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18+ When Gods Fall

Discussion in 'Active Stories' started by Harkatti, Jun 11, 2018.

  1. Madrar

    Madrar The Shadow in the Dark.

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    Nurian the masked stood before the gates of Whiterun. They'd been heavily reinforced since the last time Nurian had been there. For good reason, the masked altmer reflected, glancing at the slain undead scattered outside the walls.

    "State your business!" A harassed looking captain shouted from atop the wall.

    "I come to lend aid to the defenders of Whiterun. Though I can only do that if you open the gates." That wasn't strictly speaking true, but he preferred not to alienate potential allies.

    "Then take off your mask. Let me see your face. "

    The altmer wizard drew on his illusion magics "you don't need to see my face." He phrased it as a suggestion, letting the charm spell do its work.

    "I- I don't need to see your face." The man agreed before turning to someone out of sight. "Open the gates!" Slowly, the iron reinforced doors swung open to admit Nurian. The elf stepped through, noting the team of men already hastening to close it.

    All around him were emaciated humans, doubtlessly refugees who'd just come in moments before. Despite their sorry state, they seemed in high spirits. Some, though, merely slumped against the walls of houses, simply to exhausted to keep moving. One such individual was propped up against the guard barracks, clad in ebony armour and with a similarly dark cloak. A hat covered the upper portion of her face.

    It seemed an odd place for a nap, but Nurian was not one to judge. Instead he moved onwards, towards the jarls palace. Dragonsreach, he believed it was called. Once inside, he moved up the wide staircase, but not towards the jarls' throne. Instead, he turned right, where a harrassed looking breton in wizards robes sat at a table covered in tomes. "You look tired, my friend."

    The human jumped, then stared, a grin spreading across his face. "Nurian! Thank the divines you've come. Has the college had any luck deciphering this damned plague?"

    The elven wizard shook his head. "None. But show me what notes you've taken, and perhaps we can discover something new."

    The court mage nodded eagerly, retrieving a chair for his altmer friend. "Please, sit. I've gone out in the field a few times to examine the bodies, but we've been forced back by a fresh wave of undead before I can examine them properly, and the jarl refuses to have one of the bodies brought in for examination..."

    Nurian sat and joined his fellow mage in reading through the scribbled notes. Searching for something, anything that would bring this plague to an end.
     
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  2. Screeching Spasmodically

    Screeching Spasmodically Spasmodic Screecher

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    At the argonians welcome, Khajira took the seat, happy to be off her feet and in a reasonably comfortable chair. Her ears twitched as her companion spoke. "The road was...less lonely for Khajira. But the company wasn't pleasant. They seemed determined to take a bite out of khajiit." Her tail twitched at the memory. Undead bursting from the underbrush to charge at her with rotting fingers and broken teeth was not a something that she wished to remember.

    "As for news..." she shrugged. There wasn't much she had heard. Most of the villages she'd passed through had been empty, either abandoned or overrun. "Khajiit has not heard much. The dead are the greatest concern right now. Have you heard anything different..." she realized she hadn't yet learned the argonians name. "Ah! This one begs forgiveness. She hasn't even asked your name!"
     
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  3. TheArgonianDrell

    TheArgonianDrell Well-Known Member

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    The khajiit woman's news was much the same as what Argus had seen and heard. The smaller villages were gone, mostly, and the roads abandoned save for the ravenous beasts that had risen up across Tamriel.

    The khajiit woman realized that she hadn't yet asked her name, apparently ignoring the fact she hadn't given her own. Argus smiled faintly. Despite the way she referred to herself in third person, he found he was enjoying having someone else to speak with. "I am Argus Drell. What might your name be?"
     
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  4. Rafen

    Rafen Well-Known Member

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    Neither the mysterious woman nor the masked man seemed overly eager to join Beran. The warrior shrugged, not terribly worried by this turn of events, he made his own way to the bannered mare, and pushed through the door. The noise and sights of a typical tavern met him. It was almost, he reflected, like things had been before the plague, and the walking dead.

    A diverse group had already entered the tavern. A high elven woman, shadowed by an imperial man, speaking to a familiar breton knight and a bosmer woman. Closer to the door, a khajiit and argonian spoke at a table. A redguard had drawn in a group of nords with a game of dice. Beran made a face and turned away. He'd never cared for games of chance, and the current apocalypse hadn't changed that.

