Private Oblivion Falls on Skyrim*

[Znowcicle]

Skyrim is still in the midst of the civil war that plagues the land. Brothers are killing brothers, and mothers are sent letters that bring them to tears, still. Children are without fathers, but still the war continues. The Dovahkiin has left Skyrim along with the dragons, or so the stories go, but the Dovakiin didn't help any with the war.

The citizens of Skyrim are more divided than ever!, and the cities are now dissecting themselves from each other with huge blockades around their territory. Hostilities are rising, fear is strong enough to smell in the air, and still the war wages on with no seeming end in sight...

As if that wasn't enough, now there are horrific stories of children being stolen, and livestock being slaughtered. Soothsayers are screaming to the towns that they foresee an end in fire and blood. An end most people only imagine in their nightmares...

-Cast-​

The_Deadliest_Troll as Andre Lapointe - the blind bard​

Falaember as Kinika Marie - the destruction mage​

Bloodhawk71 as Kotor - the battle cleric​

and​

Znowcicle as Sk'Raazda - the young battle weary Khajiit​

 

[Znowcicle]

The Khajiit caravan moved about the road towards Whiterun in a pack of jingling wares and cooking utensils. Their colorful furred tails bobbed back and forth under their packs as they walked through the cold wind that seemed to blow in the lands of Skyrim. They walked quietly until they reached the spot that the caravan usually stopped at when they were in Skyrim near Whiterun. Sk'Raazda stayed silent as she helped set up the camp; she helped build the fire and helped set up the tents with everyone else. This was the only family she had known since her younger days.

"Sk'Raazda - come here." Her pierced ears swiveled towards the origin of the voice, the feather in her ear dancing the breeze as she turned her head before walking towards the elderly Khajiit.

"Yes?" She asked simply in her raspy voice while keeping eye contact with her elder. It was only respectful to do so. She only dragged her eyes from his friendly worn face when he moved his hands from behind his back to present her a silver dagger.

"You need to explore. I've seen you play fighting with the sacks of flour late at night during our travels." He winked at her to let her know that it was okay when he saw her face twist into embarrassment.

"Please, take this as a token from all of here in the caravan." He put the dagger in her hands gently and smiled to himself as she stared at the gleam of the blade in wonder and awe. When she looked back up at the Khajiit her face was troubled.

"But where is Sk'Raazda to go? Sk'Raazda will be all alone, and the Skyrim people hate our kind in their cities especially during this civil war they're having." She explained in a slur of rushed fears. The elderly Khajiit simply put a hand on the top of her head between her tall ears.

"Hush my child." He said as she closed her eyes and mouth.

"You will be fine. You are a strong warrior in your heart. You deserve a chance at living on your own. Your mother and father would have wanted it." He moved his hand over her ear and then cupped the side of her face while gently brushing the fur with a soft thumb. She opened her green eyes, a gloss covering them, and then suddenly moved forward to hug his waist while burying her face in his chest.

"Thank you!" She whispered to him, her voice muffled through his thick fur and shirt. Her furred hand held tightly to the silver dagger as she let go of him and wiped the wetness from the corners of her eyes. The Khajiit nodded to her and she turned around to see the rest of the caravan standing behind her with smiles on their faces. Sk'Raazda could do nothing but smile back and fight the joy that seemed to want the manifest in her eyes. She hugged each of them, muttering her thanks before walking up through the many archways to get to the gate that held the city inside.

"The Jarl does not want Khajiits in the city." He said gruffly as he held his hand out to her. The dagger was now at her hip held comfortably by a leather strap.

"The misconceptions you Nords have about the Khajiits are wrong. We earn an honest living as traders, merchants and sellswords just as your people do!" She spat at him, enraged that the guard would have the gall to deny her access to the town. Luckily this guard was older and wiser than the young brutes that ran around Skyrim pledging their alliances blindly. He nodded to the guard and then waved her to pass through the heavy wooden gate. She stood bewildered that it was so easy to sway his orders.

"Go talk to Hulda at the Bannard Mare. There are usually bounties given to those who will rid the surrounding areas of bandits. You say you are just like the Nordic people. Go prove it." Sk'Raazda nodded to him quickly before hurrying through the gates. There was smoke coming from the smithy to her right and a path to her left that led up to what looked like large wooden homes. She was confused as to which way to go but she figured the city couldn't be too hard to navigate and just chose to go forward towards what looked like stalls just setting up for the morning.

