Private The Long Road

[Bruynzeel]

The Long Road
A tale of the journey

​

Another no name tavern in a no name town... at least the locals were appreciative of his guitar work, counting tips his room for the week was paid in the first hour. There was still the three nords in the corner giving him the evil eye. Actually they are giving the entire room the evil eye. They don't look local either, mixed gear they look like a week or two out of the Forsaken. Bruynzeel decides to keep playing but be watchful of these three.

​

The room enjoys his playing and the rest of the evening passes fairly uneventfully then toward closing time and at the end of his last set the three nords start surrounding the ends of the bar. Bruynzeel looks on and realizes they intend to rob the place. Why did this stuff always have to happen when he would rather just be in peace... He ends his set puts away his guitar and moves to the larger of the three standing alone in front of the bar. "Friend, I would go if I were you. There is no need to do these people harm. I know I would hate to have to hurt you." The nord turns and faces him and his two friends start toward him forgetting their places at the end of the bar. Bruynzeel slows his breathing letting time slow, his perception of the room expanding. He tenses for the fight while appearing to weaken, this is designed to give them a overconfidence in the coming fight. "I am not your friend Cat and frankly I have no idea why they would let you inside. You should be outside like the rest of the trash." He starts to swing a right and Bruynzeel spins down and into him as the right hand sails over his head. Bruynzeel puts his shoulder into the armpit of his attacker and lifts him tossing him toward the smaller of the other two now quickly advancing. The force of the large attacker knocks the small one unconscious. But enrages the large one. Who jumps up and draws a dagger.

"Well, you sure are a tricky cat." "You should drop that blade, unless you want it embedded in your own flesh." As he again advances "You forgot my friend." Bruynzeel is grabbed from behind. He places his leg between the legs of the one holding him and spins to his left drawing the holder around and unbalancing him which he then rolls to the ground and delivers a fast blow to the temple open palmed, but with the strength of a khajiit the nord crumples.

The remaining attacker rushes and Bruynzeel rolls toward him along the ground surprising him and taking his feet out from underneath him. Bruynzeel raises to his feet and the knife wielder jumps up, but as he starts to roar Bruynzeel palms his chin upward snapping his neck back and sending him to the floor again, this time knocked cold.

The room gone silent, Bruynzeel calmly leaves the foes laying where they are and retrieves his guitar. As he heads to his room he throws a couple gold on the bar saying "Sorry for the ruckus." Just then the guard rush in the door and between the bartender and the crowd the story is told for them. But Bruynzeel is questioned and has to sit at a table while it is all sorted out.

 

[melancholytears]

As far as taverns go, this one seemed better than most- a guitar playing Khajiit was playing quite well when the auburn haired wood elf stepped into the room. Her pack feeling heavier as the day had worn on and she was ready for a meal and a rest. Klaern takes seat near the fireplace and set her pack in front of her on the table so she could take out the leather bound journal which contained entries from her home village of the families and histories of prominent events of local interest. Setting the precious tome to the side, she orders a meal from the tavern keep.

Slowly nursing the mead which was stronger than the wine she would have preferred, but the tavern keep just gave her a laugh and this large mug to drink with her meal which had been a hearty soup of vegetables, the keep swore there were no meats within it, but she could taste it with her first spoonful. The wood elf sighed with disdain but ate what she could then pushing the half eaten bowl to the side, she watched the guitar player for awhile more, he was good, she thought. In fact his presence seemed to the reason this tavern was a notch above the last one she had stopped at the night before.

She turned her attention back to the journal. Emblazoned on the cover was the symbol which stood for her village's mark. Her village was different than most- for although she were a Bosmer her village did not take part in the "Green Pact" and did not eat meat like many of the other villages. The elders of the village had long ago decided that although taking care of the Valenwood was their task, that eating the creatures within was a wrong as those who said not to harm a fond or leaf. It was in fact, a problem early on in their village's history and many were killed and- by "Green Pact " law eaten by their slayers. Remembering what a strange wood elf she must seem to other wood elves makes her sit taller in her seat as she is proud that she comes from a much more progressive and contemplative group of wood elves.