    Instead he approached the knight. "I didn't get the chance to thank you for the rescue." He announced, "I am Beran Masros. Perhaps you recognize me from the battle outside the walls several days ago."
     
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  5. TheDreamersverse

    TheDreamersverse Brit Fahiil Vahdin

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    "Is it as bad as we've heard?" The Breton Knight asks. My heart stops, I am not sure if like to relive it myself. Not without a few drinks in me. Luckily another man walks up to the table, I take this as my opportunity to shy away from the knight, elf, and bodyguard. As I am making my way to the bar I notice a man out of the corner of my eye, playing dice with some of the locals. "Excuse me barkeep, could I get a Nord Mead please?" The Innkeeper nodded and grabbed my drink, "The will be 6 gold coins miss." After counting the coins and handing them to the woman. I make my way to an empty table near where the man is playing dice against the very drunk locals. He is obviously winning.
     
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  6. Rell

    Rell Champion of Malacath!

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    Hallen was winning his game. Of course it would be hard not to when he held all the advantage. The redguard rogue had several small coin purses, an amulet set with jade, and a silver ring piled before him. With a cocky grin, Hallen tossed the dice again. He leaned back in his seat and took a quick look around.

    Not much had changed since he'd first entered. The khajiit and argonian were now talking at the table near the door, and the bosmer woman had left the breton knight, the altmer and her imperial bodyguard to get a drink at the bar. A cold breeze at the back of his neck announced another newcomer. Hallen looked over his shoulders and felt his eyes widen.

    "By Dibellas' sweet tits..." he murmured. The man, a nord, he guessed, was a giant, clad in heavy armor and spiked gauntlets. The greatsword he casually carried over his shoulder was no joke either. Grunted curses and sighs announced another win for Hallen.

    Turning his attention back to the game, he grinned, "sorry, boys. Seems you have no manner of luck whatsoever." He reached across the table for one mans' dwindling pile of coin. "Hang on a minute." Another, the nord who'd been introduced as Honrick said, grabbing the rogues wrist. With his other hand he grabbed Hallens' die and gave it an experimental roll. His eyes narrowed at the result. "You cheating bastard." He said, almost calmly.

    Hallen shrugged by way of apology, and almost didn't see Honricks fist in time. Even drunk, the man was damn fast. Freeing his wrist with a quick motion, the redguards own hand lashed out, bloodying the mans' nose. Hallen winced "sorr-" his apology was drowned out by the drunkards' roar, and the tavern exploded into a brawl
     
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  7. Signus

    Signus Well-Known Member

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    To his surprise, the human woman didn't draw her weapons. Either she didn't know what he was, or didn't care. Andros leaned towards the first of those possibilities. He'd taken pains to conceal his...condition. Even more surprising, she lowered the mask concealing the lower half of her face. The scar he'd noticed earlier did indeed continue on, passing straight through her lips.

    She took another step towards him, hands still at her sides. Andros didn't doubt she could draw a weapon in an instant- she didn't seem like a fool, after all. Or, maybe she was. She had, after all, followed an unknown man, without having any idea of what he was capable of. The bounty hunter hissed a breath out through his teeth. He had no need to breathe, of course, but it was one of the human habits that had stuck with him, even into undeath.

    He weighed his options- he could attack her, and hope to kill the woman before she attracted too much attention. He could lie, but he wasn't sure if she'd be fooled. Or...he could show her his face. Her removing of the mask seemed like a gesture of trust, whether it was genuine, he couldn't tell.

    His mind made up, he lowered the axe. "You want to know what kept me from the crowd?" Andros removed his helm, and, imitating her own movements, lowered his mask. His dark, neatly trimmed beard contrasted sharply with the corpse-white of his skin. He smiled without any mirth, revealing the tips of his fangs. "What I am, is what keeps me from mingling. Not exactly good for the public safety." He guessed she was close enough that he could cut her down if he needed to. But he hoped it wouldn't come to it.

    "My name, if Andros Haorsson. And I didn't choose to become this....this abomination. So make your decision. Scream for help, try to strike me down, but do it quickly. We're exposed out here."
     
