Tears Of The Nine : The Elder Scrolls Series Discussion

» Thu Aug 13, 2009 9:07 pm

Sryner observed Qualo for a few moments before speaking up.

"So we just need to wait around until we find a group of well-armed men and simply ask them to pose as mercenaries so we can leave the city? It may be hard enough to do that, but also realize that they may have a price tag for such a helpful deed. These days, no act of kindness is done for the sake of morals, nor is it free..."

Qualo had anticipated that there would be some scepticism on Sryner's part. He could hear a note of slight suspicion in his voice. "That is true," he said. "But, uh, remember, if that priest was telling the truth, there is a pretty good chance that, well, there could be a group arriving soon. And, I did have... quite a few septims with me. When they found me on the Castle roof. As you said, though, we can't be draining our money." He knew full well that this was the shakiest part of his plan, and his voice reflected it.

"But if you saw a group that could pass as mercenaries, then I'll find them," Sryner continued. He seems to have a reputation in Bruma. That'll definitely come in handy. "Hopefully I can convince them to help in a way that won't dry all our resources. You, on the other hand, need to get ready for if we can get that far. You're too young to be a soldier, so you need to cover your face. Either find some armor with a closed helm or get a cloak with a hood to cover your eyes and grow a beard. Here," Sryner said, handing him a heavy, plain steel longsword. "Mercenaries are equipped well. Whatever weapons you have, keep them too. But make sure when we pass the gates, they see that. I won't be long, feel free to stay here if you wish. If you leave, you know where to find me."

Qualo shifted uncomfortably in his chair before getting up. "One more thing," he said. "I do have, some talents. My boots, they have, an enchantment. It means people can't hear my footsteps."

He demonstrated by walking around the room. As he said, his steps were noiseless. To accentuate his point, he jumped into the air and stomped his feet down hard - but when his feet connected with the floor, once again they made no sound, and he then stomped two or three more times before realising how ridiculous he must look.

"Uh... it's quite fun," he said sheepishly. "But it means I can get into places, uh, that most people can't get into. It may come in useful if we need to negotiate with any mercenaries."

He said his goodbyes as Sryner subsequently left, and stayed in the room a few moments to think things over. In his experience, the snap decisions he made almost always led to problems. He appeared a much less gullible person if he had time to think of a plan, and so on this occasion took the opportunity to think ahead as best he could. Right, what do I need to get. First off, my katana. I can't stand this longsword, it's much too heavy. Second, the money, obviously. Thirdly, my hood. Last, my armour. It's only leather but it's the best I have, and what I seem most comfortable in... That's it, I think. He got up and headed for the door, slipping up the stairs and exiting the Jerall View as quickly as he could, sensing the innkeeper watching him again as he emerged into the main area.

When he got outside, he immediately noticed the clamour he could hear in the distance. Shouting. The clashing of swords. Seems like getting out of here just got a little bit harder.

» Thu Aug 13, 2009 6:59 pm

Name: Vilvayn Nerethi
Preferred Name: Calling Vilvayn anything but his name, or a term of respect will cause him to become hostile.
Gender: Male
Race/Origin: Dunmer, born in Ald'Ruhn, but raised by Ashlanders.
Birthdate/Age: Thirty-Six Summers.
Apparent Age: Appears to be a few years younger.

Hair color/style: Vilvayn has long white hair, often tied back in a ponytail with a few loose strands falling over his forehead.
Eye Color: Very bright Red eyes, although Red is typical for a Dunmer, his eyes seem to be especially bright.
Height: Six foot one inch.
Skin Tone: Deep and dark purplish black shade.
Facial Appearance: Vilvayn is a rather handsome man, although he would never admit it. Features a very strong bone structure and no facial hair.
Distinguishing marks: Completely unmarked by scars and possessing many tattoos, including many Tribal tattoos and a few strange runes across his chest. A strange tear birthmark on the back of his hand.
General Appearance and Physique: A very lean cut and muscled physique from years of herding and fighting. Strong bone structure with broad shoulders and bony knuckles. Rugged looking.

Mentality/Psyche/Personality: Very humble and imbued with a warriors spirit, Vilvayn very much follows the customs of the Ashlanders, with his own mix of civilized traditions. Seems to be very aloof and strange, but treats his friends very well. Holds respectful people, and those skilled in fighting in good standing. Fits in with "civilised people" fairly well.

Weapons: Carries a Chitin spear with a Chitin club at his side, Daedric Tanto across his lower back. Ainab carries his bow and arrow in his pack for hunting.
Armor: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Image:MW_ChitinArmor.jpg sans the helmet. Also wears wolf hide instead of the cloth loincloth.
Clothing/Apparel: Often wears a cloak or robe over his armor, depending on the environment. Currently wears a large furhide cloak. Also wears a few simple rings received as gifts.
Equipment/Trinkets/Possessions: Waterskin hanging from his waist, A small pouch containing few pieces of precious metals given by his tribe for the journey.

