-Hey Guys! I made this RP awhile back like a few months ago and it was going good. But things came up family/personal so I was unable to put time into progressing this story. So I want to appologies for leavign all of the people who had been in the story and Ask to have another go at this? I know it is a good story line For an RP "Even though it was originally going to be a fan-fic novel type " For you guys who were in this rp originally I will give you guys a before hand approval for your characters. To everyone else looking at this feel free to follow the the char sheet regulations and PM them to me-

Thanks

~Sparda~




((look up the map of Skyrim on the official emperial library))



"Ever lasting winter, Cold steel biting into flesh and bone. My bones shake and rattle, for something I believe may come true, Hold fast My brothers and sisters of the northern land! Will we let this enemy fall us? Here and now we stand, Here at the hour of which the Gods' and our fathers watch over us! Nay I say! Let this foul enemy wane to our might! Let them cripple beneath our mighty arms! Let them fear us. Let them know no mercy. Today we shatter shields, Today we stand, Fight hard, Fight for our Honor! For the north!"

~Dhern The Hearted
"Cry Havoc and let loose The dogs of war!" -Julius Caesar


The night was young cloud cover above the city. Snow had began to fall, like it always did. In the keep of Dawnstar. The new Ruler, Frethral Silverbeard, Sat on his throne. His white bear skin outfit being most comfortable as he sat. With a cape the hood being the bears head also of white fur, acted like a blanket. Frethral leaned on his right side, resting his head upon his clenched fist. The Brick stone floor held a red carpet that extended from the throne steps to the front door. The hall in question made of logged wood with four beams set aside the carpet on each side. The large Fireplace behind the throne roared with a large fire lighting the gloom hall with the help of the torches that lined on the walls.

He sat there, Staring ominously into a dream. His silvery beard lengthened to his collar bone, and his silver hair was windswept and to his shoulders. His eyes where brown and reflected the torches that pinned on the walls. His left arm rested upon the armrest, thumping his fingers against the wood. One would tell that this ruler had felt something troubling. And he did. In his limbs he could feel something wrong, Something coming. A storm that would be a doom. Or maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him? Still he stared into his own world. Soon the hall doors flung open Violently and a Young Nord messenger scurried across the floor. His fur armor covered in snow, and his shield chipped on the left side.

Frethral had snapped out of his dream and gazed upon the young man now kneeling before him. He knew something was wrong, this man was out of breath, surely something of importance if he would hurry like such to the halls of Frethral. "I see you bring news of something lad." He looked upon the messenger and the young man looked up at him. "Well?" He ordered in a calm bellowing voice.

"My lord, Scouting ships have spotted a massive fleet heading to our coast." The young man motioned his right hand into the brown bag which hung on his side. He pulled out a rolled up parchment and held it out to Frethral. Frethral had stood from his seat wiping the wrinkles from his attire and approached the young man grabbing the message. He removed the red ribbon which bound it in a roll and unrolled and read. As he read through it his face went from emotionless, to fear. His eyes widened. He reread the message again and then dropped it to the floor.

"A whole fleet destroyed by these, Invaders?" He bellowed with outrage and brought his hand to his chin, stressing on the beard. "Send a message out to the remaining fleets, Any ships docked must sail away immediately, and counter this oncoming threat!"
"Yes my lord!" The young man bowed his head and got to his feet and ran out of the hall shutting the doors behind him. Frethral paced back and forth then clapped his hands. A heavily armored Nord body guard came from his position in the corner of the hall and knelt down to Frethral. "Yes my lord?" He asked

"Arise Argus, You do not kneel before me." Argus got to his feet, his Nordic plated armor shone with the roaring fire in the back of the room, his fur clothing sticking out a bit in between his pauldrons and gloves. "I need you to send word out to the other cities on the coast, Haafingar, and Winterhold! Tell them to raise the guard shifts and keep the soldiers on alert! Same for here!"
"Yes my lord, I will send my best man." Argus gave a bow and then hurried out of the hall.

Frethral turned back to his throne and picked the message back up and reread it. Thus it had:

My Lord Frethral Silverbeard;

We the crew of the Averygold, Second Scout ship of the Naval fleet have spotted the remains of the first Fleet. My lord it is horrible, the whole fleet destroyed. Our spotter in the crows nest has said to have seen a hint of an enemy fleet off into the distance coming to Skyrim. I have given this message to my hawk Falgorn, So this message should reach you in just a few hours after I have sent it, if given to a quick messenger. I advise that you report the remaining fleets that are docked to make way to halt this enemy. I do not know the numbers of this fleet, all I know is the ships move fast, faster then any galleon I have ever seen sail these waters and the waters around Tamriel.

I am grieved to say my son was in that fleet, on the flag vessel. But my grief aside, if our fleets are unable to halt this force, as I said the numbers are unknown, you might have to Set up a defense on the lands. I advise getting the soldiers on their heels and ready for an invasion.

Scout commander: Vilicius Stronghammer.
He sunk back into his throne and took his pose, this time worrying about this unknown threat?