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  8. Alty

    Alty Caw Caw

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    She stood there, consumed by a rather smug aura with the shock in the air. Not a single corner of her face twitched; it was habitual not give away anything, whether she was fully shrouded or not. That said, it was untold whether she was raising a white flag. In truth, she was curious about the faint scent of blood in the air. She was making mental assumptions about humanly mistakes to explain the stench, the only reason for removing the mask. No, she did not have a clue about the horrors this man possessed.

    Her shoulders tensed at a distant chaos in the background of the situation. She ever-so-carefully tilted her head in the direction of the ring of shops and the Bannered Mare. Her attention was steadfast once more on the stranger before she could investigate further, as the hiss of frustration rung in her ears like distorted bells. Why would he hiss? What is he so wary of? A brawny axeman like him?

    The man was lowering what appeared to be his only weapon. Her jaw twitched in subtle confusion.

    "You want to know what kept me from the crowd?"

    Only then did her left hand make unclear movement towards her sword. Not a threatening gesture, however. Nothing more than humanly instinct to prepare to defend herself. She kept her heavy, expectant gaze on the hands of the man, of which had rose to his own mask. Wait-

    Her eyes first landed on a pair of stormy irises, appearing hard with one-too-many future predicaments of the current situation. Her observation branched out to note the ghastly skin, hence trailing to a pair of blood-suckers. The teeth were the focus of her pondering eyes. She wasn't too keen on how to react. She wasn't too keen on reacting at all.

    "My name, is Andros Haorsson. And I didn't choose to become this.... this abomination. So make your decision. Scream for help, try to strike me down, but do it quickly. We're exposed out here."

    Silence. Her exhale was without the hum of her voice for several minutes. It explained the air of blood, this "abomination". Seeing that she found the source of her curiosity, she snapped out of her unspoken surprise. She immediately retreated her hand from her sword as soon as she noticed her nails were tapping the decorative bird skull. She began fiddling with the rim of her mouth-cover with her right hand, her dominant left supporting her right elbow.

    "Do you drink mead?", she asked with a minor degree of gaiety. She wasn't dismissing the man's position. It was more as if she knew he wasn't comfortable in crowds, especially where it was cozy and blood-warming. But then she noted, that was perhaps a dull response, so she explained herself.

    "You're not the first I've seen, or the first I've let live. I've killed your kind as a human, not a monster without a human mind." She offered a smile of her own, more predatory than comforting, but it was all the likes of her could manage. It had no teeth, thought it did have a slight part of lips. "Killed your kind as human" did hint at her occupation however...

    She supposed that the removing of facial covers was the new sign of submission, though it was never her intention.
     
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  9. Screeching Spasmodically

    Screeching Spasmodically Spasmodic Screecher

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    "I am Argus Drell. What might your name be?" Argus Drell. An unusual name for an argonian but Khajira hadn't met many of his kind. Perhaps he'd chosen the name himself, rather than reveal his full name. With a glance at his gear, she assumed he was in less than legal professions. She sighed with irritation. Not at Argus, of course. "Forgive this one. Sometimes, she gets carried away. Khajiit is called Khajira."

    She heard the brawl start before she saw it. With most of her life being on the road, she'd become adept at detecting the slightest signs of trouble. Her ears flicked back at a mans' voice, clearly furious. The next thing she knew, fists, bottles, and the occasional chair were sailing through the air. With an annoyed sigh, she stood, narrowly avoiding a flailing nord who was currently taking an unwanted trip to the other side of the inn.

    Reaching around to make sure her glaive was secure in its holster, she called "it seems our talk will have to wait." A burly human approached, fists up, weaving back and forth through no control of his own. "You-you bloody cat!" He howled, swinging a badly aimed fist. Khajira weaved to the side, flanking around the big man.

    As he turned she stiffened her fingers, jabbing one hand into the humans' solar plexus. The mans breath whooshed out, even as Khajira struck again. Her other hand balled into a fist, and smashed into the corner of his jaw. The nord dropped like a sack of potatoes, and Khajira moved on.
     