Skills and proficiencies: Skilled hunter, and likewise skilled in skinning animals, and making clothing from their hides. Equally skilled with spears and short blades from defending his tribe, in addition to a small amount of professional training. Can fight efficiently with a blunt weapon if needed, learned to fight well with his fists through various duels among the tribe and childhood fights. Good at identifying plants and the like. Very agile, athletic, and good at wearing anywhere from minimal to medium armor.

Deficiencies: Horrible with large blades and axes, finding them much too unwieldy and large. He is bad at riding horses due to almost never coming into contact with one for most of his life. Has never been taught any of the schools of magick. Sometimes has difficulty relating to others and his Ashlander customs tend to lead to a culture clash.

Powers/Magicks: Has recently felt a certain "force" pulling him towards Bruma, caused by the tear on his hand. (although this is unknown to him.) Unsure of what exact affect the strange runes have on him, he has noticed small things happen throughout his life.

History/Biography: Born in the large Ashland city of Ald'Ruhn to civilised parents, his parents died before he was even old enough to remember their names, and was taken in by a small unnamed Ashlander tribe and taught their ways. Once he grew up, Vilvayn did a small amount of traveling and traded whenever the tribe needed something extra, recently set out with a childhood friend carrying valuables and provisions from the tribe to aid them in their travels. Since then they have wandered in the direction of Bruma, avoiding the roads and living off the land for the most part, and recently camping amidst the Jerall Mountains.

Companions:
Ainab Dun-Ahhe ? A friend from Vilvayn's Ashlander tribe. With an unrecorded birthdate he is suspected to be approximately Thirty to Forty summers. Wears the same Chitin armor as his friend and a light robe made from rough cloth, he carries the two's pack, a Chitin spear, and a Chitin Club. At Five foot ten inches Ainab has a multitude of scars from wars against other tribes and attacks by creatures of the Ashlands, and is a bit larger than his friend. Ainab has rarely left the Ashlands his entire life. Notable items in the pack aside from basic supplies are extra arrows, some pieces of Netch Leather, a bag of septims, and valuables given to them by the tribe.

Name: Talib Orhan
Preferred Name: Talib, but allows some to call him Orhan.
Gender: Male
Race/Origin: Redguard, Born in the Alik'r Desert.
Birthdate/Age: Thirty six summers.
Apparent Age: In physical appearance, Talib seems a bit younger, but he is slightly wiser than his age.

Hair color/style: Black, typical Redguard hair.
Eye Color: Pale green eyes, unusual for a Redguard and one thing that people seem to notice right away. The elders from his tribe in the Alik'r always said he was destined for great things, that Ruptga had a special path for him.
Height: Five foot eight.
Skin Tone: Darker than the average Redguard.
Facial Appearance: A scar across his left eye, rough stubble, and a weathered look.
Distinguishing marks: Few tribal marks across his arm, various scars on his limbs. A strange tear birthmark on the back of his hand.
General Appearance and Physique: Talib is a young, very toned, strong warrior. It is obvious he comes from the deserts of Hammerfell, and just as obvious he has lived a tough life. Appears to be adventurous, yet has an amazing ability to blend in.
Mentality/Psyche/Personality: Welcoming, but wary and respects and trusts only those who earn it. Always had a feeling that he was meant to be part of something big, but doesn't have the slightest idea what. Generally a good natured friendly person, although he knows when to be serious from years surviving in the Alik'r desert.

Weapons: http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/31QXF97PKQL._AA280_.jpg which rests on his back in a smooth leather scabbard. http://i642.photobucket.com/albums/uu146/W00tz/yokublades_166.jpg hanging across his back, forming an X with his Scimitar, and resting in a rough sling made from the hide of a mantya-khourana.
Armor: Woven Cuirass, packed onto his Camel when not in use. (Link below)
Clothing/Apparel: Combination of http://i642.photobucket.com/albums/uu146/W00tz/dunedweller9edit_114.jpg and http://i642.photobucket.com/albums/uu146/W00tz/dunedwellandcamelwq9edit_501.jpg
Equipment/Trinkets/Possessions:
Personal Possessions: A small amount of coins in pockets, and a larger sack of septims tied to his waist underneath his robe. On his waistline Talib carries two waterskins and a sack of Aloe Vera. The rest of the two's equipment is carried by a mule and Talib's Camel.