It was during her reverie that the music had stopped and suddenly there was a commotion. Standing quickly, Klaern backs towards the wall so she cannot be snuck up upon from behind, and watches as the Khajiit seemed to effortlessly take down three Nords. A bit more of a show than he had intended to put on, she thought to herself as she watched him attempt to saunter off to a room before the guard come in and sat him at a table. She smiles to herself, thinking that maybe she do with an escort after all the roads are a dangerous place. Even though she had turned down all the escorts who had offered to take her on this sojourn.

Klaern moves back to her table and slides her journal back into her pack shouldering her pack and waits for the guards to disperse before approaching the Khajiit bard, Clearing her throat she stands before him and nods to him, "Hello. My name is Klaern and I was wondering if this seat is taken... " She touches the empty chair next to the large Khajiit and adds with a light blush coming to her cheeks, "I want to discuss a business opportunity."

 

[Bruynzeel]

Bruynzeel looks over the Bosmer, takes in her scent and immediately is curious. He is interested as his welcome has been worn in this hamlet and soon the news of the bar fight will spread and others will come in search of the uppity Khajiit. Her scent tells him several things, for one she is travelling, two she is a true vegan, three she is a herbalist. The first was confirmed by her clothes and the fact that she both sounded and looked like she was from the deep forest of Volenwood. The second made her unique as most of the Bosmer were as his kind were voracious meat eaters. His long time away from his home lands had tempered him some so he was more omnivore now.

She was rather lovely, and reminded him of an old love her features striking, her bearing proud, and her heritage unique. Intriguing indeed.

"Please, for you have a cats curiosity and therefore his attention. You don't have the appearance of a inn keeper so I doubt it is my musical skill you are looking for. So be plain Klaern what do you wish of Qa' Bruynzeel?" pausing but a moment and looking around "But the hour is late and the inn closes, may this be a better conversation over breakfast?"

 

[melancholytears]

Smiling and pausing but a moment, "Of course. Breakfast would be acceptable." Shifting her pack on her shoulder, Klaern takes in the Khajiit once more, admiring his calm demeanor and the way his voice sounds, fairly exotic to her elven ears. "It was a pleasure meeting you Qa' Bruynzeel. I will be down early for breakfast in the morning. I wish you a peaceful rest." Klaern gracefully bows her head before turning to approach the tavern keep and pay for her meal and a night'stay at the Inn.

She takes the key to the room and heads in the direction instructed by the tavern keep. Finding herself in a small but clean room, Klaern sets her pack at the bedside and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. Klaern sifts through her pack and finds her hair brush and then begins her nightly hair brushing ritual. She indulged in taking extra care of her locks as she was a little proud of how lush and full her hair had always been. Thinking to herself as she worked the soft bristled brush through her hair about the trip, why she was even on this journey and about the meeting with the Khajiit Bruynzeel. She was curious about him. He seemed so easily calm after that quick but effective brawl with the three Nords.

Finishing with her task, the wood elf puts away the brush and dresses down for sleep. Although her meeting with the bard was but a mere brief encounter, she hoped she would be able to hire him for her own personal escort to Solitude. Laying down on the bed, Klaern pulls the covers up to under her chin and allows her instinct to reach out and guide her. Was hiring the handsome bard as a bodyguard a good idea or not? She asked herself and then realized that yes, for some reason she found his form pleasing and attractive. Feeling herself blush once again, she shook those thoughts off and waited to see what her instincts told her. He was quite capable, that was apparent, but was he someone whom she could trust, that was the question. And so far, her instincts said that he was as honorable as he appeared. Klaern fell asleep with a soft smile on her face.

 

[Bruynzeel]

He watches the Elf walk away, admires her gait and her grace, the color of her skin and how her hair accents all of these. She has a natural scent partially from her diet and partially from her grooming methods the scent of home sandalwood a rare soap and spice she uses that was intoxicating. If it wasn't for the politics of his life he would love to visit home again. But there can only be one Mane and he gave that up along with his brother long long ago.

The story there far too painful to dwell on but he had made a good life doing what he wished following his own honor and path. Letting the winds dictate his path. Being a agent for the Blades was reward enough for the most part, his cover as a bard had afforded him some measure of pleasure. Even allowing him to secret away his age under the guise of cultured traveler.

