I can keep the thread alive with Ashag's llittle personal business fo some time.

Please try, so that we can move on. With luck, something will show up, eventually....

Sorry to interrupt you guys... Since Cirith isn't hosting anymore, should I just post my character sheet to the scrutiny of the group?

Yeah, I'd like to join too. Should I post it here also?

Hm... I don't want to decide on behalf of the whole group, but i think there's nothing wrong with posting your CS here. But follow the rules plz. No ubering , mkay?

Name: Salumandas
Age: 134
Gender: Male
Race: Altmer
Birthsign: The Apprentice

Class: Enchanter
Class description: While a common practicioner of general magics such as Destruction, Alteration, and Mysticism, an Enchanter's real power lays behind the equipment he can prepare. A very broad knowledge of spellcraft is required for such a profession, and his power with magic is not lax. He has some training with long blades, but his skill in melee combat is completely worthless without magical assistance.
Profession: Outfitter. While he doesn't run a store, Salumandus is a rather well known supplier of a more intelligent set of weapons than hefty blades or battle-axes. His services are often employed by the underworld to produce magic rings of fire and poison, boots that can propel a wearer thirty feet into the air, and cloaks that can render a wearer completely invisible for a short time.

Hair: Copper
Eyes: Gold
Height: 6'6"
Weight: 190 lbs.
General appearance: A peculiar character, Salumandus is very pristine in appearance--well shaven, smooth skinned, lightly tanned, hair brushed and well cut--but his attire is enough to mark him out in a crowd. He wears many magic rings and bangles and chains, most of them self enchanted. While he usually wears an elegant robe in public, in his private quarters he forgoes a shirt, exposing many of the pendants and amulets he wears around his neck.

Equipment: A silver longsword, enchanted to focus his magic. A set of magic rings with resistances to the elements, a magic bangle with a light absorbtion spell (To use game terms, these and the resistance rings are both on use), and a set of rings enchanted to focus his mind while worn (CE). Also a magic amulet with a low level sanctuary spell(CE), and a pendant with a medium level shield spell (On use). All of his clothing is unenchanted, save for his boots, which are enchanted with a low-quality, but constant effect, jump spell.

Personality: Salumandus has always been hungry for power. He is a plotter, manipulative to the core. Prone to isolation, he is very softspoken, but it is very commonplace for him to voice his thoughts, even should they become longwinded monologues.
Background: Orphaned into the Mages' Guild, Salumandus practiced in their care for most of his young life. He was a man of passion, craving to learn, and was a promising pupil. As a youth he began to experiment with drugs like skooma, and soon found a worse vice than learning. For his vices, he was cast from the Guild, and wandered Summerset for several months, too poor to afford his skooma, and eventually stumbled upon a ruined coral structure. It was in this ruin that a group of Daedra worshippers had erected a shrine to Hermaeus Mora, and it was here that Salumandus's desire for power was rekindled, and he cast aside his childish vice for skooma. After learning many things from his new master, Salumandus left the Summerset Isles and began to wander the world, creating many magic items and hunting for more--for he believes if he can attain an artifact for himself, he can learn to create enchantments of equal and surpassing strength.
Abilities: Strong magic and the ability to counter his weaknesses. Weak melee accounted for by protective charms and spells.

Extra Notes: An excellent duelist fighter--multiple enemies may be able to cast successive magic spells that could fumble his ability to counter them. None of his enchantments are meant to be overpowered, but enough to allow him to survive considering his frailty to enemy spellcasting.

Name: Elusmon
Age: 97
Gender: Male
Race: Altmer
Birthsign: The mage



Class: Travelling Necromancer
Class description: A travelling necromancer who uses his mystical powers to communicate with, raise, and control the dead and undead.
Profession: Doesn't have one.

Hair: Charcoal Black
Eyes: Purple
Height: 6,3
Weight: Light.
General appearance: A tall Altmer with a light, delicate frame. He is slightly handsome and wears a red silk robe, and the accompanying hood when it rains. His hair is short and combed back.

Equipment: A tall wooden staff, 500 gold. Red silk robes, and a backpack with a mortar and pestle.

Personality: On the outside seemingly nice and quiet individual, but on the inside is quite selfish and manipulative.
Background: Born in summerset isles to a noble family, he was sent to Artaeum after he was found to have magical abilities, and there he studied until the age of 28 when he was expelled for practicing necromancy, he has been wandering around, studying and looking for a place to call home since. His travels have brought him to Bravil, where he hopes to to settle down and to take advantage of the steady supply of corpses granted by the grave diggers there. He also hopes to set up a small shop as a disguise for his work.