3 Days future, Sea of ghosts, 3 days away from Skyrim cost

The waters where calm, but the sea was covered of a thick fog. The second and third naval fleets had taken a position side by side nesting in the spot the enemy would soon come by. Each ship had ballista's ready, armed with arrows that held bags of magical explosive powder on the tips. On the flag ship of the whole fleet, The Doryn Nelas, the commander stood, keeping his eyes keened and focused on the invisible horizon. His thin chain armor dripped of fog water and some spots were frozen due to the temperature. But he had no feeling for the cold, As all nords are basically immune to it after living in it for so long. His right hand gripped his stalhrim long sword.

"Private! You see anything?" He yelled behind him pushing his voice up toward the crows nest. Soon an answer came back. "No sir nothing! The fog is too thick!" He gave a sigh and turned around to face his second in command. About to make the order to press the fleet forward but soon a light appeared in the sky. The commanders eyes quickly twitched following it. It went up then came down. He watched it then he made a gasp. "We are under attack!" He yelled out loud to the fleet but soon the flaming light hit the vessel to the right of his ship and it exploded making its crew fly into the water and sinking the warship.

"Fire at will!" He yelled out and the fleet fired their ballista's making a streaming volley pass overhead. He watched into the distance closely soon seeing the exploding lights of the projectiles. But to his surprise as the last light went off he ould see a ships sailing to him. The fog now cleared and behind that ship was another, and then more, numbers greater then this naval fleet. And soon his eyes caught more projectiles in the sky. A massive volley speeding toward the fleet. He had only a last sentence run through his mind. Gods save us!

"Annihilation will be unavoidable" -Disturbed
"I am an indestructible master of war!"

_______________________*Beggining*__________________________________

After another scout message reported to Frethral he has sent word to each settelment of Skyrim about the threat, Giving orders to bring soldiers to the coastal cities to Defend against the swiftly approaching. Word was also sent to the Elder council for aid. The elder council has Diclined any aid, except aid from the local Garrisons stationed in the Province itself. Any recall of the legions would be risking rebellion in the other provinces. Skyrim Stands alone against this threat, only its Own legion and adventurers to defend the north.

We all start in Dawnstar. From the begining we can play it out as a freelance RP, Untill the invasion begins.
_____________________*RULES*_______________________________________

Just some simple rules.

1) Please be sure to put in decently sized posts, no one or two sentences unless everything is going too slow or or maybe some other reason, if your going to make a small post it's fine to give a reason why.

2) Please use proper grammer (English), maybe some words from a thesaurus to make it more interesting.

3) No Ubering please, I can't stress how annoying it is when someone posts a battle scene and makes his character completely invincible! It's good to give your char skill but going over board makes it no fun for everyone else.

4) No controling Other people' characters, unless they have asked you too or if the person died in his sleep being unable to post ever again! Again common sense.

5) Be creative and have fun, Let's make the Rp more interesting

6) Please keep OOC posts to a minimum, if your going to talk to someone please do it in RP, otherwise if it is general put it in with your post.

see all simple, Also abide by Forum rules too, Cursing I don't much care if you put a few bad words in your post, Just make sure to not over do it, eh?
____________________*Character Sheet*________________________________
(please send me sheets by PM, I will read them over and approve them and let you know what to fix.)

Name:
Nickname: (what do people call him/her?)
Race:
Age: (Current age)
Class: (Give a good class Warrior, archer, ect. Also try to put a discription in if it's a customized class)
Discription:(Give a physical discription of him/her, tall, short, average, what ever it is.)
Personality:(Whats he/she like when dealing with people, or in battle)
Bio:(This doesn't have to be too long,just give a good brief background of your charater.)
Armor:
Weapons:
Misc Items:
______________________My Character____________________________________

Name: Dhern The Hearted

Nickname: He is called by his first name Dhern.

Race: Nord

Age:35

Class: Paladin; The Servants of the Divine and holy light. Warriors of justice and peace. Paladins are gifted in Swords mastery, heavy arms, and healing. A dieing breed of Warriors, but none the less, skilled in combat and magical restoration. As a dieing Breed paladins are rarely seen walking around Tamriel for only few remain, and few devote themselvs to fight for justice with an oath to serve the peoples of Tamriel and their god'.

Discription: Dhern is a broad Muscular Nord, Normal to his kind. Tall and stout, with a well built figure and pale skin. He stand at a hieght of exactly Six feet. His hair is a dark Brown, and Windbraided lengthened to his neck halfway. His eyes are unusual being Multi color, right eye a bright Icy blue, the left a light green. His face is average, Gaunt a bit round. His chin is clefted and his cheek bones nicely hidden.

Personality: Dhern has always been a hearty man. Always a smile on his face and happy. He is respectfull and decent around other people, always looking forward to meet and greet, even outlanders not native to his homeland. In battle it is a different story. He is always serious, taking everything into consideration when the time calls for it. He tries to be as merciful as possible, but when a heated war comes, what room is there for mercy on the battle feild?

