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[sosvodir]

(http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2013/214/6/9/roma__breton__by_faasnu-d68r07w.png)

"You're tired, aren't you?" Anedra asked her father, rubbing his shoulder with her hand which was closest to him. The elderly man nodded, standing shakily up. "Tell me if you need anything?" she said, a smile tugging at her lips as he limped towards the bedroom. She sighed, picking up her lute as he closed the door and disappeared into the room.

Now she played a different tune, it was a bright medley, but had heart piercing moments as well - she'd written it herself, when he mother died. There weren't any words, unlike most songs played on the lute, but in the Nord's opinion, it didn't need any words. Tapping her foot to the rhythm, her brown furrowed, remembering the harsh times she'd been through in the past years.

Blinking, she looked around, seeing that the man she'd spoken to earlier was now gone. Her lips twisted together as she lifted her hand to brush her loose, straight hair out of her eyes.

 

[Enthuz22]

[Thank you.]
[For a description - no visuals are available except for a screenshot of Kishan - of his weapons and armor, see Kishan's bio, available via permalink in my signature.]

Kishan paused for a minute that felt like a year, staring at the page of parchment with glazed eyes, considering what else he should jot down. He was reminded that the only reason he wrote was to keep himself occupied, and also to keep himself intact with the past. But the journals of earlier months were not at his disposal. He was unsure whether he was gladder for it, or sadder.
There was a muffled shout and a shuddering of framework. Caught alarmed and unalerted, Kishan bolted to his feet, grabbing his sword and readying it with a tight grip and tilted wrist. He stalked outside of his room, his door slightly ajar, an eerie look in his eyes; calculating and wild, and yet balanced and civil. The door to the inn flashed open.
Lurbuk strolled in. Behind him, out of view, a man yowled something inconfirmable. Lurbuk grumbled loudly, a bawdy laugh, and the someone on the other side - either intoxicated or mad - closed the door. The Orc "bard" turned.
He saw Kishan standing there, sword in hand, staring intensely at the Orc. A tense pause filled the tavern.
Lurbuk interrupted it, walking towards the bar, eyes flicking towards Kishan, for he was a rather unfamiliar face, and his narrowed eyes were unsettling. "Sword of the Stranger! 'Tis a stranger shape!" Lurbuk commented on Kishan's drawn sword.
"Her name is Idris, Lurbuk, and she is not gentle with those who disturb her sleep." He lowered Idris, her steel gleaming in the firelight. "What possessed you to come stumbling in here like a drunken dragon?" He did not have his sword sheath, so he set the sword against the wall instead.
"Nothing relevant except for boasts and toasts. You know my name but I cannot say the same of you."
Kishan didn't look incredibly happy about this unexpected conversation. "My name is Kishan Braudil, and I believe Jonna and her guests would like some peace and silence, so take your drink and do as such, please. It is late." Kishan's eyes scanned the tavern, hoping Lurbuk had not disturbed the old man.

 

[sosvodir]

Cilium stood in his door, his sword in his hand, a stressed look in his eye. As he saw that this boastful Orsimer was nothing but a bragger, he slumped against the wall, dropping his sword on the chair in his room and rubbing his forehead as he closed his door and returned to his bed.

"Have you no respect?" Anedra stood at the edge of the inn, her lute in her fist as if she'd use it as a club, "My father has just retired from the war and I don't think any of us need to be started up by-" she stopped, setting her instrument down, and closing her lips, "I apologize, but may you keep it down?" she mumbled, her amber eyes darting to the innkeeper and then to Kishan.

"Again, I offer my humblest apologies." she said, straightening her spine, blowing a wisp of hair from her nose.

 

[Enthuz22]

Kishan's thought soon receded as he caught sight of the elder standing in the doorway to his room, a sword in his hand and strange look in his eyes. As soon as he saw Lurbuk, he relaxed, slumping against the wall and slinking back into his room, hand to his head.
"Have you no respect?" the Nord woman's voice demanded. "My father has just retired from the war-" Kishan swept his head towards her, reacting to the sound of the voice, her words rendering in his brain. War? That would explain his arm. Is he so quiet for the same reason? "And I don't think any of us need to be started up by-"
She stopped, lowering the lute that she had in hand as if she was threatening to beat someone with it, and pursed her lips. "I apolgize, but may you keep it down?" Her eyes, bright amber in the firelight, gleamed as she looked at Jonna and then at himself. He returned her glance, struggling to conceal his concern, annoyance, and slight embarrassment.
"Again, I offer my humbles apologies." She straightened her back and flew a cluster of strands of dark golden hair from her nose.
"You do not need to apologize for anything. Is your father alright?" he said, looking straight at her, eyes flicking back to Lurbuk, who was ordering a pint of ale, neck stiff.