Skills and proficiencies: Agile and quick with little to no armor, and very athletic overall due to years fending in the Alik'r Desert. As the main guardian and warrior of his tribe, Talib's strongest and most developed skill is the use of blades, of any size, or shape. Suited to long journey's and extreme navigational skills with or without a map. Can set up and take down a camp very quickly. Good at creating fires with little wood and without any source of heat or flint. Extremely efficient at parrying blows with his swords.
Deficiencies: Talib has become so accustomed to riding camels, that he finds it sometimes difficult to ride a horse. Using an axe in any form of combat is an absolute no for Talib, axes are for cutting down trees, nothing more. Requesting any sort of magick from him is useless, as it is probably the one thing he knows the least about. Blunt weapons? Why use a dull hunk of metal when you can use a finely crafted sword? Mediocre skills with a shield, although he can still use one to some degree.

Powers/Magicks: Talib has always had a certain sense of sight. It is if he can cast his eyes miles ahead of him and see what is happening at the present. The few people he has ever told have attributed it to some sort of magic, possibly linked to the odd color of his eyes. The Tear birthmark on his hand seems to.. "pull" him, inexplicably tugging him to various locations recently, in particular leading him to meet with an old monk.

History/Biography: Growing up in a barren desert as part of a Nomadic tribe was not easy, but such was the life of Talib. In his early years he seemed to be the most intelligent of the boys, and often beat the others in fights. Wherever he went many of the other children would follow, either from seeing him as a leader, or because of his oddities. As the years progressed and Talib was taught the proper use of weapons, he constantly defended the tribe. Defeating members of other tribes from his early teens and onward, he quickly became the prime defender of the tribe. All was well for Talib his whole life, but he was always held with a curiosity, he was definitely different from everyone else, but no one ever knew why. Recently Talib set out for Cyrodiil, with no explanation but "I must ". Since then he has met up with a blind ex monk named Philippe.

Companions:
Brother Philippe- Bearing the same tear mark on his hand, Philippe left the small Monastery in the Jerall Mountains west of Bruma. Born to unknown parents, he is a mixture of Imperial, Breton, and Nord. His parents dumped him on the monastery steps and he was raised by the monks there. For years the monks who took him in resided at the Temple of the Ancestor Moths, they eventually left for vague reasons and formed their own monastery with the help of some hire mercenaries and builders. Brother Philippe suffers from blindness, but can still manoeuvre nearly as well as any other person, and even do some things better. He wears simple brown hooded robes and carries an Ancient Akaviri Katana across his back, which he barely uses, maintaining the facade that he is a helpless old man and allowing Talib to fight for him. Philippe knows more than most, and sees, although not with his eyes, more than people expect. Fairly short stature, and thin, short grey hair.

Mount(s):
Gilad, Talib's Camel: A large loyal beast, they have been together since the Gilad was born, and Talib was Three summers old. Strong pack animal and capable of traveling long distance, harsh terrain, and sustaining speeds faster than other camels. Carries some of Talib's extra supplies etc. Male.

Jadier, Philippe's Mule: A sturdy mule taken from the monastery, Jadier carries much of the extra supplies and is sometimes ridden by Philippe for short periods of time. Male, tends to travel behind Gilad.

Vilvayn's Camp, Gnoll Mountain

The sun was shining down, beaming off the snow, and warming the two Dunmer's backs.

Since leaving Vvardenfell, Vilvayn Nerethi and Ainab Dun-Ahe had traveled to the mainland and for the past few months, traversed the Jerall and Velothi mountains, getting lost several times. The cold had been the largest bother, when one lives on a volcanic island this tends to be so, but through hardiness they had endured it. Currently, they were nearing the bottom of the slope of Gnoll Mountain. They had camped at the summit last night, and all though the winding road to the bottom of the mountain was more practical, and much easier, hiking down the slope was much faster, if more dangerous. Vilvayn had felt especially lucky that morning and had gotten up early to begin the descent. In a few hours the gates of Bruma would be in sight... finally. Vilvayn felt as if he was somehow needed in Bruma. He had been continuously drawn towards the northern Cyrodiilic city lately for reasons completely unknown to him. One thing however, bothered Nerethi.

As they prepared to head down the mountain, Ainab had noticed two large forces converging near Bruma, but neither could determine their origins or numbers. Hopefully they would not bar their way into the city, for if they did.. well, Vilvayn could not possibly work that out yet until he got a closer look.