Bio: As a young lad Dhern had always dreamed of being a master of the sword, a combatant, a warrior. At the age of nine he had started training with his father, who was also a well known blacksmith along side his brother. As he grew older his skills improved. At the age of sixteen his parents had died, slain while a band of bandits raided their small land they owned. Dhern had survived barely, using his fathers sword to cut down anyone who tried to hurt him. Although a strong willed lad, he had fallen with a concussion from being hit in the back of the head. After that he was taken in by his uncle who had his own Blacksmithing shop in Dawnstar, and from there Dhern had trained hard to one day make sure to protect his people and any other innocent, from harm, thus Becoming A paladin, giving service in the following of Akatosh.

Armor: Specially crafted Steel armor (that looks a bit like the Imperial Dragon armor worn by the emperor. Just looks, still steel.) With shield.

Weapons: Ebony longsword, (Crafted by his uncle when he became a full fledged paladin.)

Misc Items: A timber wolf as a companion, Named Timber.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
((Once your char is approved post your starters, I'll follow up soon as enough people join ))

Name: Zeela
Nickname: None
Race: Bosmer
gender: Female
Age: 140 (looks 18)
Class: Traveler; Explores the world, making friends, does odd jobs for money
Description: She is average height for a Bosmer, with an average, athletic build for a female
Personality: She is very friendly, and doesn't like to fight often. She is very loyal to those she trusts and will risk her life for them. She can be hotheaded at times and cause arguments just because she thinks she's right.
Bio:Zeela doesn't know where she was born, her parents moved her around often, so when asks where she is from, she just says Bruma, because that is where she is currently living. She is a skilled sword mistress and Archer.
Armor: none. She wears a a light blue tunic and normal cloth boots
Weapons: Scimitar, longbow, quiver=150 arrows
Misc Items: Amulet of the Wolf (Grants Night-Eye while she wears it)

IC: Zeela sat in silence near the docks, watching the sailors board boats, unloading goods, and setting sail. Her eyes sparkled at the possibility of traveling the seas. She enjoyed travel. She just arrived in Dawnstar and she was already itching to travel again. A slight, cold breeze blew through her raven blue hair. She shivered a little, but was used to the cold. She then noticed that a bunch of Nords were moving, as if there was about to be a war. What's going on? she asked herself. She slid off the roof into an ally. She walked towards the docks, while staying in the shadows. This is stupid..if I want information, I should just go up and ask... She left the ally and then lost her nerve and ran off. She ran into the nearest tavern and sat down at the bar. She ordered water. The Nord stared at her. He then laughed.
"Ha ha, you can't hold your mead?"
"No, I just want to keep my wits about me." His anger flared.
"Lassie, your blade better be sharper then your tongue, or you will be in trouble here." She smiled. This was her favorite part. She had to prove she was clever.
"So, if an assassin walked in here right now, would you be able to even protect your patron that has been marked, while stumbling over your own two left feet? I don't think so..I'll take my water now, please." The Nord couldn't take it anymore. He jumped over the bar, and Zeela was on her feet.
"There's no need to get angry..i just wanted water..sheesh.." She left the bar, and sat down. She needed something to do. She put her knees up and her face to them. She took a deep breath and walked back in the bar. The Nord looked ready to kill her.
"I'll take the mead..." The Nord quickly became happy.
"Well, lassie, come have a seat." She walked over, took her mead, paid the Nord, and walked over to an empty booth. She looked in her bag and noticed she was out of money.
Damn...now what? She sat there, thinking of ways to earn more money.

Name: Elarian Anarys
Nickname: Greymane
Gender:male
Race:dunmer
Age : 135 (appears in his early forties by humans standards)
Birth sign:The Tower

Class: Sellsword (it's not a typo)

Class Description: A Tamriel-born relative of Earth's condottiere, the sellsword is a sword for hire, specializing in hit-and-run tactics, on dirty tricks rather than brute force. They augment their skills with magic, destructive spells replacing cumbersome field artillery and illusion helping to befuddle the enemy. But once they get experienced enough, there' more to to the job than killing : leading men, plotting tactics and strategy and most important keeping a firm eye on the bottom line....

Appearance: A tall and muscular dunmer, in his late years but keeping in an impressive shape. Standing close to six feet and half, with the wiry muscles common amongst his race. Despite his silvery grey hair, he still moves with a dancer-like speed and agility.

Mental Description : Quite a cynic, Anarys is a mercenary through and thorough, mainly concerned with keeping his pockets full to finance his taste for grand living. But he's a professional, having seen too many idiots destroy themselves by overindulgence, laziness or blood-lust. He follows the mercenary's code (respect your contract, no pointless killing or destruction, an offence to your bothers in arms is an offence to you)

Biography: : Born in a merchant family in Morrowind, Anarys soon felt the desire to escape the dull life of a provincial merchant, and turned to the way of the sword. Getting embroiled in various troubles with the local authorities, he left his home town to embrace a mercenary career that carried him all over Tamriel, fighting along and against about just any military force to be found there. Currently spending the winter away in Skyrim after his last contract.

