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    Zelda

    Princess of Hyrule
    The thick fog of tension seemed to dwindle ever so slightly as the minutes passed. With Rolard's thanks to Valencia, she did not respond, but nodded her head in understanding. Words were not needed to express her understanding. She was not one to hold tension stubbornly, as she knew such a thing would only bring havoc and distrust. She knew the Divines would bring Justice where it was needed, and it was for her to learn, where that justice would flow. Solitude was the only source that the Divines could make their decision from. Valencia knew there had to be someone - anyone - from High Rock that was a political leader visiting in Skyrim for support of the Imperial Legion.

    However, the raging storm of Ihylin almost swept the knight off her feet. Lord Seton's graceful smirk and fluid silent-worded response made the knight herself grow a slight smile. All hell broke loose as Lady Sweetwater released the thunder that boomed through the shelter, the hail of anger and upset pelting the Lord beside the knight - quite literally.

    After the fact, and after the woman had took her portion of food to sit down, an apology flowed from the Lord's mouth to Ihylin's ears. It was certainly heartfelt, and it made the knight herself feel guilty.

    Sitting by the fire, the woman sipped a fine glass of water as she opened the envelope. It was often that she received letters from her liege. Of course, the letters were informal, and disguised as nothing but a regular letter.

    Dear Valencia,

    That is excellent news! I was worried there for a moment that I would never see my appointed knight again. I hope you are still fairing well? Health is high and mighty? I give my condolences to you as well: I know you wanted your mission to run smoothly. I suppose Skyrim needs more help than what we planned. And do not take that personally: I know you all too well, Val. I must apologize but this letter were be rather short compared to the others: the Courtship Ball will be coming up in two months. I ask that, if you may, return to Wayrest? I would feel much safer during the evening with you due to so many nobles in one place. Besides: I need my future wife to know my best friend. It would be an honor to have you there.

    With Love,
    Ro


    Running her fingers through the threads of the scarf the man made, it only pained the knight's heart more. She left on a mission to help Skyrim, only to fail miserably. Not only that, but she left her best friend - the person she cared so much for - behind. Worst of all, she was asked to watch him court another woman: someone, she selfishly thought, would not be her. It was another reason she left: her feelings for her liege were unparalleled, and knew it was too much for her heart tot take when the time came for him to be engaged to a royal. But his happiness was above her own, and if she could see him happy, it would make her at least a bit happy.


    Her road to Solitude would be her last adventure through Skyrim, and perhaps, for the rest of her life.

    As the auburn-haired woman called her name, the white-haired woman took a bite of her stew and rose her head, listening intently to what the merchant had to say. It was heartwarming to hear her words were of kindness, and it certainly eased her mind and heart. She let out a small chortle, smiling a bit with her 'blame' to the moons. The knight herself had done the same in a select few situations. With her blessing to continue to Solitude, the woman continued to smile. "Thank you, love." Of course, the higher pay did not concern the woman: she wouldn't accept the money. Certainly not when the merchant insisted on feeding and caring for them.

    @Hart @Keidivh
     

    Kivuli_The_Khajit

    Werewolf Queen of Skyrim
    Kiv takes a moment to think it over. The caravan back there really did no wrong....however they had supplies she could use. And she still suspected them of lying.

    "Alright. You have yourself a deal." The hybrid reaches down to shake the Redguard's hand.
     

    Specter of Death

    Omnipresent Moderator
    Staff member
    Pushing himself off of the cold stone floor, Kyneth found himself to be confused as to where he was. Around him the shallow mouth of a cave seemed like it was trying to swallow him in it's darkness. Outside the weather was the same as it was when he climbed into the little cave and sat himself down. Suddenly his memory came back to him, and he began the short walk outside. At the top of a ridge, Kyneth looked east, and could make out the vague silhouette of the bridge which gave the small township of Dragon Bridge it's name.

    His gaze glanced around at the hills around the little out-cove in which he stood, and decisively stepped down onto the slope; starting his way towards his initial destination. Karthwasten was a mere hour's walk, and though he couldn't tell the time of day through the thick swirling clouds that still quarreled above him, he felt as though he would get there long before nightfall would come.

    What's this hesitation? Are you actually scared already? Are you really?

    "I'm not scared," Kyneth muttered with exhaustion, "I'm just worried."

    About what? Being seen? HA! As if anybody would even mutter a word to you, let alone make eye-contact. So what in Kynareth's name are you worried about?

    "I don't know if you remember, but not too long ago, YOU decided to take hold, and I woke up with one and a half dead people at my feet!" His tone had stopped showing how worn out he was, and decidedly showed exactly how fed up with the day's events he actually was. His pace slowed to a stern and calculated trot, scaling the grassy, rain-soaked hill. His body flashed hot, and for a split second, he thought he felt himself losing his composure once again. Yet, with a quick grit of his teeth, and a tense of his body's muscles in their entirety seemed to allow him to rip control back into his possession. "I'm turning in this contract, 'cause you're right, what am I worried about?"
     

    Zelda

    Princess of Hyrule
    With a smirk, the woman happy to know that the Khajiit was willing to play. Of course, Rayyia had no intention of slipping one past the Khajiit: it was more of a test. Khajiit were never truly allowed in the Holds, and had trouble surviving in the Skyrim wilds. If she fared well... the Redguard-Nord would be willing to allow her to her "family". She was always looking for new recruits. Bandits in Skyrim at the time was it's own form of politics: some bands were more powerful, some bands hated each other, some were allies. And others lone-wolf parties. Rayyia - the Queen of the Flames, as some said - wanted to have the most powerful group of all. Her group was made of lone-wolves without a place to go in the bandit world. Her own band of misfits turned powerful warriors.

