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18+ The Last Dragonborn

Discussion in 'Skyrim Roleplaying' started by Zelda, Feb 28, 2017.

  1. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    Silence is all Valencia expressed between the two who were obviously in the heat of an argument. When Rolard first appeared by their side, distress formed on the knight's face. He was still very ill, and seemed as if he could barely stand - which Ihylin did not hesitate to address. The white-haired yet youthful knight was willing to divide the two from each other, but she did not. She knew, from her time being with the woman, that it was best to let her rant. Besides: she did agree with her. His well being was at-stake, and it too made her upset.

    Of course, she could only imagine the amount of anger that boiled and bubbled in the veins of Lady Sweetwater. By her shouts and accusations - enough to wake a sleeping mammoth - she was extremely frustrated with the man. Nonetheless, the entire time she told the man off, Valencia stayed silent, allowing her to vent. With the entire town involved now, the moment she slammed the inn-door closed, people went about their business.

    Valencia knew she had to stay with the caravan - she was practically the only person viable to be on duty - so she couldn't go far. She did not plan to leave the front of it; however, she heard a voice speak to Lord Seton. "Feel free to smoke out here then, ay?" She could not see the man from her angle, but considering Lord Seton was not alarmed, it was a normal townsman.

    The knight jumped down from the caravan, her armor clanging lightly, before she rose. She was alert to her surroundings, but felt at ease being in the town. She walked around to the see the man with a quite adorable companion by his side, while smoking a reed. She placed a hand behind Lord Seton on his back, placing another on his chest plate.
    "I do apologize, love, but this trouble maker will not be smoking any more under his condition. He never even thanked me for letting him sneak one earlier," she mused, giving a small smile while patting his back. "But yes, we have been on a long journey. Not too long, but... long enough." She responded, removing her hands from Rolard.

    @Hart @Specter of Death @Keidivh
     
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  2. Keidivh

    Keidivh Noble exile of High Rock

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    A small chuckle escaped the Breton knight as he made a small jest at his own health's expense. In truth he had a few of his own to spare, but they were far to precious to waste when he was simply feeling a bit ill. When he plundered ruins or escorted merchants there quite often wasn't anyone around to provide him with help should he be fatally wounded it was up to himself to take care of it. He wasn't looking to become reliant on others now, and he certainly wasn't looking to burden Ihylin further by using up her supplies. It was simply the way things had to be..

    Or perhaps not as the auburn haired Nord let out a scream that would have frozen a frost troll in its tracks. Rolard could only watch breathlessly as Ihylin hopped off the cart and stormed towards him, her tired eyes once more holding a fiery spark in them. It must have been quite a sight for the townspeople, watching a small Nordic girl shove a burly Breton warrior while screaming at him. Given his state, there was little he could do besides take it, struggling to keep his balance even from the small shove. Though considering it was Ihyl it wasn't as if he'd do anything about it to begin with.

    A slight frown formed on his face as she reminded him of how he cut off ties from her. It was only made worse to know that due to his sickness he had been more of a burden on this journey than anything else. If it were any other Rolard wouldn't think much of it, but to do that to Ihylin and in the presence of Val the Brave. Another strike against what little dignity and honor he had left.

    There was one thing she said though that made all the screaming and poking fade from his attention.

    "I didn't stop caring, you stupid, idiotic pile of troll dung!"

    Heh, well I'll be damned. Even after all the plopse I've put her through, she still cares. Even as she gave him another small shove, Rolard couldn't help but give a small smile towards the feisty silversmith. Embarrassment be damned, he'd let her scream at him a hundred times more if he got to hear that again.

    "And don't smoke inside my caravan!" Were her kind words of parting before promptly slamming the inn door. It only caused him to snicker as he brought his pipe back up to his mouth as he spoke in under his breath.

    "No promises mi'lady." As he took a long drag from his pipe, he overheard one of the nearby townsfolk speak up. Unsurprisingly the whole fiasco caught his interest. Looking over to the steps he saw the man speaking to him. Whoever this was, they were certainly no simple townsman. He was covered in animal furs, which Rolard safely assumed he acquired himself. A gruff, ashy, rugged beard grew on his face in stark contrast to his own neatly kept one, and his hair could be more likened to a wild animals mane than a proper hairstyle. His equipment, while at first may look to be nothing special were all of exquisite make and painstakingly cared for. Perhaps the most interesting thing about him was his companion. A coyote if Rolard remembered correctly, definitely not the most common of animal companions. A true man of the wilds if I've ever seen one.

    Before he managed to utter a word to the man however Valencia was beside him, intent on keeping him out of any further trouble. "Oh, a troublemaker now am I?" He asked in a bemused tone. While normally he would be irked by this type of treatment, it was simply so odd that it was coming from Valencia, a knight he deeply respected, that he couldn't help but laugh.

    "Well let me thank you now dearest Val for allowing me to smoke earlier. And let me apologize for what I'm about to do." With a sly grin, Rolard made his way over to the stairs of the inn at a slow pace, easing himself down next to the savage looking stranger. The coyote must have been well trained, as it didn't even utter a growl towards him.

    "My thanks for the invitation stranger. Aye, we've been on the road for a good while. And as my good companion suggested we're ready to be done with it." Taking another puff from his pipe, Rolard reached into one of the pouches attaches to his hip, pulling out some Razor Weed and offering it to the man. "Friends call me Rol, you can call me the same if ya like. So what brings you to Dragon Bridge Nord? You don't look like the type who spends a great deal of time in towns or cities."

    @Hart @Zelda @Specter of Death
     
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  3. Specter of Death

    Specter of Death Forum Moderator
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    "This trouble maker will not be smoking any more under his condition. He never even thanked me for letting him sneak one earlier," the now visable female knight spoke in response to Thorriniir's words, patting the man on his back, "But yes, we have been on a long journey. Not too long, but... long enough."

