair: Short, curly colored coal black.

    Eye Color: Light Green.

    Skin Color: Light tan, like all Imperials.

    Build: Over-average.

    Scars: One across his cheek.

    Physical: Arigom's physical stature is quite large and muscular compared to that of other Imperials. He keeps himself extremely fit, so as to not be vulnerable at anytime. He feels as though it's a must for him to stay fit and well-kept. And thus, fit he remains.

    View attachment 22222
    Personality
    Positive Traits: Strong, Full of zeal, Loyal, Honorable

    Negative Traits: Scared at times, Too hot-headed sometimes, Paranoid

    Likes: Brawls, Mead, A good fight, Battle-axes

    Dislikes: Thalmor, Milk-drinkers, Mages, Vampires, Arrogance

    Fears: Daedra, Fire, Spiders, Falmer

    Aspirations: Hone his skill as a warrior, Negotiate with Destroy all the Thalmor, Show those milk drinkers who's boss, Kill as many Daedra as possible.

    Quirks: Terrified when close to Daedra, fire, Spiders, or Falmer.

    Basically Arigom is your average warrior with his shameful secrets. He's pretty open to anyone who wants to be a friend, as long they know how to brawl. But be warned, he can be extremely paranoid at times and will accuse you of stuff you likely didn't do. But other than that, He's a highly determined warrior and an extremely loyal and protective friend, and will fight to the death for those he calls, comrade.

    Combat Diagnostic
    Skills

    Master
    Two-handed, Heavy Armor

    Expert

    One-handed, Block

    Adept
    Smithing, Archery

    Novice
    Magic, Stealth

    Gear

    View attachment 7431
    Customized Cyrodiilic Armor forged especially to thrive in foreign wars and handle extreme damage.

    View attachment 22232

    Imperial Legion Officer Chainmail under-armor that houses a hardy deflection ability towards arrows and sometimes destruction spells.

    View attachment 22242

    Insulated Cloth under-armor that slightly warms up when exposed to cold climates or conditions.

    View attachment 22252

    Imperial-forged Katana made of the fine Kohigi steel imported from Eastern Akaviri.

    View attachment 22262

    Dawnguard Crossbow with quick reload action and a sensitive trigger.

    View attachment 22272

    Small quiver with silver bolts and easily detach the head when shot into the body.


    View attachment 22282

    Two-handed Imperial Silver Battle-axe which singes the flesh of any hellspawn it comes in contact with.

    (He doesn't care for enchantments, potions, or spells. He considers them weak and thus heals his own wounds and fights his own battles.)

    Relationships
    Thalmor [ENEMIES]: He STRONGLY loathes the Thalmor, or any oppressors for that matter. They want nothing more than to rule all of Tamriel and have their boot up everyone's ass so as to keep them in line. He himself would like nothing better than to show these snakes what happens when you try to deceive the Imperials.

    Imperial Legion [NEUTRAL]: While most Imperials would support the Empire, Arigom remains neutral with his Imperial dynasty. They let the Thalmor have their way with them, when they should have stood and fought. And now they let the rebels go against them. But, he does understand that they were outnumbered and that wars do take time, so, he remains neutral.

    Stormcloak Rebellion [NEUTRAL]: Once again, Arigom remains Neutral with the Nords. He read up on their backstory and understands why they would rebel. But still, there are more peaceful reasons that can save everybody alot of time.

    Falmer [DISLIKES]: While most would pity the blind race of elves, Arigom scorns and hates them. they brought that on their own, and they deserve what happened to them.

    Forsworn [DISLIKES]: Trying to enter the territory of the reach, Arigom was attacked and scarred many times by the vicious members of the forsworn. He hates every single one of them and beleives the empire should just storm in and finish them off already.

    Thieves Guild [DISLIKES]: He had a few items stolen from him in riften and he already knows who it was. He despises milk-drinkers of an type, but LOATHES thieves.

    The Companions [LIKES]: Since this is where he got most of his 'in-heart fire' from, Argom loves the loud, bustling company of the Companions. He loves downing mead with them, he loves singing songs of Ysgramor with them, but most of all, he loves practicing with them.

    The Mages College [DISLIKES]: He hates magic-users, plain and simple. The fact of using magic over using steel upsets Arigom. Why hang back and shoot petty magic when you can get up close and strike your enemies down? Where's the fun in all that magic?