 

[Bloodhawk71]

Kotor sat in the Inn, drinking away the bounty he had just turned in. He had just returned from clearing out some bandits at White River Watch. Made a petty 100 gold, but made another 400 off of the gear he had brought back to sell. He usually made his money in wars as a sellsword. His skill with restoration magic helped him make more than normal sellswords.

He sat there watching the tavern mingle with people. Who you could tell knew each other. With Skyrim splitting apart there wasn't much traveling going on. Bandit activity was on the rise with the holds soldiers being kept busy with other things. He let out a sigh, “My life had been so much more fun during the wars.” He thought to himself.

“Another Honningbrew Mead, make it two.” He spoke over the mingling crowd. He planned on staying here another night or two. If another bounty didn't show up by then he planned to move on to greener pastures. He didn’t have enough to wait any longer than that. He fiddled with his custom built polearm.

His polearm, unlike most long shafted weapons was full metal. Its shaft was made of moonstone ore, the bottom coming to ball about the size of a nords fist, but made of Orichalcum ore. It's blade like a spear tip one foot and a half long and half a foot wide, except it had four bars that came down onto the shaft to hold it in place. Down each of those bars were three spikes each half a foot wide. The tip made out of dwarven ore.

As he sat there a drunken nord walked up to him. “Hey Breton, that’s a fancy weapon you got there. How about you hand it over before you get hurt." Kotor looked up and the nord, who was barely able to stand straight. What this nord could be thinking he could not figure out. There Kotor set in full leather armor. Except this amour had plates of elven in the kill spots of his body. His helmet set by his feet on the opposite side of his polearm.

“Go away.” Kotor said, simply not in the mood. The nord obviously upset by Kotor's answer, reached for Kotor's polearm. Before he can touch it, Kotor grabbed his wrist twisted and stood up to his full height of 5'10. Without any trouble he twisted behind the nord, pushing up and twisting behind the nords back. Kotor then hooked the nords other arm with his free one. He then starts toward the Inn's door.

“Someone open the door before I throw him through it. Nord, you struggle one more time I'll break your arm."

Kotor stated simply as he got half way across the Inn. The nord then stopped struggling. One of the waitress' hurried toward the door and opened it. When he reached the door, he threw the nord out of the Inn call the Bannered Mare. He turned back grabbed his two Honningbrew Mead's. He went back to his seat and sat back down. He looked around the mare daring anyone to do anything.

For a month he had been wiping out bandits for money and still was barely scraping by. About that time some guards came through the door. They said nothing about the nord on the ground outside. Kotor figured they where use to it. They went to the bar, laid down a new bounty and walked back out. He smiled and figured why not finish his mead first.

 

[Falaember]

“Kini, be safe on your travels.” A slightly older woman says with a very slight smile on her face. “Don’t worry Aunt Rhee. I’ll be careful as I head to Whiterun.” A younger woman with red hair and green eyes says. “I know of the dangers out there right now.” She assures Rhee with another smile. As she continues to pack up the rest of her things, her smile disappears slightly. The roads have been covered with bandits recently. Just a small walk from their hut, which is near Riverwood, bandits will surround them.

“You will be fine here on your own, won’t you Aunt Rhee?” She asks once she finishes packing her belongings. “I’ll be fine, don’t you worry about me. I’m a tough old hag.” She states with a laugh. Kinika laughs and pulls on her black mage robes, which are enchanted to increase her destruction spells. Her gauntlets and boots are enchanted to increase her magicka regeneration. She places a dwarven dagger in her boot just in case it is needed. Before long, she is completely ready to go.

“Be safe Aunt Rhee and don’t worry about me. I can handle myself.” Kinika says as she hugs Rhee. “I know you will darling… You look so much like your mother.” Rhee says, smiling and Kinika smiles slightly. Her mother died when she was young and she never knew who her father was. No matter how hard she tried to get Rhee to tell her, Rhee would refuse every time and change the subject. Kinika walks over to the door, looks back at Rhee one last time and begins the walk to Whiterun.

Not long after she had left, a few of the many bandits appear on the road she’s taking. “Well, well look at what we have here, a lonely little high elf.” The leader says, circling her. She smiles lightly. “I wish no trouble. I just wish to make it to Whiterun without harming anyone.” The leader laughs and pulls out an iron dagger. “Well I guess you better give us your valuables then.” She simply laughs and shakes her head. As soon as she does, he swings at her and the rest of them begin to attack as well. She feels the dagger slide across her left cheek, drawing blood.