    Thorriniir raised a single eyebrow at the woman's words. Her sudden appearance was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Thorriniir hadn't been around people who intrigued him in ages, so he was somewhat excited about the new appearance. He watched the breton man roll his eyes at the woman, shrugging her off with a tone of amusement, "well let me thank you now dearest Val for allowing me to smoke earlier. And let me apologize for what I'm about to do."

    The man's voice matched his appearance, as did the woman's, and Thorriniir was rather surprised by the jolliness in the breton's tone. He looked undoubtedly unhealthy, but despite all of that he didn't let it drain away his personality or charisma--something the nord enjoyed about people. Anyone who can hold their own against hardship, injury, illness or disadvantage while still keeping a jolly attitude and a willingness to smile and jest was a positive influence in life--positivity that Thorriniir had seldom seen these days. As the man plopped himself down next to him, he too whipped out his own pipe, and pulled a small pouch off of his belt to begin packing it.

    "My thanks for the invitation stranger. Aye, we've been on the road for a good while. And as my good companion suggested we're ready to be done with it," his tone remained friendly and open with a welcoming smile, as he held out the pouch of what Thorriniir smelled to be Razor Weed. Thorriniir nodded and grinned, dipping his hand in for a small pinch of the herb, setting it into the bowl of his pipe and packing it down firm once more with his thumb.

    "Well, it's a pleasure to run into some fine folk here," Thorriniir warmly replied to both the man and the woman by the carriage, taking out his own herb pouch and offering it to the breton, "Thanks for sharing, friend. I'm Thorriniir, friends call me Thorrin or Thorr. And this little lady here, is Meadow."

    Thorriniir reached down haphazardly and mussed the hair on top of his companion's panting head, which she responded to with an annoyed whine followed by a gentle nip at his fingers. The breton man nodded in acceptance, before presenting his response. "Friends call me Rol, you can call me the same if ya like. So what brings you to Dragon Bridge Nord? You don't look like the type who spends a great deal of time in towns or cities."

    Thorriniir chuckled at the man's assertion. He could never deny that it was obvious he wasn't a city-goer, and he found it funny just how easy it was for him to forget how out of the ordinary he must look to the more civilized township. "I forget it's easy to tell I look like a wild-man. We're just a couple of Rangers, hunting and helping those in need. We don't often go into big cities much, given my appearance and her....being a wild and "feral" looking animal. Might I ask you both the same question? What are the three of you, tired and emotional as you are, doing traveling by carriage, and stopping in Dragon's Bridge of all towns?"
     
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  4. Keidivh

    Keidivh Noble exile of High Rock

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    As the Nord introduced himself, a grateful nod was given to the savage looking ranger as Rolard took a pinch of his own mixture of herbs while dumping out the contents of his pipe. Lighting it, he found the herbs had a distinct earthy flavor the Breton had never encountered before. It was rather refreshing. It wouldn't have been a surprise if the man beside him had picked the herbs himself recently.

    "I forget it's easy to tell I look like a wild-man. We're just a couple of Rangers, hunting and helping those in need. We don't often go into big cities much, given my appearance and her....being a wild and "feral" looking animal. Might I ask you both the same question? What are the three of you, tired and emotional as you are, doing traveling by carriage, and stopping in Dragon's Bridge of all towns?"

    While looking like a savage, he found the Nord sitting beside him to be quite well spoken. Warm even. Not something one would expect from a person who spends so much time in the wilds, as they tend to lose their aptitude in socializing. This Thorriniir fellow didn't seem to have any such troubles. Rolard didn't take much at face value, but he would concede that this man seemed a decent enough sort.

    "Well that's honorable work you do Thorrin. I suppose you could say my friend and I are swords for hire. We were just helping our soft spoken employer who just barged into the inn make her way to Solitude in one piece. Asides from a few highwaymen picking a fight in which they were sorely outmatched and myself getting a touch ill, it's gone fairly well."

    Of course Rolard left out the bits about Valencia nearly skewing him in the tent the night she realized who he was and the heated argument that followed. It was necessarily something a stranger needed to be privy to. He also made sure not to go in great detail describing either of his companions, preferring to let them speak for themselves.

    "We just stopped at Dragon Bridge to take a breather and get a hot meal before we finish our journey. And give the townspeople a little bit of entertainment." A wry smile formed on his face as he recalled the looks on some of the villagers faces. It was likely to be the talk of the town for a good couple weeks.

    A few moments of silence passed as the sickly warrior puffed out a ring of smoke before a thought occurred to him. If there was any that may have knowledge on this business of dragons it'd be a ranger. While they may not hear many rumors, they often have a good deal of knowledge about the wild and its denizens.

    "So Thorrin, being a ranger, have you caught glimpse of any of these dragons everyone has been talking about? It's caused quite the stir in Falkreath and Whiterun."

    @Specter of Death @Zelda @Hart
     
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  5. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    Despite the woman's words, the male dismissed her with an apology and walked over to the wild-looking townsman. Shaking her head, the white-haired youthful woman walked back over to the caravan, standing beside it, at guard. Her hand on her sword and her shield at the ready. She was calm, but focused. Besides; it would be a surprise if anything happened to the caravan in the small town. That, and only a fool would attempt a raid in such a place.

    She watched Rolard converse with the male on the stairs, smoking together as they chatted about who knows what. Most likely about the journey and about one another. Valencia assumed Lord Seton was simply happy to speak to a man after being with two women who only nagged to him. She let out a small smile, as she too felt the same when on duty with the Knights of the Rose. There were very few females, and whenever she had the chance, she was happy to speak to them. Of course she grew tired of the gossiping and judgement of women - she would, when spending time with the nobles, could not wait to get away from it. Especially when she could get away with Rodeyval to play games of chess and spar together...