Equipment:
Weapon : dwemer claymore and a glass dagger as a backup

Armour: complete mithril armor

Clothing : comfortable suede travel clothes, set of warm wool undergarments and a fur coat over it (Skyrim is a cold place)

Miscellaneous items:Miscellaneous equipment : a set of firestones (small rocks enchanted for fire damage, they come in handy to warm some water, cook without wood, or just keep cold at bay). A set of fine clothes (dark red velvet pants, white silk shirt, dark red brocade mantle) for social occasions.

-sweet enough people for now lets have some fun -


IC:
Dhern Had been up early that mourning, earlier then usual. A sense of uneasiness swept through him as if he were a flask with a hole and water was draining constantly. He had Exited the city through the northern port gates, picking a seat atop a stool which stood on the pier nearest to the water. He held a pipe in hand, puffing as he watched the horizon of the sea. His gaze fixed, not even the rising of the sun halted his glare. Soon, though, he had snapped back into reality after Timber, his winterwolf, licked his hand and nuzzled his nose underneath. Dhern smiled whilst holding the pipe between his lips and again puffed out smoke. Timber gave a quiet subtle whine and shook his tail rapidly. "Oh it's nothing boy." Dhern said softly and rubbed his companions head. "Me bones ache, and a shiver runs down me spine." He looked back up at the horizon. "These waters are still, It gives me an uneasy quenching hold in my gut." Timber gave another lick as Dhern stopped rubbing, but his master ignored, pulling his hand to brush his hair back. "Lets not pay any attention to this though, Todays an easy day. A good day to hunt." Timbers ears sprang up and his tongue hung from his mouth as he breathed heavily, but happily.

Dhern got up from his seat then began his way back through the gates. Remarkable to him, He had never seen Dawnstar so early in the mourning. The red wood great port gate almost looked as if it were alive in the suns coming light, and the stone was glistening with its white marble and the diamond like essence within. Soon they stopped in the center of the residental district, which lay just southwest of the port gate, across from the merchants small section to the east of it. dhern gazed around and then spotted Helga' Inn. It was the new tavern in the city, and the proprioter thus named Helga, A good friend of Dhern. "I think I'll have a drink or two before we start." He said as he looked upon the newly furbished tavern. "Care for the gear boy, I won't be long." He gave timper a pat on the head then walked to the tavern, Timber giving a shake of his head then rounding about and paced twards their house.

The tavern was bright as the roaring fireplace flared like a brazier of the castle. Many chandeliers hung over head swinging gently about. Dhern was not suprised to the lack of guests, being early in the mourning, a bit too early! Only a couple merchants sat eating stew and drinking ale. Dhern approached the bar and sat on a stool and soon Helga came out. She wore nothing fancy, just a common fur shirt with a fur kilt and strapped leather boots. She loved her furs, and always when she needed something new, Dhern and timber would fetch the product from the wild. "Dhern, how are ya friend?" She asked as she approached him from behind the bar.
"Peacefull, How fair you?" dhern answered and returned the greeting with a smile.
"All well, thank you." She picked up a large mug and set it infront of Dhern "Your usual? Or do you want mead for the mourning pick-me-up?"
"I'll have me ale."
"off the kettle?"
"Indeed."
Dhern smiled and Helga nodded. She pulled a small kettle from under the counter and poured a steaming cup of honeyed ale into Dherns mug. "You know me all to well." Helga gave no reply but just a smile then placed the kettle back on its hinge over the hot coals...

Anarys walked back in the tavern that was his current residence, in a rather foul mood. Today's potential employer had once gain proved a waste of time. The moron said he didn't need fancy dancers but real men. Moron, I've been dancing the dance of swords before his father was born, and I've lived that long by fighting smart, not by bashing my head on a shieldwall and expecting to come through....

As he entered the tavern, brushing snow from his clothes, he felt the locals attention on him, but chose to ignore it, walking straight to his usual table and sitting down, facing the room, before commanding a meal and an ale from the waitress. His crimson gaze drifted over most of the usual faces, though he could notice a bosmer woman in one of the booth on the other side of the room. Looking smaller than she was compared to the average nord's stature. Don't looks like she's selling herself. Pity, it would have been a welcome change.

As he waited for his meal to come, his thought were interrupted as a small group moved to his table. Three men, fighters of one sort or another, wearing dirty leather clothes, axes sheated at their belt. Drunk and belligerent, visibly street thugs looking for trouble.

"Hey grandpa, mighty fine sword that you have. Pity it's wasted on an old dark elf cot, it's about time it find some real man to make good use of it."

Anarys sighed, slightly backing his chair to give himself enough room to stand up, his mind already gathering the threads of magic

"The dwemer were elves, human. And I was already making good use of that sword when you weren't even a stir in you father's loin."

"You'd better watch you words, elf ? spitting the word as an insult ? There's three of us to one old codger of you. You can't do squat to keep us from that sword, but if you keep wagging your tongue it's your life you'll lose."