Talib Orhan and Brother Philippe, West of Bruma

Robes flapping in the wind, Talib walked beside his camel, Brother Philippe following to his left and slightly behind. They were heading towards the city of Bruma, after many miles of travel, especially on Talib's part. The two had met when Talib wandered into Philippe's monastery in the mountains, impossible to find to anyone who didn't know exactly where it was. A strange meeting if ever there was one. Philippe had been expecting someone for months, and Talib had been mysteriously 'drawn' to the monastery. The two realised they had the same birthmark, identical, and eventually decided to head for Bruma.

Here the were. A Redguard from a Nomadic Tribe in the middle of the Alik'r, and a Nordic-Imperial-Bretonic Monk from a Monastery in the Jerall mountains, both seemingly on a path predetermined for them by the gods themselves, and both much more than anyone, even them, could fathom. With the city walls on the horizon, a vigor in their hearts and thoughts of what awaited them there pushed them forward.

In mere hours they would reach Bruma, and little to their knowledge, they would set out on the Divine Path laid out for them by the Gods, and the ever present workings of Destiny and Fate.

In mere hours they would be ever so close to the Aedra Tear, and not even know it.

» Thu Aug 13, 2009 12:23 pm

OOC: C'mon people, I've waited long enough.

IC: At the sight of the unguarded gate, the closest soldier several hundred feet away at the tail of the Nordic forces which apparently arrived long before the Redguard army. Areth took a quick pace, grabbing his sister's hand so she could keep up with his fast steps. He did his best to make sure the army didn't notice him, and even if one of the soldiers did he could outrun any of them, what with his birthsign as well as the enhanced speed granted to him as a result of his possession of Aedra Tear. He would just sweep the girl off her feet and sprint to the gate if worst came to worst.

As they neared the gate Len' shouted up at a guard on the wall who looked down and ran his eyes over the group several times before shouting down to someone behind the gate. Several seconds passes and Areth stood tense, not sure how the guards would take the arrival of this group. Suddenly, slowly and surely the gate opened and a guard stood in the center, wearing ornamental chainmail. "So nice to see another group of mercenaries arrive, we're in desperate need of reinforcements, the last bombardment hit our barracks and we lost dozens of soldiers" he eyed Len' curiously. "You are mercenaries right?"

"Of course" she returned with a smile, "I'm a healer, what warrior doesn't need a healer."

"I guess so..." he still stared at her with an odd expression on his face "welcome to Bruma I suppose, we'll find you when we need you."

He moved out of the way and the group made their way into the city. Areth stopped and turned "I guess this is where we go our separate ways" he grabbed his sister's hand and made his way to the south, hopefully he could find a tavern or anywhere where people congregate so as to gather news about this archaeologist who supposedly resides in the city's walls.

» Thu Aug 13, 2009 9:39 pm

"Uh, okay, goodbye then..?" Arthus waved to the leaving pair of Nords, feeling a bit taken aback by Areth's sudden storming off. And here I was, planning on buying everyone a drink and socializing for the first time in ages. He sighed silently. Perhaps I'll meet them yet, I'll need to go find myself a room in whichever inn is the most frequented by common folk 'round these parts - news is the primary reason I decided to stop in Bruma anyway - so maybe I'll see them there. Although I wouldn't be surprised if Areth gets overly too worried again and gets a room from some familiar Nord or in a less-frequented inn. I wonder what's his problem anyway... His sister didn't look all that helpless to need that much protection. Although who am I to say, having been a single child all my life... The mage rubbed his temples, trying to get it off of his mind.

Turning around to face the rest of the group, he still couldn't forget the two Nords. For some odd reason he was quite curious as to what where they doing around these parts, and found himself wanting to go and follow them. Dismissing it as simple wish for socialization, something of which he was deprived for the most part during his journeys, Arthus restrained himself from doing that, reminding that he had no business doing that. Instead, he decided to focus on the other matters at hand, namely the afore-mentioned necromancer hunt.

"So we were going to find some Altmer, whatshisface mage or some such?" The mage inquired, being a bit more careful than usual in what he said - after all, if they were indeed going after a dangerous necromancer, the Mer was bound to have some spies around these parts, at least Arthus knew he would've gotten some if he was in hiding from a powerful order of knights. From what he said, though, not many could suspect what was he talking about - merely that they were going to find a mage. For all a stranger could've known, they were in need of potions or scrolls of some sort.

» Thu Aug 13, 2009 8:44 am

As they walked the slight crunching of the snow under their feet was the only solace Areth could find with the raging battle outside of the city walls which had only intensified since they came through the gates, possibly at the whim of the Tear, he knew not, as well as the chaotic yells of the city guard working to fortify the city's defenses. The two siblings passed by several small taverns in hopes of finding a more popular one. Len' bore a look of frustration on her face, the feeling welling up inside of her for several minutes of walking before being released in a fury. She grabbed Areth, stopping him short, turning him so they could look eye to eye.