Her eyes flash red for a moment, fire appearing in her hand. “I tried to warn you.” She states before releasing a fireball in between three of the bandits. After killing the first three, she turns to the leader. She smirks, conjuring up two firebolts. He attacks at her again, slicing her arm. Before he can attack again, she releases the fireball and hits directly in the chest. After taking whatever valuables they have, she continues on her way to Whiterun.

Kinika opens her eyes as the memory from a few days ago fades. As of right now, she is staying at the The Bannered Mare Inn. She looks at Hulda, the barkeep, and smiles. “Can I get Honningbrew Mead please?” Hulda nods, places a mead on the bar and Kinika places a few septims down. As she slowly sips on her mead, she looks around at all of the people. It is easily told that a lot of the people that come here know each other. She actually finds it quite comical when the drunks get out of line. She’s already lost track of how many times in the past few days she has been hit on by the drunks.

As she watches the drunks around her, she wonders why it is everyone underestimates her. The more she thinks about it, she slowly begins to realize some of it. “It’s probably because I’m so laid back and even a little flirty sometimes.” She thinks with a slight smile. She laughs as she watches the Breton throw out one of the drunks. Her attention is caught when the guard places the bounty on the bar. “What kind of bounty now I wonder.” She thinks.

 

[death raider]

Servina smelt the air around her, the smell of her un-bathed body filling her nostrils. She heted smelling bad, it was not a good trait to have once you've been out on a hunt and then head into a city smelling like something which had come out of the rear end of a farm animal. She walked around the grassy hill lands of Skyrim, smelling out for soemthing to feast upon before returning to her human form and go about her usual ruteign, of sitting in a bar with a bottle of beautiful honey smelling mead.

She sniffed uncontrolably, trying to pick up the sent of an animal, but to no provail, maybe there was nothing around or maybe it was her terrible stench which was blocking her nostrils with the smell of un-washed fur and and skin. It was a truly distateful and horrific smell. She decided she had to bath first before going to the bar, or she would probably be thrown out, and then one of the guards would probably say it was a crime against Skyrim and her people, as some of the laws didn't make any sence and she was sure smelling really bad would be a law too.

She transformed back into a human and once the transformation was complete she went on to find somewhere to bath, anywhere would do at least she wouldn't stink to the Divines of whatever. She procceeded to a small lake and walked into it, bathing her body, cleaning away any visable dirt. She then went to a small log where she put her clothes, everday she transformed. She pulled on the clothes and then headed for Whiterun for a day of drunken madness and the Divines know whatever else.

She was nearly to Whiterun when she caught sight of a small band of bloody god forsaken bandits. She decided they were not worth her time, she was determined to have some mead and get something to eat, after her unsuccessful hunt. She was near the gates and they were clearly in her view, she remebered the day before when she was here and she was attacked by a group of Imperials for no apparent reason. It wasn't hard to bring an end to their pitty worthless lived, but it still frustrated her to bbe attacked by such beings.

She came to the gates and looked at the guards standing just outside it. They looked at her and then back to one another.
" Should we let her in?"
" I don't know, she's good looking, but she might be trouble?"
" Yeah those kind of women are always trouble, so you think we should let her in?"
" Hmm maybe I don't know though..." the guards said to one another, before Servina jumped into their conversation.
" So would you pealse let me in, as I am not some ginger tart and I could report you for descrimination," Servina said giving both a stern look. Both guards looked at eachother and then opened the gates for Servina.
" Thank you," she said walking past the guards and then into the city on her way to the inn.

Servina walked to the entrance and saw a drunken man laying on his front of the cobbles ground, not seeming to be moving. She kicked him lightly and there was a groaning sound from his body and Servina continued to go into the inn.
" At least he's not dead," she thought to herself walking through the front door and was suddenly hit by the warmth from the fire in the middle of the room. She walked over to the bar and sat there for awhie, not quite in the mood for mead quite yet even though she was desperate only not that longer ago.