 

[sosvodir]

"H-he should be alright. He's always been jumpy, I don't suppose the war has done that any good." she mumbled, chuckling slightly, slumping down into the wooden chair behind her. Brushing her skirt, she kept her eye on the Orc, noticing the tense air around him. Looking down at her lute, she frowned, as her strong, angered grip around the neck had dented the thin iron strings.

Using the tips of her fingers, she closed one eye as to alter her focus on the strings so she could attempt to straighten them. She didn't lose her temper often, but when she did, she always managed to bend her lute's strings. Carefully bending the wires, she sighed, glancing up at the man, "Thank you, I do appreciate your concern." she said, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she looked at him.

Finally, her strings were straight - well, as straight as she could get them for now - and the pads of her fingers drifted over the metal, but only to usher up an off-tune song. She twisted her lips, tuning her instrument.

 

[Enthuz22]

Kishan nodded, settling his hand on Idris's hilt. "Anytime, ma'am." Lurbuk passed him, mug in hand, the tension slipping away as the Orc settled down onto a chair on the other side of the Inn.
He looked at the woman again. "I don't mean to prod, ma'am, but may I place a name to your face?"

 

[sosvodir]

A smile slipped over her eyes, "Anedra," she said, with a nod of greeting, "Anedra of Morthal." she finished, her eyebrow beginning to rise, "And your name would be.." her eyes traveled towards the Orc, a tinge of disgust in her gaze, but pity as well. She didn't know what it was like to be despised, for she'd never been under that pressure, but she felt sorry for the poor Orsimer.

 

[Enthuz22]

[Blessed New Years!]

"Kishan, son of Galathril and son of Dawnstar. A pleasure to meet you, Anedra." He gave a slight bow of his head. Her gaze had settled on Lurbuk, disgust gorged deep into her eyes, but not wholly; amber lights around a void, they seemed dense as well, or perhaps it was the firelight that made them appear soft as she looked at the Orc. To Kishan specifically, such a pause in toughness made his thoughts turn to fear, and although he no doubt was wrong on that account, it reminded him of less beautiful things.
He stepped away from Anedra and walked back to his room, returning with a few gold coins in his hand; he approached Jonna and set them on the bartable. He had never stayed here at the inn, but he did not harvest much worry that something would go wrong. "A small cup of wine, as you have it."
"One moment." Jonna disappeared downstairs into what he supposed was a sort of pantry or cellar. Kishan waited at the bar for her to return, turning around and looking at the flames as they danced ceaselessly into the enclosed Skyrim air, clear and cursed. He longed to set a steel-tipped arrow into the hide of an elk or fox. The tavern's warmth felt like it was closing in on the ranger, or perhaps it was his own thoughts that caved in on him. His gaze returned him to Anedra. Due to his time in Dawnstar as a curious boy greeting wayfarers, he could not help but wonder what thoughts were driven to her mind staring at the fire, blank and ceaselessly attempting to contact it's brother, the Wind, ever tempting it and ever unreachable, always in a higher place, and yet it deluded itself the joys and pains of the other elements, although it watched and interacted, but was never harmed by them; only moved.

 

[sosvodir]

Ushering a sigh, Anedra stood, her lute in hand. Opening the door to her new room, she whispered a few words to her father, exiting the inn to sit on the porch outside. Leaning her head back, she breathed in through her nose, the frost settling on her eyelashes as she scanned the muffled light of the stars in the sky. She reckoned stars from when she was a child, and it seemed like a dream; all the memories flooring into her mind. Across the small lake the town was settled upon, she spotted the tree which she'd carved her and her dog's initials upon. She smiled, but frowned at the same time, recalling the canine's death.

 

[Enthuz22]

Kishan emerged from the Inn, a sullen figure, mug of cheap wine in hand, pausing when he saw Anedra; he had seen her exit, but nonetheless, he gave way to a moment of silence. No crickets chirped tonight, and that in itself was strange to Kishan, who heard them every night at early evening. But that was in the depth of the murkwoods, and there was more life and beauty there than there was in Morthal, he deemed.

[If you were wondering about the Dragonborn and civil war ... no Dragonborn yet, I don't have much opinion on whether that should be included ... Ulfric will soon be captured. Dragons will most likely be in this RP, if that's alright.]

 

[sosvodir]

(Fine by me.)

Looking up at Kishan, the Nord woman smiled, "You're an Adventurer?" she asked, shifting herself so she faced the man beside her. She could tell, by the way that his breath shifted at the outdoors that there was some sort of connection to the wild with this man.

(Sorry for the lazy posts.)

 

[Enthuz22]

[I just realized that watching Lord of the Rings consistently has affected my roleplay of Kishan; I begin to follow the taste of text that followed the one that was once known as Strider.]
[It's fine.]
[I think we may have to suppose that the other member on this thread is not returning. If s/he does, then we can reinitiate them back into the roleplay plot, but otherwise, let's suppose that Kishan never met that Nord man.]