    The more the merrier, she always thought. "Alright! Then let's begin the fun~" She mused, looking to her bandit followers behind her. "Let's stick to the plan: first-" The woman stopped herself, looking to the Khajiit. To truly test her skills... she needed to know her thoughts as well. "Say: I have a plan... but I was wondering what your approach would be to ransack the caravan... any thoughts?" She asked, smirking, as usual, her arms crossed, waiting for an answer. Question number one.

    @Kivuli_The_Khajit
     

    Zelda

    Princess of Hyrule
    While the hidden valley was soaked with rain, the young woman was satisfied with the coziness of her cottage. The smell of soup lingered out the cottage to fill he valley with it's inviting scent. If the valley wasn't hidden, she'd be worried someone would find the place. Of course, she knew if the time ever came, she only hoped the traps she made would catch someone off guard, and perhaps scare them away. It was a fear of hers, but it was nothing she could control. All she could do was hope and pray that the safe haven would be kept away from the evil outside world. Her "small" dog Saber continued to nudge the cooking female, making her laugh in return. "Stop it, you!" She giggled, leaning over to take a taste of the soup.

    "Mmmm... needs a bit more herbs." With that she took specks of Skyrim herbs and stirred. Her stomach growled with impatience, as well as Saber finally curling up and sitting down. With her thick dry clothes, the fire warm, the food enticing, and the patter of the rain, Eydis felt as if she could fall asleep standing from the coziness. When out in the dangerous world, she was often on edge, but tried her best to relax. In her haven, she had no fear. She could sit outside on a sunny day and listen to the stream of water leave the valley out a cave, and enter from a waterfall of another cave.

    The girl glanced and flipped through the pages of the cookbook she held, deciding to check on what future recipes she could make. It was quite fun to cook for her, as an alchemist, that is. She found it to be similar skills that could be used multiple different ways. She always thought that she would make a restaurant / alchemy shop if she ever made enough money... she left the idea behind years ago due to the chaos of the world outside her small valley.

    After a few more minutes the chicken soup was finally complete. She let lifted the pot level so that it could stay warm but not overcook itself. Taking a bowl full for herself, she also filled a smaller bowl for her companion. "There you are Saber: a warm meal!" She made sure to let it cool before feeding it to hungry creature. She refilled his water bowl by going to the water bucket. She made herself a glass, before putting the water back into the bucket and deciding to drink warm milk instead. She opened a hatch and walked down the steep stairs to the basement. There was stored lots of products within the cool walls. Down at the end was an opening in the floor where she stored ice and snow from the winter. She would once a year make a trip northward to get some more.

    After she got her milk and warmed it over the fire, she was content enough to sit down, eat her delicious soup, and drink the warm milk as she read a fiction book.

    @Specter of Death
     

    Zelda

    Princess of Hyrule
    "You look like the mercenary type." An old man sipped his mead, placing back on the table with his fist still grasped around it. He had brown beard going grey that was left a mess; his face spotted with dirt. His armor seemed to have small amounts of crusted blood that wasn't his. "Depends on your type of mercenary." The dirty-blond stated to the old man, staring at the mead in his hands. The veteran chuckled, coughing a bit before taking a sip of his mead once more. "Ay; not the talker are ya? I get it... with the political state of Skyrim...you'll get yourself murdered simply stating an opinion."

    When one was the Dragonborn, a civil war was just another obstacle and distraction from the true villains. He may have looked burly, and surly he was no intellectual mage, but he knew well that the Thalmor were the true enemy: not the elves, Nords, Empire, Imperials, Stormcloaks, and who else that was in the damned war. Such interests did not concern him when dragons were rising once more. Of course, if it benefited him in any way to stop the dragons, he would take the offer in a heartbeat. That was the reason he did so many off-the-wall tasks for so many. He gained their trust, was able to receive information, and gained gold. While he had no true leisure time, doing such menial tasks allowed him to progress through his quests.

    And to buy more mead.

    "I heard rumors about a reward up in Shor's Stone." The old man spoke up, gaining the Dragonborn's attention as he took another sip of his mead and cleared his throat. "Not sure what it's about... though the guards say they are not taking part in whatever's goin' on. Pissed off the only farmer there, the cowardly bastards." He coughed, taking another sip of his mead. "Ay, can I get another mead, ma'dam?" The respectful veteran spoke, the woman graciously nodding her head as she took his empty bottle away. The blue-eyed hero simply watched and listened to the man intently.

    "I'd go up there and show them guards what a real Nord is, but I'm afraid my body is no longer up to the task, heh..." He coughed again as the waitress handed him a mead, and he, in return, sent her away with the gold. "Thank you my lady." Another round of coughs left him as he took a few larger gulps of the mead. "Ah... but I'm sure a Nord like you would be up to the task. Not sure what kinda reward'd be there, but if it is enough to scare the guards silly, there has to be something worth your while."

    @Snoball
     

    Snoball

    23rd President of the United States of America
    THUMP

    The heavy sound of a massive object smacking the ground rings through the creaky, wooden walls of Riften's Bee and Barb tavern. It came from the second floor, and although some patrons on the first floor pay it mind, others simply disregard it and go about their business. The same can't be said for the innkeeper Keerava, who lets out an audible sigh. She shoots a discontented look toward her partner, Talen-Jei, signaling him to head upstairs and have a chat with the graceful, sleeping beauty that was unsurprisingly the source of the sound.

