Kraling figured the show was over. He tuned to the Breton. "Sure. The food on the boat was awful." He said with a grin. He headed upstairs after her and heard random conversation.

At least one of them has to know about the geography of this place, he figured. then it's off to this Balmora place and I'm a free man.

Arilles Tradehouse

"Are you joking me elf?" he shouted to the Altmer, his patience running thin. He wasn't about to spend half of his gold on a rusty sword "I know a lot more about weapons than a pompous ass like yourself, trust me no one will buy this for that price" he stopped for a second and examined the man, he imagined in his mind climbing over the counter and punching the man straight in the jaw. He was certainly going to buy a drink and get out of this place. He didn't care where but anywhere without High Elves was fine with him. "Tell you what, 25 gold and no more for it and I will leave you be Altmer"

He still didn't see the Breton who had just entered and he didn't even notice the other Nord go up to the inn upstairs. The Altmer was beginning to infuriate him and only a good pint could calm him down, or even make him worse.

@ Emperor Jim
"Are you joking me elf?"

Arrille was shocked as the Nord flew into a rage, the high elf nearly panicked and cast a spell at the enraged customer. His businessman's instinct overrode this reaction quickly however and he calmed down in time to hear the Nord say;

"Tell you what, 25 gold and no more for it and I will leave you be Altmer"

Arrille smiled warmly at the Nord, victory was sweet! He'd bought the rusted thing for 12 septims off some local raiders, this was a good sale! He handed over the sword and held out his hand for the money;
"Thankyou for your patronage sirr, while you are here, might I suggest that you follow the last two customers upstairs for a drink and a meal?"

Kraling reached the top of the stairs and headed first for the counter.

"What do you have that's edible?" Kraling asked the redguard woman behind the counter, assuming this was Elone.

He quickly ordered and got some strange Morrowind food called scuttle for five gold, along with some bread for only one. he decided to try his luck:

"Do you know how I can get to Balmora?"

Elone gave him a strange look for a second, then said, "Sure, I am a scout after all. Just take the road right out of Seyda Neen and follow the signs to Pelagiad. From there, follow the road North until you get to a big ash valley, we call it the Foyada Mamaea, and head to your right. You'll see an exit to your left after a short walk, which'll let you out near Fort Moonmoth. Just head over the nearby river and there's Balmora."

"Okay, thanks." Kraling said, amazed that he'd gotten directions the first time.

"Here, let me write it down for you." Elone said and quickly scrawled the directions on a small scroll.

"Thank you very much." Kraling said, a little incredulous of this seemingly spontaneous act of kindness.

Kraling passed Laurenne in her way upstairs, she'd been going slowly, the stairs were slippery for her sodden shoes and she was making very sure that she didn't fall. By the time she'd arrived Kraling had bought some food and seemed to be chatting up an armoured redguard in the corner
Maybe thats Elone?
She thought as she wandered over. She followed the Nord's example, paying 5 septims for something called scrib jerky. It tasted quite good and she munched on the strange meat whilst she watched the Redguard fuss surpisingly over the big Nord, going so far as to write down the directions to Balmora for him.
If thats how she drops a hint, she'll never get anywhere...
Laurenne frowned at pointless spite of the thought, she was in a bad mood today...
There seemed to be a brief break in Kraling's conversation with the Redguard woman, whom she now knew was Elone and Laurenne broke in;
"Kraling... I errrr"
She couldn't think of anything to say, she wanted to apologise for the curt attitude downstairs though she felt it wouldn't sound right.
"Umm.. hows the... what are you eating?"
It was still weak but she felt she might as well get to know something about her fellow prisoners, it'd be best if she could find someone to stick with, at least until she found her feet here.

Kraling swallowed a bite of the scuttle. It tasted funny, but not all that unpleasant. "This stuff is called scuttle, I guess. No idea what it's supposed to really 'be,' but it isn't all that bad. How about you, what's that stuff?" He asked about the jerky. He could see it was meat, but what strange animal of this strange land it was made from he couldn't begin to guess. "Also, I don't think I got your name."

"Its Laurenne"
She smiled and stuck out her hand to shake in a mock formal fashion, talking as she did so.
"This stuff is from a scrib... whatever that is, it tastes a little bit like fish."
Laurenne hesititated slightly, she didn't asking about the other prisoner's backgrounds, maybe they wanted to avoid it much as she did... Nevertheless, she forged ahead;
"Its good to be off the ship isn't it? Its been weeks since I could properly stretch my legs..."