    The Dark Brotherhood [DISLIKES]: Arigom hates this so called guild of assassins for their in considerate feeling towards the civilians of Tamriel. He may dislike a few nords and some milk-drinkers, but at least he's considerate of others. But they just kill anyone, over a contract spoken by a dead corpse. He's challenged them on many occasions and thus, is forced to look over hos back every minute or so.

    History
    Arigom was born in the Imperial City in Cyrodiil. He worked as a stable hand for his father and had a side job at the mill by the time he was twenty. He pulled in a fair amount of coin for a few years, and was even able the purchase an iron sword for the protection of his family. But, sadly, it was all for naught. He had just finished up his shift at the mill, and collected his daily pay, he was heading home when he noticed a column of smoke on the other side of the City. It was odd, as the city didn't use fires for light, at least not big fires like that. Suddenly, the one thing that told him it wasn't a normal fire, was a loud shriek.

    Out of fear and a little bit of anger, He dropped his coinpurse and ran towards his house. Upon reaching it, he found it and the stables in ruins and on fire! Dead guards lined the grass, some of them burned to a crisp. He kicked open the door to find his father fighting off what looked like Daedra! His father must have heard the door getting kicked in, as he looked at his son, before a sword stabbed through his chest. Out of grief and anger, took up his father's sword and fought off the Daedra. But he was no match for them, and was gashed along his cheek. Then finally, the rest of the guards arrived, taking down the Daedric invaders. It was this day that would forever scar Arigom, not only physically but mentally.

    Twenty-eight years later......
    After years in service to The Companions, Arigom had finally branched off and decided to stay in Skyrim, hearing rumor of small pockets of Daedric Cultists in the mountains and valleys. He felt a need in his heart. Images flashed in his mind with bursts. His family, engulfed in smoldering flames with their mouth wide open, screaming out in pain as they die. He felt a fire spark in his heart, one he felt would last for decades, and would hunger for even longer. So, sating his hunger for Dremora blood, Arigom took to the mountains to find the camps. To avenge his family.
     
  7. Wolfie

    Wolfie Active Member

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    ooc

    Hail, fellowknight! Of course you may join this thread! I feared that it might remain inactive; I'm glad to see that there is yet hope. Don't worry about your CC form for now; I've finally learned, via my own recent experiences, that good works are never completed. Welcome to Passing the Axe.

    ic

    Whiterun slept at night with one eye opened, it seemed; it was this activity of the guards that had pushed Idoma to further consider other methods. Unfortunately, the Jarl did not seem to appreciate her works. She had to get her coin another way, and theft was certainly not the answer. It was an issue that she struggled to solve.

    Taverns were always a good way to tell how silent the night would be. Idoma leaned against the wall of Belethor's shop, mind flicking between her options. She could spend an hour or so within the Bannered Mare inn and wait to fulfill the bounty another night, or she could head out now and face alerting citizens within the walls. Her knapsack pushed between her back and the worn wooden wall. Idoma shifting the straps uncomfortably and decided that, either way, she would have to hide her supplies somewhere. Stashing them inside of the inn didn't sound like a terribly safe plan.

    (I apologize for the less-than-amazing post, if it bothers "anyone".)
     
  8. fellowknight

    fellowknight "I am the danger! I am the one who knocks!"

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    OOC: It's quite alright, Wolf. Before I post however, can I perhaps have a quick summary of the story thus far? The first post kinda confused me, no offense.
     
  9. Wolfie

    Wolfie Active Member

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    ooc


    No offense taken! Thanks for asking. This thread takes place in the midst of the civil war; both sides beg Whiterun, being a neutral hold, for aid. Many skirmishes have sparked between the Legion and the Stormcloaks near Whiterun.

    Word of dragons has spread throughout Skyrim, as has rumor of Helgen's fate.

    Stories have also begun concerning the Dragonborn, who is expected to rise during this time period. However, there has been no sign of any Dragonborn, and the citizens of Skyrim are beginning to wonder if this is truly the End Times.

    Mercenaries, adventurers and other odd folk have thrived under such uncertain conditions. Despite these obvious troubles in Skyrim, many travelers have entered Skyrim – most of them being Dunmer, fleeing from their homeland.

    This thread begins as the moon begins to rise over Whiterun. The citizens have begun to head home, whilst most foreigners turn to the Bannered Mare. Idoma sat upon the roof of Belethor's shop, reading a bounty letter hidden inside of a common book. She is wondering whether it she should complete the bounty tonight or another time.