    "pl*ps. On the forehead this time..." With a loud, disgruntled groan, Gorlocke lifts his massive body up off the floor. He did quite the heavy drinking the night prior and had slept in for the entire following afternoon. Though accidentally sliding off the bed wasn't uncommon for the behemoth orc, but he'd always find a way to make each landing slightly more painful than the last. Rubbing his forehead to check for any lumps or bruising, he stands up and takes a seat on a nearby chair. Every step and seat he took was greeted to the sound of creaking wood, pressed beneath the sheer weight of the orc. He puts on his gear, but before stepping out of his room, he is greeted to a less-than-pleased Talen-Jei.

    "I know you Argonians aren't that good with the whole 'facial expression' thing, but I already know where this is going, Tal." Gorlocke was well acquainted with Talen and Keerava prior to choosing to stay at their inn. But despite considering him a friend, the burden of him staying here at the inn was beginning to weigh down on the Argonian couple. "You know it's nothing personal, Gor. But it's been almost a week now, friend. Keerava is getting fed up, and rightfully so. A burly, orc mercenary indefinitely residing at the inn - let's just say it's not the best marketing strategy to get others to stay the night." There was sincerity in Talen's tone, he didn't want to kick Gor to the curb, but his usefulness at the inn was vastly overshadowed by the cons that came with him staying here constantly. "Damn. You got a funny way of calling me ugly there, swamp breath." Before Talen can protest and claim he didn't mean it like that, Gorlocke cuts him off with a hearty laugh. He then catches his breath finally. "I'm just pulling your tail, friend. Finding high-stakes jobs has been tough with the war and pl*ps, but give me a couple days and I swear I'll be out of your hair. Errr... I mean feathers... scales?" He manages to get a chuckle out of the typically stoic Argonian as they both head down to the first floor.

    While Talen-Jei returns to serving guests, Gorlocke proceeds to take a seat at one of the empty tables. The inn is filled with its usual regulars, but the two that grabbed his attention were not as familiar to him. Instead of ordering a drink or something to eat first, Gorlocke chose to listen in on a conversation between a dirty, older mercenary type, and a much more clean- almost heroic-looking Nord. It was something Gor couldn't put his finger on, the latter simply had an aura of power and leadership about him. Despite this, he didn't look too different from the other hundreds of Nords he's crossed paths with, so he simply payed this feeling no mind. Gorlocke threw in his two cents after the older man had finished speaking.

    "Haha. I think you're giving these guards too much credit. They're trained to take strolls around the city and jail people for stealing cabbages. The farmer probably asked them to help water his crops or something."

    @Zelda
     
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    Zelda

    Princess of Hyrule
    Between the coughing and downing of mead, the blue-eyed Dragonborn simply listened intently. While the job seemed to be just another situation involving most likely just a small band of spiders 'terrorizing' the townsfolk, something seemed a bit off. Yes, the guards were very cowardly, such rumors would not spread so far as to Riften if it was something small... unless gossip was slow.

    However, before the Dragonborn could speak, he heard the voice of another. Both he and the veteran turned to face the massive Orc who had entered the conversation. Despite most orcs seemingly serious, closed-off, and straightforward, this one was far from it. Instead, his voice projected a chuckle and a rather humorous outlook on the guards of Shor's Stone. While the Dragonborn was not one for expressions, a small smile tugged at the side of face, and a more prominent appeared on the veteran. "You certainly speak the truth, Orc." The veteran spoke, followed by chuckles and coughs. "You are probably right... I've only passed through Shor's Stone, and the guards are a sorry bunch." The Nord spoke, facing the veteran and Orc.

    "I wish your statements were of truths." Intruding in the conversation was Keerava, the innkeeper of the Bee and Barb. "A poor wood elf girl was kidnapped. The mines are under bandit's control, and the bandits stole her for ransom. But as the townsfolk were waiting for a ransom note, it never came. They are worried something bigger than bandits is in the ebony mine." Her voice was raspy as usual, but a tone of sadness echoed through the ears of the men who sat listening.

    The Dragonborn had saved many in his travels, despite being only the very beginning of his quests to destroy the dragons. However, when children were involved, it could bring sorrow to any person of Skyrim: no matter race, lest they be of pure malice. After another fit of coughs, the veteran spoke up from the silence. "I can imagine the worry of the townsfolk... but why in Oblivion would the guards not allow even the miners to go in? They are a strong bunch, those Shor's Stone miners." Keerava shook her head as she swept. "The guards do not want anyone going down there. They'll be blamed for their lives, and the guards themselves find the situation too dangerous. They say to leave the girl down there until some of the stronger Rift guards arrive... but with the Thieves Guild having issues, that poor girl is doomed."

    "No... I'll go." The Dragonborn spoke up calmly, the veteran choking on his mead a bit. "You? Go in there with who knows what inside that mine? You must be mad to go in there alone, but I cannot stop you."

    @Snoball
     

    Snoball

    23rd President of the United States of America
    Gorlocke was never one to put anything past the innkeeper. Although he briefly entertained the possibility that Keerava was saying this to get him the hell out of the Bee and Barb finally, he knew deep down she was a woman of her word. The details of the kidnapping already annoyed the hell out of Gor, as his own history made the theft of a child strike a chord within him. Still, he pondered what could be the bigger threat than the bandits inside the mine. Before a thought could even come to him, the bold, blue-eyed Nord quickly and confidently heeded the call to arms. Gor was taken a bit back by how sure the man the was in venturing into a complete unknown, but it was certainly a quality the orc could look up to.