Klaern negotiates a room and retires, Bruynzeel decides to do the same his quarters behind the kitchen were austere but sufficient, actually they were what he preferred. As a ex-chef and having a great passion for cooking he loved being around the kitchen. This alone gave him a fabulous idea to impress this young waif of a elf. Her vegan-ism, which the locals would find disdain for would allow him to treat her. He raided the pantry for local fruits and made a fruit salad for her breakfast. Lightly spicing it to accentuate the flavors. He smiles as he places it in the icebox til morning, for he knows the look of shock will be on her face as he presents it.

He then goes to his simple cot first assuring his pack is ready for travel. Always good to be prepared to leave, even if staying as fortunes had a way of changing fast on the frontier.

 

[melancholytears]

After a peaceful night's rest, Klaern wakes early. The wood elf loves her usual morning traditions so much that she grabs her pack and heads down to the stream she saw on her way in the night before and bathes alone using her homemade sandalwood and spice soap. The cool clear water is so refreshing in the early morning, she relishes these moments but realizes she needs to be quick and discreet today. drying and dressing quickly in the small wooded thicket, Klaern takes some time to make a small braid in her hair to the right side of her face with the rest of her auburn locks cascading down her back.

Refreshed and in a good mood, Klaern makes her way back to the tavern to meet up with the Khajiiit Bruynzeel for breakfast. stepping into the tavern's dining area, she slips into a seat beside the fire and waits for her prospective escort. While she waits, she orders a mug of warm water and takes out her own homemade blend of herbal tea leaves.

Sitting alone, she takes in the room surrounding her, only two other patrons seem to be up and dining at this hour and since she had made no exact meeting time with Bruynzeel, she figures she would spend some time reading her journal. She sits with the tome opened in front of her, engrossed by it's content that she loses track of time and place as she reads.

 

[Bruynzeel]

Bruynzeel not needing actual sleep does his meditations, and goes to the woods to exercise and relax. As the sun comes up he washes in the near by stream and hides himself on the approach of footsteps discovering Klaern he makes his leave returning to the inn. Convincing the regular cook to let him cook his own food and finish the preparations for Klaerns meal. This was eased when he offered to give a few of his rare herbs to the cook for his own use.

Once finished with the prep he retired to his cot and put on his travel wear, gathered his pack and guitar and place them just inside the common area noticing that Klaern had set herself up at a table near the fire, even over the scent of the room the fresh smell of sandlewood is evident. Her attention on a leather bound book. He returns to the kitchen finishing his omelet making juice, fresh coffee, and gathers her fruit bowl and returns to the common room.

He clears his throat as he approaches so as not to surprise her and she flips her hair back as she looks up and puts away her book with a broad smile on her face and just a hint of flush flashing across her face. He sits the bowl of spiced fruit in front of her and a mug which he then fills from a pitcher and one for himself. "Good morning Klaern, I thought you would appreciate a meal more to your sensibilities."

He sits and sips his own juice letting the coffee in the other carafe steep for a few more moments. The aromas mixing from his omelet, the coffee, her fruit and her perfumed body are a touch overwhelming so he tries concentrating on only one his whiskers twitch in this effort.

She notices this and giggles a bit which he chuckles to as well.

 

[melancholytears]

Klaern is lost in her journal when she hears Bruynzeel's throat clearing and the tray of foods he has brought for their breakfast. She smiles a bright, warm smile that radiates to her eyes as she spies the fruits and sees that he has gone through some trouble to get something that she would desire and not simply tolerate. On closer inspection of the fruits she sees he has spiced it delicately and even cut it into delicate bite sized morsels. Never has she seen such a nice presentation given to a complete stranger, she is mesmerized already heady with an appreciation of his handiwork and thoughtfulness. "Why thank you very much Bruynzeel. I am sure you went out of your way to get this for me. I appreciate your this kindness." Klaern cannot resist, she takes a bite of the delectable fruits, enjoying the juicy fragrant spiced berries and pear pieces. She closes her eyes for a moment and savors it, nearly forgetting that she was seated across from the large Khajiit. When she opens her eyes she sees his amusement in the way he is watching her, she blushes a bit and looks away for a split second, then she giggles softly.