 

[Drahkma]

Averain scowled at the guard in front of him. The stubborn Nord and his companion blocked the great doors to the city, staring dead ahead. "Listen. I've already said I'm not with the Thalmor and I'm no spy!" The half Breton,half Altmer vampire's voice took on an exasperated tone. He'd been arguing with the two men for several minutes now, and longed to simply draw his dwarven long sword, Goldbrand, and cut them both down. But that wasn't how the knight worked. 'If one doesn't hold to one's code, than that code is pointless' Averain recited inside his head. The line worked to calm him slightly, and he took a step back. "If I was your enemy, both of you would be laying on the ground, dead by now. I suggest you allow me to pass." He made direct eye contact with both men, letting them see his eyes. Vampiric eyes. Finally, the man on the right shrugged and nodded to the other guard. That one turned and unlocked the gate, while his companion warned him: "Well be watching you, half-breed"



Averain swept past the pair of Nords, shaking his head at their insolence. Had he not been a knight, sworn to a code, both guards would be corpses by now. Attempting to clear his head of negative thoughts, the vampire walked to the inn, where he was hoping to find some sort of work. He didn't enjoy selling his sword arm, but in Skyrim, one didn't have much of a choice. Either you fought, or you were conscripted into the damned war.



Entering the local inn and tavern, the 'Bannered Mare' he quickly took in the inhabitants:two elven women, an Altmer and a Bosmer, a Khajiit, and a Breton. This was all fascinating to say the least. To Averains' knowledge, Khajiit weren't allowed in the cities, and elves usually faced no better treatment. Either all of these people were immensely influential, or they were just very, very, sneaky. Shrugging, the red armoured knight took a seat at an unoccupied table, ordering a goblet of wine. He noticed a guard placing a bounty on the bar, and wondered vaguely how many here were looking for work as well. He brought the wine to his lips and drank, before quickly putting it down again. It tasted terrible! He didn't know what vintage it was, but unless the innkeeper was trying to poison him, it was a clear warning not to drink Nord wine.

 

[The_Deadliest_Troll]

A sharp pain in his ribs awakened Andre LaPointe from some sort of deep sleep. He breathed in through his nose and felt the dull ache of last night's mead plaguing his skull. "Oh gods," he grunted to himself, "what in Oblivion happened last night?" Whiterun had really become forsaken by the divines. The drunken revelry that happened in the Bannared Mare the past night must have made Sanguine himself blush. He felt that sharp pain in his side again.​

​

It was Saadia. She was shouting something about lousy, good-for-nothing bards. Andre couldn't possibly imagine what she might be talking about. Why, he had to be miles better than the last bard to take up residence here. What time is it anyway? He ran through his thoughts, and couldn't remember much. His bed felt less soft than was the norm this morning, he thought.​

​

Saadia kicked him in the ribs again, and Andre finally opened his eyes, realizing that he was not, in fact lying in bed, but was sleeping on the floor of the Bannared Mare's kitchen. No wonder Saadia was upset. He slowly picked himself up off the floor. Saadia was shouting his ear off about something, but all he really heard was the sounds of clashing swords and loud, clanging armor. "Andre my man," he chuckled, "you've got one hell of a hangover." Saadia nearly shrieked at the thought that he could have been ignoring her this whole time, and then stormed off.​

​

He stumbled back toward the inn and found his lute lying on the floor near the doorway. Picking it up, he emerged into the bright, fire-lit room and felt that mead coming back up for a moment. What's become of you, Andre? thought he as he stood there, haphazardly clutching his lute and blocking the light from his eyes, The once noble LaPointe, disgraced to nothing more than a blind, pitiful, hungover bard. He lifted his head and his lute in one motion; placing the instrument in some sort of playing position that would have made his instructers at the Bard's College roll in their graves.​

​

"This song," he said aloud, a new wave of creativity overtaking his piercing migraine, "is a new one folks. I hope you like it!" He took a deep breath, which made his headache sting and his stomach turn, "It's called, 'Discrace of a Father.'" He ran his thumb across the strings of his lute once, and then began improvising:​

"Ohhhhh​

Andre LaPoooooointe was a happy soooooul,​

but in his kind heeeaaart was just one little hoooooole.​

Born blind as a bat, and quite lacking of visioooon,​

His father begat; disgraced he making fateful decisioooon.​

To his death he was sent, to the college of baaaaards,​

and his breath he had spent making up for his haaaaard...ships?​

And Andre did lose, when he became old and GREYYYYYYYYYYY.....​

That which had made his tears go away."​

​

With this last, drunken note, he sat in the nearest chair, defeated, and wished for adventure again.​

 

[Falaember]

She looks around at everyone else, wondering who all is going to try for the bounty. Before anyone else could move, she stands and walks over to where the guard laid it down. "I wonder what it could be." She thinks. She wonders if it has something to do with bandits, since she has a grudge against bandits. As she reaches for the paper, her mind wanders to her aunt. "I do hope Aunt Rhee is alright. Hopefully no bandits got to her while she went out to get firewood."