    "Well, damn. That didn't take very long, haha." The orc belts out a chuckle, before looking directly at the Nord and taking on a bit more of a serious tone. "Listen, I don't know if you're piss drunk now or just stupid, but you're friend here probably has a point. You might just need someone else whose even more drunk or stupid enough headed down there watching your arse." It was strange. He'd only just met the stranger, but Gor was never one to shy away from a gut feeling. The man's voice ushered in a sense of power and certainty. It's as if he wasn't taking a risk with his own life, like he already knew whatever was in that mine was in for a world of hurt. Maybe this is why Gor had no qualms about jumping head first into this task as well.

    The orc then thanks Keerava for the additional information and asks her for an ale, it was shocking to him that he wasn't already downing a drink by this point. While waiting on the drink, he addresses both men this time. "Honestly, I'm still betting on whatever the hell this is to be something pathetic like wolves or spiders, but cracking bandit skulls is always a good time, I guess. Just hope you can back up that confidence of yours, Nord." Though the stranger looked the part of a hero, Gor had seen his fair share of brave, seemingly heroic individuals get made short work of when the time came to raise their sword. He wondered if the man in front of him would be no different.

    @Zelda
     
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    Specter of Death

    Omnipresent Moderator
    Staff member
    "Okay, okay," the Nord spoke with an exhausted sigh, "we'll stop at the inn when we get there to take a load off little one. Does that sound good?"

    The small canine frame bounded excitedly in circles around Thorriniir with excitement. A short chuckle escaped his throat, "I'll take that as a yes then."

    They had been walking the northwestern coast of the cold province for the past three days, and at this point Thorrin couldn't argue with the feeling of exasperation that Meadow and him shared. Just as soon as their descent from the upper hills graced them with the sight of the carved stone dragon skull that adorned the arcing bridge, it seemed his suddenly aching bones couldn't wait to sit next to a warm flame. It would only be less than a half hour before they would set foot upon the stone path of Dragon's Bridge.

    They hadn't visited the city in quite some time, and though it wasn't really a city they particularly favored, at this point even a dank cave ruled by falmer would do. Meadow barked ahead of him with anxious, shuffling paws beneath her. Good lord, I'm going as fast as I can! The thought in his head wasn't annoyed or angry, only just as anxious as his companion. Running was no longer his preferred traveling speed, unlike the coyote's. He couldn't blame her for expecting it though, usually running was the regular pace they kept as they traversed the terrain they found themselves in.

    "I'm just as tired as you, you bug," Thorriniir called ahead at her, "but unlike you, I don't have endless stamina! So you'll just have to be patient, now won't you?"

    A soft wine escaped her throat at that statement, and her head dropped as she drug her feet to return to his side. A small pang of guilt filled his gut, and he rolled his eyes. Taking a deep breath followed by a heavy exhale, he braced himself and forced his legs into a gentle, half jog. Meadow stopped, and tilted her head at him. He stopped to glare back at her, "oh don't you give me that look, you've convinced me so you best keep up!"

    Without any hesitation she rushed back to his side, and he returned to his slow run. Before long, his legs gave up the pace as the smell of warm stew filled his nose and his feet fell on the cobble path just north of the town. Meadow's pawsteps seemed to have given up as well, and the two of them calmly walked their way into the village; pointed directly in the direction of the inn.
     

    Zelda

    Princess of Hyrule
    The next few hours were troublesome. The caravan's passenger, Lord Seton, had fallen ill. Out of everyone, Valencia was surprised it was she who had not fallen. Unconscious, the knight and trader knew they needed to quickly arrive at Solitude: there, Ihylin could finish her business, Valencia could confront Lord Seton - if he would awaken - and... leave Skyrim for good.

    The two left packed the camp back into the caravan, and carried the sickly man inside to rest away from the elements. Who knew that only hours ago they had disguised him as a sick man... only to become one. A pain in Valencia's heart drummed. Her words were cruel, and while they ended in apology, she was sickened by her own behavior prior. Then again, if her accusations were true, he was the enemy, and she had no need to pity him. But if his words were of the truth... her heart would be shattered.

    Their next stop would be Dragon's Bridge. They still had some time before they would arrive, and it was only filled with silence. The knight sat beside Lady Sweetwater, keeping her guard up. With one less guard protecting the caravan, she had to do the job of two. Usually, Rolard would fill the void of silence with some silver-tongued remark or a playful insult.

    "I am unsure if I have asked already Lady Sweetwater... but what are your plans once we reach Solitude?" Her voice was sincere, and she asked out of mere curiosity. She let a small smile escape, hoping to lighten the atmosphere of the journey. Valencia simply hoped that, as timed passed, Rolard would awaken. For now, while Ihylin continued to control the caravan, Valencia would take it upon herself to guard the caravan and attempt to relieve Lord Seton from his ailment. She, more often than most, would become easily ill. Some blamed it on a curse, showing prominently through her white hair. Now with her constant ailments, she learned how to make many potions to cure them. She hoped she had a potion that could cure him well enough so he would be awake by the time they reached Dragon's Bridge.

    "If you'll excuse me, I believe this area to be safe enough for me to climb into the back to examine Lord Seton. I will be quick, and do not hesitate to call upon me." With a smile, the knight climbed down and followed the caravan until she reached the back. She climbed on the back and open the doors while it was still moving, not wanting to slow Ihylin down.