Kishan took a deep swallow of his wine and did not respond immediately. He breathed in the night air, moist and chilled and not yet frigid, as nights tended to be. The Sun seemed to be colder than the evening lights, led by two moons, Secunda and Masser, who above all else deemed to Kishan to be warmer than any daytime air in Morthal. The same was never said in Dawnstar, when the days were frigid and the nights were deadly with cold.
"No. Adventurers tend to seek fortune, glory, honor, and trouble by the road." He took a long moment to enjoy another sip of wine, but his voice had been awakened and would not be silent again so soon. He breathed out, savoring the sting that the wine produced at the back of his throat, and glanced at Anedra from the corner of his eye, turning his head towards her, the porch showering the crown of his head with shadow.
He studied her with a sly discontent, eyes a distant sheltered green. What would this woman want to know about him? Why was he conversing with a complete stranger about his way of life? He was looking for travel, not trouble or some act of love, for he could not not admit that she was vastly beautiful, and he wondered how her amber eyes would filter in the moons'light and how a sun in a better place would crown her head. Kishan was a strong man, though, he he kept these thoughts at the far back of his mind, where they cowered and watched, for he was a neutral man, and neutral he was determined to stay. Still, he was curious, and he had no reason be be so verbally seclusive when, in Dawnstar, he had so openly conversed with the strangers there. Morthal should be no different, and yet it was.
"I'm a ranger, and ranger is what folks here have called me for nigh a year now. I take refuge and camp within the shallows of the murkwood, hunting and biding my time. I look to leave here soon," he added without much of a pause. "Morthal is no place for even a ranger to stay long, or a strider to remain, for I don't follow your laws here when I am no citizen of Morthal and do not wish to be."

 

[sosvodir]

"Is that true?" she mumbled, replying to his remark about Adventurers, "My mother was an adventurer," she paused, but only to add, "in her young, unmarried days." yawning, the Nord woman stretched her legs out in front of her, her dust lathered ankles twisting counterclockwise as she cracked them. "My mother was a shadow to the land - no one knew about her or her story. Then, she met my father, a Soldier and a former blacksmith.. and all of that ended."

Anedra adjusted her dress, covering her feet with the rough, worn fabric. "Have you been to Morthal before?" she asked, fiddling with the hem of her skirt, the fraying string hung loosely but sturdily. Her amber eyes scanning the emptiness of the land. It wasn't empty, but it felt as though the soul had been taken up from the ground, to leave a dead, barren land.

 

[Enthuz22]

Kishan was uncomfortable with how open Anedra had shifted to being. He was curious, and yet he did not want to know this. Nonetheless, he kept his silence, turning his gaze to the clouds disturbing his view of the lower stars. When she asked him of Morthal, he turned his head again and looked her full in the face. "Other than the year I've already been here? No." He kept his words short. He wasn't in a mood to revisit thoughts of his brother any more times tonight. Reluctantly, he added, "I meant to offense to your mother. What I said applies only to adventurers, not wanderers, travelers, and wayfarers. I met plenty of them all in Dawnstar, but no adventurers except for blank-faced mercenaries, courtesy of the Jarl." I was no Ranger then.

 

[sosvodir]

Narrowing her gaze to the far East, her sight shifted, spotting what seemed to be a wolf. Uneasiness wound itself around her spine as it continued to crawl towards the inn, it's tread interrupted by the occasional shallow pool. As the creature ventured closer, the Nord's eyes widened. This was no wolf... but a woman. She was moving at an unusual speed, on her hands and knees, and looked as though she was galloping. "By the Gods.." Anedra mumbled, springing to her feet, her eyebrow cursed with worry. Behind the woman, who looked to be an Orc in rags, was a group of four robed people, and even from the distance she stood, the Nord woman could smell the blood on their fangs, and see the glowing anger in their eyes. "Vampires!" she shouted, shocking a nearby guard out of his sleep as he slouched against a post on the dock nearest to the pursuing group. Swinging into the inn, she pulled an apothecary's satchel from out of her room, and told her father to sit still, locking the door to his room and tossing him the key.

Bolting again, out of the inn, Anedra almost stumbled into a child, but she dodged, skinning her forearm on the door frame. Running, the Nord soon reached the Orc, who had been long forgotten by her poachers as they attacked the city. "Look at me." Anedra ordered, pulling open the small bag in her palms, "Whatever you do, don't fall asleep.. the urge may be strong - do not give in." she uttered, her eyes glazed over in concentration as they met a gash in the the other woman's stomach. Grinding her teeth together, she poured the liquid out of the stem of a blue mountain flower onto the wound, after wards spreading ash hopper jelly into the damaged flesh. Pulling up her skirt and ripping off a long chunk, she tied it around the Orsimer's stomach, both pairs of eyes scanning the city as they crouched, hidden, behind a small boulder.