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  10. Morbidbread

    Morbidbread Fight for the lost

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    The bosmer turned away without speaking, and that was answer enough. He would have to be a fool to believe that the people of riverwood could hold out against such a horde of undeath. Still, he'd hoped a few survivors would make it to safety, at least. The redguard man seemed to be winning his game. A pile of coins sat before him, along with various jewelry. The knights' lip twisted with scorn- he'd never had any interest in games of chance, and had a fairly low opinion of those who did. His attention was drawn from the game when the door opened, revealing a large, heavily armored nord man standing in the doorway. The warrior scanned the interior of the tavern, a greatsword held casually over one shoulder. With a start, Karon realized he knew the man or- recognized him, anyways. The one that had put up such a valiant stand at the gates. He evidently recognized Karon as well, for he made his way over to him, "I didn't get the chance to thank you for the rescue." He announced, "I am Beran Masros. Perhaps you recognize me from the battle outside the walls several days ago."

    "I do indeed, Beran. That was a valiant thing you did, and I confess I am glad you survived. In truth, you will probably be needed in the days to come." Before he could elaborate on that, one of the nord men that had been steadily losing to the redguard newcomer muttered something, all while holding onto him. A moment later a fight broke out, with various items being used as impromptu weapons, or simply thrown around by enraged, drunken patrons. "Though perhaps now is not the time to speak of it." He said, stepping aside to allow a drunken patron stumble past.
     
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  11. Simus

    Simus An Excellent Site Member

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    "...Lady Elspeth?"

    A sweet, soft voice reached Elspeth's ears and the woman immediately opened her eyes, moving the brim of her hat up so she could see better. The voice came from one of the refugee children, a little nord girl of about eight who's parents had died on the march here but whom the group had taken care of as a whole. There were many more children like her these days but that simply meant she had that much more to protect.

    "Hello Erika." Elspeth said, now fully awake and with a smile. "Is there something you need?"

    "No ma'am I'm fine." Erika said, and for once she did indeed look fine. The poor thing was bone thin but was now clutching a large piece of bread with both her hands. Her mouth was covered in crumbs, a sight Elspeth was very happy to see. "The big men at the gate said to tell you to head to the Bannard Mare so you can get something to eat and sleep. He said that the Jarr-uul said that you can have whatever you want and to meet the rest of us at that big palace named Dragon's Reach when you feel better."

    "That sounds like a lovely idea my dear, I think I'll do just that. And it's pronounced YAR-ull by the way. That's the name of the man who rules this city and lives in Dragonsreach. Is that where everyone is heading now?"

    "Yes ma'am. The grown ups don't have food yet, just us kids. But the guards say there's food and beds and everything for everybody up there! They say they even have long taffy treats! Can I have some if they do?"

    "You can have whatever you want to child." Elspeth said with a chuckle and smile. "You've done so well on this trip so you've more than earned it. I think I'm going to go find that tavern now. You should run along and join the others."

    "Yes ma'am!" Erika said excitedly. Elspeth pulled the girl into a big hug and they went their separate ways. Elspeth headed to the tavern but before she even got there she could hear the unmistakable sounds of a bar brawl. When she opened the doors a scene of total chaos greeted her. Fists, bottles and the occasional chair were being thrown everywhere and with all of the guards either patrolling the walls or assisting her people with the move to Dragonsreach no one was around to restore order. This wouldn't do.

    Elspeth gathered two balls of yellow-white light in her hands, channeling the power of restoration and justice into her magic. Then, as they got big enough she put her hands together and threw them to the floor. The balls of magic combined and then exploded in a deafening flash of light and noise. The entire tavern immediately went silent and everyone looked to her. Many of them were simply dumbstruck by her spell and dropped whatever or whoever they were doing to see what she would do next but there were a few that had kept her faculties. These few she was interested in because they had remained aware enough to either be grateful, suspicious of or simply annoyed at her. A bald redguard with one eye who looked to be in the middle of a group of very angry men. The dice at his feet made Elspeth suspect that he had started the brawl with a little swindling. A khajiit and Argonian who were both standing glaring at her. They were the only members of their kind in the room and looked like they had just floored a pair of brawlers. A tall Altmer woman and an equally tall Imperial man who were sitting at a table, seemingly unfazed by Elspeth's magic. They either had some sort of shielding or were made of exceptionally hardy stuff. An unusually tall Bosmer girl with her brown hair in a tight bun. She looked like she was trying to stay out of the fight as much as possible. And finally a well-armored Breton knight and a massive imperial with heavy armor and spiked gauntlets. The two were standing back to back as if to cover each other but seemed to be taking defensive action only.