    Closing the doors behind her, she knelt down by the noble man to attempt to examine his illness. "Hmm..." She felt his forehead on the back of her hand, and felt the burning sensation. "Fever..." She looked around the caravan and found a cool jug of water. She found a towel and dampened it with the cool water. She could see his body slightly shaking. "Shaking..." The white-haired woman gently placed the towel on his forehead, and adjusting the blanket that was placed on him prior. "Rattles!" She announced quietly and triumphantly.

    Digging in the small bags in her armor, she removed her potion bag. There she rummaged through the many potions, hoping she already had a cure for the Rattles. She wasn't sure where he could have picked it up, but imagined the bandits, who were usually unclean, had sliced him with a not-so-sterile weapon. One little amount of exposure could cause illness. Finally she found a potion bottle with her neat handwriting spelling 'Rattles'. She carefully popped the top off and opened his mouth, waiting for him to breathe out - so he would not decide to breathe in the potion instead of drink it. She then poured it in his mouth, making sure he didn't choke on the medicine.

    @Hart @Keidivh
     
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    Keidivh

    Noble exile of High Rock
    It had been nearly a week since Rolard had escorted Ihylin's caravan to Solitude. When he first took the contract he imagined it would bring him some sorely needed coin. What he never could have imagined was being reunited with one of his oldest friends, along with being nearly skewered by one of the most famed knights in Wayrest. All in all it was a taxing journey, emotionally as it was physically. But it was worth it. Finally he had someone in his life that cared about him, that didn't see him as anything more than an Oathbreaker.

    His thoughts were interrupted as he felt a hand smack him upside the head, turning to see Ihylin smirking at him, a playful spark in her hazel eyes. "Forgive me my lord for interrupting your 'me' time, but your brother just finished dinner. It smells like troll droppings, and I won't suffer through it alone." Rolard couldn't help but laugh, one of the most genuine ones he had in a long time.

    "Come now, don't be so hard on him Ihyl. It's not his fault his meals turn out more disturbing than the contents of a Hagravens cauldron, the lad tries."

    "Well try he might, but that certainly doesn't make it any easier to force down. Now come on, I'm not sure how much longer we can keep Ellia at the table before she tries to escape. Again."

    Letting out a content sigh, Rolard got up from his chair and began making his way up to the manor. Vaynar had done good work while he was away, managing to complete the main hall after all this time. Upon reaching the entrance hall he opened the door, eager to be with his family. "Well brother, I'm impressed that you haven't managed to poison yourself and Ellia yet with what you call food." The azure eyed Breton quipped as he took of his arctic wolf cloak and hanging it up. As he turned around to greet everyone, he was met with a sight that caused any mirth he had to die, and the blood in his veins to turn to ice. Vaynar, Ellia and Ihylin were all there sitting at the table. Their eyes gouged out, tongues ripped from their mouth and throats slit. Each of them, staring at him with blank expressions.

    "By the Divines not again. Please.. Not to them. Not to her. What kind of gods would allow this!?" He screamed in a shrill voice, eyes staring lifelessly at the ground. Feeling a presence before him, he looked up, and found himself staring into Ihyl's empty eyesocket's before she spoke, her voice a sick perversion of what it usually was.

    "Oh, Rol, there aren't any gods to blame. Only yourself."


    Quite suddenly the Breton awoke, coughing up some foul tasting liquid that was caught in his throat. His immediate instinct was to reach for his bastard sword, sensing something was near him, but his muscles didn't wish to respond, his body weak. Azure eyes looked about wildly as he tried to discern what was happening, to convince himself that what he had seen in his fevered dream wasn't real. When his vision finally cleared he realized it was Val that was with him. His breathing slowly became less erratic, and the warrior laid his head back a moment to rest.

    "Lady Ildrose? Heh, you're a sight for sore eyes. I just had a painful reminder of why I hate sleep." As his senses began to return to him, Rolard slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, trying to figure out what had happened. Val had a concerned look on her usually sweet and smiling face, and she help what looked to be a potion.

    "So, I take it I either fell ill, or dear Ihyl's food poisoned me?" He quipped, though he was to tired to even try to fake a laugh. Whether it was poison or sickness, it was downright shameful to become incapacitated on the job. What if they had been assailed by more bandits, or Falmer, or bloody Reachmen?

    "Thanks for the potion Valencia. And for not skewering me while I was out. I now it must have been tempting given my reputation." In truth he knew he had nothing to fear. Even if Valencia did want to end his life, she was far to honorable to take it while he was unconscious, or unarmed for that matter.

    "How long have I been out?"

    @Zelda @Hart
     

    Zelda

    Princess of Hyrule
    As Valencia continued to aid Lord Seton, she couldn't help but reminisce on the last letter she received from her liege, Prince Rodeyval. It had been far too long since she last seen him, and all she could do was send questions flying through her thoughts. 'What if he sent me on this mission to send me away? What political leader sends away their most trusted guard on a mission that would most likely end in a return of failure? Did he know of my... feelings...?' She sighed, closing her eyes briefly as she continued to give Rolard the drink.

    Suddenly, his coughing led the knight to gasp in surprise, caught off guard by his reaction - and awakened-self for that matter. She placed a hand on his arm, the other holding the bottle as she tried to keep him from moving too much - she did not want him to hurt himself. "Calm down, Lord Seton. Everything is fine." She spoke calmly, trying to ease his panic. Once the waters had calmed, she sighed with relief; she knew Ihylin would do the same if she were in the back of the caravan.