She placed her hands heavily on his already burdened shoulders "Why did we just abandon all of them, they seem trustworthy and I hate breaking promises. We promised that Knight we would help him in his hunt and I intend to keep that promise." she grunted and turned to walk away, hoping to give Areth no other choice but to follow suit.

He just stood firm, placing a gentle hand on her back stopping her in her tracks "we have to destroy the Tear as quickly as possible, do you want to see Tamriel fall further into hell? The world is counting on us whether they know it or not, the two of us are the sole saviors of a beleaguered world of greed, we are the only ones who can prevent anymore of this unnecessary death" he said in a hushed tone. "The sooner we find this archaeologist the sooner we can rid the world of this evil."

Len' just stood, a bewildered look falling about her, her usual bubbly demeanor drowned out by the all out realization of the truth behind their journey. "I suppose we should hurry up and find him then" she said in a repressed tone, a look of shock still in her eyes. Up to this point she had never realized the true burden of the Tear, their journey had seemed less out of need and more of a spur of the moment bout of adventure. "You know, you really know how to bring me down when I need it the most" she looked up to Areth and smiled before continuing their slow pace south in search of a popular drinking establishment.

» Thu Aug 13, 2009 10:38 am

Vilvayn Nerethi

The closer he got to Bruma the more he felt this strange tug, increasing his desire to get within the city walls and find what force pulled him there. The forces converging on each other had turned out to be Nordic and Redguard forces, but they were so occupied with each other they had slipped right into the city, strangely with little scrutiny from the guards. As he and Ainab had entered however, they noticed two Nords, a male and a female, walking through the streets. Upon seeing them Vilvayn felt he should go to them, but dismissed it, thinking two young nords could not have anything to do with whatever had brought him here.

Many of the citizens looked upon him with curiousity. Two Dunmer, clad in full chitin armor and wielding chitin weapons, in the far north of Cyrodiil. Currently, they searched for an Inn, or Tavern to stay the night while they continued their search, and to hear the news. So far they had poked their heads into several establishments, but only one seemed to suit their purpose. ' Olavs's Tap and Tack ', a crowded Tavern with a Nord proprieter.

Now the two stood in the Tavern, drunken men and women sitting around tables, chatting, drinking, and eating their fill. It was especially noisy today, and the warmth welcomed by the chilled customers coming from outside. Ainab opened a small bag, dumping it onto the counter, a handful of small pieces of copper spilling onto the flat surface.

" I will give you this, " the Mer said, motioning to the copper, " for one nights stay and food. "

Olav looked at Vilvayn, and then to Ainab. As the proprieter of a tavern, it was not unusual for strange folk to come through, but this was the strangest he had seen in a while.

The Nord laughed slightly, shaking his head, " Alright, fine i'll take your bag of shiny stones. One nights stay and meals. "

Heedless of the Olav's mocking, the ashlanders took the key from his outstretched hand and headed towards their room. Ainab tossed his pack onto the bed, and they decided Vilvayn would sleep on the floor tonight. It was a small room, one bed, one dresser, and a single table, but it was fine for their purposes.

" What do we do now? " Ainab questioned in his rather raspy voice.

" We look around the town. "

This was a half truth, they would look, but not simply for sight seeing reasons. Vilvayn needed to find what had caused him to come here.

(OOC: I will post for Talib and Brother Philippe later. )

» Thu Aug 13, 2009 6:00 am

As he was waiting for a response from his comrades, Arthus' gaze was attracted by an unusual, yet highly familiar sight. Two men, clad in the light Chitin armor so common amongst the Dunmeri of Morrowind, walked in through the gates, sticking out like sore thumbs amongst the chainmail and fur-clad guards and commoners. They look straight out of Morrowind... That's not so common amongst those parts. I'd think they were Ashlanders, if it wasn't for the fact most of them would never travel out of their traditional homelands. And even then, traveling Ashlanders are pretty scarce, I've never seen one out in the Molag Amur. Could probably be blamed on the Temple presence there... He scratched his chin, frowning slightly as he noticed that a beard was beginning to crop up. I'll need to shave tonight. Unfortunately, shaving was a luxury he could only allow himself during his scarce visits to the Nordic villages, as the mage himself never carried around any of the required tools.

I need to speak to the two of them... For memories if nothing else, and perhaps by some odd chance they will have encountered my parents. Mom said they're going to live outside Almalexia now... Who knows, maybe those two were down there. Although I doubt it... Still, I need to try my luck. Watching as the two Dunmeri disappeared behind a corner, the mage made up his mind, nodding slightly to himself. Glancing at the rest of the group over his shoulder, he motioned them not to follow him:

"I'll be back if you'll have me, should be here in a couple of hours. I have presing business to attend to, although I'll be sure to ask around for a suspicious new arrival, as inconspiciously as I'll be able to."