    "Good afternoon." Elspeth said, raising her voice so the partially deafened room could hear her. "My name is Elspeth and I am in Inquisitor of Stendarr. I apologize for my grossly incandescent entrance but you merriment has become excessively rowdy. I have just arrived here from Rorikstead with eighty-seven refugees and none of us have eaten or slept in over a week. They are being escorted to Dragonsreach for food and rest but the guards have directed me here. So please, try to keep things composed while I am preset. I would regret having to kill anyone. Thank you very much for your attention."

    Elspeth gave the room an armored curtsy and then headed over to the bar as if nothing unusual at all had happened. She was quickly attended to and ordered bread and alto wine. As she waited for her food she observed the tavern's patrons. Many eyes were still locked onto her and a few were approaching but things seemed to be returning to normal.
     
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  12. Harkatti

    Harkatti Sorceress Supreme!

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    The conversations in the tavern immediately ground to a halt as one of the nords playing a game of dice with the one eyed redguard newcomer, suddenly seized his wrist. The nord furiously called the man a cheater, and threw a punch. As if some signal had been given, the room erupted into violence. Everything from bottles to people went sailing across the room, and the noise level increased exponentially. The others, the khajiit and her argonian companion, anyways, were the first to react, along with the one-eyed man who'd apparently started the whole thing.

    "Mistress, should we stay-"

    "Be quiet." She snapped, "I need to concentrate." She hadn't moved from her seat, hadn't even altered her cross legged pose. A chair, or rather a piece of one, spun towards Arenaya and her companion. With a flick of her fingers, she telekinetically redirected into the head of brutish man wielding a broken bottle. He went down hard. For the next several minutes, she continued that tactic, keeping the worse of the fight from the pair. The brawl had gone on for a little more than ten minutes when the door opened once more, and a woman unlike any of the others who'd shown up so far, dressed all in black, with a wide brimmed hat shadowing her features.

    She took one look at the ongoing brawl, and raised both her hands, orbs of gold-white light appearing in each. 'A calm spell of some sort?' She wondered, deciding a moment later she didn't want to find out the hard way. She brought up a discreet, minor ward, grabbing Cadrians' wrist to include him in the spell. Not a moment too soon, it seemed, as the orbs exploded in terrific blast of sound and light. Even protected by her own spell, she winced at the noise. The effect on the brawlers was immediate. Most stood stunned, looking around stupidly. A few had simply fallen over. Once the last of the noise had died down, the newcomer spoke.

    She introduced herself as Elspeth, an inquisitor of Stendarr, and explained that she'd just recently escorted a large group of people from Rorikstead to the safety of Whiterun. And even though the threat was casually slipped into her speech, Arenaya didn't miss it. Neither, apparently, did anyone else, because she was allowed to go to a table and order a meal in peace. "Well." Cadrian murmured beside her, "that was unexpected."

    Arenaya was opening her mouth to agree when the door was once again pushed open. A young man dressed in Whiterun colors stood there, his armor slightly dented but otherwise in good shape. "Your attention. The jarl would like all existing defenders and newcomers to report to Dragonsreach at once. " Without waiting for any kind of reply, they man turned on his heel and left the inn, the door slamming shut behind him. Arenaya stood, shadowed by her bodyguard. "I suppose we'd better follow him." She said to the room in general.
     
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  13. Signus

    Signus Well-Known Member

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    To Andros' surprise, the woman neither fled nor drew her sword. One hand went to her mask, the other supporting her arm at the elbow. Not typically a pose one struck when preparing to fight or flee. Her next question, delivered in a lighthearted tone, "Do you drink mead?" brought a surprised laugh out of him. Though the bounty hunter was so out of practice, his laughter sounded more like a dry cough. He did, though more out of stubborn dedication to his past life, rather than for the pleasure of it. Next to the blood, it was like drinking watery mud.

    "You're not the first I've seen, or the first I've let live. I've killed your kind as a human, not a monster without a human mind." She explained, lips parting slightly in a smile that seemed almost...predatory. Her words hinted that she was, as he'd suspected, an assassin. "That explains your reaction." He remarked, "not many would be willing to hear me out...thank you." Then, as soon as the words left his lips, the nord vampire was back to his normal self.