    Hearing him speak brought calm waters upon her own mind, nodding her head to the man as he sat up. Despite hearing the forced chirp of a laugh, she knew he must be embarrassed... or something along those lines. She knew she would be, at least. It was a common fate when on duty; it only made her wonder why she became such a high guard...

    With a smile she responded, "Ah, no Ihylin cares far too much to poison an old friend." Her voice was soft and sweet as she joked, and she managed to muster a more genuine smile and chortle. "I believe a bit of unclean wounds of bandits can be the cause for your Rattles case." Away she stored the potion bottle, placing the jug of water back where she found it.

    His next statement made her frown, but she was not facing the man as she cleaned the area. Truly, she was stuck in an argument with herself. It all depended on what the higher-ups said in Solitude about the situation, and find the truth. But what would become of the situation? If he is telling the truth, she returns to Wayrest with notice of political corruption. If he is lying, must she truly take him away from Ihylin? Hadn't he suffered enough? And what would she return to? 'The courtship with the man I love and a woman other than myself?'

    Unrequited love, at its worst. "No pr-roblem, love." Her voice cracked as she strained to force the tears back into her eyes. It caused her the beginnings of a headache. Once her expression was normal, she turned around to face him. "Not too long. We are almost to Dragon's Bridge, if that helps."

    @Keidivh @Hart
     

    Keidivh

    Noble exile of High Rock
    Even with the revelation that Rolard was the Oathbreaker, quite possibly the most hated man in at least two kingdoms in High Rock, anathema to all knights Valencia remained a faithful companion. She was being as kind and caring as she would be to a child. It was strange. The young exile had known some noble folk in the courts of High Rock, but never had he met one so pure of spirit. It was remarkable, inspirational even. Yet he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of envy and resentment towards her for it. Had she simply not run into enough adversity to break her? Or was he simply weak?

    Hearing her mention how he and Ihyl were old friends brought a sad smile to his face. "Tch, a plopse friend is more like it. Last letter I sent her was to cut her out of my life, else I drag her down with me. Yet I still managed to find away to drag her back in. A good friend to have, eh?" He gave a mirthless chuckle before breaking out into a coughing fit. Seems it would take some time for him to get back to full strength, but at the very least he wasn't dying any longer. Not that dying would have been such a bad thing mind you. Of course dying of the Rattles would have been an embarrassing way to go, even for an honorless knight such as himself. At the very least he should die in combat, Saphfire in his hands.

    There was a brief moment of silence between the two before Valencia responded to him again. While she may have bee facing away, it was clear by the way she spoke that she was distracted by something, though he hadn't a clue what. Even the sweetest of souls had their troubles it seemed. Her answer did provide some relief as well. Would have felt like an ass if I'd slept all the way to Haafingar. Ihyl would have given me no small amount of grief for that.

    "Well, I'm glad to hear that. Wouldn't want to miss out on any of the fun now would I." He gave her a small, playful nudge befoe reaching for his pack which was thankfully close by. A smoke was exactly what he needed right now, grabbing his pipe, the Breton shoved some razorweed in it before lighting it with a blue flame. Taking a deep inhalation, he felt his muscles relax as he felt the smoke burn through his lungs.

    "If I may Lady Ildrose, you seem somewhat... Distracted? Is something bothering you?" While it would have likely been a good idea to just leave the knight to her thoughts, Rolard couldn't help but to inquire as to what's wrong. After everything she had done for him, it was only right he try to be some small help to her. Worst she could do was tell him to piss off. If girl was even capable of saying that.

    @Zelda @Hart
     

    Zelda

    Princess of Hyrule
    An old friend... with the fit of coughs, Valencia knew he still had more of his strength to recover. The potion was enough to get the wheels rolling quickly in his system for his body to naturally start the healing process. She let out a small giggle-like chuckle, shaking her head. "You are a great friend to her, love. I saw the flames in her eyes the moment she stood between us. That loyalty is not given; it is earned." Her voice was sweet as usual, but her usually cheery tone was lowered. It was more soft, and bittersweet sounding.

    "We'll be the best of friends forever! Right?" "Of course silly! Why wouldn'we be?" The small girl tilted her head, her white pigtails tossing aside as she done so. Giggles ran between the two of them, their pinky fingers pulling away from a promise. "Ya know, some day Imma be a princess!" "Well, Imma be a knight!" The two stood up with sticks in their hands, and began swinging them at each other with laughter pouring around them. The little boy's branch lightly hit the little girl's side. "Gotcha!"

    Blue eyes jolted wide, listening to the older man chuckle once more. No plaything to hit her side today... just a fellow nearby that only reminded her of the place she wished to never forget... but wanted the pain to go away. A forced smile fell upon her face. "No... of course you wouldn't..." Her voice trailed off, about to leave the back of the caravan due to the smoke.

    However, she was stopped when a rather surprising question was asked. If I may Lady Ildrose, you seem somewhat... Distracted? Is something bothering you? She was flabbergasted. Stuck in her tracks. Of all the people on Nirn to ask such a question... it is him?" She retracted her hand from the door, lowering it beside her. If I tell him the truth, and he is a traitor, I'll never be able to serve Rodeyval again... if he is telling the truth, he could still hate me and rat me out... if I lie, he may catch me. If I say nothing at all... bah he is too smart for that...