Dhern had noticed an unusual Visitor enter the tavern. A dunmer? He asked in a whisper. He eyed the Dunmer as he sat at a table and then took a sip of his mug. He turned his head seeing Helga wiping a glass cup and set his mug down. "Since when do the dark skins come to our land for vacation?" He asked keeping his tone low and glancing back at the man.
"He arrived here recently. Not much to be said, or known for that matter." Helga answered setting the glass upside down in a neatly made row of others. "I really care less why or what he is doing here, As long as he pays for his meals and drink, I can make a profit." Dhern smirked taking another sip then noticed a group of the local thugs give the dunmer a visit, and not a pleasent one. They admired his sword, and spitting their hostility through their teeth. Dhern watched and overheard the small bitter words said between the two. The dunmer had backed his chair and Dhern knew something would happen. He placed his mug on the bar counter then got from his seat and approached sowly to the small scene.
I'd hate to back a dark skin but these lads are going way too far.

*edit* About 1 am here so im gonna turn in for the night be on tomarrow 6 p.m. gmt

Anarys noticed one of the customers slowly moving toward the scene. Uncertain on which side he would whoose, he decided to bring things to their ogical conclusion quickly - before he would get involved. From the way he spoke to the gal, I'd say he's a regular and probably decent sort, but I don't believe in taking chances...

"I'm so impressed with your eloquence I'm about to wet myself" making a wide gesture to design the leader and his two pals "three young and strong guys against an old dodgering fool, what courage..."

Using the words and motion as a distraction, Anarys completed his spell, closing his eyes as he unleashed a blinding burst of light toward the three thugs. As they reflexively brough their hands to their eyes, he sprang into motion, bolting upright from his chair. Grabbing the leftmost of the thugs by his unkempt beard, he pivoted to drag him headfirst into the tavern wall, knocking him out. In the same motion, Anarys swiped the rightmost man's legs from under him, sprawling him to the floor.

Recovering his balance with the swift grace of an experienced fighter, Anarys focused his attention on the leader before he could recover his full sight. closing with him to bring a knee upward in the man's groin. As the thug bent over with a gasp of pain, Anarys used his hands to catch his head, bringing it further down to slam his knee in the man's temple, doubling it to be sure before facing the last thugh as he moved back to his feets, clumsily drawing out his axe as his vision cleared.

Anarys called forth a little bit of magic to his help, flame springing from his left palm as he grabbed the thug's wrist, adding a painfull burn to the hold and forcing him to drop his axe. Growling in a threatening voice and drawing his dagger from his belt to add to his threat.

"I'll let the watch drag you and you friends out of that mess. Don't even try something stupid or I'll send your pitoyable excuse of a soul to feed my ancestor's spirit."

As the man acquiesced and stopped struggling to escape the hold, Anarys slammed his dagger's pommel into his temple, knocking him out and dropping him to he floor with the others before standing to face the newcomer.

Robert frowned, watching the scene unfold. By Mara, those troublemakers should know better by now. This'll be what, third time this week? If they don't take more care, I'll see them next in the hospital. So far they've been lucky enough to escape unharmed, mostly because they at least have the sense to pick their fights when I'm eating, and get knocked out about by the time I'm finished. Sighing, the Knight Hospitaller leaned forward, setting his glass down. The last of the thugs passed out, courtesy of the mysterious Dunmer, and Robert rose, leaving his half-finished water and something that resembled a salad loosely. If I didn't know this trio already, I would've interfered... But those three, they could use a good lesson or two about combat. And a whipping afterwards. He sighed again, rubbing his hands together before approaching the fight scene.

Leaning over, Robert began inspecting the three unconscious thugs, sweeping his hair aside (as he wore no helmet, nor his mail hood currently) so they didn't get in the way. Completely ignoring the Dunmer responsible for the whole of this, and the Nord who had approached slightly before the battle started, the Hospitaller kneeled down next to the thug that had been knocked out by landing face-first into the wall. "Doesn't seem to be anything major... Just a broken nose, although he could probably use a bit of rest after such a landing." He muttered, sighing and grabbing the man's twisted nose. Biting his lip, Robert moved it back into place with one swift motion, fixing the bone at the same time with the help of a simple spell. The nose glowed blue for a couple of moments, before the healing spell was finished, nose just as it was before the fight. The man remained knocked out, though, as Robert chose to let the thugs suffer the results of their actions - even if technically, they had done nothing, as the Dunmer was the one to start the fight for real.

Moving on to the next thug, Robert examined the temple where the Dunmer's knee had descended. "Aand... Nothing serious again." With a sigh, the Breton placed his hand on the thug's head gently, whispering a few words silently. The same blue glow descended from his shoulder through his arm, and then out of his palm, touching the skin of the man and sinking in it. Stopping his breath for a moment, Robert closed his eyes, before opening them again and allowing himself a small smile. The blue glow, now comming from under the thug's skin, spread through the whole body before disappearing. The Knight Hospitaller, however, was already healing the third 'victim'.