"That's sure true." Kraling said, shaking Laurenne's hand with a smile. "For all the griminess of this place, it's good to be able to get up and move around."

He bit into the bread. It was a little old and hard, but it was certainly better than the stuff they had on the prison ship, if you wanted to call it "bread." "I haven't had a decent meal since before going to prison. May not look like much, but this is actually good stuff when you think about it." He said after he swallowed.

Angorion walked towards the Tradehouse after Laurenne had entered. He was trying to settle his confused emotions but could not get them out of his mind.

"A mug of Ale should cheer me up." Angorion said to himself. An imperial guard looked at him wierdly. Angorion quickened his pace.

On the way he was surprised to see a gigantic black beetle standing next to a platform. There were a couple of people lining up on the platform. I should ask about that later He thought to himself.

When he entered the Tradehouse he saw the rest of the Prisoners heading up the stairs. an Altmer greeted him at the counter.

"You must be Arrille," Angorion said to the Altmer. "Can I buy some supplies from you?" A couple of seconds later he said "on second thoughts, I'll go and get something to eat first."

Angorion walked up the stairs and saw Laurenne and a Nord eating some strange food. He went over to them and asked "where can I get some food?"

They pointed over to a redguard in the corner. He walked up to her and ordered bread and a strange egg. He asked what it was and she responded the it was a large Kwama egg. She promised that he would like it and showed him how to eat it. Angorion walked back to the two who were eating and sat down. he tore open the bread and chewed on that. Then he picked up the egg, closed his eyes and took a bite out of it. It had a really unusual texture but the redguard had been right. He loved the flavour.

after he had finished the egg, he asked "Have you found out the directions to Balmora yet?" to the Nord he said "My name is Angorion. Nice to meet you"

Arilles Tradehouse, Seyda Neen

Grumbling, Kalthar reluctantly handed over the 25 septims and took his rusty prize. "I think I'll need a good drink after this robbery, so long elf" he said as he holstered his sword by his hip and walked upstairs hoping to quench his thirst and have his first ale in months.

As he entered the main tavern he noticed the lack of space in the room. It felt very cramped, not surprising for its location of being shoved at the top of a tradehouse. Either way, the Nord wasn't too picky about where he drank so he strided over to the counter and talked to a redguard woman who was obviously the bartender. "So Redguard, what drinks have you got in this dive?" he asked

"We have many drinks sir.....perhaps you would like some Mazte?" she blatently replied back and stared at Kalthar, not letting down. Kalthar though for a minute, he had never had or heard of Mazte but it sounded like a challenge to him, one he would not give up.

"Okay, Mazte it is" he said and handed over 8 septims and took the bottle. He examined it closely and sat down on a table by himself and poured some into a tankard. He looked over to a table where some other prisoners from the ship sat and listened to what they said. There was a Breton and a fellow Nord chatting. Fine catch my friend he thought.

Kraling smiled at the newcomer. "As a matter of fact we do. I happened to find a scout who was nice enough to write them down." He said, pulling out the scroll and finishing the scuttle. It wasn't bad at all, when he thought about it. "Well, the name's Kraling, it's a pleasure, Angorion."

Apart from a quick murmered greeting as Angorinon sat down, Laurenne remained quiet, enjoying her food. As the three of them sat, she surveyed the other customers and was rather embarssed to find yet another Nord, dressed in the same way as themselves, staring at her. She looked down quickly as soon as she noticed him. Whilst taking a bite out of her jerky, she had a quick peek at him through her hairl; the man was sitting within earshot and she recognised him by his distinctive long black hair as the angry customer from downstairs, her eyes strayed towards his side and she noticed the weapon by his side.
Wow, after all that fuss he actually bought the damn sword
She wasn't sure how she felt at the man being armed, for all she knew he could be dangerous, especially after the way he'd reacted to the vendor downstairs...

"As a matter of fact we do. I happened to find a scout who was nice enough to write them down."

A sudden interest sparked in Laurenne as she heard Kraling talking about their destination, she reached over for the sheet,
"Let's see"

Arrille's Tradehouse
Seyda Neen

Peregrine had taken his time walking to the tradehouse, bemused by the typical reaction of his fellow prisoner's to the rain. He never understood why people did not appreciate the rain like he did. Rain was the renewer of life, bringing fertility to even the most desolate of places.