Abilities: Knows many basic spells related to destruction, necromancy, mysticism and conjuration. Also has a basic knowledge of alchemy.

Extra Notes: Prefers to run rather then fight, but is capable if he has to. His ultimate goal in life is to become a lich someday. Not a mindless, animal lich, but one of the few remaining great liches. How he shall achieve this, he does not know. But he is always researching.

ooc

By Mephala: this dictatorship has turned into a democracy! :ahhh:

I wouldn't be against either Manu or Albo taking the reins (though I admit to having more trust in Manu, the more experienced RPer). Maybe you could both run your ideas, and just contact the other in PM to make sure you don't tread on the other's toes?

And I don't have any trouble with either of these new character sheets. It makes sense for an enchanter's strength to lie in his magical items, and a necromancer to be schooled in, well, necromancy. I just can't shake the feeling that my Legionnaire is going to end up fighting at least one of these Altmer.

And now, to help keep things moving ic before the Cuddly Bear notices this little stutter...

ic:

Annette paused and winced as a beggar wandered up to her and asked her for spare change. For a moment, she considered moving onward... she hadn't made eye-contact yet... certainly the gods couldn't ask her to give to every beggar in a very beggar-ridden city. Even though she could spare the coin, and would be able to provide for herself even if she went completely broke, so really had no excuse...

Oh, blast it.

Anne reached into the pouch at her hip, pulled out a gold piece, and securely refastened the pouch shut (Gods knew there were enough pickpockets around to make that necessary). Then, she executed a quarter turn to face the beggar and held the coin out to him.

Huh... this Dunmer didn't look much like a beggar. He was built like a soldier... an active one, not a veteran. And he had ritual tattoos too, just like the Orc she'd seen earlier. Great, just great. She was sticking her hand into a vat of Daedra worshippers. Wonderful.

Then again, Dunmer were typically Daedra worshippers by default. And it could have been a coincidence.

She shook her head to herself. She was over-anolyzing things. Again. Just give to the beggar, Annie.

"Here's what I can spare," she told the Dunmer with a wry smile. "Don't spend it all in one place."

Once arrived to the market Ashag bought what he needed. Haggling and checking the wars all the way through as the wares seemed to be of rather dubious quality and the traders even worse. At least one third of them were picking tightly packaged goods from under their stands or buying some expensive goods from scuffy and furtive customers. The market seemed like it harbored a significant par of Bravil's underground trade. Though here it was hardly underground. The few watchmen patrolling the area seemed concerned only with shoplifters and pickpockets and on rather friendly terms with the shadiest traders. Oblivious to the illegal merchandises passing under their nose. No wonder the killers got away with it. All the crooks can find is the coins greasing their palms...

Soon he had completed his shopping and headed back to the chapel. Porting the brooms and his staff over his shoulders and balancing the buckets at each end, with the rest of his supplies in them. Nobody bothered him on the way. Whatever lowlifes showed during the day didn't need more than a glance before deciding to leave him alone. Cleaning supplies weren't demanded enough in Bravil to make it worth trying to waylay a big orc. Even an old one.

Back to the chapel Ashag once again made sure his spell was still there before entering and stashing his wares. And quickly went out again, looking for a tavern to get a meal and find some help. Whih proved harder than he had thought, for a tavern catering to poor but honest (at least by Bravil standards) workers was a rare thing. Gambling pits, liquor joints, gang hangouts and the like had driven most of them out of business. honest poor afterall have little money to burn compared to street thughs, smugglers, pimps and the other assorted fauna prowling Bravil's streets.

Elusmon walked in the open gates of Bravil, and adjusting his backpack, quickly hurried on. He decided to stay in an inn for a few days while he found some temporary work. He was somewhat nervous, he had no contacts in Bravil, and thus nowhere to get started. He guessed he could ask around near the docks for work, perhaps do some bodyguard work.

He scurried through the filthy streets until he came to a bent over wooden structure that appeared as if it could collapse any moment. A sign hung over the door with the words "The Fox and Bird Inn". Elusmon entered the inn and found it to be extremely overcrowded, with a large amount of drunks stumbling around, creating quite a bit of noise. There were some minstrels who could barely be heard with a shouts and jeers of the patrons playing near a corner.