The hit on the temple was once again nothing major, although the fall on the floor caused the most damage this trio had recieved; nothing a simple healing spell couldn't solve, though. With the same small smile on his lips, Robert did away with it, turning to rid the thug of the burn from the Dunmer's fire spell then. Fortunately for the troublemaker, it wasn't anything major, although it could've left a scar had Robert not been here to get rid of it for the fool. Deciding to leave something for a memory, though, the Hospitaller left what seemed a very thin line along the wrist, in fact a sentence, written in small, ellegant letters: 'Healing courtesy of Millitary Hospitaller Order of Mara, Brother Robert d'Altavilla'

Nodding to himself, Robert stood up finally, having dealt with all three of the unconscious thugs. The smile on his face, having flashed a final time when he left the note for the thug, was gone, instead replaced again by the usual blank calm sadness.

Anarys watched as another customer ? a fighter from his stance and gait, and a member of a religious order of one sort or another from his garb ? moved in as soon as he was done with the three thugs. Ignoring him entirely to focus on healing the three unconscious lowlives. Which brought Anarys's hand to his dagger, though he lifted it after seeing he was only healing the wounds rather than getting the thugs on their feet.

"You're wasting your healing on these cretins sir. You can't repair the brain they don't have. The pain from recovering under the watch's so-called surgeons might improve their manners, and they deserve every minute of it."

"I have been raised to believe, sir, that there is no such thing as a wasted aid." Robert eyed the Dunmer carefully as he spoke, although with his face it came off more as a simple glance at the Mer, even slightly bored. "Torture gives birth to humiliation and pain, humiliation and pain give birth to anger, anger gives birth to taint of thought and loss of spirit, and ultimately revenge, the opposite of mercy and the greatest sin of all. Whereas if a person was shown kindness and mercy in the past from strangers, they may, upon giving this event more thought, come to realize that they did not wish for revenge, but to show kindness to others. Let your enemy go in peace, and make war only in defense, for peace has a clear head, whereas war clouds one's judgement."

"Call me an idealist and dispute my capability to think clearly, but I blieve in what I do. At very least, if this trio keep judging books from their covers, they'll end up in the hospital, where my brothers may convince them to take another path... One they would be more suited to. They would make fine farmers, if I had the patience and wisdom to convince them thus."

Zeela was in shock after the small fight scene. She stood, and walked over to the Dunmer. She didn't know what came over her. Her heart started to pound and she was about to say something, but, again, she couldn't cause her nerves got to her again. She ran back to her table. She sat down and looked at her mead(which she hadn't touched) and took a deep breath. Lets try this again, I need to ask if there's anything I can do..I need money so I can get supplies and continue my journey. She took another deep breath, gathered her nerves again, and walked up to the Dunmer and Breton.
"He..hello...my na..name is Zee..Zeela...and...I..I was...wond...wondering i...if there is an..anything I can do f...for a little extra bi...bit of..mon..money be..because..I..I'm broke..an...and.." She quickly thought about her skills. "I ca..can gath...gather..ski..skins for lea..leather..or...me..meat." She didn't understand why she was nervous around this Dunmer. Maybe it's because he just beat the crap out of three thugs on his own. Her knees started to buckle but she didn't want to show fear. Not now, if and when she was going to offered a job by the Dunmer. She looked over to the Breton and she was fine.
"Unless, you have a job for me as well.." She was really confused now..She looked at the Dunmer and her heart skipped a beat. She waited...

"I wouldn't call letting them feel the pain from their wounds a torture. I've had more than enough to know that a proper dose of pain and fear is usually more effective at entering their thick skulls than gentleness. Like most so-called though guys, they're content with being though on others and fail miserably at being though with themselves. I doubt they'd make good farmers. Not enough patience. Sword-fodder at most, they're eager enough to hurt others and to stupid enough to forget they can get hurt."

He shrugged "But feel free to treat these idiots anyway you want. I don't share your beliefs, but as long as you don't try to force them on me, I have no problem with them."

With these word he returned to his table, sitting down comfortably. Just as the bosmer girl made a rather hesitant approach to his table, bringing a slightly amused smile to his lips as he looked her over. I can't tell for sure but probably quite older than she might look to an human. A tad on the skinny side for my tastes, but she's not in that sort of trade. Thought if she's that broke she might consider it. But I'd rather deal with professionals.

As she exposed her skills, he gave her a slightly ironic smile "I'm afraid I have little use for that sort of skills." Pointing to the unconscious thugs with a dismissive hand wave ""What little there is to hunt in town would give unedible meat, awful pelts and even worse trophies. And I don't feel in any hurry to go wandering in the snow to find something else.". His tone kept perfectly controled and matter-of-factly, as if killing peoples and turning them into food and trophies were routine to him.