 

[Znowcicle]

Sk'Raazda entered the bar earlier, a place called the Bannered Mare, and she had hesitated at the door. After a while, though, the stares of disbelief and the whispers about her being a thief or a milk drinker quieted and lessened. She took a seat at the bar so she could keep her eyes on the table without it being weird. She had paid for a drink and noticed that she wasn't alone at the bar. There was a Breton, a High elf, and a woman that she couldn't quite tell the race of. The woman's features looked ragged and almost doggish but womanly and quaint like a woman should look. It was confusing to Sk'Raazda and she took a swig of her mead to quiet the random thoughts in her head, most of them extremely paranoid.

There had been a bounty put on the bar in the midst of all the talking. Not many of the local Nords paid attention, as many of them were drunk no matter what time of day it was, but the small piece of paper made Sk'Raazda perk up her ears a little bit. The feather hanging from her ear brushed softly against the side of her face as she did so. She was about to reach for it when Hulda picked it back up and offered a quick apology obviously flustered with all the things going on to have forgotten something important.

"Hey you dogs!" She called out in a playful tone to make up for her mistake. "This bounty says that it needs a team to complete. The bandits are obviously very tough, but I'm sure you big lads could take care of it, eh? Who's up for some hard earned gold?" Her enthusiasm was met with nervous coughs, the noise of the bar quieting. Hulda's smile fell a little and she put the bounty back on the table.

"Well if any of you yellow folks get the itch to get off your arse, just sign your name and meet your team." With that she returned to cleaning the bar with a certain roughness that hadn't quite been there before. It was clear that she was disapointed with how things were becoming throughout all the years in war. Even after the coming of the Dovakiin things didn't get better, but at least there weren't any more dragons about. Sk'Raazda felt a little sympathy for Hulda; the men in Whiterun were no better than they were at any other part of Skyrim Sk'Raazda found out. She looked around the room and over her shoulder to see if anyone else was going to jump at the chance for some money. There were some other peculiar people she found sitting around. For instance, a drunken bard that wasn't singing at the moment, and an Altmer elf. At least Sk'Raazda is not the only odd-ball in this bar. She wasn't the right race to jump up first she felt, so instead she watched and drank more of her mead.

 

[Bloodhawk71]

Trying not to laugh at the bars reaction to the announcement. He grabbed his helmet and placed it onto his head. He used his pole-arm to push himself up, then proceeded past the High elf to the bar. He wrote his name on the bounty, and looked to his right at the Khajiit. He smiled and winked at her. He turned sideways putting the bounty behind him and her in front of him. " I hope you're joining up too. I hope you don't take offence, but I'd rather travel with you than any of these drunks. "

He waved his hand at the inn behind him. Looking back quickly daring anyone to stand up to him. Truthfully he didn't want them to. He was a little tipsy himself. Though I'm still stronger than any of these weaklings he thought. He did suspect a few of them might be hiding there power.

 

[Falaember]

She watches as the Breton signs up for the bounty. She huffs slightly as the Breton walks right past her as if she's not even there. Without further hesitation, she signs her name. "The chance to attack bandits? There's no way I'm passing that up." She says with a slight laugh. Looking at the Khajiit, she smiles.

"I do hope that you will join us as well. I think it would be fun to travel with a Khajiit." She glances at the Breton for a moment before making her way between him and the Khajiit. She hasn't really seen many of that race so she finds her intriguing. She wants to say more but isn't exactly sure what. Not wanting to offend her, she stays quiet for the time.

 

[The_Deadliest_Troll]

Andre's ears perked up at the sound of Hulda announcing some kind of big bounty. Perhaps this was his chance. Ah, but Andre, He told himself, you've gotten old. There's no telling if you even remember how to use that spear of yours. He stood hesitantly, the bar around him buzzing with this news of adventure. He heard the sound of at least a couple of people walking to the bar and putting their name on the sheet. His senses were still extremely sharp; even after all these years.