Elusmon took a seat at the counter, and was greeted by the innkeeper. He grinned at Elusmon's arrival, showing a mouth full of black teeth.

"Looking for a room, aye?" The Innkeeper inquired. "Or perhaps some ale?"
"I seek to rent accomadations, what do you charge for your rooms, good sir innkeep?" responded Elusmon.
"Well you're in luck, we have one spare room. 15 gold." Said the innkeeper.
"That's acceptable" Said Elusmon, taking a handful of coins from his backpack and handing them to the innkeeper.
"Very good" Said the innkeeper, the grin on his face widening, "Room is third door on the left, top of the stairs. Enjoy the night. Don't let the rats bite. Seriously. There are lots here."

Elusmon turned away from the innkeeper frowning. "Rats?" he thought angrily. He walked up the creaky stairs, and reached his room, entering it he found a damp, stain covered bed, and a table with a chair pushed out next to it. "Accomadations fit for a king" he muttered, chuckling.

Closing the door, the lay on the bed for a bit, thinking.

After around an hour, he got up and took off his backpack, putting it under the table. He took a pouch with about 100 gold out of it, and went down stairs again, then left the Inn.

He wandered around for a bit, but wouldn't find the marketplace. He decidedto ask for directions, and as he came into a quiet street, noticed an old orc walking down it.

Elusmon approached the old Orc and said "Hello, I'm Elusmon. Do you mind giving me directions to the marketplace?"

As he was still looking for a tavern fitting his research ? and was getting increasingly hungry and angered, Ashag was interrupted by an altmer ? mage judging from his garb and staff. But who looked rather out of place in the dirty winding alleys of Bravil. As the mage asked for direction, he felt a disquieting icy feeling in his belly. A feeling he had learned to trust. Not only the man was too richly garbed for the neighborhood, but his politeness rang false, especially adressed to someone who looked mostly like a mere almost retired orc fighter.

Ashag immediately started to play the none-too-bright stereotype, answering with a thick accent and slow diction after having scratched his head in thought for maybe five seconds. "Market mylord ? For such mylord as you the Great Market." He pointed in the direction of the cathedral's spires. "That way to the cathedral mylord. When you're there, take left 'bout hundred pace and you're set. Best market in town, fit for mylord like you, best goods in town."

“Thank you, kind Lady.” He said thankful in a weak voice.

I shouldn’t push my luck too much, but I’ll risk it again, the last time, then I’ll take my proper distance to her.

” May this humble servant know the name of my savior? I could puts you in a good word around here…” Hope she bites on the bait…

He shrunk even more and tried to look a bit weaker and humbler.

Protect her, do NOT attack her…

OOC: I agree with Bsparrow, I don't want to ruin the experience, and I admit i've hosted only one RP in my life (Not about TES), which ended...deadly. GL hosting, manu

The Altmer sat in the darkness of his home--clenching a soulgem tightly in his left hand. In his right, he clenched a ring with deliberate delicateness. His face was vacant as he stared at the ring gem, his eyes rolled back into his head, fingers probing the surface and mind probing its innards, herding the soul within to do his bidding. The gem burned his skin, but he held tight, focusing his mind on the soul inside, and with a deft movement, pulled the gem towards the ring, pressing it to the copper surface, forcing the gem to meld to the metal. As it joined, he formed in his mind the spell intended for the ring, calling forth a storm of fire to his fingertips. He forced it into the gem and metal as they fused, his blank face breaking into a smile. It wasn't a delicate enchantment, rigging the ring to explode, but it was a challenge nonetheless for the potency asked. With a lurch, his eyes snapped back into position, the remains of the gem finally oozing into the now-burning ring. He dropped it onto the table before him with a flick of his fingers and stood. With a quick halfstep he turned from his workshop and lurched towards the door of his abode. A quick flick of his wrists propelled him from the floor, gravity detaching itself from him, and he floated absently in his more usual manner of travel. While walking had become an awkward set of motions for the Altmer, flying had become a commonplace. He grabbed his robe from the coatrack near the door, and dressed himself before leaving.

"How forgetful we can be," he said, voice barely more than a whisper. He renentered his home, and with a flick of his hand, he pulled the ring into his outstretched grasp.