Her face fell just a little but then her anger flared. She knew she might get her self in a tight situation, but, despite all her might, she couldn't hold her tongue.
"So, you are a murderer? What have innocents ever done to you for you to kill them?" She puffed out her face and stamped her foot, like a child. She knew it probably didn't look professional, and maybe a slight childish, but when she usually did this, males usually fell head over heels for her. And hopefully it would work for her now. She had to time this next part perfectly though. She flipped her raven blue hair, turned and walked back to her table. She noticed that a there was a puddle of mead and she subtly walked over to it. She slipped and fell back. This was also a male killer. The damsel in distress move. Then she just remembered that he was a killer, and so this was not going to work. She swore silently to herself and just waited for the impact of the tavern floor...

Dhern looked at the three thugs on the floor now being tended by a healer and another joined in at a conversation. Dhern Shared no pity for the thugs, he took a last glance at them then gave a smile to the dunmer, impressed as he was. He approached again from his halt and stood tall over the three. He noticed one a bosmer female and the other a breton. He stood there listening to the words. It was clear he was noticed by the dunmer but the bosmer and breton didn't seem to notice him. He pulled his pipe from his cloth pants pocket and then a small bag with the last of his tabacco pinching it and stuffing it in the hole.

"That was most impressive. I haven't seen a dark skin fight in such away before. I would liek to thank you though, these thugs have been a nuisance these past few weeks." He tok a puff of his pipe then looked at the bosmer as she walked away. A little fit no better then a child. But she walked over a puddle of mead and she went backwards. Dhern glanced quickly at a figure that came accross the floor then gave a sharp whistle and timber had paced himself and layed under the Bosmer breaking her fall. "I thought you woodelf folk had grace in movement?" He gave a slght chuckle then looked back at the dunmer. "So what would an elf like you be doing in the nord homeland? Especialy with all the rumors going around."

The robed Breton sat quietly in the corner, not drawing attention to himself, but not acting dark and myterious either. Just sitting and miding his own business, watching the patrons of the tavern and waiting out the blizzard before he could get out of this forsaken place.

He watched with slight interest as a small conflict arose, one with an aged Dunmer and three obviously drunk Nords, all who probably didn't even combine to make his age. Claude was a mage, but he enjoyed watching sword play, and had even frequented many Arena's and had lost a fair amount of money at them. He could hardly fight with a blade, but it didn't stop him from enjoying the sport of it all.

He couldn't hold back a smirk as the DUnmer man proceeded to take down all three of the drunken men, and come out without a scratch. Claude really didn't listen to the following arguements, as another Breton came into the mix and began tending to the injured men. Next thing he knew a Bosmer woman had come in, who promptly threw a bit of a fit, before stomping off across the room.

ALong the way, she hit a wet spot or something, and if a random dog hadn't lay right beneath her she probably could have hurt herself quite badly. Claude couldn't help but snicker at her clumsiness and the following comments from a nearby Nord who apparently owned the dog that saved her. He just sat back, still watching all the of the fun in the bar.

OCC: meh, just trying to get in the action. :shrug:

As the girl blowed a tantrum and turned back, Anarys kept his face an inexpressive mask, hiding his amusemant. Though when she organized her fall, only to have her effect spoiled by the timely intervention of the large dog ? or was it a wolf, the two were difficult to tell apart in northern Skyrim, he dropped his impassibility for a laugh. Reaching into the small purse he was using for common expenses, he picked a ten drakes coin, enough for a day of room and board if you weren't too picky, flashing it in her sight before sending it her way "Do you really think I'd have lived that long if I was a murderer with that sort of habits and such a loose tongue about it ? But rather than outdoors skills, you might consider moving into entertainment, you have a knack for it."

Now relaxed he invited Dhern to sit down "I'd rather be called dunmer than dark skin. These three idiots weren't exactly a strong opposition. A bit of distraction, some magic to blind them, they had lost the fight as soon as they started it. As what brings me there, it's pretty simple. I'm descended from an ancient clan, whose fortunes have turned sour, leaving only the fortunes of war to me."

Anarys kept a straight face while shamelessly embroidering the truth. Amusing how claims of nobility seems to impress many. And I'm truly descended from clan Elarian's chiefs, even it's fallen from clan status two thousand years ago.

"Which makes me a soldier of fortune, though the jealous and ignorant have harsher words for my trade. A skyrim thane has hired my skills until recently, and I have chosen to stay there until spring, or someone else is willing to pay for them. "

Zeela's face flushed as she stood up. She knelt next to the wolf and, using her beast tongue, she thanked the wolf. She picked up the coin that the Dunmer threw at her and stood up. She didn't pocket the coin. She set it back on the table, pulled up a chair, and just stared at the Dunmer, hoping she could figure him out. Why am I so intrigued by him? She realized her eyes started drifting towards his muscular arms. She quickly snapped her eyes back to his, hoping to Azura that he didn't noticed. She took a deep breath, and then looked at the Nord.
"Elves are graceful..just..I planned it.." She whispered that last bit. She knew the Dunmer would hear it, but she hoped the Nord wouldn't. She turned back to him.
"So, you're a sword for hire? Are you in the Fighter's Guild?" She really wanted to get to know him. She didn't know why. She got up, ran to her old table, got her mead, ran back and sat down. She took a gulp of it. She wasn't used to alcohol and so she coughed. When she was done, she took a smaller sip of mead, and looked at the Dunmer. Wow..I must have looked like a big idiot... Her heart fell, knowing her chance with him was probably lost because of those small incidents.