    Drat. Her face scrunched a bit as she shook her head, attempting to push the thoughts away. However, her face began to burn at the thought of what happened prior. Had I truly asked Lord Seton such a damnable question!? How embarrassing... a knight of my respect should never speak in such a manner... on something so... so... pitiful. She watched a butterfly flutter nearby, going from flower to flower. A bird flew down - attempting to take it for a meal. However, the butterfly spread out its wings, revealing an array of colors and patterns. The bird quickly darted the other direction, intimidated by the beautiful creature.

    Am I a simple guise? She watched the butterfly slowly flutter its wings back, returning to its delicate duties. Did I earn my position because of my father? It worked safely beside the bees who fought for their hive other than itself. Because I was close with Rodeyval? Because I was charismatic? A child began to watch the butterfly as well. Yes I saved Rodeyval... but... The child stood up and began to chase the delicate butterfly, scaring it to fly. Am I truly worthy of my title? Of the weapon and shield I bear? The butterfly continued to dart around, the child picking up the speed. Is that why they sent me away to fail? Gone. The child caught the fragile beauty, crushing it in its hands. The child frowned, only to drop it on the ground and run off. Valencia only stared at the wrinkles and crushed mess that once was something considered beautiful and pure, scaring away the evil birds. But what it was not prepared for, was innocence of a child.

    She regained her posture, standing straight and tall. Just dark thoughts is all... they will leave soon... I am sure I earned my place... I am skilled enough, I think... She glanced back at the stranger and Rolard, wondering if Ihylin would return soon. Surely Valencia could use her healing powers? It was what saved her life. She doubted Rolard would sit still long enough for it, and Ihylin's idea of a potion would be more viable to force down the stubborn man.

    @Specter of Death @Keidivh @Hart
     
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  6. Specter of Death

    Specter of Death Forum Moderator
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    While Rolard's words filled Thorriniir's ears and he took them in, the nord's eyes wandered toward the knightly female by the cart. She seemed lost in thought--troubled even, before turning her back and making her way to the side of the cart that separated herself from him and his new ally. I wonder what she's about...

    Thorriniir turned back to glance at Rolard as he finished up his words, ending on a curious question. "So Thorrin, being a ranger, have you caught glimpse of any of these dragons everyone has been talking about? It's caused quite the stir in Falkreath and Whiterun."

    Thorriniir felt a hearty grin grow across his face in unison with a pang of excitement in his gut. Without saying a word, he turned to reach into on of the small pockets on the right of his waist to retrieve something. The ivory shard of bone was smooth in his hand, and almost hot to the touch--like it had been sitting on the edge of a fire. Following the bone, he dropped a gigantic tooth along next to it and stared into his hand for a moment to compare them. He turned to Rolard, maintaining a grin.

    "They are gigantic, gorgeous, deadly beasts," he led, dropping the tooth in Rolard's hand, "I picked these up off of the body of one that attacked in Whiterun Hold. Hit the western watchtower and took a few men with it from my understanding--but the beast fell eventually. I would have loved to have been a part of striking that thing down. I've seen a couple flying around the mountain peaks in the east as well; I'm not sure what threat they may present to us all, but even with all that raw power I haven't seen an attack since."

    Thorriniir watched Rolard move the bone between his fingers, holding it close and farther away from his eyes in examination. "Beautiful, right? The bones are incredibly durable and useful as well. In fact, if you'd like I could probably whip something up really quick for you to drink that might help your current state. And speaking of states, is your friend over there alright?"

    Thorriniir gestured in the direction of the caravan, and more accurately his companion.
     
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  7. Keidivh

    Keidivh Noble exile of High Rock

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    As Thorrin reached into his bag to procure something, Rolards attention wandered over back to the white haired knight standing guard. Although judging by the look on her face, her mind was far from focusing on guard duty. Her usually serene face was furrowed with what seemed like worry or doubt. The Breton followed her eyes to a butterfly that was dancing through the air. When was the last time he had even bothered to look at something so trivial? From the look on her face she certainly didn't seemed happy watching it, rather there was a forlorn look where there should have been joy.

    What troubles you so deeply White Knight? As he scratched at the stubble that had nearly formed into a short, scruffy beard during their journey the ex-knight's mind wandered back to the question Val had asked him but a few minutes ago in the cart. Is that what ailed her? Rolard was generally quite skilled at reading people, but he was certainly no mind reader. Perhaps we will have more to discuss than just that question alone when we speak next.

    When Val's deep sapphire eyes looked over to him and the ranger, the Breton's inquisitive look was replaced with an easygoing smile, giving a friendly nod.

    It was only now that the exile realized that Thorrinir had been talking to him as he felt a sudden weight in his hands. His azure eyes widened in awe, mouth slightly agape as he looked at what he now held. Dragonbone. His mind barely registered what the Nordic ranger was saying, but he managed to pick up a few bits and pieces as he twirled the remains in his hand. Namely that dragons were in the east. A barely noticeable smile of amusement appeared on Thorrins face as he watched the Breton marvel. He likely had the same reaction when he first laid eyes on it.

    "This is incredible... It's so light." Rolard stated as he continued examining the bone. Ihyl would love this.. At that thought, an idea ran trough the Breton's mind, one that would possibly get him back in the good graces of his old friend.

    "... if you'd like I could probably whip something up really quick for you to drink that might help your current state. And speaking of states, is your friend over there alright?" Glancing over at the scruffy Nord beside him, a small smile formed on his lips. Not many would simply offer their supplies to a stranger, especially a ranger who was likely in dire need of them himself.

    "You're offer is kind ranger, but I shall be fine. Solitude is but a short hike away, besides if I'm being honest, I actually have a couple potions of my own. Just didn't want to waste them." It was true, he did have potions of his own, but they were scarce. Two, maybe three health potions, a potion of stamina and not a single magicka potion. That's why he was so intent on simply toughing out illnesses and wounds the way he did. Healers and potions were expensive, especially in times of war.