    Still deciding, she crawled down from the roof, then (next post) leaned against the wall of the store. She knows that the guards around here are, unfortunately, quite active. She also notes that she is usually not paid for completing bounties, as the Jarl doesn't seem to “appreciate” her leaving bandit heads within the city walls (see her CC form in my signature if you're confused on that bit).

    She hasn't made a decision yet, and is now wondering where to stash her knapsack if she were to do the bounty tonight (which she is probably doing to do), so it won't get stolen.

    Besides that, it's about 6pm in Skyrim. I hope that made some semblance of sense! I have a tendency to write too much, which makes it a bit of a struggle to explain what I mean in-text. Does that explain well enough?
     
  10. fellowknight

    fellowknight "I am the danger! I am the one who knocks!"

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    OOC: Of course! Thank you and forgive me for my sudden disappearance. I'll toss up an intro right quick. Just Arigom entering Whiterun and heading to the inn, catching your char's attention.

    IC:

    The night wailed on.

    Skyrim was in a state of momentary pause due to the crisis at hand; one concerning The World-Eater's return and the unbroken silence of the Dragonborn. In Skyrim, word and rumor spread quickly, like wildfires, so it wasn't too abnormal for Arigom to hear tale of these troubles on his way from the eastern mountain pass. He'd also noted the odd number of refugees and immigrants traversing the border of Skyrim.

    Running.

    Running from what?

    The night wailed on.

    ......​
    At the entrance of Whiterun, the large wooden gates slowly creaked as they heaved themselves to swing open. No later than a few seconds, a hooded and cloaked figure emerged from the berth of the opening gates, his boots silently clacking against the stone-set road that was the street of Whiterun. Over his left shoulder, his arm clutched the strap of a knapsack, which contained the gear the currently had no use for. His right hand tightly gripped his famous axe, Rex, which was lightly splashed with dry blood. An attack turned sour earlier, bandits who thought he was but a youngling.​
    They learned otherwise.​
    He soon figured that their leader was a wanted man, and was 'promptly invited' to the jails of Whiterun for a low price. But he was worth more dead. So he was dead, his head in a white linen sack also in Arigom's right hand.​
    Contently, he trudged along the path to the market square, now scarce of activity, probably due to the fact it was late and business was another scarce factor. But he cared not. He continued to silently stroll past a woman, leaned against the wall of Belethor's shop, her eyes flickering around from person to person, it seemed, before her gaze set on him. He returned her gaze for the time that it took him to walk past her, then he grunted outward, setting his eyes on the doors to the city's inn, the Bannered Mare. He'd need a drink before he could deliver this 'package' to the Yarl.​
    Climbing the steps fluidly, Arigom pushed open the doors to the inn and took a moment to allow the soft, warm breeze to invade his nostrils and his skin. He looked about the room momentarily, before closing one of the doors with his boot, the maiden closing the other, as he walked to the bar and found a spot on the end.​
    He pulled up a stool and set all his gear to the right of himself, against the bar, then he undid the straps to his cloak and removed it, revealing his rough, but young face, scarred only with a white line along his cheek. He wore only a leather shirt, his iron greaves, and his iron boots, the rest of his gear stored in his knapsack. He promptly set his cloak to cover his exposed gear, before calling over the Innkeeper, Hulda, and ordering a cold mead.​
    He'd need a drink.​
     
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  11. Wolfie

    Wolfie Active Member

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    Meanwhile, Idoma had stumbled across a decision. She would indeed head out tonight to seek out the bandits of Halted Stream camp, effectively continuing the occupation of her alter-namesake, Foxhide.

    A man passed her. Idoma raised her chin and looked at him, her dark green eyes searching his face. He seemed fairly unremarkable compared to the mercenaries she'd seen – some even missing limbs. This one had a scar across one cheek. He was almost certainly an Imperial, yet what was he doing here.

    Her eyes flickered to the weapon swinging from his side: an axe, it's tip splayed with dry blood. Still not a strange sight, although she'd personally clean her weapons before returning to the city. That was more out of preference than safety protocol. Most guards didn't seem to mind the bloodworn travellers anymore, though citizens surely did.

    It wasn't until Idoma's eyes set upon a pale, rough linen sack, gripped in what she presumed was the name's sword (or, in this case, axe) arm, that she felt any actual emotion towards the man. She immediately knew what it must be. She knew the weight of a head in a woven bag, from experience.