He put the ring in his pocket. It was an experiment, really--while his employer had purchased a ring of its kind, he wasn't exactly too sure how powerful it would need to be rigged. He expected to be pickpocketed, really. And if that didn't happen, a beggar would more than likely take it if offered. And then, the fireworks would start. But first, a hot meal would do well. And nowhere served a better bowl of venison broth than the Fox and Bird. Well, technically, there were better places, but a meager meal was easier to lose than a rich one, and the first meal after an enchanting always came back out.

"Thank you, kind Lady," said the beggar. "May this humble servant know the name of my savior? I could puts you in a good word around here?"

Anne turned away, suppressing an eye roll. Savior? It's just one coin. Surely, it couldn't have been that hard to make a living in a city where...

...wait, what had he just said? 'I could puts you in a good word around here.'

No way.

No. Way. Could the rumors about beggars be true?

Anne turned a discerning, Legion-trained eye back on the beggar. Her eyes hardened and narrowed, flicking over the form for the well-known shapes of hidden pockets and concealed weapons. She searched his hunkered form for signs of falsity, and her well-trained senses immediately returned warning bells. He was too fit to be a veteran, and probably too young, too. This was certainly no common beggar, then.

And was that armor?

"Who are you?" she snapped, in a tone full of the authority of the law... which no common woodswoman ought to have.

[Censored] it. I'm really bad at this.

Damn! I knew It! Why the hell did I have to risk that much? Come on. Think. Think fast! What will happen? The idea came like a lightning.

"My lady, I am just an." His face suddenly changed to an expression of surprise and fear. "Look out!" He screamed, pointing with his finger behind her.

Please do fall for that. PLEASE. I gotta run and hide, regardless of her falling in or not. Farewell 200 spetims?


OOC: Sry 4 short post, but i need a reaction in order to continue...

It was an in-born reaction... anyone who had any reflexes at all would at least flick a glance behind them.

But even as Anne tossed a glance over her shoulder, she knew it was a ruse. It was obviously a distraction of a guilty perp, and not a very creative one at that.

But it was simply a reflex to look behind her for that split-second.

A moment later, she snapped her head forward again, her hand already moving to draw her sword. Whoever this Dunmer was, he was no mere beggar. He obviously didn't want to answer the simple question, and that was suspicious enough to ring all kinds of alarms in the Legionnaire.

The split second he had left was enough for some advantage. The warmage ran as if a whole army of daedroths were chasing after him.

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. Apoc you FOOL.

It was clear that the dunmer wasn't able to cope with acting skills with thugs, smugglers and such. His speechcraft skills showed his true power when there was war? but not when he had such a ridiculous mission he had to follow.

Try it one more time.

"She's coming. Men! Attack!" He screamed, pretending to be a soldier giving orders. As he has been in lots of wars, he knew how to act in this way. Only a legionnaire would see through these kinds of skills?

OOC: damn, got myself in trouble XD

OOC: I'm going on holiday for a week. and i'm not sure if there's an internet cafe where i'm going. If I don't post for two days, is anyone here willing to look after my character?

IC: Elusmon was annoyed by the slowness of the Orc, but such were the burdens of concerning yourself with the lower races.

"Thank you" he said impatiently "I'll be going now. Farewell."
He then stopped for a second. And tossed a septim to the orc.
"Go buy yourself something shiny." He said.

He turned and hurried off to the cathedral, and turned left where the orc had said. Entering the marketplace, he browsed the goods, buying some meat and vegetables, which be pout in his pack, and would cook when he returned to the inn.

He turned back, and wandered through the streets, and again, became lost...

He eventually came near the sqaure, and saw quite a scene.

A dunmer was running and screaming "She's coming. Men! Attack!"

Elusmon found the scene amusing, and against his better judgement, decided to follow the mer.

[OOC : keeping things alive until Cirith's back. I think we can RP some things of our own/ Sampling the town, doing minor tasks and interacting with the lowers rung of the city's power. I don't think if would cause any problem with him. Things like trying to ingratiate yourself with a minor smuggler ring or gang (or running afoul of them and finding a way to smooth things or bring the watch on them), that sort of things.
Ashag has his own schedule of course, but no qualms about accepting help in his search. Just don't expect much reward. And he won't associate with someone he found untrustworthy or thoroughly rotten]

As the man who had called himself Elusmon tossed him a coin Ashag barely caught it, looked it all over and cackled with glee "Many many thanks mylord. May the Lucky Lady bless you." He polished his new possession on his sleeve until he could no longer see the man. The he squared his shoulders, pocketing the coin with a slightly scornful smile. So full of himself he didn't even think for a second I could be more than what he expected. Sure my clothes aren't anything fancy, but they're clean and almost new. Unlike what the real poor are wearing... But enough wasted time with this idiot...