Getting herself back into the moment so she might keep the company of this Khajiit she begins, "So, business. Yes, Bruynzeel, I am traveling to Solitude. I am actually on a pilgrimage of sorts, a dying wish of my father's. I am to deliver a gift to one of our village elders who has taken up residence in Solitude. I am unescorted and after seeing your skill with the Nord men last night, I was wondering if being unescorted in these days is a wise decision for someone like myself. If I were to pay you for your time and trouble, would you escort me to Solitude?" Her eyes meet his and something within her made her heart race, she told herself it was simply the rare kindness of this Khajiit and the way his muscles moved beneath his clothing and fur that seemed to draw her attention. But her instincts told her that there was something more to it than that but it all excited her in a way she had not expected. Unconsciously biting her low lower lip as she watched him take a sip of his juice, she straightened up and then caught herself before biting through the lip. His mere presence seemed intoxicating to the wood elf and it was clear to even her that she needed to control this for the time being and get to know the Catman before she became a silly infatuated girl, blushing and gushing over every motion or word. More centered and in control, she smiled, "What do you think Bruynzeel? Will you escort me to Solitude?"

 

[Bruynzeel]

Brunyzeel sits enjoying his meal, enjoying the way she appreciates his minor efforts on her behalf. A simple observation and something he would have done for anyone so inclined. Just his way. The life of others is fleeting and respect of it is important to him. Small things like this have great meaning in the respect they pay to companions and acquaintances.

She broaches the subject of her business and he contemplates the trip. He is intrigued, and her manner tells him she is genuine. "I will accompany you, my fee well that is not so easy. I don't really need your money, nor if I did could you fulfill the cost of my skills. So here are my terms, I require you to tell me stories of, play me songs of your tribe. Lore is my stock and trade. I will also require you to do what I say while we travel. No question. I say hide, you hide. I say run, you run."

He pours the rich, deep, and aromatic coffee, a delicacy as the beans he uses are only grown in select places. An extravagance that others would not notice. But one cannot skimp on certain things, unique and exquisite, a good coffee, a fine cheese, rare herbs... and more. She is a beauty, rare and graceful. And she bares further study. He will take the job, he had decided that as soon as she said she had business for him. This negotiation is a farce, but like all farces it had to be played out. Even if she didn't agree he would assure she got to Solitude even if he had to shadow her. Especially since his current mission for the Blades had him reporting in to his contact in The Winking Skeever anyway.

He sips his coffee and grins waiting for her response. Really rather a smirk as a Khajiit grin was more than a bit frightening, all those sharp teeth.

 

[melancholytears]

Klaern listens to his terms and considers them. "The Lore, the songs of my people, I will gladly share with you. It will be a pleasure to share the stories of and tales of my tribe." She pauses and considers the second part of his fee, "You wish for me to do whatever you tell me. If I were to say I would comply to this straight out, I would be a liar. because I know that I do not nor have not always done as I am told. But, if your intentions in giving me instructions or commands is in my best interest, I will do as asked. I will not be taken advantage of because I have made an agreement however to do 'do what you tell me to do without question.' I am not trying to imply that you would do such a thing, but I do not wish to be bound to an agreement without a promise that all that is asked of me will be for my own good."

She sips some more of the fresh juice and watches the handsome Khajiit. She hopes that she is clear in why she did not immediately accept his offer. She settles into herself and lets her instincts lead her here. She feels no warnings, something about him seems too noble, too personally honor bound to be the type that would hold anyone to a contract for his own whims.

She finishes her fruit as she waits for his response. Thoroughly enjoying every last bite of the delicate fruits. Her thoughts of him beside her on the trip is a pleasing thought. And then because it only just occurred to her, "Bruynzeel, I forgot to mention, my Lore and songs will be in the language of my people. Amin estela lle yawlle." (I hope you understand.)The sound of her native language falling easily and gracefully from her lips as if were a music all of it's own.

 

[Bruynzeel]

Bruynzeel listens carefully smirks at the implication of possible impropriety, letting a few dirty jokes run through his mind, a limerick of a Khajiit and a Bosmer, The Argonian Maid comes to mind. He chuckles heartily "Child don't be so literal, I would never impose such wills upon you. But if I give such a order it would be purely for your safety, either from a foe or me."

Having finished his meal he stands and bows low while saying in old and formal Ayleidoon "Abagaianye Rielle, Angua Welkynd." A bit flirtatious but only in that it refers to a ancient love story, tragic in nature of star crossed lovers. It's modern meaning was that he embraces the honor of learning. "Your histories and lore are unimportant I know them well. The local stories and songs of your tribe are what I crave. But I think we are at an accord so as soon as your ready to travel I will meet you on the road north west of town. There is a patch of lavender I wish to roll around in." This refers to an old joke among the Bosmer of how a khajiit would be pungent even if awash in flowers. He picks up his pack and again smirks as her mouth is agape both at his jest and he assumes at the new knowledge of his more educated request.