    The ranger's inquiry made Rolard pause a moment. The Breton liked this man, he seemed a good enough sort. But he certainly wasn't going to start discussing his companions personal matters with him. "Val? She's fine, likely just exhausted from pulling double duty since I've been ill. I owe her a few Sweetrolls for that. Speaking of owing, I do believe I owe my dear employer an apology. This dragonbone here would certainly do the job. May I be so bold as to ask for a price?"

    @Specter of Death @Zelda @Hart
     
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  8. Hart

    Hart Well-Known Member

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    --Inside--

    "Faida, I just... don't understand men sometimes. How do they manage to be so arrogantly bull-headed and yet women still become mothers? If I had a septim every time I've been irritated since this trip started, I'd have a hefty coin pouch. Gods!" Huffing her indigence loudly, Ihylin leaned against the counter of the bar while the innkeeper hm'd absently, letting her blow off steam.

    She clicked the stirrer against the side of the pot. "You do realize you can just marry a woman, adopt a kid, and be done with it, right?"

    The silversmith could only shoot a withering glare in her direction. "That is not what this conversation is about. He's a childhood friend, I don't have feelings for him. He's probably already got a sweetheart in--" An invasive thought brought her statement to a halt, and she frowned. Rolard Seton, exiled noble, having a girl he was sweet on in Wayrest? Dangerous game to play with letters, perhaps. "When is the soup going to be done? I've got to get back on the road before the wildlife come out. Not to mention the moons are in full rotation. And werewolves are a thing..."

    "It's done. 65 septims for three mugs of soup and a healing potion. That it for you, dear?"

    "Aye." Ihylin plunked a bag of coins on the counter, quickly counting them out and passing them along. "Thanks for putting up with me again, Faida. My nerves are fried otherwise."

    "Don't mention it. Ah, before I forget, are you available for work in the next few days? I've got a necklace that I'd like to commission..."

    The two of them fell into a short business exchange before the merchant thanked her again, heading out into the cooling night out. For a brief moment, everything was as it was suppose to be her in life.

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

    Ihylin frowned at the back of Rolard's head when she found him sitting on the steps, smoking with the ranger she'd stormed past earlier. Albeit she was far less angry than she had been minutes prior, the lingering storm of emotions still sat heavy in the back of her mind. She skirted past the two of them, setting a mug of potato leek soup and the potion next to him, and not bothering to even address him by name.

    "Drink them both." It wasn't a request.

    Making her way towards the caravan, she noted Valencia was at its side, staring off into the scenery, mind wandering in some other plane of Nirn. Pressing her lips in a thin line, the merchant settled against the side of the caravan with her, nudging the mug against her elbow gently. Her own fingers wrapped around the metal tightly. Warmth seeped into her skin as she was silent for a moment.

    "You have something on your mind," She stated simply. Ihylin wouldn't waste time getting to the point. "Lady Valencia, if you'd like to have a discussion over a cup of tea, I have quite a few varieties to choose from. A particular favorite of mine is a blend of mountain flowers and honeycomb. It does well to restore the mind."

    @Zelda @Keidivh @Specter of Death
     
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    #128 Hart, Feb 9, 2018
    Last edited: Feb 9, 2018
  9. Specter of Death

    Specter of Death Forum Moderator
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    Rolard's words were swift and to the point. Thorriniir respected the fact that he kept his companion's privacy, and appreciated his gesture of purchasing the fang from him. It had been some time since he last spoke with a genuinely decent person without them scoffing or brushing him off do to his rather unconventional look. Just before Thorriniir could begin concocting a response to Rolard's offer, the once screaming woman walked out of the tavern behind them with purpose. Her footsteps felt hard and determined on the wood that Thorriniir was perched on. She set a mug and a small red vial on the deck next to Rolard, muttering something sternly before making her way around to the woman on the side of the caravan.

    "Well it seems to me that the lot of you are a little," he paused, carefully playing with his vocabulary, "over it."

    Thorriniir grinned at Rolard after following the woman's pace away from them, then waved his hand at the Breton symbolically. "Consider it a gift. I have another piece for myself, and I trust that your....employer," he trailed off with a sliver of suspicion in his voice, "can make good use of it on her own. Take this as well, another gift."

    The Nord pulled out a small vial of black liquid and set it in Rolard's hand alongside the fang. "Just a small shot of a few uplifting and energizing herbs I frequently use. It's the only thing that can get me to keep up with this little one after a week of tracking," he reached down and mussed the fur on Meadow's head affectionately, which she promptly responded to with an annoyed chirp. "Shoot that back before you eat whatever lovely meal is in that mug, and it'll make you feel like a new man. Now if you'll excuse me a moment, I will be right back."

    Thorriniir quickly rose from his seated position on the deck, then set his pipe down and held a hand out signaling for Meadow to stay put. He casually walked his way over to the two woman, and pulled out two more vials of the same black liquid. He made sure to get their attention as he set the vials down on the seat of the caravan and shared a friendly, toothy smile.

    "Drink it quickly before you begin eating, it'll help your energy and mood. I'm Thorriniir by the way, pleasure to meet you both," he did nothing but nod in greeting, then turned back around to return toward the Tavern. He joined Rolard once more with a long exhale, and pulled out one last dark vial. He popped the cork, and shot it back in a single gulp, shaking his head in an attempt to remove the look of disgust on his face. Seconds after tucking away the cork and glass container, his pipe was back between his lips, and he began to drag stronger and longer than before in an attempt to cover the bitter and unpleasant flavor of the tincture. "It's as unpleasant as all Coldharbor, but worth it. Trust me."
     
