Private The Secret of the Dwemers

[Six Gun Tarot]

Azarimal shook the small bits of dust and dirt from his robes. His makeshift camp was small but it was usable. A small tent with a tiny fire kept him warm, he sat cross legged in front of the fire. His scarred face lit up in the light of the fire, the only time he ever got to take that horrid mask was during his times of loneliness. The fire danced as he waved his hands over it, he made a small grin as it flickered and waved at his command. He looked around, it was quiet and the road should be empty. With a quick snap of his fingers, the fire died and turned into a smolder.

Azarimal left the tent, it wasn't going to be useful anymore beyond that point, besides a cave is much better place to rest. Placing the bright golden mask onto his face, Azarimal walked off onto the main road.

 

[Aerin]

Elsa nodded in farewell as Garren left for his room, vaguely impressed at the man's apparently endless wealth. Se of course had her own inheritance to which she could rely on, but old habits died hard and she was not one to turn down the offer of free bed and drinks.

Speaking of which she was aware that she had more than her usual amount to drink and she would have to think about sleeping some of it off before they left the next morning. Of course she had been left at the table with two complete strangers and she was interested to learn more about the men she would be travelling along side, especially considering the tales of this ruin. If theirs were to be last faces she ever saw then she wanted to at least know something about them.

Her mind set upon the rest of the evenings activities Elsa smiled jovially at the imperial and altmer and leant forward to rest her forearms upon the table. "So I barely know anything about Garren, but if you do not object to it I'd like to find out a bit more about the pair of you. It seems only fitting considering we'll be seeing a lot of each other in the coming days. So tell me something about yourselves." Elsa raised her eyebrows and hoped one of them would engage her in conversation, though she would be understanding if they chose to decline her offer in favour of resting up before the next day. They could always talk on the road of course, providing they didn't encounter any roadside bandits or beasts.

 

[Delusional]

Garren rose from the table, and started for his room. Marcus paid little attention to anything Garren said as he departed, as he was still lost in himself. A blank look was painted on his face, an expression he rarely donned. His mind still raced with thoughts and memories of his father, and his fears of Dwemer ruins.

He tried to break his mind away, and return to the present, in hopes that he could take advantage of this situation to acquaint himself with the people that he will most likely die with. He had no doubt that this ruin will be the death of at least one of them.

Elsa leaned forward, smiled, and began to speak. The words grabbed Marcus and pulled him back into reality, and he became aware of his surroundings again. "...about the pair of you. It seems only fitting considering we'll be seeing a lot of each other in the coming days. So tell me something about yourselves."

Marcus only caught a part of what Elsa said, but it was no matter. It was clear she wished to learn more about himself and the Altmer bard, most likely for similar reasons to Marcus'. There weren't many options in this case.

Marcus shelved his memories, and became himself again. It was a rapid transformation, and he hoped he could maintain his composure and remain this way.

"Alright, well, my name is Marcus. I was born in Cyrodiil, in Cheydinhal, specifically." Marcus leaned forward as well, bringing himself closer to the Nord. He reached for the expensive wine Garren had so graciously purchased for his new companions. He took a drink, and continued.

"I did not live there long, unfortunately. My mother disappeared when I was very young, and soon after, my father torched the cabin we lived in outside the city limits and we moved here, to Skyrim."

He looked down to the flagon that the wine was held in, and studied it carefully.

"We moved into an abandoned shack near the border. There, my father began his meticulous studying."

Marcus lifted the flagon to his mouth and tilted it, releasing more drink. Perhaps the wine will put my mind at ease.

He was not ready to divulge anything regarding his father, so he excluded it, and wrapped up his story.

"I lived a solitary life, so I decided to move to Riften. For the social interaction. From there, I learned of my hunger for exploration and adventure."

He gazed into Elsa's eyes, and sighed deeply.

"However, my father disappeared. I haven't seen him in close to a year. A sad deal, really," he finished, and emptied the flagon of wine. He lightly set the empty container on the table, and leaned back, done with himself.

She needs not know about his research, at least not yet.

"How about you?"