 

[melancholytears]

Klaern's expression changes from one of feeling in control to one of bewilderment. He speaks perfect Ayleidoon, he was able to use both humor and knowledge to first assure her of his intent with his request and then to clarify his need of her local history. Her mouth is indeed open in an expression of awe. Her gaze fixed on this Khajiit, who is nothing at all like the type of Khajiit she had been told about. Coming from a small village has it's disadvantages, she is realizing, in knowing what is true and what is false concerning outsiders.

Silently she watches him walk away and takes a few moments to compose herself. She finishes her tea and checks her pack making certain that she hasn't forgotten anything. Everything seeming in order, the wood elf looks around the tavern which is still quiet in these early hours. Standing, she moves toward the tavern keep and tells him she is leaving and to thank him for the hospitality. He seems to find her formality curious and odd, but it is something she was told to do as she travels, to make certain anywhere she stays is a place she can return at some point and find a welcome.

Then without further hesitation, she puts on her cape and shoulders her pack, unconsciously making haste to catch up with the Khajiit. She whispers as she is walking, "He wants to roll around in lavender, he will do no such thing without me, " she smiles to herself as the image of him rolling in lavender would be quite the sight. And although she knows the joke he referred to, she still cannot shake the thought that it might be exhilarating to roll around with him.

 

[Bruynzeel]

Bru is crouched down and enjoying the smell of the lavender in the batch, which was real, his rolling in it was not. But along with sandalwood one of his favorite scents. Which of course is a problem, if she habitually wore sandalwood, along with her grace and her curves his baser animal instincts would be excited. He would be in even more trouble if she was quick witted, had a good sense of humor, or had any martial skill at all. What had he done in agreeing to take her on a trip. Even if he was going in the same direction did he need an entanglement? Did he need to risk getting involved with someone? But of course he did, honor had to be obeyed, he couldn't let a woman who asked him for help down. He had to act.

Then she turned the corner of the street and he knew for certain he was truly lost it was just a matter of time. The sun broke over her right shoulder, highlighting the color giving it a slight halo the auburn breaking out of the greater brown. It also washed over her features chiseled and symmetrical. Mer were of course a more delicate and graceful build on average anyway but even with that. Klaern was spectacular. He absentmindedly picks some of the lavender.

She draws near and he says as he hands her the lavender in his native Ta'agra, "Krimir ja'Klaern jaji renrij sri do raj." then in common he translates "Smile, young Klaern, this one mercenary will protect your all" He then turns and starts the trip by walking steadily down the road at her side.

 

[melancholytears]

As Klaern approached the meeting spot, the patch of lavender was fragrant in the air and with a little bit of her natural skill in perceiving things out of place, she could see Bruynzeel crouched down. It certainly helped that she knew he would be there, he was concealed well enough for a mere passerby, but those thoughts slipped away as she takes him in from the distance. Oh, he was so muscular and so knowledgeable however the thing that most sparked her excitement was this understated power. For all that she was in charge of things pertaining to her life and her mission, he seemed to be able to size things up within seconds and make decisions, case in point, the incident with the Nord and then again with his payment requirement.

As she got closer, he held out some lavender for her and she was again blushing. If he could read minds she would be in trouble as her own desire was once again sparked. Controlling it with a deep intake of breath and a warm smile, "Mae govannen Bruynzeel, Diola lle Amin harmuva onalle." (Well met Bruynzeel, thank you. I will treasure your gift.) Klaern takes the lavender and places some of it into her hair, quickly braiding it in as they start to walk side by side down the path together.

She can tell he is walking slower than his usual pace, as she is quite graceful but small and he seems to understand that their difference in stride would wear her down quickly and she appreciated his thoughtfulness. In a moment of contentedness, walking beside this Khajiit, she begins to sing, her voice velvet and clear, it is a happy song sung in her native language, about a local wood elf named Tahor and his first born son's bow making and how it came to be the best made bow in all of Valenwood according to the hunters of the vale. She sang it with all the happiness and pride in which it was passed on to her. When the song's final verse was over, she smiled, turning to Bruynzeel with a spark in her hazel eyes, "And Tahor was my Grandfather!"