 

[Six Gun Tarot]

{May I join in?}

Tristane walked along the old stone road that led to from the north to Hjaalmarch. He hadn't stopped walking since he left Solitude and that was late last night after he was kicked out of The Winking Skeever for drinking the last of the owner's Stros M'kai Rum.

"Julianos' Beard, how much further is this damnable town."

Tristane heard what sounded like clashing steel, a small smile flashed acrossed his face as he began running. He reached the bottom of the hill and the town of Morthal was there. Tristane grabbed his axe-staff off his back as he went around the corner of the first building. Two guards were trying the best they could at holding back what appeared to be four lower-ranked vampires.

Gripping his axe-staff, he rushed forward to meet the third and fourth vampires before they flanked the guards.

"More blood!"

Tristane launched a bolt of lightening into the first vampire, sending him to his knees. The fourth, however wasn't dazed at his comrade being weakened and rushed to meet Tristane's axe-staff. He meet the vampire's sword with the edge of his axe. He pushed as hard as he could but couldn't topple the vampire due to his supernatural strength. Tristane stepped back, so the vampire fell forward. However this vampire was smarter then most and immediately began casting the signature health absorb.

Tristane regained his foothold and swung his axe-staff downward, splitting the vampire's head into two pieces. He removed the axe-staff from the now perm-dead vampire's head, he felt as sharp pain in his leg as he looked down he noticed the other vampire had crawled close enough to stab through the weak joint piece of the armor. He kicked the vampire away and began focusing his energy into his hand.

A large flame began to spit and rage in his hand, he forced his hand forward at the vampire. A fireball, the size of a fist, launched at the vampire and exploded on impact. The vampire skidded a few feet and stopped.

Tristane sighed and gasped for breath, it had been a long time since he was in a combat. He felt a hand on his back, he turned to see the armored face of a guard.

"Thanks for the help, traveler. We would of been killed for sure if you hadn't arrived."

 

[TheCaptain]

(Six Gun Tarot@ if you don't mind I think this is where I shall jump in)

John had been traveling by foot in search of Morthal, he had heard of strange things going on in the town like a man burning his house down with his wife and daughter still inside, no man cruel or not would never burn his house down with his family inside without the involvement of evil and unnatural creatures, I was deep in thought when I heard the sound of spells being cast and steel clashing I run over a hill only to see Morthal *finally* I thought and at the front I saw a man defending two guardsmen from some petty vampires after watching him striking them down I walk down the hill as I step passed the first vampire the it grabs my foot still alive and crawls forward a little "Blood, This one's shall do for now!" he yelled as he prepares to bite the lower part of my leg but before he could I planted my foot in his face he flies back he hits the ground on his back with a thud.

Instantly I'm hanging over him like Death himself as bend down grabbing it's neck I pull out a large knife I crafted not long ago placing the knife under my hand against the filth's throat "Disgusting Filth! get out of my sight!" I said slowly silting it's throat before continuing to hold him up until it dies so it can't drink his own blood and heals himself I then let go of him and cleaning the knife I walk over to the man who defended the guardsmen "You the one that killed the filth good work couldn't of done a better work myself, you deserve a drink friend, just as much guardsmen do first round is on me" I said congratulating him as Vampires can be very hard to kill if they get so much as a drop of blood near their mouths, their wounds heal almost instantly and you kill it again the whole process starts again

 

[sosvodir]

(Alrighty then.)

Hoisting the Orsimer woman up, Anedra hauled her up onto the doc, and into the inn. Slopping the remains of the horker stew onto a plate, she handed it to the traveler, who gladly excepted.

Leaning out the door, the auburn haired woman frowned, her eyes grazing the limp bodies that littered the ground. As she neared the bloody vampires, she caught sight of the extra, clean dust particles that reflected the moon's light on their skin. The Nord woman smiled, without hesitation, and brushed away the vampire dust from their pale, flawless skin. On her way back to the inn, she offered a quick not of thanks to the two human's who'd conveniently dropped in for the fight.

 

[Six Gun Tarot]

Tristane removed his axe from the vampire's body and cleaned it. He hadn't used his spell arm in quite a few weeks. A man approached him and offered to buy rounds. Tristane reached to his money pouch as he put his axe on his back, of course it was empty. He took his helmet off his head and smiled.

"Sounds good to me!"

Tristane walked into the inn, it was rather quiet with only a few people each in their own little groups. He made his way up to the bar, his armor clanking all the way.

 

[TheCaptain]

walking into the tavern with I saw the different varieties of people in here stepping up to the bar I sit down on a stool as I unclip the belt holding up my bow and arrows before leading it against the bar on the floor "mug of Mead if you please Ma'am and whatever my Breton friend in the heavy armor wants" I said smiling