 

[Kimrisvik]

Garren took of his armor and laid it on a table by the bed. His shoulder felt so much lighter. He streached both his arms up in the air to loosen up his joints. The shoulder cracked as he streached. He loosened his sword sheath, and put his sword, "Windcutter" carefully on the table by the armor. Outside he could hear laughter and loud conversation of why Ulfric Stormcloak would win the civil war. That socalled "true" High King of Skyrim wouldn't stand a chance against the defence of Solitude once more.

Garren yawned as he got into bed. He couldn't wait till tomorrows adventure. Of cource he wasn't sure that the people he had just given drinks and rooms would still be willing to join him the next morning, or if it was just the alcohol that had talked for them. We'll see tomorrow... And with that thought Garren fell asleep.

 

[Aerin]

"What about you?"

Elsa bit down on her lower lip and canted her head before speaking. "Well let's see. Born and raised in the Imperil City. Lived with my father. Mother died when I was a baby, but pa always spoke of her like she left, I figure that's the truth but he didn't know how to tell me." Elsa wondered briefly if she should mention her childhood thievery, her adolescent thievery....just her knack for stealing things in general.

"Money was tight, never had enough gold to put food on the table so I uh, I started chipping in. Used to steal things to sell on so we could get by. Started off with little things but by the time I was 12 I was getting my hands on bigger things, you know, like this bow here." Touching her hand to the finely-crafted ebony bow that was slung across her back. "Had to get caught eventually. Pa took the fall, died later in jail. I had nothing keeping me living by the docks any more so I left. Been running ever since."

The thief took a moment to sip from her wine, touching her fingers to a stray drop that gathered in the corner of her mouth. "I've seen a lot so far, done my share of travelling. Guess I'm not one to stay in one place too long." She rubbed the back of her neck, the muscles sore and strained from the weight of her pack.

Looking to the bard Elsa looked at his questioningly. "And what about you? The enigmatic bard."

 

[CapObvious]

Carenen sat back as he listened to their tales. He figured there was more behind the Marcus' story that he wasn't expressing, but he wasn't one to pry. As for Elsa, her story seemed a little similar to his own: Tough family situation, not enough money to go around, stealing to make ends meet. It all made sense to Carenen.

"And what about you? The enigmatic bard."

Carenen looked to her and nodded with a polite smile, trying to decide where to start. He didn't want them to know too much about him. Not until he was sure they were worth trusting. He spoke obliquely of his past, hoping it would be enough.

"Well, let's see. Carenen Larethor, born in the Isles, in Sunhold. Trained in the arts of performance, combat, illusion by my father. We were part of a group of bards called the Songbirds. Similar to your bard's college, or Cyrodiil's minstrel's guild. But I won't bore you with all of that. Eventually was "drafted" into the military, fought in the great war, was betrayed by a..."friend"...and was nearly killed. Ran away to Skyrim, joined a caravan, and..." his memories began to hurt him, and he stopped talking. He decided it was best to move on from this. "Now I'm just wandering, hoping to find something worthwhile. And, if this is all it's sounding to be, I just might have found it."

He took another drink and stood up, not allowing for any questions or thoughts. "I better head to my room. Guess I shall see you all in the morning." He bowed his head and headed back for his room, his mind troubled.

 

[Six Gun Tarot]

Azarimal walked slowly along the age old path, a small village could be seen a little ways ahead. As he approached an aged sign read "Kynesgrove" was nailed into a tree growing on the side of the road. Azarimal shook his head lightly and walked into the village. It was small, with an inn towards the back and few other houses, with no good sleeping places in sight. He let loose a small grumble and looked through his coinpurse. A small amount of coin, not alot but enough that he should be able to get a bed for the night at least.

Azarimal entered the inn, it was small and rather shabby but it should work for his needs. A group of people talked among themselves and Azarimal walked past, baring no mind. The man at the counter looked tired, almost sleep when Azarimal slammed the coin onto the counter. The man looked up and twisted his face in shock, almost falling of his chair in the process.

"A bed."

Azarimal was blunt about his needs. The man looked at the golden mask that was staring at him and then down at the coin. He shook his head and handed him a key with a five etched into it.

"Number five."

 

[Delusional]

Marcus sat silently, leaning against the back of his chair, arms crossed while the other two shared their stories; their backgrounds.