In her excitement of sharing her story, she places a hand onto Bruynzeel's elbow and links her arm with his, without thinking it unnatural until she felt him stiffen and nearly stop walking, just for the briefest of moments and then he seemed to compensate for the momentary lack of momentum with a smirk.

 

[Bruynzeel]

Bruynzeel listens carefully to her song the treble of her voice a soft soprano not over powered not forced, free and happy. People often failed to notice the emotions hidden in the singers voice. Bruynzeel had learned that when a song is sung the heart of both the song and the singer is revealed. If they are purely technical there is no heart a song maybe perfect but without emotion it feels flat and uninspired. The opposite was also true a horrible composition sung by someone who feels the song can make it incredible. Klaern had treated him to something more rare, a good song sung expertly and with true feelings. A masterwork.

He pulls his guitar around and centers his mind. He let's himself be truly happy and relaxed with her arm enfolding his own. He picks a few chords and excuses her grasp. Released but still feeling her warmth he plays. Then focusing on the pain and fear of what her touch entails. The eventual loss. He free composes the following.

(imagine this sung by one person without the violin there were versions of this in that manner but they were not quite right with the impact, and most had poor fingering)
​

He lets the despair of his long years flow through his voice his fingers and into the air. It's weight nearly crushes him. He hides none of it from himself.

 

[melancholytears]

His mournful ballad nearly stops Klaern's heart with it's despair and loneliness. It was as if she could feel what he was projecting through his very soul and it brought tears to her eyes. When the last notes of the song no longer linger in the air, it leaves a deep silence and she did stop walking and waited for him to notice, he does but simply stops not turning toward her. Her cheeks still damp with tears. "Bruynzeel, mana naicelea lira.",(Bruynzeel, what a painful song) she whispers and moves to him wrapping her arms around him from behind even though his pack made it a difficult maneuver, and holding him gently for as long as he will allow.

She releases him after a moment and the resumes her place at his side. "Thank you. You honor me with your emotion." Her words feel cheap, although she means every ounce of it, insufficient to express how deeply moved she was and how sharply she could sense his pain. "If you wish to tell me any stories about yourself... " she starts and then stops herself, not knowing if he wishes to be that open with her. "I would love to hear them."

 

[Bruynzeel]

She stopped in the road the emotion of the song had affected her but he felt drained and then she healed him, not with some spell but with a different magic all together. She showed she cared. Her awkward hug meant more to him than he had allowed in centuries. But he was not ready for her to hear his history to feel the weight of his worries or regrets.

"Even though stories are my trade my own stories are not really for others. Some are too painful, amid others to fantastic to seem real. Either way it is rare that I share them." he turns inside her arms, starts to feel slightly uncomfortable and if he hadn't been covered in fur he would be blushing, he clears his throat and lifts an arm to nervously run through his rougher chin hairs. "Be careful Little Song, you may find yourself overwhelmed. I'll be honest I am feeling a bit overwhelmed. I think we might need to slow down we have a long long journey."

He breaks the embrace and steps back a bit turning back toward the trail. "A long long journey..."

 

[melancholytears]

Once more at the side of this Khajiit, she gives a soft nod of understanding, knowing that if he would ever share his stories with her it should be when he sees fit and if and when that day would come, she would treasure his sharing all the more. "Yes, a long journey, Bruynzeel." Klaern whispers. Her eyes wandering the landscape which she drinks in, seeing open fields more than wooded thickets, hearing the soft sounds of the rabbits, hearing a long off sound of a growl, which she assumed was the protective cry of a mother wolf protecting her pups.

Needing to lighten their mood, Klaern begins to tell a tale which amused her once she was deemed "old enough" for jokes of a more adult nature, "The hunters of a neighboring tribe went out late one autumn season to hunt deer before the winter came. When they returned, they found their village empty of the rest of the tribes people. So they searched the nearby woods and found them all huddled in a deep thicket. They seemed trapped by a fallen tree and in order to prioritize the rescue, one huntsman asked of the nearest female he could reach, 'Are there any women with child in there?' And the young wood elf says, 'Sire, it's hard to say, we've only been stuck here for a few days.'" Klaern giggles at the joke, even though she has heard this one for many years, it always makes her laugh and she was hoping this change of topic could brighten Bruynzeel's mood too as they walked along the path.