    She was taken aback. Many mercenaries do this, of course, but … this night? Anger passed envy. She felt cheated. Surely this wasn't her quarry, dead before her eyes, his head carried by another?

    The man grunted as he passed her, heading towards the Bannered Mare. Before she realized what, exactly, she was doing, Idoma followed him. She began coming up with excuses. She needed to know if this man had killed her quarry. She had to discover if she didn't need to head out tonight, after all. Subconsciously, Idoma realized that if she entered the Mare, then she'd have to wait until tomorrow night to turn in the bounty.

    She had to know. The man had already disappeared within the tavern. Idoma opened the door and stepped inside, the heat from the fire already settling over her as she closed the door behind her.

    (Fantastic first post, mate!)
     
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  12. fellowknight

    fellowknight "I am the danger! I am the one who knocks!"

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    (Thanks! I hope I didn't confuse you, what with his entrance. But, just to be clear, he did in fact cover his gear with his cloak, so you'd literally have to pick up the cloak to see what was under it, if that makes sense :p I'll try and not be too big on that detail though. Also, I'll be changing his shirt from leather to dark green linen. Onward!)

    Arigom lowered his head into a nod as Hulda delivered his ice cold mug and set it on the counter in front of him, the beads of condensation dripping down its sides and onto the bar. He raised a hand to grip the icy handle and lifted the mug to his lips, sipping down some of the mead silently, just as the doors to the tavern swung open. It was the woman he'd seen earlier. She must either followed him in, or sought shelter from the approaching storm.

    But he cared not.

    Soon, he would get paid and he would be on his way, most likely back to the mountain pass after a month's respite. He had business to settle there, though he was unsure if he should return so close to the border, what with all the incoming refugees, the border's guards may be extra cautious. Too cautious.

    His thought were interrupted as the lady found a seat on the bar as well, on the other side of the lazy drunk that lay between them. Arigom lowered the mug and wiped his lips along his arm, carefully using his right foot to scoot his covered gear closer to himself, pulling his axe closer to himself as well. It had been too many times others had attempted to claim his score as their own, and it had been too many times those people had been beaten in to another life.

    He raised his mug again, feeling the woman's eyes on himself as he gulped down the thick mead.

    He kept his eyes open.
     
  13. Wolfie

    Wolfie Active Member

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    (Ah, ok! I didn't pick up on that. Let's say, then, that Idoma did NOT see his gear, and instead has entered the Bannered Mare to … well, she probably doesn't even know. She has to drop off her knapsack somewhere, though, so she'll probably ask Haelga to put it in a safe place. That must be the reason she entered, then. She'll also ask Hulda is that bounty is still currently unsolved, seeing as there are many other mercenaries that could have completed it before she gets the chance. Thanks for clearing that up for me!)

    The drunk to Idoma's lefthand side stank of ale. She tensed her shoulders and tried to ignore to ignore him. She glanced at the green-eyed stranger for a moment, before Hulda interrupted her slow train of thought. “Idoma,” the other woman said, getting the Imperial's attention.

    “Ah. Hulda, could you get me a tankard of wine? The watered-down snowberry one.” Hulda nodded and walked off, towards the kitchen. Idoma lowered her gaze to the bar table and waited.

    After a moment, she couldn't help it. She glanced around the inn, wondering who was here tonight. I can't sit here all night. She knew that. She'd often wasted a good opportunity here at the Mare. She had no good excuses for that. Not anymore.

    Sitting at a bar with a drunk and, possibly, a mercenary was a fine definition of “uncomfortable”. Idoma's fingers found a carving in the wood of the bar. She looked down at it. 'Sulla and Quintus' it said, engraved within a heart.
     
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  14. fellowknight

    fellowknight "I am the danger! I am the one who knocks!"

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    Arigom finished off the large tankard of mead with one last gulp and set it down, motioning Hulda over to give the tankard back and order a room for the night.

    He spoke calmly, his tone low and rough.

    "What rooms do you have available?" He inquired, standing and gathering his gear as Hulda replied.

    "Well," She said in her light Nedic accent. "There's one just up the stairs there, past the kitchen. First door on your left. Cost ya ten coin for a night." Then she pulled a rag out from behind the counter and carefully wiped the crumbs of bread and bits of dried meat off the counter.