With that, Arthus sped off after the Dunmeri, just in time to see them disappear behind the doors of what seemed to be a tavern. 'Olav's Tap and Tack', a sign hung by the door. The noises comming from inside suggested that business was running just fine despite the siege. Nodding to himself again, Arthus hastily made his way to the tavern, pushing the door open. The smell of mead blew straight into his face, but a couple of years spent in Skyrim, along with previous experience with mazte and sujamma, made one more resistant to such things.

Walking over to one of the few sober Nords in the entire hall, asuming him to be the innkeeper, Arthus untied his pouch, taking out some septims. "If you have any, I'll take a small room for one man. I'm not sure for how long I'm going to stay here, so I won't pay the rent ahead."

The Nord, Olav presumably, shrugged. "Fair enough. Your room's upstairs, third door to the left. Sorry mate, but you'll have to live next to those two Dunmeri. I can't guarantee there won't be any tribal music comming from their place." He laughed, taking one of the keys that hung on the wall behind him and handing it to Arthus, who smiled politely.

"Oh, I'm from Morrowind myself, I know Dunmeri customs well enough to know what to expect. Speaking of which, when they come down, tell them a man was looking for them with the intention of asking a question."

Olav gave the mage a curious look, nodding. "Aye, I'll be sure to do that."

» Thu Aug 13, 2009 3:08 pm

Areth ran his hand along the cold rough surface of the door, beyond it lay the roar of laughter accompanied by the sound of heavy mead glasses clanging together in a toast to the roaring hysterics which seemed to encompass the tavern as a whole. Above the heavy wooden door hung a shield shaped sign, the image of a moon embracing several stars acting as a pedestal for the almost calligraphic name embossed in the sign. It read "Olav's Tap and Tack" and from the sound of things inside it seemed to be quite the popular local drinking establishment. Areth pushed the door open only to be met with the warm rush of mead flavored air, set alight by the sound of even more laughter and toasting.

Him and Len' stepped inside, the wooden floor soft compared to the cobblestone of the road on which their last few days were spent traversing. Areth looked around, the smell of mead and other such assorted drinks pummeling his senses for a moment. He saw a countertop near the back of the Tavern, manned my an older Nord whom he could only assume was Olav. Walking through the tavern he felt at home, among his people, and they seemed to share that feeling, a mutual balance of acceptance and order. As he neared the Nord manning the bar he waved casually, pulling the older man's attention from the cleaning of a crystalline drinking glass.

"What, can ah do for ye'" he spoke with a thick Nordic accent, the messy greying blond hair on his head falling slightly as the words passed through his thick lips. He put the cleaned drinking glass down upright and pulled a heavy pitcher full of the sweet honeywine of which Areth's people were so fond out from under the heavy mahogany counter.

"I'm looking for somebody, an archaeologist believed to be here in Bruma" Areth said, sitting down on one of the stools lined parallel to the rather exquisite counter. Len' followed suit and sat down on the stool directly to Areth's left, she set her elbow on the polished wooden surface and rested her head in it, expressing her boredom.

"Ahh, ah know who yer' talkin' bout. The man is a loon fer'shur, but he knows his stuff. Even managed to make that fancy Dwemer technology werk fer' 'em." Olav poured some of the Mead into the glass in front of him and pushed it toward Areth, before pulling another one out from under the counter. "Bloke lives on the east side 'er tha city" he smiled "the two of ya' look hungry, can I get ya' somethin' ta eat."

Len' sat up strait and grabbed the glass from in front of Areth, "we'll have steak, bread and some vegetable... I don't know which, surprise me" she grinned hugely, her clean white teeth showing through her slightly parted lips. "Trust me, we're hungry."

The old Nord laughed and turned around opening a slot in a door which apparently lead to the kitchens and shouted a few unintelligible words through the slot before turning back around to face the two siblings. "Food'll be out in a bit."

» Thu Aug 13, 2009 4:40 pm

Lifting his glance up from the half-filled glass of mead in front of him, Arthus looked with curiosity at the two new travelers who now talked to Olav - and he recognised them immediately. Areth and Len? He felt glad for some reason; the feeling that whatever they were doing in this city touched him in some way didn't go away, instead only getting stronger. As he hadn't noticed them earlier, only fragments of their conversation with the innkeeper reached him; however, he was confident he heard the words 'archaeologist', 'loon', and 'Dwemer'. The subject of Dwemer was rather well-known to him from his Temple education - they were, after all, great enemies of the Chimer, and their mysterious disappearance at the Red Mountain interested the mage somewhat, even though he usually wasn't particularly curious about such things.