The cute Nord is a thief, hm? And a bard turned soldier turned bard again? Interesting crowd... Marcus reached a hand up to his face and scratched his chin, in deep thought.

The bard rose from the table after taking a final drink of the wine bought by Garren, and said goodnight to the remaining two adventurers. Marcus nodded slightly, still musing over the backgrounds of his new companions.

The door to the inn opened, and slammed loudly shortly after. Marcus did not turn to glance at the new face, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw a glint of gold, shining vibrantly from the light from the fire. It appeared to be a mask of sorts.

The man walked directly to the counter, and a powerful voice resounded off the walls of the inn. Two simple words.

Not too often do you see a character like this... Marcus began shifting his thoughts from his new found companions to this mysterious man.

Soon enough the man disappeared into a room, closing the door loudly behind him. Quite the character indeed.

The exhaustion and fatigue was returning, and Marcus soon found his eyes weighing heavy. It was long time he got some rest.

He leaned forward, momentarily resting his forearms on the table. He was not feeling very flirtatious, so he decided to stick with a generic goodnight. "Well, I should get some sleep. I suppose we have quite the day ahead of us," he said in a soft voice to the only remaining individual at the table, Elsa.

"Goodnight, I'll see you in the morning," Marcus finished, and slowly rose from the table. He meandered over to the bar counter, and asked the half-asleep bartender what rooms the armored Nord had paid for. After a lazy gesture to the two remaining rooms adjacent to the quarters Garren chose, the bartender bent down to toy with something underneath the counter.

Marcus disappeared into one of the rooms, and collapsed onto the wooden bed frame covered with sheepskin.

Sleep found him quickly.

 

[Aerin]

Elsa smiled gently as Marcus too left to sleep. She was glad to have found out at least a little of her companions before the night was out. Slowly standing up she rested her hands upon the table top for support as blood rushed to her head and the room swam for a moment.Shaking her head to clear her vision she managed to acquire a room as paid for by Garren, who yet again proved to have a seemingly unlimited amount of wealth if he could afford to cover all their rooms. Still she wouldn't complain or turn away his generosity.

She eventually found the room the barkeep had given her the key to her room and she struggled momentarily with the door latch before clumsily hitting her shins against the bed frame in the dark of night. Placing the still unfinished bottle of wine on the chest at the end of the bed she unceremoniously dumped her pack under the bed, placing her bow carefully down on the dusty floorboards before grabbing the wine once against and finishing the dregs off before passing out comfortably atop the bed sheets, still in her boots and armour.

The next morning when sunlight streamed in through the cracked window Elsa groaned at the pounding headache that greeted her. It probably served her right for drinking as much as she did the night before but damn if she didn't wish for a healing potion. She had a few clinking together in the bottom of her pack but it would be best for her to leave them till she was truly injured. Sitting up in the tangled nest of blankets and sheets she attempted to remove herself from the mess as gracefully as she could muster, though her hair stuck up in all directions as it often did in the mornings. Running her fingers through her hair she tried to comb it out and flatten it, eventually giving up and simply braiding it neatly at the side. Picking up her things she slowly made her way to the main room of the tavern and ordered something to eat and drink until the others awoke and gathered to leave. Huddled in the corner of the room she quietly ate her fill before curling up in the chair, her hood pulled over her face to hide sensitive eyes from the light that filled the inn. Generally speaking Elsa despised mornings anyway, much preferring the cold of the evenings and nighttime. The shadows offered her protection from view and over the past few years that she had spent living in Skyrim she had grown fond of the icy winds and snowy tundras of her parent's homeland.

 

[Kimrisvik]

Garren woke up to children playing outside his room. The sunlight shone through the window and hit him straigth in the face. As Garren got up from the bed he could feel last nights wine still having effect. He got up and took out some clothes from a bag he had carried around his hip. They were blue, and expencive, like everything else he had. His hair had curled alot during the night, so Garren tied it in a small knot as he walked out of the room, and locked the door behind him.

He searched the main room quickly as he walked towards the bar. Elsa was sitting alone in the corner of the room, with her hood over her head. Iddra smiled at him as he reached the bar. "And what can i get for you today?" Garren yawned shortly. "I'll just take a bowl of Venison Stew and a bread. And a small cup of ale, please." Garren put a small bag of cold on the counter. "As you wish, sir" Shee took the goldbag and gave him the food. He turned around and started walking in the direction where Elsa sat.