He resumed his search, this time trusting his nose as he caught a whiff of cooking over the ever-present stagnant sewer smell of the city. Following the lead brought him to an inn. The building wasn't in a better shape than it's neighbors but it's limewashed front spoke of it's owner's concern for cleanliness. And it smelt of spicy stew and fresh ale rather than the mixture of burnt fat, spilled wine, vomit and dubious smoking herbs which seemed the norm. The shop sign displayed an ogre happily patting a distended belly, and named the tavern as 'The Happy Ogre'.
Before entering Ashag donned the polished bronze locket that marked hima as a lay member of Mara's church. The inside matched the outside ? the furniture was utilitarian, but sturdily built and clean. The patrons were apparently laborers, dockers, masons and the like, with a fair sprinkling of private guards. Most at least in their thirties, more interested in a good meal and ale than in a brawl. Though the seven feet of orcish muscle standing behind the counter had a calming effect of their own.

Ashag sat down at a corner table, ordering a plate of stew and a tankard of ale from the serving wench. He already enjoyed the place, it looked almost surreal amongst Bravil's general decrepitude. But It made sense. The regular patrons were though enough to keep most streetscum away, but didn't move enough money to attract the heavy hitter's attention.

The stew was a hearty mix of onion, carrots and potatoes, with more meat than should be expected for the price. Despite the fiery spicing Ashag recognized the meat as giant rat. Which explained the price, and felt almost as a breath from home. In the Wrothgarian Moutains, game was too scarce to be squeamish... But here it was cooked with a real talent, way more tender than he would have expected. Probably a good marinade and a long cooking. Hat down to the chief...

He placed a foot elegantly upon the ground, weaving a dispelling to rid him of what remained of the weak levitation spell he'd been using to navigate the city. Guards never liked it when he came down out of the sky in the middle of a crowded street, but his underworld connections granted him enough power that guards tended not to notice him, even when he did such things as fly. Besides, as far as the law was concerened, he was a model Imperial citizen. He payed taxes, had never committed a crime, and even made generous donations to the city guard's payroll. And from time to time, he even put in a donation for the widow's fund--for the family's of those who lost their lives to protect the everyday citizen.

His spell gave way, and gravity returned to his body, setting his other foot on the earth without any problems. Sometimes, it was nice to walk instead of drift, but today, the mud of the roads squished through his toes, and he immediately regretted dispelling his minor flight spell.

"Disgusting. How do people live here? Roads are mires that eat carts and boots and walking barefoot is like plodding through a large toilet. And it's always after a heavy rain that I forget to wear my boots..."

He slipped out the ring he'd enchanted earlier, taking great care that it didn't slip over his finger, and with a look of great disgust on his normally placid face, he stepped up onto the wooden stairs of the Fox and Bird Inn. Out of the mud, he finally stopped, leaning back onto a column of rotting wood to make a thorough examination of his work. The copper had lost its tarnish in the process, returning the metal to its original color, but in some places, the metal had warped. The enchantment had nearly been too powerful for the ring to contain, but by some luck, it hadn't boiled its way out of the metal. He smiled. Any untrained eye probably wouldn't notice the enchantment on the ring, and for most trained eyes, they'd only know that it was enchanted with a spell of fire. He quickly slipped it back into his robe pocket, taking care to be seen doing so, and entered the tavern.

It smelled. Piles of sawdust were strewn across the floor, covering the mishaps of the many who couldn't hold their liquor. Despite the smell and the obvious lack of hygene, the Fox and Bird was packed. Many were drinking, despite the fact it was only midday, and in the corner, he saw a pair of Khajiit licking sugar off of eachother. He let his smile fade, but tried his damndest not to scowl. Instead, he worked his way to an empty table in the center of the room, tiptoing to avoid stepping in sawdust and vomit. Both, unfortunately, would cling to his muddied feet.

"This place is foul," he muttered, sitting down.

The server took some time to work her way to the table, and after procuring an ale and a bowl of deer broth, he shooed her away. It wasn't that she was homely--which she was--but the obvious fact that someone her stature thought she might fish out a compliment and maybe a coin from someone like himself.