Seeing as he had occupied a completely empty table all for himself, hoping that the two Dunmeri would come out soon and he could ask the one question that bugged him right now, Arthus waved to the pair of Nords, who were still standing over at the counter. "Psst! Over heeere!" Reminding himself Areth seemed to have some sort of a desire to remain unnoticed, the mage caught himself from yelling out their names, instead deciding to use a bit of gesticulation and quite loud hissing to attract their attention. 'These seats are free!' He spelled out with his lips, still waving; just in case, the Dunmerized Imperial pointed to the empty chairs next to him.

Areth may well decide to ignore me, but from what little I know of his sister, Len shouldn't go the ignore route... She seems rather independent from her brother. Arthus swallowed the smile that nearly found its way on his face; such 'undermining' of his authority musn't have been very pleasant to Areth, as he imagined.

» Thu Aug 13, 2009 2:17 pm

Areth heard the hissing beckoning him over, but he ignored it as usual, this place was packed and no one in this city knew him or his sister so chances were that the sound was directed at someone other than himself. Len' on the other hand turned her head the moment the sound entered her ears, and at the sight of the strange mage who they met before she swept up her glass of mead and quickly trotted over to the table where he sat. Sitting down in a chair across from the mage she waved Areth over who shook his head in disapproval. He waited a few seconds whilst Olav filled his glass and walked over to the table, sitting next to Len', placing him in the seat between the mage and his sister, only one more chair sat unoccupied directly across from him.

"So what're you doing here stranger" Len' asked, cupping her chin in the palms of her small hands.

» Thu Aug 13, 2009 7:55 pm

"Thinking how would mead compare to mazte... stranger." Arthus couldn't help but release a relatively loud 'harumph' noise into his cup of mead; for some reason, his current behavior came off as extremely funny to him - perhaps because he rarely, if ever, took to acting something out. He had to admit, the word 'stranger' was funny in itself for some reason, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, and undoubtedly something that would've fetched him further glory as one of the oddest people around. Trying to pass off the harumph as choking on his drink accidentaly, he warded off the memories of his last attempts at it - the Legion times. Oh yes, many a time he would have to pretend in the face of his superiors that he hadn't moved from his post the whole day; even in the face of some twenty accounts that said he spent the entire day in the tavern, pvssyring with the locals. Arthus didn't consider himself a particularly bold man, although he'd say things the mage came to regret soon after his burst of anger (courtesy of grandfather) went down, namely speaking his thoughts, just as they came to him. Not nice... He smiled sadly to the ceiling.

"Although to be honest," The mage set his glass down after a moment, still coughing demonstratively at one of the inn's patrons who had turned to inspect the source of the noise. After a moment more coughs, the Nord finally stopped paying attention to the Imperial, allowing Arthus to fix his complete attention to Len and Areth. "I'm waiting for someone. Two someones, actually..." His glance wandered over to the stairs. The two Dunmeri were still up there; presumably talking or getting accustomed to their new room. That reminded Arthus that he had his own room upstairs, the key to which was in his somewhere in his sleeve. Deciding not to concern himself with the small piece of iron now, the mage scratched his unshaved chin.

"What about you?"

» Thu Aug 13, 2009 8:35 pm

Len' smiled the way she always did, tilting her head to the side and leaning back in the only somewhat comfortable wooden chair. "Us? We're just traveling for the sake of traveling, we heard the food in Bruma was pretty good, and it's always good to begin a journey somewhere close to home, helps you cope with the changing imagery." Len' of course was making it all up, as little caution as she usually showed she still remained wary about how direly important it was to keep the information about the Tear solely between the two of them. "I guess we were lucky to encounter you and the others, otherwise we would have arrived here not knowing anyone and it would have been boring."

Areth grinned slightly under his frailly calm demeanor, only a hint of a smile, but enough to show how pleased he truly was with Len's caution regarding the stone. "Adventure, something I never thought would ever come to us in our small Nordic village, but one day we both felt a strange pull, something about the world outside the borders of Skyrim seemed to draw the both of us" he added for the sole purpose of reinforcing the lie Len' had loosely spun. He took a slight drink of the mead, lifting the heavy glass and tilting it slightly so some of the sweet wine spilled into his mouth, filling his body with the warmth of the Nordic people. "I never caught your name... You already know ours, but the question is begging, what name do you go by?"