When he finally made it into the tradehouse, he shook himself free of most of the water clinging to his clothing, and tramped upstairs, where he assumed by the commotion, there must be some sort of gathering of people. Glancing around the small tavern, he noticed Laurenne and Angorion sitting at a table with a Nord he did not recognize. Making his way over to a striking Redguard woman, he purchased a mug of alcohol, the name of which he was unable to pronounce, pulled up a chair and flashed a smile at the group.

"So, I see another strapping fellow has joined you. What's your name, if you don't mind my asking? They call me Peregrine."

He stuck out his weathered hand, his other bringing the mug to his lips, dumping a mouthful of harsh, tangy liquid down his throat.

Arilles Tradehouse, Seyda Neen

As he put the tankard to his lips he seen yet another newcomer enter the tavern and purchase a drink. More damn people, how many are there? he thought to himself as he drunk the strange brew. It felt surprisingly strong and invigorating, filling him with life yet made him feel slightly light headed and difficult to think to himself. Whatever strange powers it had, it made him feel good and he liked the bitter taste.

He watched the newcomer, a Redguard, sit down at the table with the other prisoners. He began to regret his decision at sitting alone and thought that perhaps the others knew more than he did about this package, assuming they got one that is. As he thought about moving table he noticed the young Breton woman cast a quick glance at him. This was enough to convince him to move and so he stood up, grabbing his tankard and bottle and walked over to the already crowded table with confidence. He slammed his tankard onto the table, spilling some of it and placed his bottle next to it as he grabbed a chair and placed it next to the girl. Sitting down he spoke "Names Kalthar friends" he looked at the Breton "Brave and honest warrior of Skyrim and former convict, as I am sure all of you are too...". He noticed the sheet on the table and took a close look at it, it showed directions to Balmora "So I assume that you have all got the package aswell then, what are your names if you don't mind me asking?" he again looked at the Breton with interest.

Name:Lestat De'vou
Race:Breton
six:Male
Age:27
Birthsign:The Warrior

Skills:Long Blade,Heavy armor,block,speechcraft

General Appearance:
Height:6'1
Weight:230
Hair:long blone hair
Skin color:a light tan
Eyes:light grey
Build:muscular
Scars/tattoos:none
Sign:Warrior


Inventory:Iron Long Sword, Iron Cuirass,small cloth bag (20 gold)

Personality & Traits:Lestat is soft-spoken but with a deep voice,he is nice and valiant the only thing he loves more than combat is women. he allso has a fine taste in clothing,food,and wine.

Bio:Lestat's father was a Knight and his mother was a noble, the marrige was for alliances and the couple never truly loved each other, Being raised in his father's foot steps. as well as his shadow Lestat exceled in armed combat,seeing that his son was a chip off the old block, he had him trained since child hood,At around 16 Lestat decided he could no longer be just a minute piece in his father's wake so he traveled decided to travel to Vvardenfell to make his fortune,not wanting anything that would clain him his father's own lestat took only his own equipment

Arrille's Tradehouse, Seyda Neen

OOC I keep forgetting to put the location

IC
Laurenne was studying the sheet of directions as Peregrine arrived, their route seemed pretty straightforwards, though she'd be better off if she armed herself before the trip...

"So, I see another strapping fellow has joined you. What's your name, if you don't mind my asking? They call me Peregrine."

Laurenne smiled, uttering another small
"Hi"
feeling nervous as she was surrounded by more and more men
Was I the only female let off that ship!

*thunk*
The big tankard slammed into the table next to Laurenne, the contents splashed up and she wiped some of the unidentifiable alcohol off her cheek as the angry Nord from downstairs sat down next to her, she could smell the drink on his breath and she shrunk away from him slightly.

"Names Kalthar friends brave and honest warrior of Skyrim and former convict, as I am sure all of you are too... So I assume that you have all got the package aswell then, what are your names if you don't mind me asking?"

Laurenne could feel the Kalthar looking at her, she was sure the Nord had really directed his question at her, though she wasn't in any mood to be hit on.
Obnoxious, violent drunk...
Suddenly she straightened up from a slightly huddled position, she wasn't going embarass herself by being so pathetically coy, looking the newest member of their table in the eyes she said,
"I'm Laurenne, yeah we have directions, here..."
as she slid the sheet over, careful to avoid the spilt drink, she added mentally
"stare at that for a change."

Arrille's Tradehouse, Seyda Neen




Ghost sat watching the group of new-comers crowd the breton woman. Poor woman. He thought to himself. Tapping his claws on the table he studied them. The armed Nord seemed the biggest threat. And the Breton probably has magic. Who would be easiest to mug? He decided to sit back and watch before deciding.