"Scared of the light, eh? He tried to look under the hood to make eyecontact. He took a bit from his bread and then a sip of the ale to help it down. "You are ready for our long travel today? You haven't changed your mind I hope." Garren started to eat from his stew. It was very good, and he was very hungry. "Now, where are those others..?"

 

[CapObvious]

Carenen awoke next, stretching his arms as he assessed what had happened the night before. He was asked to join a group to check out a new Dwemer ruin. There were three of them, including himself, that answered the Nord's call for adventure; an imperial, Marcus, and Elsa, the thief. He rubbed his eyes as he reprocessed everything, wiping away the stain of drink from the memories, and started to get dressed. After he stepped out of his room, seeing two of his new companions sitting at a table away from the windows. Elsa was wearing a hood. Hungover, more than likely. But Garren seemed alright. He head over to where they were and sat down as quietly as he could, trying his best not to get on the nerves of his party too early.

"Morning, Garren. Elsa." He said softly, minding her hangover. "I trust we are still on for our venture? I'd hate for my next great tale to be just a drunken joke." He said with a chuckle, a little louder.

 

[Aerin]

Elsa moaned in protest as Garren and soon Carenen joined her at the small table. Gingerly lifting the lip of her hood she offered a weak smile. "I'm always ready, just try your worst." Lowering her feet onto the floor she pushed her hood back and kept her face in a shadow cast by a nearby beam.

"No, I am more than fine to travel. The fresh air will wake me up and I'll be my talkative and chirpy self and everything will be right in the world, don't you worry." Wiping her hand over her face she took a deep breath and once again cursed how easily the wine had gone down last night. They were still missing Marcus this morning, the imperial still yet to show his face. Hopefully he would still be joining them, though it wouldn't be the first time someone had changed their mind and left in the night.

 

[Kimrisvik]

Garren finnished his food just as Carenen joined them. "Good to hear you're both ready. I was afraid I had to go through this once more, or worse, travel by my self." Garren laughed shortly, and leaned back on his chair. The tavern was almost empty. There were just a few guards siting by bar drinking. They had most likely just finnished their night patrol. All the miners had left for work, and the whole atmosphere were a lot different from the night before.

Garren turned to Carenen. "Now bard, why don't sing us a song to lift the mood? I would usually suggest 'The Age of Aggression', but that won't be so smart here. So why not 'Ragnar the Red'?"

 

[CapObvious]

Carenen tossed the song around in his head, recalling it from hearing it back from his days in the caravan, and smiled, as the song formed together. But before getting up to play, he remembered that a few of them were still sleeping, and some were still feeling the effects of the night before, and politely declined. "I'm afraid that wouldn't be very wise, playing here at this time, especially in present company. But do not worry, I will be more than happy to play the song for you on the road. We will need something to pass the time, after all." He told Garren, hoping he wouldn't see it as him dodging the song, but just being thoughtful of the others around him.

 

[Kimrisvik]

Garren nodded. "I understand. And yes, we'll get plenty of time on the road." He laughed as he stretched his arms while yawning. Iddra came over to their table with a bowl of apples. She smiled politely as Garren gave her some gold as thanks. Garren took an apple and bit of a large peace of it. "Well, I don't think I gave a polite introduction yesterday!" He swallowed and coughed shortly.

"So, as I told you, my name is Garren Rivers. I'm son of Arwyn Rivers of Solitude. He was one of the guard commanders, and he was the one who taught me how to fight. He was a good man. He and Beirand, the city blacksmith, helped me forge my sword, the 'Windcutter' when I was 15. When I was 19 both my parents died, so I left Solitude to become a sellsword, or rather, the best sellsword of Skyrim. Lots of money in fighting for those rich bastards who 'needs' me" Garren laughed calmly as he took another bit from his apple. "Now where is that Imperial boy?"