» Thu Aug 13, 2009 11:35 am

"That's strange, I could swear on the Trueflame I already introduced myself... er, back there, whichever way it was. Regardless, I'm Arthus. Raemulos, the Mage, the Manmer, go with whichever you want, although I preffer simply 'Arthus'." Arthus introduced himself, leaning forth in his chair. "Traveling for the sake of travel, eh... Sounds a tad familiar. I myself am not from around those parts... Not even close to it, in fact. You might've guessed by now that my roots are more in Morrowind than Cyrodiil. At least mother's roots... But I'm starting to ramble, and about geneology no less. I must sound like half those 'high borns' at the Legion... Well, when there still was a Legion, anyway." The Imperial frowned slightly.

This war's dissolved not only the Legion... It likely took any semblance of a real, centralized nation from the whole of Tamriel, too. All everyone wants is siege something on the other side of the line on the map... It'd make sense, I guess, if they managed to keep themselves a safe back. Now they look pretty stupid, to be honest. 'Ha, I'm smarter than the enemy, so I'll siege their city... Crap, they sieged my city. No matter!' He sighed, more to himself than to the pair of Nords. A pacifist like Arthus would never understand a war, and try to make it look stupid in his head; likewise a war-obsessed mercenary would think peace useless. However, the mage was pretty confident that any soldier would agree - this war is quite stupid.

Except for those damn generals, of course... No, dammit, Arthus! No wandering when you're speaking to people. Giving himself a mental slap, he looked up from his nearly completely empty glass.

"Starting out near to home... Maybe I should've tried that. Let me tell you, climbing over the Velothis was not fun. Well, maybe slightly it was, for a while. Until you start feeling like a mountain goat..."

» Thu Aug 13, 2009 1:14 pm

Talib Orhan, Bruma

Bruma. Quite an interesting city, far different from the deserts of Hammerfell. The cold wasn't much of a bother, although aclimated to the Alik'r, Talib was still a hardy man (boy), and he withstood the elements easily.

In these difficult times, the people of Bruma needed something to cling to, and piousness was on at an all time high. The guards had allowed Talib easy access as his companions escort, and after a bit of catching up, they were promised free bedding and food at the Chapel of Talos. They both were very anxious to discover what force pulled at them night and day, and had each had set to finding out. Philippe thought it to be of some divine machinisation, and remained in the Chapel, praying to the gods and studying in the library. The Nomad had never had much faith in the Nine, and figured his best bet for now was roaming the areas of the city with the highest concentrations of people. Step one, Taverns.

Pulling his desert robes tighter, Talib walked down the steps of th city, heading for a building he had seen as they entered the city, " Olav's Tap and Tack "

Vilvayn Nerethi, Olav's Tap and Tack

The two Dunmer had paused for a snack before departing, making the decision to leave their spears in the room, lest they frighten the citizenry of Bruma.

They could always gather news here later, and Ainab had suggested they peruse over the other gathering places first. Wood creaking under their feet, the Ashlanders stepped into the main room of the tavern. Oddly enough, Vilvayn noticed one of the people he had seen upon passing through the Northern gates. An Imperial mage, of the appearance that he had some degree of Dunmer blood, sat with two Nords across the room.
Thinking nothing of it, they turned towards the door and exited into the street.

» Thu Aug 13, 2009 8:50 pm

As they reached Bruma and the warring Nord and Redguard armies, it all seemed like a miracle; the way to the gate was clear and they could make their way in. He was tempted to make use of the power bestowed upon him by his birthsign, but remembered he might need it later today, so he followed the others through the gate as soon as possible. After entering the city, they all walked separate paths. Thengil nearly forgot the rest of them even existed, and went straight for Olav's Tap and Tack to have a drink. Now that he was here, he didn't really care about the others. They were just temporary company on the way here, or so he thought.

He sat down at a table after ordering food and drink, not minding the other guests or taking notice of the mage and the two Nords he traveled with earlier. Outside the city walls, the two armies kept on fighting each other. Fools. All of them, fools. Squabbling like little children over their favourite toy. It's foolish, making so much noise over this little city. Why is it even important? Bruma doesn't even have a strategic position in the landscape. What do they have to win? Snow and mead, that's all. Speaking of which, I think I'll have some more of this. He downed his pint of mead and ordered another one. No wonder the Nords are always drunk.

When he really thought of it, he must stick out like a sore thumb, sitting in a small taphouse like this with common folks, while being all clad in expensive ebony armour. No one seemed to bother him, though. Perhaps they realized that anyone strong enough to wear a heavy suit of armour like that wouldn't be a good choice to start a bar brawl with. He turned his head and saw the two Nords and the mage sitting at a table. Wait, weren't those the ones I just left? Eh, never mind. They didn't seem all that interesting. Maybe I'll head over to the Jerall View Inn and get a place to sleep at that doesn't smell like beer and mead...