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  10. Keidivh

    Keidivh Noble exile of High Rock

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    As Rolard waited for Thorrinir to consider his offer for the dragon bone, he suddenly got the strange feeling of daggers digging into the back of his skull. Just as it dawned on him as to what the source of this uncomfortable feeling was he could feel her coming towards him like a rolling thunderstorm. Each footfall against the still damp planks made him wince slightly as he waited for to do something... Well, Ihylin like. Namely smacking him upside the head or screaming like him in a way that would make even a banshee envious. Instead she simply set down a fragrant smelling soup and healing potion, her speech short and curt. Divines save me, I'm in even more trouble than I realized it seemed.

    He tried to think of something to say to her, some kind of charming response. Instead he just sat there, mouth ajar as Ihylin stormed off as quickly as she came.An exasperated sigh escaped his lips, taking a moment to rub the bridge of his nose. How a simple escort mission turned so.... Complicated was beyond him. Perhaps some Daedric Prince was getting a good laugh from it? Regardless, his attention was brought back to the ranger beside him, who was understandably amused by this unfolding debacle.

    A small chuckle came from the exhausted knight, that slowly turned into a boisterous laugh and then into a fit of coughs. "Heh, I can't say you're wrong ser. The sooner we're behind some solid stonewalls and a feathered bed is beneath us, the better."

    A moment of comfortable silence passed between the two wanderers before Thorrin turned towards him, a rather cheeky grin plastered on his gruff face. A rather odd look for the savage, as if a grizzly bear was giving you a smile. When he made the offer to simply give Rolard the dragon bone, the exiled knight was truly taken aback. He suspected there were decent people in the world. His siblings, Ihylin, Val. But to meet a stranger who would willing part with such a valuable object was difficult to comprehend. And his... Implications as the reasoning to his gifting Ihylin the bone only threw him off further. Being the master of speech craft that he was, Rolard was quick to recover from his shock, offering a genuine, if somewhat confused smile. "First off, I have absolutely no idea what you might be implying, secondly, I could not simply--"

    Before he could even finish his statement however he was cut off by yet another gift. This was one looking far less pleasant to behold, a viscous black liquid that looked like it was dredged up from the recesses of a Daedric realm. And he was expected to drink this? As his surprisingly generous friend walked off, Rolard simply gave a nod of thanks, knowing trying to argue against all these gifts at this point would be hopeless. He'd simply need to find a way to pay him back.

    Glancing back at the black fluid, Rolard's azure eyes regarded it suspiciously for few moments before he simply gave in. He survived worse things than poisoning at this point. Tearing off the cork with his teeth, the reluctant knight downed the drink in one swift motion, practically gagging as it slowly worked its way down his throat. It took quite a lot of self control to not to simply vomit the substance out. Once that ordeal was over Rolard quickly consumed the health potion and soup, desperate for anything to was the taste out of his mouth.

    With his potions drank and meal consumed, a surge of renewed energy and vitality coursed through Rolard. As if he had just had an entire week off of his thankless jobs. Divines, that black plopse really was a miracle worker. If it didn't taste like death, the ranger could likely get rich off selling it. Stepping up from his 'seat', and relighting his pipe, Rolard made his way over to the caravan, his footing far more stable than before. Not wanting to interrupt whatever conversation he had walked in on, he simply leaned against the carriage, taking the occasional drag from his pipe.

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  11. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    Curse me and my cruel fate... The sound of a familiar voice caught the knight's attention. To be caught off-guard while being on-duty was surely irresponsible; then again, such a place to be irresponsible was safe enough. It was Ihylin's words though, that left the knight unable to quickly respond. She gave the woman a smile and light chuckle, taking the warm mug.

    "Ah thank you Lady Sweetwater," she responded, taking a small sip of the liquid. Her smile began to fade, knowing that with how far they have traveled together, it would be wrong to push aside such a matter. Besides: after Solitude... Valentia will most likely never see Skyrim again.

    "I would love to discuss it with you over tea... perhaps in Solitude?" She smiled, giving a small nod. "However, I... I find myself unable to share what plagues me so... at least, not at the moment." She watched the steam rise from the soup. "But... I promise I will tell you, love."

    As the white-haired knight took another sip from the mug, she watched as the man who spoke with Lord Seton for quite awhile walk towards the two ladies. She became tense, making sure the man was not planning to pull out any weapons. The wild-looking fellow smiled as he placed two strange-looking vials on the seats of the caravan and introduced himself. For being a stranger, he was quite... friendly. While Valencia was cheerful to know others were friendly like herself, she knew not to be naiive. "Thank you, Thorniir." The knight spoke, before grabbing the two vials in one hand and bringing one to Ihylin.

    She was a master at potions, and could easily tell the difference between a potion and a poison. Despite the color, as soon as she lifted the cork and took a whiff, she knew it was safe; she'd bet her life on it, if she were a gambler. "It's safe; surprisingly enough." Taking a sift gulp of the potion, her face scowled to the taste, sticking out her tongue in a child-like manner. "Such a fowl flavor... but a potent potion. From what I can tell, most likely a sort of stamina or health enhancer." She quickly sipped the soup once again, hoping to drown the flavor.

    Once the taste had dwindled, Valencia gave a small sigh and smile. "I am truly looking forward to that tea, though. It's been awhile since anyone has offered me such a pleasure." Her icy eyes beamed with a grin as she faced the woman beside her, the potion kicking-in its energetic properties. She already felt as if the journey had not yet started. "You are a wise friend who I believe will give me sound advice for my ailment." It was subtle, but she hoped the small intricate choice of words would be enough to pronounce the ailment being somewhat of a more meaningful problem.