    Arigom nodded slowly, reaching into a medium-sized pouch on his side, and handed Hulda ten septims. Then, with out another word, he picked up his gear, slung his cloak over his shoulder, and gripped his axe in one hand, huffing off towards the stairs in the kitchen. The Inn-Maid, Saadia, offered to lead him to his room, but he silently declined with a head shake and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

    Pushing open the door he paid for, Arigom strode into his room and quickly set his gear on the bed, throwing his cloak over it. Then he picked up his axe and the blood-soaked bag, turning on his heel to leave, before stopping himself. He turned back and grabbed a vase from the dresser, setting it behind the double doors as he closed them.

    To tell if someone would enter his room while he was gone. He'd made more foes than friends in the mountain pass, and he feared they'd followed him here. If they had, he'd be in for one long night.

    With that established, he turned back and walked down the stairs, using the back entrance of the Inn to leave.

    He was late as it was already.
     
  15. Wolfie

    Wolfie Active Member

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    Hulda placed Idoma's drink on the table. Idoma watched as the man walked off towards his rented room.

    She took a short drag from the tankard. "Hulda," she said. She decided to ask the innkeeper outright. "Is the bounty for the bandit leader at Halted Stream camp still open?"

    (Sorry for the short post, not sure what else to say. If you'd please, be Hulda's voice for a moment?)
     
  16. fellowknight

    fellowknight "I am the danger! I am the one who knocks!"

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    (Certainly! Not a problem.)

    Hulda shook the rag over a large wooden bin, unraveling the bits and pieces of old food into the waste bin. She needed to ask Saadia to take it out soon, though she doubted the smell bothered anyone, considering it had a lid. Closing the container, Hulda turned around just in time to catch Idoma's question. 'What's the girl up to now?', she asked herself mentally, before shrugging slightly.

    "Not sure, to be honest." She gestured a finger to the doors the man had left through. "The lad who just left came in with bloodied bag, so I'd imagine he took care of the bounty, yes. It was the most recent." She finished, as she was wiping out a glass mug with another rag she had stored away.

    "Not bad eyes for a young lad, either..." She mumbled to herself, a bad habit of hers, before she called to Saadia.

    "Saadia, dear! I need ya to take out the trash bin and clean it! Just how I taught ya!"

    Saadia nodded and put a lid on the stew she was boiling, wiping her hands on her already dirty apron as she walked over to grab the trash bin, carrying it outside.
     
  17. Wolfie

    Wolfie Active Member

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    Idoma groaned mentally, and propped her elbows upon the bar table, crossing them. Her bounty had already been taken, and hadn't even seen the man before. 'Most recent', Hulda had said. So, no more bounties as of now. Perhaps I should move onto a different hold, she wondered.

    She took a swig of the wine, mulling this new opportunity over in her head. She wasn't sure she was ready to leave Whiterun, yet. The guards here are much different than they are in Falkreath – less attentive, yet the people here seemed like good folk. Idoma realized that Whiterun was beginning to feel like home to her. The thought sent her into a blaze of various thoughts.

    She needed a break. Idoma began downing the rest of the sweet, watered-down wine. She set coin on the table for Hulda after a moment, muttering a 'thank you'. She was beginning to feel like she was Foxhide, not Idoma Petirus. She wasn't in control of her own life, anymore – the bounties were.

    She wasn't sure what to think, much less do, about that. Idoma put down the tankard and got to her feet, heading towards the door, in search of fresh air. Thoughts of sitting outside the city walls somewhere, amongst elk tracks and juniperberry trees, seeped into her brain. She subconsciously remembered her father. More than Foxhide, she told herself, opening the door.
     
  18. fellowknight

    fellowknight "I am the danger! I am the one who knocks!"

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    Arigom trudged up the steps towards Dragonsreach and took a second to look up and around at the amazing architecture of the building. Normally, he didn't clash well with the Nordic folk of Skyrim, but there were such things, their architecture for example, that they agreed on. He took a few steps forward before stopping a few feet shy of the door. It was here he finally figured out the woman back at the bar, why she had followed him into the Inn.

    She too was after the bounty. Or maybe he was just being paranoid again.

    He glanced down at the bloody sack in his right hand and grunted quietly, moving forward.