OOC: Sorry about posting this up so late... Busy schedule just got cleared up...
Also... Can I call dibs on Ahnassi?

Name: Davian Hawkeye
Race: Ohmes-Raht (khajiit). But he insists he's Breton.
six: Male
Age: 26
Birthsign: The lady

Skills: Longblade (Actually, more like fencing), Unarmored, Speechcraft (Both ettiquette and Streetwise), Acrobatics (includes climbing)

General Appearance: Davian has an extremely refined appearance, with great care taken in his presentation to the world. His light-brown hair flows down to his neck in a smooth, natural manner, parted to each side of his face and brushed behind his elven ears. His face itself is smooth, free of any scars, discoloration, or stains. His build has a lithe appearance, and shows evidence of good living, only slightly emaciated from his trip in the prison ship.
Height: 5' 10"
Weight: 156 lbs
Hair: Loose, light-brown and well maintained.
Skin color: Slightly more tawny than that of a breton, though his fur is a darker shade.
Eyes: Gold, almond-shaped
Build: Thin and regal
Scars/tattoos: No scars or tattoos at all, not even callouses on his hands or feet gained from many occupations.

Inventory: Prison gear, which is beneath a man of his stature.

Personality & Traits: He has an almost dual personality. He usually comports himself regally, if not downright condescending to those of lower social stature to him, which is almost everyone. He is sophisticated as hell, speaking in a shh-its-not-really-British accent, only slightly affected by his catlike purr. He generally does not resort to vulgar or even causal language, instead favoring extremely formal diction. In fact, Form over substance is pretty much his entire primary personality. However, he also associates with local underworlds, such as thieves guilds and the like, usually for hidden political leverage.

Bio: Born to a poor khajiit family in Alcaire (now part of Wayrest), his parents were killed by a werewolf that raided his village. Though the fighter's guild sent someone to get the loup, he was still orphaned, and picked up by the temple. He may have grown up as a devotee of Kynereth, had a traveling noble, head of the Hawkeye house in a neighboring kingdom not been moved by the will of Stendarr and adopted the poor kitten, naming him Davian Hawkeye. The young khajiit grew up in a modest estate, as the Hawkeyes were a relatively insignificant part of the court. He learned the ways of Breton nobility, chivalry, and court ettiquette, and when the kingdom was annexed into Wayrest during the Warp in the West, he learned the less savory arts of politics as well.

He got arrested recently for conspiring with thieves, and for some reason was denied his right to a "fair trial", and slapped on a prison ship, destined for Morrowind, loaded with others arrested with the same destination... He only just got off, after a heated and rather ugly argument in the office about whether he was a khajiit or breton.

Seyda Neen - Arrille's Tradehouse

The khajiit breton pushed open the door to the tradehouse, wielding an expression of frustration. The two racial interrogations in the Census and Excise office had worn his temper thin, and he really needed to let off some steam. It didn't help his mood that he had to use an inherently khajiiti ability to convince them to accept that he was a breton, but when dealing with politics, he had to use whatever tools he was given to achieve his goal.

He didn't want to make a bad first impression, which he would no doubt cause if he didn't cool off his temper. He reached into the pocket of his woefully common pants, and pulled out the bottle of flinn he had filched from the office and took a deep draught of it. Nobody would really know that it was stolen, since the fact he was a former inmate or that the ship was a prison ship was withheld from the population, and they could assume he brought it with him. After all, despite the common clothes, he had done a fair number on them to make them look at least half-decent on him, and despite his fur he still looked like pampered nobility. The census office wouldn't know to blame him for it because several of far worse repute came through before him.

After the small amount of alcohol cleared his nerves, his expression brightened as he walked up to the shopkeeper. "Greetings, good sir!" he warmly greeted the altmer, with an elegant flourish to his gesture. His effort was rewarded with Arrille's introduction and offer to peruse his "fine wares". The "breton" hated how little the Empire saw fit to give him for compensation, a piddling eighty septims. Hardly enough for a decent meal, much less enough to get by in this alien land. Of course, had he been given the opportunity to consult with his "legal experts", he would still be back in High Rock, living as a noble rather than a peasant foriegner.