    Soon enough Rolard had joined the two, leaning against the caravan. Once Valentia had finished her sentence prior, she took the final sip of her soup, leaving an empty mug. "Ah, returned Lord Seton? I think we should get going if we want to get to Solitude soon." The knight was certainly ready to move along, as she was a bit anxious to speak with Ihylin and confront Lord Seton about whether or not he was a true traitor to Wayrest. Then, she will decide whether or not to return to Wayrest, or leave her honor behind.

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  12. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    Despite their first meeting, the Dragonborn was not surprised by the Orc's eagerness to come along. While most in Skyrim were selfish, the blue-eyed man had a history for swaying people with his "honeyed-words", as most guards spoke to him. He was unsure why, but assumed it had something to do with being the Dragonborn. If his shouts were extremely powerful, why not his normal voice? The Dragonborn left a small lift of a smile to the Orc, glad to have some help. While he wouldn't mind doing the job alone, he was happy to have someone to tag alone. He did have a few problems of being alone more often than not, but when it came to heavy tasks, someone was always willing to follow. That of itself he was thankful for.

    "You will see." The Nord responded to the orc's last statement. He never spoke openly about his prowess in battle; he was humble. He could see many folks shouting that they are the chosen Dragonborn and abusing their power. While it sounded nice to be a supreme ruler of Skyrim and most likely Tamriel with the power of the Gods, he did not want to blind himself from the true ordeals he must face.

    Placing a few septims on the table to pay for his drinks, he gave Keevara and the veteran a nod before walking towards the exit. "Bless you, Ingvar." The innkeeper spoke, watching as the Dragonborn left. "Children are Skyrim's hope for the future. I hope you can save the poor child."

    Leaving the Bee and Barb, the blond faced the Orc who walked beside him. "Thank you for accompaining me. It's nice to have someone to talk with on a journey." The Dragonborn spoke, giving the Orc a nod. Most of the time, someone who followed he either had to pay or help with something prior for them to offer. The man willingly went along. Then again, with the sound of a child being involved in a terrible accident, any good-hearted person would step up. But then again, it seemed there really was no one willing to go in and help.

    "I never heard your name. You are...?" Ingvar asked, facing the Orc with curiosity. Most were too involved in politics to accept anyone of any race: Ingvar was a simple man. He knew respect was in his blood, and cared not for one's details. If they did him good, they had his respect. So far, the Orc's persona was one of courage and heartiness. That was enough for the Dragonborn to trust him.

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  13. Hart

    Hart Well-Known Member

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    "Solitude," she affirmed quietly. "Considering I dented my travel kettle a few weeks back trying to defend myself from a wolf, I think it would be better if you joined me in my home." Chuckling to herself, Ihylin tilted her head back to watch the darkening sky, when the appearance of the ranger made her snap her head down to regard him. Murmuring a greeting in response, the silversmith watched as he set those odd vials down and made his way back toward the inn steps. Pursing her lips, she hmm'd quietly.

    It's as if the Divines dropped a lord of a court into the woods with some pelts and said 'Off with you, you've got people to confuse'...

    The lady knight's voice brought her thoughts back to where they were standing, regarding the black vial curiously, and with no shortage of suspicion. But given the fact that even she chose to drink it, Ihylin could only shrug and follow suite.

    Tipping the vial back, the merchant choked on the foul taste, and promptly spat the dark liquid into her soup. Swearing, she shut herself up, tipping her mug back and draining the contents in seconds. A shudder passed through her frame, and she cursed the ranger mentally.

    "Mara's tits, that tasted like someone bottled up fermented skeever ass!"

    Coughing and grumbling, Ihylin turned and brushed aside the cover that remained over the caravan, reaching into a side compartment for a bottle of brandy. An uncorking and a long draft later, ruddy color returned to her cheeks and she sighed, setting everything back into its place. She began to visibly relax, shoulders dropping and she straightened, leaving her side unfavored as it normally was.

    Valencia spoke of tea again, and the merchant caught onto her words after a moment of silence. "Ah. I'll prepare extra water then." She replied simply. With footsteps approaching, she scowled at the bottom of her mug. Childish as the action was, Ihylin was not quiet ready to face Rolard again. She turned to withdraw another bottle of brandy from the caravan, excusing herself quietly.

    It was the ranger she approached on the steps, stopping short when she spotted the coyote at his side. Eyeing the canine carefully, she held out the bottle. "Ranger Thorrinir, if you've any pelts to trade, I'd like to offer a bottle of Colovian brandy for them. Bear or wolf, though prior is preferred. And... thank you for the potions."

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  14. Snoball

    Snoball All the World's a Stage

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    The Nord's reservation in discussing his own battle prowess was certainly not of the norm. More often than not, partners Gor would agree to work with would be quite the showboats. From bragging about their own abilities and stories, to declaring how easy a bounty would be before even embarking on the journey, by this point the orc had heard it all in his 10+ years of adventuring. Typically silent allies raised red flags in the orc's mind, perhaps they were keen on backstabbing him and claiming the reward? It would not have been the first time. The man in front of him seemed the honest type however, and if Keerava was keen on him, that was good enough for Gor.

    "You gonna thank me too Keer or am I gonna have to actually work for it?" The Argonian musters a half-smirk and begins cleaning a few dirtied plates whilst looking away, ignoring the orc in a friendly manner. After a boisterous chuckle, Gor drops his septims on the table and follows suit behind the Nord. Stepping through the Bee and Barb's doors, the duo make for the city's gates. The man's thanks catches Gor by surprise, but nonetheless the orc was happy to oblige.

    "Don't sweat it. But I wouldn't be thanking me just yet. Maybe after I stomp this mudcrab that has the villagers so worked up." Gor jests, but the Nord did bring up something quite interesting. The mountainous orc is quite used to having to take contracts with other people, it was certainly weird hearing someone thank him for his companionship. Definitely a sign that his companion on this mission wasn't your average bounty hunter. "Oh and the name's Gorlocke. Kinda like warlock. 'Cept I'm not shooting lightning outta my ass like some prissy mage." The pair walk up to the guards posted at the gates and Gor gives them a nod to proceed opening Riften's massive wooden doors. "Feel free to call me Gor though. Everyone and their mother already does."