    He pulled his mask up to conceal his features once more. "Now that we're not going to kill each other, we should probably see where that big bastard with the sword got off to. I'd hate to miss anything important." Talking had taken the edge off the thirst- for now. He would need to feed, and soon. Andros suppressed a shudder at the thought, still not used to the intense cravings.
     
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  14. TheDreamersverse

    TheDreamersverse Brit Fahiil Vahdin

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    Suddenly before anyone could could even call what Elspeth said as a threat, a man came into the Inn and addressed everyone to go to the castle at the top of the hill Dragonsreach. Leaving her drink behind her on the table Laraen followed the other adventurers as they were walking she noticed the Redguard man who was the cause of the brawl at the inn. "Well wasn't that a right amount of fun..." Laraen said to the man "Too bad the drunken fools noticed your cheating, I was having fun watching you take them for everything they had." Laraen smiled and shot him a wicked grin before continuing to walk up the steps to Dragonsreach.
     
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  15. Alty

    Alty Caw Caw

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    She (almost) flinched at the laugh. A laugh that seemed to have a minor degree of mirth, but broken enough to be without any chime. As for the little talk of understanding followed by unnecessary gratitude, she only blinked, hence denying her not-smile to remain. She was stone-faced once more. She did not react to "thank you" because she was ungrateful. It was common fact that she didn't voice any thanks or manners of the like. She didn't define the words as petty, just not worth anything merry of her voice. With this in mind, she did not speak in the moment.

    When she saw the drop of shoulders, she gingerly made to retrieve her hidden identity by draping the cloth back over her nose. She didn't show her notice of the man mirroring.

    "Now that we're not going to kill each other..." Morthaine wanted to snort. "We should probably see where that big bastard with the sword got off to. I'd hate to miss anything important." On cue, she looked to the central tavern: the Bannered Mare. In this, she had trustingly turned her head without an eye on her new acquaintance. The hazy sound from before... Highly possible only a fight of any sort would have such commotion, and only an inn would have the commotion at this hour. She huffed quietly, before angling her head back to the fellow nord. She briefly cocked her nose to the inn in implication, before setting off in her long strides.



    She opened the door, immediately spotting the aftermath of a brawl. As soon as she was to step a single foot into the cozy interior, she heard a male voice, directing the adventurers to the home of the jarl. She released the door, but stepped inside as opposed to answering the call. She quickly made her way behind the bartender's counter, grabbing a drink (not for herself), and threw a heavier bag than necessary at the bartender before any protest. She darted her way out, perhaps shoving a few patrons to the side of her path.

    Outside, she stored the bottle in her leathery satchel, but did not close it without one glance towards the journal inside. She would need to look into the damn thing again soon. She began her fast pace, and if her new ally was present, she did not acknowledge him. She did not take the stairs, she climbed the rocks by Dragonsreach's streams.
     
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    #35 Alty, Jul 7, 2018
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  16. Simus

    Simus An Excellent Site Member

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    Before her food even arrived a guard came through the door of the inn and summoned all adventurers and volunteers to Dragonsreach. Elspeth sighed in frustration but knew she had to go. All she wanted to do right now was eat something and get into bed but she was here to serve the people of Whiterun first and foremost and that meant doing the Jarl's bidding. She needed to make sure her people were being looked after. She sighed again, cancelled her order and got up to leave. She arrived at Dragonsreach quickly but before she got there she noticed a slim hooded figure climbing the rocks that made up Dragonsreachs' mountain. Upon closer inspection she saw the figure was a young woman and her boots were wet as if she'd just darted across the stream running down the "mountain". This was most certainly a peculiar sight and was most certainly not innocent but it had piqued Elspeth's curiosity. She marched to the top of the steps just as the girl was lifting herself to the top of the rocks. She knelt down and held out her hand to help the girl up.

    "That was quite the climb." She said with an amused smile. "Of course, if you're trying to sneak about it would have been better to simply take the stairs. It would have been less conspicuous."
     