"Why is it they always try to use charms when they don't have them?" he said, picking up his spoon.

He slurped steadily at the soup. While it didn't taste terrible, there was a distinct lack of meat in the broth, instead possessing a great deal of undercooked carrots and onions and mushy potatoes. He smiled glumly and took a swig of his ale. He was definitely going to lose this meal.

ooc- Altmer_mage: typical protocol is to put your character in a spot they won't be missed. Not many RPers feel comfortable controling other peoples' characters, so it may be best if you have your guy work on a personal project or something for a while. :shrug:

ic-

Anne was not surprised when she turned back around to see the Dunmer fleeing at a dead sprint. She followed after, her hand moving from her sword to her bow. She was a Legionnaire, and they were extensively trained on the proper protocol for chasing fleeing criminals through a busy city.

Thus, she could probably blame her training when she heard the mer cry "She's coming. Men! Attack!" and automatically sought cover under a lower staircase, crouching low and aiming her bow out in case of ambush.

It was a ruse! Of course it was a ruse! Blasted fast reflexes: making her act before she could think about it!

By the time she peeked out of her hiding spot, the Dunmer was gone, and the small circle of spectators who had paused to watch the brief chase returned to their daily business.

Anne cursed to herself. So much for laying low.

Then again, she now had at least one lead. And she might be able to use this to her advantage.... somehow.

OOC: Turns out I'm not leaving until thursday, and there'll probably be an internet cafe anyway.

IC: The Dunmer sprinted off. Elusmon , being a puny mage, didn't have the stamina to chase after the mer.

Elusmon turned and wandered around the city some more, looking for an abandoned warehouse or shack where he could practice his necromancy without interruption.

Elusmon stopped at an old boarded up wood warehouse, and entered, the door creaked open. He entered the completely empty warehouse.


OOC: Sorry for the short post, but I have the flu and thus a very low attention span,

The Dark Elf looked over his back and found out he was not being followed anymore. That made him sneer, because he got every piece of information he wanted, and even more.

So that was surely the Breton this khajid wanted him to look after. First of all, because she was no common woman, followed to the fact that she reacted instinctively when the warmage screamed Look out! and Attack! That brought him to the conclusion that she was an experienced soldier, either from the fighters guild, the imperial legion or the blackwood company. He turned to a random direction, only to make sure he wouldn't be spotted if the Breton decided to take the escape route he took. The next thing he saw was that e arrived at an inn. "Fox and Bird Inn" he muttered to himself. He decided not enter that place, but to wait at the door for some time, just in case the Breton would appear and he had some place to hide.

Leaning on the muddy wall of the inn he thought: That girl reacted instinctively to my warnings, she had military training. The fact that that khajid wants me NOT to hurt her leads me to the conclusion she must be of utter importance. Perhaps she is a nobleman's daughter? Or she is a high ranking Fighters guild member, or even worse, from the imperial legion? It still could be all those possibilities. The only thing I know for sure is that she is the one I owe my 200 septim payment.

He waited for the right moment to move on and planned his next steps thoroughly.

OOC: Fun bit of trivia, the fox and bird inn is where I got my first quest in daggerfall ^_^

IC:
Elusmon left the warehouse and decided to come back the day after. It soon began to rain, and Elusmon had to trudge through the muck ruining his robes. He grumbled all the way back to the fox and bird. The streets were filthy, but thankfully quiet because of the pouring rain.

Elusmon saw the Dunmer who had been running from that woman earlier, and approached him. elusmon was still very interested in the situation.

"Hello, good sir!" Elusmon beamed "I am Elusmon! Care to relate to me your name? And would you like a drink?"

"Hello, good sir!" Surprised, Apoc turned his dace to a tall, well dressed, and obviously well mannered Altmer. "I am Elusmon! Care to relate to me your name? And would you like a drink?" he said.

What in Azura's name is such a guy doing in such a place? Apoc was completely unprepared for this situation, so that he stood a while, trying to find the appropriate words for the greeting. Then, with difficulty, he answered: "Why of course, kind Sir. I would love to have a drink with such a well educated Altmer. The name is Dres, Apoc Dres." Not very clever to give away your name, but I don't think it will cause much trouble now?

"You wouldn't mind taking the drink, here, outside? It's because I love the view of the city?" he view was horrible, shacks, shacks and more shacks with dirt, dust and shady people?and a Breton girl of certain interest for the warmage?

Hope he doesn't mind...