    Outside now, the two approach the carriage driver to request the trip to Shor's Stone. Gor however wasn't too elated to find the price to be fifty septims for such a short trip. "You're kidding right? I can throw a rock from here and it would land in Shor's Stone." The driver doesn't budge however. Knowing the two might be pressed for time, Gor grumbles to himself and begrudgingly surrenders the coin from his satchel. Of course Gor turns to his dirty-blond haired partner expecting repayment for this later. "After we kill whatever this thing is, drinks are on you, pal. Hahaha." He hops onto the back of the carriage, making it tilt to the side slightly side due to his sheer size.

    "Oh, almost forgot to ask you your name too. Probably something fancy I'd imagine?"

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  15. Specter of Death

    Specter of Death Forum Moderator
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    Once Rolard removed himself from Thorriniir's side, the ranger let another long exhale of smoke and breathe escape his lungs. He enjoyed meeting new people, however, he found his personality to be slightly more uncomfortable to others than most. It didn't bother him much, for he knew it was more shock and confusion than anything rather than distaste and ill feelings. Thorriniir took another drag of his pipe and absent-mindedly let his free hand fall down to scratch Meadow's head. He felt her push into his hand as he did so, enjoying the attention and reaching for more. He glanced down at her with a slight smile and a brief chuckle, letting the joy of his partner warm his soul.

    Just then, the shoes of another stood at his front. Thorriniir glanced up to meet the eyes of the woman who had been storming about earlier at the expense of Rolard. "Ranger Thorrinir, if you've any pelts to trade, I'd like to offer a bottle of Colovian brandy for them. Bear or wolf, though prior is preferred. And... thank you for the potions."

    He bared a hearty, toothy grin at the woman in response and simply stood to meet her eyes. He locked his pipe between his teeth, freeing both hands to untie the strap wrapped around his torso. Thoriniir continued to peel the two pelts draping over his body. "No bears this outing, unfortunately, but Meadow and I found ourselves being followed by a couple of packless wolves somewhere down the coast."

    He turned to lay them out on the deck of the tavern and gestured at the woman to examine their quality. They weren't particularly large pelts, like the wolves who found themselves in the company of full packs, but they were healthy and young. Both standard grey, and expertly carved. Much like with Rolard, he waved his hand at the woman's offering for trade with a friendly shake of the head. "Keep your brandy, my friend, consider them a sort of gift."

    Her face shifted in the same way as Rolard's had when Thorriniir insisted he kept the piece of the dragon he had shared. He wasn't one to just give his wares away, but something about this woman told him she'd make good use of them. Sacrificing the small handful of gold a Khajiit caravan might give him for them was well worth knowing they'd be used expertly. "I would, however, like to ask a question and a favor."

    He turned his body towards her and removed the pipe from his mouth to speak clearly, and crossed his arms in contemplation. "First, did the man Rolard give you the trinket I gave to him? And second, is it Solitude where you are headed? If so, I'm somewhat in need of gaining entry into the city. You see, I'm not the type of man most guards would allow entry--nor am I the type to venture into large cities whatsoever. However, I have need of meeting with a particular person who currently calls Solitude respite. The lot of you will undoubtedly be allowed entry, given your look, and I figure if I stick with you up to the gates, they may let me in as well. If you'd have us, I'd be incredibly grateful and we'd owe you a favor. What do ya say?"
     
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  16. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    The Orc's persona was one that was unlike many Orcs that the Nord had met; he joked quite often and seemed to be more laid-back. Not that it bothered the Dragonborn - in fact it pleased him - as it was a fresher, different companion. Once Ingvar received the name of the Orc Gorlocke, he couldn't help but snort and chuckle at his comment.

    As the pair approached the carriage, Ingvar was a bit surprised by the price... then again, his first 'welcome to Riften' was a false tax attempt. The people seemed to complain about the corruption but they too feed the flames on their own. The dirty-blonde was surprised the Orc paid for the trip - usually it was the other way around for the Dragonborn. "Thanks Gor; and definitely, aha." The Nord chuckled, climbing onto the carriage.

    With the carriage tilting to the side slightly, the driver mushed the horse as they began their short journey to Shor's Stone. "Ah nothin' fancy I'm afraid - I'm Ingvar." He had a last name, but never intended to share it with strangers. It was bad enough he had people already whispering 'Dragonborn, Dragonborn, did that man slay a dragon? Be called by the Greybeards? Can shout?' He had one attempt from an assassin and cannot even to begin to think who he might of intimidated. He was not worried though - he took the threats and rumors as grains of salt. He knew who he was, and tried his best not to gloat, simply because it would only get in his way.

    A short bit of silence passed before the Dragonborn spoke up once again to spark conversation. "So what brought you to Riften of all places?" He himself was there to get information for Delphine, from Brynjolf. The day before he had a man arrested for a misplaced ring. It did not make him feel honorable for doing it, and he certainly was already planning his revenge and saving gold to free the man. But that was the least of his concern with dragons about.

    It was not too long before the carriage arrived at Shor's Stone. What was usually a quiet little village was quite noisy: the townspeople were arguing with the guards who blocked the mine. There was a Bosmer being held back by a few other people, screaming and threatening the guards, calling them cowards and poor excuses for 'Nords'. The blue-eyed man jumped down from the carriage, stretching a little. "Well, this is something new." He half-joked, watching the distressed and angry crowd shout at one another.

    "Ready?" He asked, looking over to Gorlocke with a small smile. It was always fun to start a new little adventure. With Gorlocke's approval, they began to walk over to the group.