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  17. Rafen

    Rafen Well-Known Member

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    "I do indeed, Beran. That was a valiant thing you did, and I confess I am glad you survived. In truth, you will probably be needed in the days to come." The knight replied, and the nordic warrior nodded, taking the praise with no change in his expression. After all, he had not taken action thinking it would gain him accolades. In truth, he hadn't expected to survive the battle.

    Before he could admit as much or offer agreement on the mans' last grim statement, the inns' common room erupted into violence. Without needing to be asked, Beran turned so that his back was to the knights back, supporting a fellow warrior. Some habits, he reflected as an empty beer bottle shattered against his breastplate, died hard.

    A fellow nord, his sense of self preservation obviously dulled by the copious amounts of alcohol he'd ingested, rushed the warrior, what looked to be a chair leg in his grip. Before he could strike Beran with it, he grabbed the mans wrist in his own hand, pulling the arm straight up, and stooping slightly, so that they were face to face. "Don't do that." He enunciated slowly and clearly, so there could be no confusion. Certainly the drunk got the message. He nodded rapidly, letting his improvised weapon clatter to the floor. Satisfied, he released the man and watched him stumbled in the opposite direction.

    A few moments later, the door opened and a dark armored woman stepped inside, casting magic even as she crossed the threshold. Her spell completed, punishing the patrons with a blast of light and noise. Beran had to admit, he was impressed. Of course he trusted in his sword and strength more than any magic, but the woman, Elspeth, certainly could take care of herself. Before she'd done much more than introduce herself and sit down, an official from the jarl stepped inside, calling the defenders of the city to the jarls home, dragonsreach.
     
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  18. Rell

    Rell Champion of Malacath!

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    Honrick was fast, for a nord and a drunk one at that! Luckily for Hallen, he was faster. Years of sailing and fighting had taught him that keeping your feet under you was just as important as throwing punches or swinging a sword. The burly, cheated nord stomped towards him throwing once punch that he ducked under, and then another that he swayed away from, like a blade of grass in the wind. "Hold....still!" The nord growled, winding up for another punch. "I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you." Hallen retorted honestly, even as he nearly stumbled over someone sprawled out on the floor. He continued a steady retreat until, much to his dismay, he felt something sturdy against his back. Struggling bodies to either side of him, it quickly became obvious that he was trapped. Honrick noticed it too, a nasty grin plastered over his face as he lifted a massive fist. Desperately, Hallen reached out behind him, searching for something, anything, he could use to defend himself. His questing fingers closed around something round and cool. The neck of a bottle of ale. "This will probably hurt" he told the large nord, and swung his improvised mace at the mans skull. Honricks' grin slipped off his face as his eyes went to the shattered remnants of the bottle still in Hallens' hand. "Ow." He grunted, before keeling over backwards.

    An instant later, the door opened again, and a blast of sound and light nearly knocked the rogue off his feet. A woman all in black, with a wide brimmed hat on her head, stood there. Before any of the more interesting people, or the dazed regulars could challenge her, she introduced herself as Elspeth, an inquisitor of stendarr. 'In other words- trouble' Hallen thought to himself as he made his way to the table where his dice and 'winnings' were. He scooped up both, glad to see that the key to his success had not been lost in the chaos of the brawl. Before he could properly get around to spending his new wealth, an official looking fellow barged in, instructing all volunteers and defenders to the jarls residence. For his part, Hallen watched the people he'd pegged as outsiders leave, the inquisitor heaving a sigh and waving away a serving girl as she got up. His gaze went not to the departing adventurers, but to the unconscious patrons. "Seems a waste to leave them with so much gold." He murmured. It took him perhaps three heartbeats to decide that 'confiscating' their coin, some of it, at least, would stop them from dulling their senses and getting into pointless brawls in the future.

    With a quick glance at the owner of the establishment and her serving girls showed they were busy trying to clean up the aftermath of the brawl. Hallen got to work, picking through the unconscious patrons with a sense of righteous glee. He'd only gotten three coinpurses, when a chill wind announced the opening of the door. He glanced up, annoyed at the interruption, and the purses fell from nerveless fingers. A masked swordswoman stood in the entrance, surveying the mess inside. Her eyes flicked over him only once, but that was enough to send a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold down his spine. She stalked inside, nimbly avoiding limbs and debris, passing dangerously close to Hallen. "I, ah, I was just-" she ignored, him sweeping past close enough for the sheathed sword to risk hitting him. She went behind the bar, seized a bottle of some drink, and then tossed a large coin purse onto the counter, leaving just as quickly.