"I am Davian Hawkeye, a noble of the court of Wayrest in High Rock," he explained, hoping to use his stature as a foriegn dignitary to rationalize his next few purchases. "I am interested in seeing your selection of formal garments, as my travelling outfit is not fit to serve as regular attire for a man of my stature," he continued, phrasing his request so that the Altmer wouldn't waste his time with clothing of no greater quality than he wore already. He was pretty sure that the selection here wouldn't be too high-quality, so that if it was too expensive for him to purchase, he could excuse it as "not good enough for the price", in a non-offensive manner of course. Arming himself would come later, when he had enough money to purchase a fine rapier or sabre and matching dagger, if they had the sets here at all. As Arrille prepared to present the finest of his outfits, Davian glanced around the tradehouse, trying to see who else was here.

OOC: Ahnassi, huh? I really should have seen that one coming...

IC:
Arrille's Tradehouse, Seyda Neen

Arrille smiled widely with a true genuine smile at late arriver, rather then his usual merchant's smile. If the Khajiit were truly a noble as he claimed (though, judging by the similarities the clothing shared with the rest of the group of outlanders, he doubted it) then this could become quite a sale. With a flourish, the Altmer bent down and unlocked a chest at his feet, saying, "Only the finest would fit for one of your stature." He pulled out three objects, and set them on the counter between them.

The first two were fine cotton cloth, a button up shirt and pants, both of the same shade of light blue. The third was a long robe, made of dark blue cloth with a golden yellow trim. "The best I've got to offer. I can give you the two here for 40 drakes, or the robe for 30. What will it be, my noble friend?"

Arrille's Tradehouse, Seyda neen

Angorion quickly finished his meal and stood up. He didn't like the look of Kalthar, especially the way he abused a fellow Altmer. He walked over to the Redguard who had sold him the food and asked about the strange beetle outside.

"It's called a Silt Strider and is the primary form of transport in Morrowind. For a price, the one in Seyda Neen can take you to Balmora instead of walking the whole way."

"Thankyou." Angorion said to the Redguard. He walked back to the table, sat down and said "The Redguard says that there is a form of transport that will take us to Balmora for a price, without the hassle of walking. I personally would prefer to save up my money. what are your opinions?"

OOC: how do i do Italics for thoughts?


Arrille's Tradehouse, Seyda neen

Ghost picked up part of the conversation in the group, crossing the small room he presented himself to the group. "if you are traveling to Balmora by feet, then prehapsss i coud be of usse asss a guide". Ghost grinned to the group. "For a fee."

Arrilles Tradehouse, Seyda Neen

Kalthar looked closely at the directions given to him, they were well detailed and informative on the route to Balmora. He looked up and watched the Altmer at the table walk over to the bar. With less company around he turned to the Breton "Laurenne is it, how did a girl like you end up as a prisoner?" he said while studying her, she didn't look like the type you would find in a cell. He took a swig of his tankard and seen the Altmer come back to the table soon after. The Altmer didn't seem to like Kalthar much but he wasn't bothered. He didn't like the Altmer himself.
"The Redguard says that there is a form of transport that will take us to Balmora for a price, without the hassle of walking. I personally would prefer to save up my money. what are your opinions?" the Altmer said to the group. Kalthar thought that a transport method would be too quick to getting to Balmora. As much as the Nord wanted to get rid of the package so he could get back to his old life, he wanted to know more about these people, and by that he meant Laurenne.
"I think that walking would be best, need to save up our gold you see. And any foes we come across I can slay easily with this" he replied as he patted his new blade and personally inviting himself into the group.

Arrilles Tradehouse, Seyda Neen


Ghost would look at the armed Nord. "Why sshould you fight when you could go around the creaturess?" Ghost walked back to his table and palmed the knife up into his sleeve, he pushed his chair in and made his way back to the group. "Hmm?" he asked smiling

"I'm for walking." Kraling said. "Aside from the financial situation, I think that it'd probably be a good idea to explore a little on foot, After all, I for one know nothing about this place and as long as I'm here it'd probably be a good idea if I did."

Arrilles Tradehouse, Seyda Neen

Kalthar looked menacingly at the new arrival, an Argonian who offered his blade for hire. He listened to what he said about sneaking around a foe instead of fighting and snorted "Why take the time to sneak around your enemy when a handy blade will do the job quicker and much more efficiently?" he replied back. The mans clothing was that of a commoner but it did look weather worn and dirty. "You a merc then by any chance lizard, you say you are a blade for hire yet you don't look much like the type...." he asked while carefully studying him, something about him wasn't right yet he couldn't place his finger on it.