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  17. Hart

    Hart Well-Known Member

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    The corner of Ihylin's mouth curved into a little smile. Albeit their band was a little grimy and worn looking from the road, she lapsed into a mercantile manner, kneeling to inspect the quality of them.

    "No ticks or mites," she murmured. "And the cut lines are incredibly straight and clean... younger, but no scarring or damage to the pelts." Hmming quietly to herself, the merchant absently nodded after looking over the quality of the two pelts before her, gently rolling them into neat tubes before she gathered them in her arm.

    When ranger Thorrin refused the brandy and instead passed on the pelts as gifts, Ihylin gaped at him opening. Sputtering, she tried regaining her footing in the conversation. "I can't just take--"

    "I would, however, like to ask a question and a favor."

    A beat of silence passed between them. "I can begin to repay your kindness, then. The question first, though."

    "First, did the man Rolard give you the trinket I gave to him? And second, is it Solitude where you are headed?

    She shifted the pelts in her arms, frowning. "Trinket? No, he didn't give me anything. Then again, I've made the point of ignoring him at the moment..." Mouth thinning into a line, she hmm'd to herself again, considering an answer to his second question. "We are headed to Solitude, yes. I would be glad to aid you in passage into the city. If anything, the guards shouldn't give you much trouble if you're with the caravan."

    Truthfully, she enjoyed the extra company in most circumstances. This one wasn't much different, aside from... well. There was a lot to consider. Ihylin did not want to think about dealing with all of it yet, shoving the thought from her head. Having two more sets of eyes on the roads granted them safety for the last half hour walk up the road.

    "If that's the case, we need to get moving again before it's fully dark. You can either walk beside the caravan or have a seat on the back. The latter is a little easier on the feet, at least. Shall we go then?"

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  18. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    The conversation between Ihylin and Thorniir had Valencia on edge - not necessarily because she found the ranger threatening, but rather just to check his motives. The entire helpful persona of a wild traveler might be a ruse to get into the Solitude gates without check, but then again, he seemed like an honorable man. With her mind wavering at the thoughts of Solitude, she was glad her focus only needed to last a bit longer before she could officially confront what ails her: Lord Seton and her return to Wayrest.

    Ever since the incident between her and Rolard, it was a tension that never seized. She knew he would never try anything on the trip, thanks to Ihylin, and she promised not to ruin the trip, but once the destination is reached, it was time for the knight to strike. Even though she shared an emotional break in the caravan with him, she could not let it change her duties. She knew High Rock political figures were in Solitude of recent due to the Thalmor and Civil War. It would be simple for her to bring Seton to a representative and confront whether or not he was a traitor. Deep in her heart she hoped otherwise, but either way meant trouble.

    If he was a traitor, she would have to betray Ihylin and bring Seton back to Wayrest for... execution... and if not, Wayrest was in for a political battle and most likely a war between kingdoms or inner self-destruction. Sure the man had a silver tongue, but he was a truly a good friend to Ihylin... and she would admit, herself. Ever since her outburst, her heart shattered; he seemed like a worthy man and without knowledge of his past, she would still find him just as honorable. But her heart was weak for the care she held for others...

    Which led to her second problem. Whether or not Seton was a traitor would still not determine his fate in the hands of Valencia... as she could not decide whether to return to Wayrest or stay in Skyrim for the rest of her days. Her heart ached for the prince she served; such a fairy tale cliche. It was embarrassing for the knight - she was one of the most highly-esteemed Knights of the Rose; how could she possibly besmirch her entire existence? All those she served? She was gifted an honorary sword and shield of Wayrest in an ultimate ceremony for her deeds...

    And she would condemn her kingdom in shame for her absence of their future king? Someone she knew as a friend since the beginning of her time... their time...? A man who she called her best friend, and yet she was sent away by the same man... was it truly to praise her for such an honorable feat? Or to rid of her from his side without repercussion? And to watch him vow his life to another woman when she had done the same and in time fell in love with him: his integrity... his kindness... his hope... she was stabbed in the heart by the lance of fate, and it was she who slipped it past her chest.

    How shameful. An appointed knight, who vowed her life to her prince, unable to return to her home, her family, her friends, and the kingdom she serves. Her icy eyes could barely meet with the shimmer of the blade sheathed at her side... she did not deserve the weapon and shield. She did not deserve her armor. She did not deserve the title. Did she gain her position from mere coincidence that she grew up in the castle? That she would be one to never double cross her lifetime friend, and hence called upon duty under the ploy of chance? Displayed as a knight who could not face her duties and truly devote her life as she said she would...

    But she was human... how could she, every day, watch the man she loves, grow with another by her side, yet never return the kindness and devotion Valencia gave. To watch him love his wife, and while Valencia loves his smile, knows that it is not for her... and the children they would have. Future princes and princesses. That she could see his eyes in their own.

    She watched as the town's children in front of her chased each other around, laughing and giggling. She could picture them in the castle, in the town of Wayrest, and in the outskirt villages... so pure. So lively. So happy, without a care in the world but their own happiness.

    A smile fell upon the knight's face as her fist clenched above her heart. No matter what Prince Rodeyval thought and did... she knew that the people respected her... that the kingdom's families found safety with the sight of Valencia the Brave. Even if she loved the man that sent her away for unknown intentions... she knew that Wayrest loved her. And how could she possibly let such a small fault break her spirit?

    "Well, if you are truly traveling with us, love... welcome aboard." The knight grinned to the ranger, her mood changing back to its normal, peaceful, and kind self. No more pondering on the future's trials ahead; she would rather focus on the peace she had gained throughout her journey thus far. The white-haired young woman turned swiftly around and began walking to the caravan. "We'd best leave now to beat the sunset." Her voice was uplifting and joyous once more, her heart beating with the positivity she lost so recently.

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