    She made fists in her hands, but did not dare turn around to face him.
    "It is unwise for me to be in such a state... but yes, I am distracted. And yes, something is bothering me." She paused, searching for safe words to respond with. "I have a question for you, Rolard. Say you love and care for someone so much, you would do anything for them, but your feelings towards them is wrong. What would be the better choice: to be by their side, while still making them happy, but painfully on the sidelines of their devotion that you watch in front of your eyes be given to someone else? Or to leave the person behind, despite your care for them, so that your heart is no longer crumbling beneath the weight of the bridge that once connected the two together, but lacking the light they so dearly give you?" Her words were clear and straightforward, but in essence, they were words of hurt. "You need not answer now. But..." Her hand reached for the door of the caravan. "Please... let me know..."

    With that she left the back of the caravan, taking a deep and shaky breath to gain her composure. She returned to the front of the caravan, carrying a smile for the sweet Ihylin.
    "I apologize for my lack in swiftness, Lady Sweetwater; but, Lord Seton is now awake and resting, so no need to fret." With that, she took her seat, casually returning to her knight-like guard duty.

    @Keidivh @Hart
     

    Hart

    Sassmaster
    Seton had fallen ill, and amount of fretting and healing magicka couldn't have helped them in the storm. Ihylin had noticed it when he drifted to sleep unexpectedly in their makeshift tent. It was when he wouldn't wake that alarm set in for the woman. Bidding for the lady knight to haul him into the caravan, she haphazardly shoved their supplies away and readied the caravan to move again. It had only been a few hours, at best, and the storm was still raging.

    The merchant knew better than to let them go unprotected. Absently handing Valencia a heavy, waterproofed blanket, they both bundled up and moved through the storm.

    It took two solid days for the storm to pass. They stopped rarely, and traveled in the night, chasing off wolves and even facing the reckless abandon of a bear. Bandits didn't bother them the rest of the trip, which was a sigh of relief for Lady Sweetwater as they cleared the hill to see Dragon Bridge rolling into sight.

    -----------------------------

    Valencia had left her side now that the little town was in sight to check on Lord Seton. In truth, she had been worried sick, twisting the band on her finger mindlessly as the mare had guided them through the wilderness. The question caught her off guard, and she gazed blearily at the knight.

    "I suppose I would do what I normally do... Get home, unload wares, check in with folks, and... well. This time is different. I think. Rol and I... we have some catching up to do." Frowning, Ihylin turned to look at the road in front of her, tugging on the reins to stop the cart. She looked exhausted, dark circles having formed under her eyes and the fiery brightness gone from them as she fought to stay awake. "I'm sorry to have pushed you so hard to get here. We should only be another hour or so to the gates of Solitude, but I want to get something here before we keep going, and check on him myself."

    A little sigh escaped her, and the cart began to roll again. Barely registering that Valencia had left her side, the merchant tilted her head back and stared towards the sky absently, listening to faint sounds within the cart as it clattered onto the Dragon Bridge. The lady knight had joined her yet again, settling into her seat as they rolled through town towards the inn.

    News of Rolard being awake made her nearly choke with relief. The sun was setting on the already long day, staining the sky with hues purples and pinks. Her voice was thick as she looked back at the noble woman.

    "I feel as if I can't thank you enough... did you happen to figure out what illness brought him down? If not, I could always bring him to the temple..."

    @Zelda @Keidivh
     
    Last edited:

    Keidivh

    Noble exile of High Rock
    Valencia did not turn to face him, staying silent for a few moments after he presented his question. It wasn't as if he was surprised by this, the woman had no reason at all to trust him. Taking another drag from his pipe, Rolard simply waited for the white haired knight to leave without another word. Yet still she stayed, never turning back to face him. She confirmed his suspicion that yes, something was bothering her. It seems she wasn't quite ready to tell him directly what it was, but posed a question that carried far greater weight than the exile was expecting. A question of selfless love, that will never be returned. Rolard said nothing after she finished, instead chewing on his pipe, trying to figure out if he even knew what could be an answer to that.

    Thankfully Val didn't want an answer now, instead heading out of the caravan simply asking him to give it thought. Giving a nod the knight likely wouldn't have even seen, Rolard dragged himself over to the wall of the caravan, leaning back and letting out another huff of choking smoke. When it came to matters of the heart, there never was a simple answer. It brought him back to his own youth during his somewhat scandalous affair with a Nordic peasant girl. It was the talk of Akaire for a few months, and had given his father no small amount of grief.

    But this seemed far deeper than just some simple affair. The pain in her voice was evident to the azure eyed Breton, even as Val tried to hide it. Her love for this person was truly unrequited, truly selfless. So much so that she'd even consider suffering in silence by his side if only to be near him and make him happy. Whoever this person was should count themselves as blessed by the Divines to have someone so devoted to them. But would they want Val to suffer as she was? And if they did, or didn't care, did they truly deserve someone so devoted.

    Either way, the Breton lord could understand her desires, to continue giving your love to someone even if you only get pain in return. Rolard had sacrificed everything he stood for as a Breton, as a knight, to save his family. The only thing he gained from it was shame, damnation. Yet he would do it again a thousand times over.

    His thoughts eventually wandered to Ihylin. He wasn't sure where they stood at this point, if she could truly forgive him for what he did. But what if she did, what if she cared for him? It would bring nothing good to her. If you truly cared for her, you wouldn't allow it.

    A grimace formed on his weary face, Rolard trying to shake any further thoughts from his head. He hadn't drunk anywhere near enough to be able to handle this right now, and he had spent far to long in this carriage anyways. Pushing himself onto his feet, Rolard gave himself a few moments to try and regain his balance before going over to where his equipment was stored, pulling out his armor and weaponry. "Time to start earning my pay again."