    ......​
    No sooner than the lady had pushed open the doors to the Inn's entrance, had a hand fallen upon her shoulder. She jumped slightly from the touch, it looked like, and turned back to look at Arigom. Face to face, they were, if only for a few seconds. He took the time to gloss over her features; her chest length black hair, her dark emerald eyes, and the unfathomed sharp curves and features that encompassed not just her face, but her body as well.​
    Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Arigom held up the bloodied bag, going out on a whim, and pushed it to the woman's chest. Then he walked past her, into the Inn, mumbling.​
    "I believe you were looking for this.."
    OOC: Ok, so maybe I did confuse you a bit. Sorry about that! Basically, when he entered town, you could see the bag. But when he entered the Inn, he threw his cloak over his gear, concealing the bag as well. Is that better? Sorry if I confused you for a bit there.​
     
  19. Wolfie

    Wolfie Active Member

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    Where had he come from? As she exited the Bannered Mare, Idoma felt a hand fall upon her shoulder. Alarmed, she nearly jumped out of her skin, and turned around to face whoever it was who had interrupted her journey.

    It was that man, the one Hulda said can come in with the bloodied bag. His eyes were lighter than hers, she realized, but of the same Imperial green shade. His hair, also like hers, was black. She did not care much of his appearance; as far as she had decided, they had no need to meet each other. And yet, here they were.

    He surprised her further by shoving the blooding bag towards her. Idoma took it, her limbs feeling as if they were turning into stone, and then turned away, walking back into the Inn with a mutter. With the silence of the night, she could hear his words, and yet they did nothing to clear her mind.

    Why was he doing this? He obviously knew that she had been after the head, but … no. No. She was after the bandit, not the head. This was not what she wanted. She wasn't sure what to do with this. Justice had been done, yes, but not by her hand.

    She stared at his back, thoughts flowing to and fro like the tide, as he disappeared behind the door. The sound of wood banging on wood jolted her. She turned around, having made a decision on a whim.

    She opened the bar door and headed towards the bar, moving with slight trouble to open her coinpurse. She drew out a batch of septims and placed them on the table. “For tonight,” she told Hulda. Idoma had often stayed here, or outside of the walls in a large leather tent, but she had not set up the tent, tonight. In any case, she and Hulda were somewhat familiar with each other.

    She headed towards her room, low shoulders portraying less confidence than she felt. She turned her head towards the man as she passed him. Would he know it was her? Would he appreciate her gesture, unlike these rough Nordic people? Hopefully.

    (Idoma's plan is to store her knapsack here, dress in her Foxhide garb, and set the head upon one of the spikes near Dragonsearch for all too see. If she received coin, then she'll turn it into Arigom; if not, then she will have to figure something else out. She's considering making a message to send to the Jarl, requesting for a reward for future times. Idoma, being the imperfect being that she is, has always secretly hoped for some form of adoration.)

    (It's fine, mate, really! Thanks for clearing it up for me, again. Don't worry about it.)

    (New font! Is is too small, or hard to read? Please let me know!)

    (I'll be a lot busier in a few days with a lot of work, so I'm not sure how often I'll be able to post, but I'll definitely try!)
     
  20. fellowknight

    fellowknight "I am the danger! I am the one who knocks!"

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    (OOC: Your font is fine, Wolfie! I, personally, don't like to style my typing simply because I'm a slow typer and it may consume even more time.)

    Arigom glanced at the woman as she passed him on the way to her room. He simply popped his neck and shook himself lightly as he once again climbed up the stairs to his room. He was a hard man to connect or even talk with, as he kept himself isolated most of the time on his endless quest. Rarely ever, would he come to towns or Inns, if only for supplies and rest, it was limited immensely.

    Now he needed rest and time to collect himself for the next few weeks he would be in the city. He still puzzled himself as to why he had come woman that bag. By all rights and claims, the kill was his. Not hers. And yet, there. He had done it. But it mattered not. He would find another bounty in some other hold on his way to the Druadach Mountains, where he suspected a various series of Daedric Camps were nestled.

    Pushing open the double doors to his room, Arigom forgot about the vase of water he had placed behind the door and, in an instant, murky water from the vase spilled onto the wooden floor. He cursed silently to himself and quickly searched through the drawers to of his dresser, soon finding a rag to toss onto the spill. Then he picked up the vase and carefully set it onto the dresser, turning around to prepare his bed and get some rest.

    (Sorry if it seems low on detail, but not much is happening as of now. Perhaps an attack or something should become known in the night, and the guards run to disperse the skirmish? Or the night can just pass, and something happens the next day? It's up to you, either way.)
     

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