He walked toward the bar, his gut trying to convince him that he should leave such matters to much younger and more able bodied folk. Resting his lute carelessy by the fire, he pinched his nose between two of his fingers; ridding himself of the memory of last night's drinks for the last time. He walked up next to a person that smelled of... fur? A Khajiit? In the city? How interesting this is indeed. He reached around for a moment to find the paper he was to sign his name on. "Hope you don't mind," he said, "taking one as young and inexperienced as myself! Ho ho!" Andre felt, if only for that moment, as if he had become himself again. He remembered the days when he would hunt down giants and necromancer's alike. He brushed off whispers from the drunks behind him that he was nothing more than a blind bard. This was sure to be an adventure, and he knew for the first time in a long time that he was alive.

 

[Znowcicle]

Sk'Raazda nodded to each of the people as they spoke a little to her about their wanting her to join them in the bandit raid. She watched as they carefully, but not too carefully, scrawled their name on the paper. She eyed the quill curiously, a little intimidated by the ink and the blank space on the paper. She tapped in front of her to get Hulda's attention, Hulda raised an eyebrow to her showing her attention.

"This one does not know how to write..." She rasped to the barkeep, lowering her ears a little in her innocence. Hulda smiled gently and replied, "Well how do you spell your name?" Sk'Raazda lowered her ears further, humiliated.

"S-K-R-A-A-Z-D-A, she thinks." She raised her eyes back up Hulda and added, "Does this mean that Sk'Raazda cannot participate for the gold? Does this make her less likely to earn her keep." She was hopeful, though knew that she had no place here among the humans. At least not yet. Hulda took the quill and added an apostrophe between the "k" and "r" for her. Ysolda was always talking about Khajiits so Hulda knew a little about their names.

"There you go." She showed Sk'Raazda her name and Sk'Raazda smiled when she recognized the spelling having seen it before on little things when she lived in Elswyer. "You have just as much chance as anyone else little one." She said gently before going back to her cleaning. Sk'Raazda smiled more and got off her stool to follow the others.

 

[Bloodhawk71]

A little taken back but he elfs actions he just smiled. " Listen here elf that was pretty rude of you. Unless you just prefer female companions at night instead of a mans? " He was in no mood to be nice today. He looked pastthe elf after that comment and said the Sk'Raazda. " Reading and wrighting is over rated anyways. Other skills are easily preferred when bounty hunting. " He looked at the blind bard and wondered if even his magic could save these fools.He back away from the group slowly and smiled at them.

"The names Kotor I hate to be blunt, but do any of you have experience in this field of work?" He Took a glove off and cut his hand on his pole arm. Afterwards he healed it quickly and slipped his glove back on. " So what can any of you do?'' He really hoped someone besides himself was good on the front lines. He wouldn't save anyone if he had to fight and heal himself too.

 

[Falaember]

She looks at the Breton called Kotor. "If I do, what difference does it make to you?" She then turns to the Khajiit. "You have a really pretty name. Don't worry about the not being able to write thing. It's not needed for bounty's." She hears Kotor's assumption and turns to look at him. She casts a fireball in one of her hands and lightning in the other. After making them disappear, she takes her dagger out of her boots. Removing her gauntlet from her left hand, she cuts her palm and smirks.

"You're not the only one who knows restoration." She states, healing the cut. Turning her back to him again, she looks at the others who signed up. "Names Kinika Marie, but you're more then welcome to call me Kini." She looks at the bard, unsure how he'll actually be able to help. "He may be blind, but he also has more wisdom. The Khajiit will probably be of great use however. This Breton however, I'm not sure how much help he'll be. He has a temper and we don't need someone who can't really control his temper." She thinks.

 

[The_Deadliest_Troll]

Andre smiled a big, warm smile and nodded in the direction the voice had come from. He'd worked with others for such a task many times, but it had been years since he threw a spear. He hoped he could remember how to do so. "I may be blind," said he finally in response to this question of skills, "but I can throw a spear with greater accuracy than any man with eyes. Most are held captive by their sense of sight and they don't even know it!"

With a smirk he said, "I promise to not be a hindrance on this mission, and I will offer what help I can." He patted the young Khajiit that sat there upon her shoulder, feeling some sort of connection with her; both of them being outsiders in some way. Bending over, he patted his knees. "My lack of sight does not slow me down. If anything, it'll be these old knees that do me in! Ho ho!"