    It didn't take long for the burly Breton to armor himself, even in his exhausted state adorning his armor was second nature. His second skin. Regardless it felt far heavier than usual, and any movement he made felt slow and sluggish. It likely was a terrible idea for him to already be up and about. But Rolard was nothing if not a stubborn son of a b***h.

    Taking a moment to stretch and try and relieve his joints of stiffness before opening the caravan door and hopping out. Immediately his nostrils were hit with the fresh mountain air, quite refreshing after being cooped up in the caravan for so long. The sun was already setting behind the Druadach Mountains, casting a beautiful red glow across the small village of Dragon Bridge. From here Solitude would be but a stones throw away. Heading up to the front of the caravan, he had to keep his hand on the side of it to make sure he didn't fall flat on his face before reaching the front.

    By the looks of it, Ihyl wasn't faring much better than himself. There were dark bags under her eyes, and even the usual fiery spark in her eyes seemed dulled. "Forget the temple Ihyl, we need to get you to a bed. Have you slept once since I took ill."

    @Hart @Zelda
     

    Specter of Death

    Omnipresent Moderator
    Staff member
    It wasn't long before Thorriniir and Meadow found themselves on the stone-laid path that divided the small, waterfall-side town. Dragon Bridge had a warm and curious feeling as dusk's colors began to devour the sky. The settlement was never incredibly busy, no more than 20 people ever stayed in the town at any one time--locals and travelers alike. Today was going to be slightly different it seemed, as when Thorriniir reached the wooden stairs leading to the Inn he was surprised by the sight of a stopped wagon. Accompanied by a man and woman, the entire sight was exhausted and worn out.

    "Curious," the man muttered to no-one, dropping a quick glance down at his coyote companion. She licked her chops in a huff flaunting her indifference.

    Thorriniir seemed to pace in his mind, contemplating whether his curiosity would lead somewhere if followed. He popped his neck and cleared his throat, walking around the stairs to sit on the edge of the Inn's Deck. With his pipe in one hand and smoking leaf in the other, he packed it's bowl and lit it up without hesitating. He sat in silence, staring at his feet or at Meadow, slowing and calming his mind. He was in no hurry, and his companion seemed to understand the purpose of his actions as she laid at his feet patiently. Who were these travelers, and were they in need of any kind?
     

    Hart

    Sassmaster
    The sound of his voice at her side made the woman nearly jump out of her skin. Ihylin turned in her seat to see Lord Seton in having donned his armor, pinching the bridge of her nose as she felt a headache coming on. With dwindling patience, a long drawn sigh let the woman collect her thoughts as she clambered down the side of the wagon.

    "For the love of Mara, you look like you've been trampled by a mammoth several times, you can't even hold yourself upright. I'm fine, I've done this before you know." Evading answering his question entirely, she turned back towards the cart, shuffling under a floorboard absently and continued speaking. "Just relax for a few minutes. I'm getting us a quick meal before we get to the gates, and you are going to down a healing potion whether you like it or not."

    "I'm fine. It builds up the immune system!"

    His half attempt at a joke made her clench her jaw, the last threads of self-restraint snapped. An angry, frustrated, strangled cry rose from the woman and echoed between buildings of the tiny little town, causing folk to look up as merchant nearly a head shorter wheeled on a seasoned warrior, jabbing a finger into his chest plate and forcing him a few steps backward as she raged as him.

    "Damned is your immune system if you're dead, Seton! I haven't seen you in over five years, and you haven't talked to me in over a year, and now you're suddenly back in my life and I'm having to haul ass to Solitude to get you to a temple because you're a stubborn asshole who won't let anyone heal your wounds, because Gods forbid you ever let anyone help you! You are going to sit down on the back on the caravan and stay there until we get to the city, you are going to the Temple of the Divines so they can make sure you aren't about to keel over on me, and you are drinking a healing potion because you know something? I didn't stop caring, you stupid, idiotic pile of troll dung! You are human! A Breton! You are not invincible! So stop acting like it and just--just..."

    Shoving him hard, the Nordic silversmith turned on her heel towards the inn, snatching a coin pouch from her seat and storming up the steps, nearly tripping over the man who had watched the little scene unfold. Yanking open the heavy wood door, she turned to snarl at him again.

    "And don't smoke inside my caravan!"

    The slamming of the inn door made folks around them duck their heads and hurry on. Certainly, not this much entertainment had been here in a while.

    @Zelda @Keidivh @Specter of Death
     

    Specter of Death

    Omnipresent Moderator
    Staff member
    He didn't look at the pair, but Thorriniir heard it all--not that it would have been overly difficult to hear any of it. The woman's scream echoed through the valley and her stomps into the inn shook the floor Thorriniir sat on. He looked up in the direction of the remaining man, who stood stunned. A short and quiet whine escaped from Meadow's throat and Thorriniir took a longer puff from his pipe.

    "Feel free to smoke out here then, ay?" Thorriniir chuckled charmingly. He took another long drag, and let out the smoke in a heavy breath, "take it you've been on the road together in that wagon for a little while, yeah?"

    He popped his neck once again, tonguing the flavors of the smoked plant onto the roof of his mouth. Thorriniir scanned the man. Large, lean, strong and powerful without any doubt, with origins in some sort of nobility judging on his attire. Likely Imperial or more likely Breton based on the armor design and sword-craft. His jewelry was also reminiscent of High Rock artistry Thorriniir had seen before. He was also noticeably weaker, or drained. The exhaustion that showed on his face was something Thorriniir had seen and felt many times before.
     

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