Keeping their pace casual, Klaern watched the road, the fields around them and now could hear the approach of footsteps from behind. She didn't seem worried, as who ever it was wasn't trying to hide their approach. From the sound of it it, there were at least three people coming and were traveling quicker than Bruynzeel and she was.

 

[Bruynzeel]

"I can't believe the imperial guard let us go boss." "They said they had nothing to hold us on except assaulting that cat, and since he left they had no one to charge us." "Hey boss, isn't that the cat up ahead of us." "Yeah Boss, I think it is not many cats walk around without being in a caravan. And that's a guitar on his back." "Looks like he got himself a piece of elf ass, figures a nature loving elf would hug anything, even a cat."

"Klaern, get on the other side of me, and hold my guitar. I don't want to scratch it, or get idiot all over it." He then hands her the instrument and assures himself she moves back a decent distance. He then playfully leans against his walking stick which is really a katana and its sheath disguised. His bow is unstrung and against his pack which he slips off and lets fall to the ground behind him.

The three move in and make to spread out and surround Bruynzeel yet are still several yards away. "Listen fella's, we don't have to do this. Heck we didn't have to do it last time. You can just pass by and stay unharmed but if you try I am not going to be as nice as last time. You will end up meals for the local scavengers." The big one is wielding a large battle ax, the two smaller one each have small shields and long swords. Bruynzeel concentrates and determines there are no enchantments on any of their gear. Plus they all have the smell of a few ales, definitely not a fair fight.

"No you listen cat, you embarrassed us last night and we cannot have that. So we are going to teach you a lesson in manners." "I do not want to harm you. I thought that lesson was clear last night, if you want this then it is on you. So I will tell you exactly how this is going to happen. First I will cut each one of you. a small cut but someplace where if it was deeper it would be deadly. If that is not enough to discourage you, then the next blow on each of you will be deathblows. Is that fine?" The two smaller ones each backup a step looking to the larger one to end this and let them leave. But he is not convinced, he wants this. "That is so not happening." "Again if I land the first blow like described I will let you have this chance again to leave."

The large one yells a war cry and charges. Bruynzeel watches his pace timing his steps just as he gets ready to bring his ax down, Bruynzeel sidesteps and thumbs his sheath off the blade just enough to expose some of the blade. he brings it up inside of the large mans arm slicing through the leather armor and just nicking his skin. If it had been a full blow the arm would have been severed at the shoulder and nothing could have stopped the bleeding. The other two had charged with the large one and were upon him now as well. First the one on the right, Bruynzeel spun downwards and dropped first to the ground then rose his partially exposed blade into the groin of that attacker nicking him and using the sheath to give him a good whack. if it had been blade only his femoral would have been cut and he would be bleeding out. With his upward momentum he turns and slices downward into the remaining attacker striking him on the shoulder. Nicking him on the neck but if it had been full force it would have cleaved him shoulder to hip.

Bruynzeel then dives backwards and comes to a full height stance. when his opponents regain their composure he unsheathes his sword fully. "Still wish to continue?"

 

[melancholytears]

Klaern does as she is instructed and watches from the distance Bruynzeel seemed pleased with from the slight nod he gave her. She held his guitar too, but set it down next to a tree beside her. She has her own bow on her back and her dagger in a thigh holster beneath her skirt. She quietly and quickly, when no one is watching her, readies her bow, nocking an arrow and aiming it directly at the leader. She will only use her weapon if Bruynzeel needs help.

As she watches, Bruynzeel seems to be able to handle all three of the gutsy Nords who refused the peaceful alternative they were offered from the beginning. Still standing firm and fiercely, Klaern is not hasty to release an arrow into the foray, as Bruynzeel has it controlled but she wants them all to realize she isn't a helpless female without skill or strength on her own.

But without hesitation, once hit, the two side kick Nords do not hesitate, they decide to leave without looking back they stand and stumble down the road without waiting for their leader.

Klaern shoulders her bow and puts her arrow back into the quiver, picking up the guitar and watching. Bruynzeel has this one Nord if he decides to stay put. Which amazingly, he does. He is cursing and looking Bruynzeel in the face defiantly, stupidly, in Klaern's opinion. She says not a word and waits for the inevitable.