 

[Znowcicle]

Sk'Raazda's ears lowered and she lowered her eyes again as the Breton asked what their talents were. Not only could she not read or write, she had only a little fighting skills. Just enough skills to defend herself, as a member of the caravans one must know at least that, but she had never openly taken on a mission to deliberately kill someone. She had never killed, not a human anyways. Her tail flicked as she thought of what to say.

"Sk'Raazda knows when to strike and when to block. The quick are the ones that survive, and Sk'Raazda is very quick." She said after she had brought her face back up to the group. She smiled a little hoping to come across as at least a little experienced to these new people. They were already looking each other over and the Breton and High Elf were already testing each other. The bard had joined the group and he seemed nice enough. 'Perhaps Sk'Raazda will stay close to this one and behind the other two. This seems best for her.' She thought to herself as she watched her new found companions.

 

[Bloodhawk71]

He smirked at the high elf. He liked her attitude, she a had a spark to her. He looked at the Khajiit. She was either a very experienced killer, or has no idea what she is getting into. He would have to gain her trust and find out the truth. If she didn't know what she was doing he would have to protect her. About that moment the drunk he had thrown out came back with a couple friends this time.

All three barring arms, he couldn't help but smile. He turned to face them his pole-arm in his hand but on the ground. " Are you guys sure about this. your friend there is about to get you killed. I will show no mercy to anyone bearing arms against me. " The drunks didn't flinch but instead charge him. One was faster that the other and reached him first with a sword. He spun bringing his pole-arm up horizontally. The ball at the bottom of his pole-arm hit the mans sword breaking it in half, when his spin completed the blade of his pole-arm cut his into his neck almost cutting his head off.

The next to reach him had a ax. Kotor simple set his feet wide and his body sideways to his opponent. With both hands on his spear, he knocked the ax wide. He then brought the blade back cutting the mans chest wide open. He looked at the original drunk Nord who had stopped short of his weapons range. " its to late to stop this now you brought this on yourself. " Before the Nord could respond or move Kotor took a quick step toward the Nord. In a split second his blade was embedded in the Nords chest.

He stepped back looking at the minor carnage he left in his short fight and shook his head. He looked to the others to see how they would react especially the Khajiit. How they reacted would help him judge who he could trust in battle.

 

[The_Deadliest_Troll]

"One who would take another's life so readily is a hard man indeed." Andre said. He had not moved an inch at the sounds of the scuffle his new companion had gotten himself into. This man was certainly skilled, if not a bit brash. Andre thought he would be valuable on this contract, but would need a close eye (Ho ho! Eye! Right old man!) kept on him. "But I do not blame you for defending yourself, Kotor, was it?"

The smell of fresh blood filled the bard's nose and he was overtaken once again by memories. Memeories of days long gone and enemies under-foot. Andre wished he had been less harsh as a young man; less willing to do violence. He saw a bit of himself in each one of these new companions and hoped he could share a bit of what he had learned over the years with them; especially this young Khajiit.

He was trying to get a read on her reaction to the fight. Andre couldn't see the death on the floor not far from him, but he could tell that three men had left this plane of existance. And he was unsure how Sk'Raazda would act toward it. His hand found its way to her shoulder once more and squeezed lightly, "The name's Andre by the way." He smiled despite the atmosphere, attempting, possibly in vain, to lighten the mood, "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get moving before I get too much older. Ho ho! I'll return in a moment with my things." He turned and made his way back toward the kitchen to find his way upstairs to his chambers, returning quickly with his pouch, spear and sheild.

 

[Falaember]

She watches the Breton attack the drunk and his friends and shakes her head. "Not bad, but I'm pretty sure that you could have done better." She states before retrieving a bottle of mead from the bar. She takes a look at her companions once again. The Khajiit, weather she knew it or not, would probably be a great help to this quest. Normally her feelings are correct, so she tries to follow them.

She is unsure of the bard however. If all else fails then he could possibly be the one who could lighten the mood whenever it gets too tense. Now for the Breton. He is a fairly skilled warrior so he will come in handy. Hopefully her feelings are with her like they normally are. There have only been a few times when her instincts have been incorrect and it's almost killed her before.

"Whenever the rest of you are ready to go, we may head out. It seems as if Andre is already ready to go." She states as she walks to her room to retrieve her belongings.