    Watching her go, the rogue decided he'd had enough of looting, and stood. He thought he saw someone else in the doorway, similarly masked with a worryingly large axe. Then the figure was gone. Blowing out a sigh, Hallen bid farewell to the mostly silent tavern, and headed back out into the cold whiterun afternoon. The rest of the group, the adventurers, were already well towards the jarls castle. He jogged to catch up, and spotted the woman from the tavern climbing the rocks beside the stairs leading to dragonsreach. The inquisitor woman knelt down to help her, saying something that he couldn't hear. The bosmer he'd noticed before grinned at him. "Too bad the drunken fools noticed your cheating, I was having fun watching you take them for everything they had."

    Hallen grinned back at the elf. "Ah, well, you know what they say about a fool and his gold..." he patted the bulging satchel at his side.
     
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  19. Alty

    Alty Caw Caw

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    "That was quite the climb", came the sparkling voice.

    There was a light boiling beneath her epidermis as Morthaine stared at the pair of dark-clad feet before her. Reluctantly, she looked up, seeming to seize a hand of offering (or perhaps sacrifice) with her bleak eyes. This was a strange position; she was currently nailing her hands into a jagged edge whilst her feet provided a bit of support against the surface of the rock as to avoid breaking whatever was left of her stunt-worn fingernails. Then again, whatever was chaos for the fly was normal for the spider, which of course this merry woman-

    "Of course, if you're trying to sneak about it would have been better to simply take the stairs. It would have been less conspicuous."

    A little voice in the back of her head was cackling maniacally. Shame... her face was covered so her light grimace would never be recieved as a message to this woman. She hung casually, as she processed the help before her. What was it with people sacrificing their hands to a sketchy figure as her? A faint huff ruffled the mask over her mouth, before she put the burden on her right arm as if she would accept this petty kindness. But no, she could not be that simple, could she? The feather-like contraption on her left arm flexed like the segments of a centipede as she slammed a hand elsewhere of the rough edge, and completely jinxed the (helpful) opportunity. She swung, landing to face the woman in a crouch with the ribbons of her attire hanging like a feathery tail.

    She did not bother brushing herself off when she stood, though she did run a thumb over a flat region of her sword's silver, as if she was making sure it was still intact and secure about her waist. She eyed the woman briefly during the time her hand was concerned with the little engraving on her blade. She finally spoke with some contralto and the roughness of a voice that was not often used. It was a placid tone, but every word dripped with snarkiness.

    "What makes you assume I was sneaking?"

    Stairs, ladders, and the like were not options for something as brash as her. She gave a very slight over-the-shoulder, as if she could feel another pair of eyes that were included in the brawl at the inn, before she moved around her little acquaintance to proceed in a gruff manner towards the towering doors of Dragonsreach, keeping a good few feet from the flock.
     
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    #39 Alty, Jul 9, 2018
    Last edited: Dec 21, 2018
  20. Signus

    Signus Well-Known Member

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    The woman nodded subtly towards the inn, and then started walking in the same direction leaving the bounty hunter to follow, or not, as he wished. Andros followed in her wake, arriving in time to see her stepping back out of the inn, along with a mixed group of armed individuals. As one, the group made their way towards dragonsreach. Curious, Andros peered into the inn, noting that he'd missed one hell of a brawl. Patrons were scattered over the common room, most of them unconscious. A redguard man knelt among them, a collection of coin purses on the floor around him.

    Snorting, he rested his axe against his right shoulder, and turned to follow the others, recognising the large nord he'd met earlier. He wasn't surprised to see the woman clamber up the rocks alongside the stairs leading to the jarls home. She didn't strike him as the type to use conventional means. A dark armored woman with a large hat offered the assassin her hand, and was promptly ignored. The hat wearing woman said something, but with the wind and the distance between them, Andros couldn't hear what it was. The mask covering the assassins mouth shifted slightly, presumably responding. The nord vampire continued up the stairs, not really bothered by the cold, but he assumed the jarl wanted to speak with the adventurers, or in his case, mercenaries that had come to his city.
     
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