 

[Six Gun Tarot]

Azarimal woke to the first light of dawn that broke through the window and landed on his face. He stretched and looked around, it was still early morning. He shook off the sleep that wanted him to go back to bed and grabbed the golden mask that laid on the table next to him. Azarimal placed the mask on his face and pulled the red hood back up over his head. Spending a small amount of time looking for the key, he unlocked the door and walked out.

Azarimal walked over to the man at the counter who stared at him oddly again. He placed the key down and a few coins. The man stared at him oddly but then pushed him a mug of mead. Azarimal took the mug and went to a table near the fire. Sitting down, he took off the mask and turned his back to the rest of the people in the tavern. He sipped on it and made the fire dance with his hand.

 

[Delusional]

Marcus slowly opened his eyes, still weighed heavily with drowsiness. He was still laid on his back, in the same position he had collapsed in the night before, staring at the blank ceiling. Sunlight illuminated the room, pouring in from the single window his quarters had, and spilling over every object in the room, including Marcus' eyes.

As soon as his eyes were open, he immediately covered them with the back of his hand, an attempt to shield them from the brightness. After a few tries, Marcus got up off the bed, his back sore, with aches so painful Marcus wasn't sure a Daedric prince could inflict more pain.

He rubbed his back gently, trying to ease the soreness. After a few minutes, he shouldered the door open, leaving his room. All of his gear was still on his person, so he needed not worry about packing up again.

He surveyed the inn, looking for the three he met last night. He spotted them sitting in the back corner of the tavern, Elsa shrouded by shadows, with Carenen and Garren seated beside her.

Marcus started towards the table. He stumbled, still not fully awake yet, but recovered and made it to the table, where he sat down and rested his elbows on the sturdy table and his head fell into his palms.

Gods, am I tired...

After a short while, he lifted his head from his palms and gazed across the table.

"So, how's everyone?"

 

[Aerin]

"So, how's everyone?"

Elsa laughed despite how she felt, her voice still smoky from sleep. "Oh, oh no, laughter only makes my head feel worse. But I am glad to see I'm not the only one who is worse for wear this morning." Well, she wasn't the only one who was feeling the bite of a hangover this morning and that did help to brighten her day. Leaning forward she offered what food she herself could not manage. It was a fair amount of food, some stew and a hunk of bread. It was the best the inn had to offer, and it would only go to waste if Elsa herself did nothing more with it. "Feel free to have at what I couldn't manage, though Divines' know I tried." It was not a necessary gesture, and she doubted he would accept her offering of goodwill, but she believed in making an effort and though it was a small sign of friendship, it was better than nothing.

 

[Delusional]

"Feel free to have at what I couldn't manage, though Divines' know I tried." Elsa offered up her remaining food, pushing them away from herself, towards the center of the table.

God, I am famished... Marcus realized as he felt his stomach rumble with a vigorous growl.

"Really? Just offer up your food?" Marcus did not want to come off as rude, and decided to play it off politely. "If you really want to get rid of it... I am starving."

A slight nod from Elsa was all Marcus needed before reaching for the stew and bread and pulling it closer. He immediately began to dig into the rich stew, devouring it, and the bread as well. Soon enough, Marcus had emptied the bowl and ate the last crumb of bread. He leaned back, satisfied. It was a good meal to begin his day with.

Marcus began to shake off the drowsiness and exhaustion, and mentally prepare himself for the rest of the day.

He glanced around the table a second time. "When are we headin' out?" he asked inquiringly.

 

[Kimrisvik]

"Ah, Marcus, you're finaly here!" Garren smiled as he looked at the tired Imperial joining them. "I see you payed the price of good and expencive wine, but you seem to handle it good Carenen!" He laughed of the two hungover persons. He took one more bit of his apple, and shoved the bowl of apple over to Marcus to offer him one. "They're really good."

Garren looked down on his chest. He did not feel comfortable without his armor on. He took a small glance at the guards by the bar. They were singing and joking laudly of the Stormcloak rebelion and Ulfric. Obviously drunk as

hell. He then looked back at the tired group around his table. He leaned forward and rested his palms on the table.

"When are we headin' out?"

"Now that you're all here I need to ask, will you travel by foot, or do i have to buy all of you horses to? I have my horse down in Windhelm stables, and I'm sure they have some good horses for sale." He looked over at the others with a gentle smile.