Anarys watched with increasing amusemant the bosmer's antics. Though it seemed there was something more behind them. It seems finds me attractive - or is really good at feigning it. . Some curiosity probably, it's often as fatal to bosmers as to cats, but maybe more... Well, she's not exactly my type, but could do in a pinch if she's into a few nights of fun. Letting his amusemant show to keep these thoughts hidden.

"I'm a member ? that's a necessity in my trade, as the Empire takes a rather dim view of unaligned military forces. Especially as I aims for officer positions, which is more visible than being a common soldier. There are jobs or employers for whom it's not a requirement, but I'm not interested in them. The rewards they bring aren't worth the hassles, especially considering I'm not interested in the sort of fringe benefits they offer."

Seeing no more need to remain in this company, Robert, humming some sort of a tune silently, got to the work of moving the thugs away to some safe corner, where no one would step on them on purpose or anything. If it wasn't for the fact he was doing that instead of throwing them out the door, the knight could've been held for some fancy bouncer, although only greatest idiots could've made such an assumption, given that the armor and stance of Robert suggested far more than healing thugs for a life. Plus, the Knights Hospitaller were rather well-known by now, and the more educated citizens would probably recognize their insignia, as would members of the nobility.

Casting one last glance around the inn, Robert shrugged to himself, leaning the thugs against the wall, then returned to his table. Well, now I only need to wait for them to get conscious again and start 'menacing' people again tommorrow. At least it's good practice for healing minor wounds. Sighing, Robert resumed his humble meal, watching the other patrons of the inn as he did.

Dhern gave a nodded to the dunmers words. Soon the bosmer came to sit at the table and answered his gesture. He gave a small chuckle and then Noticed the healer move the thugs to a corner. There was something odd though, this man wasn't just a normal healer. Dhern wanted to give the suggestion that the man was liek him, a paladin, but something made him think differently. "I'll leave you two alone." he smiled looking at both the dunmer and bosmer. "I hope your business gets better, dunmer." He gave a nod then got up from the chair and walked over to the counter where he left his mug of warm ale. He took a sip of it noticing its heat gone but its taste was still zesty. He then approached the man as he was enjoying his meal. Timber had now took his spot beside his master, his tongue waving about as he breathed heavily and happily.

"Whom do you hail friend?" Dhern asked with a small suspicion, hoping that this healer would know how to answer and imply the one divine he served.


-ooc: ok after the day is over Im going to add the first assault to the coast, im going to put in alot of events in this story to a point, so when i put it in you won't be confused. -

Zeela watched the Nord get up and leave.
"I'll leave you two alone." He said as he smiled. She gave him a quick dirty look. And then turned her attention back to the Dunmer. Her heart started to beat faster again. She gulped a breath she was holding.
"I did an odd job for the fighter's guild once." It just slipped out. She set her mug down and leaned back in the chair. The alcohol in the mead was starting to get to her. She knew this would happen. Her head started to throb and she put a hand to her head. Why does this always happen to me? She looked at the Dunmer again, this time she couldn't hide her infatuation(ooc: hope this is the right word) ic: with the Dunmer. With the mead messing with her wits, she couldn't be subtle about it anymore. It was like she lost control of herself and the mead took over.
"Umm..I have a room here..and since you just came in...maybe you didn't get room yet..I was wondering if you wanted to stay with me?" She bit her lip as she waited for a reply.

As the nord left and the bosmer almost threw herself at him, Anarys smiled It seems today will end better than it started. I'm not one to look too closely at a given horse's mouth, but I'd rather be sure she knows what she's doing...

"I appreciate your offer but I already have a room ? though considering your purse, it's probably more roomy and comfortable, especially the bed." Insisting slightly on the word to make sure his meaning was clear.
"But first, there's something I have to do" whispering an incantation, Anarys reached for her, putting his hand on her brow, calling forth his modest skill with restoration magic. Zeela son felt the warmth of magic flowing from his hand to her head, clearing most of the mead's confusion, leaving her reasonably clear headed, if slightly euphoric, rather than swimming in alcohol-induced confusion. Then he moved his hand to hers, softly running his fingers where swordplay had toughened the skin of her fingers

"I'd rather have you know fully what you're engaging into rather than seizing a drunken opportunity. Not that it's above me to do it, but I know better than leaving a woman skilled with blades get mad at me when I'm relaxing."

The slight foggy vision from the mead cleared and Zeela's headache was gone. She knew she asked the Dunmer to stay with her already. She still wanted that, the mead just said what was on her mind. Her face flushed even brighter when his hand was entangled with hers. She looked into his eyes.
"How do you know I'm skilled with a blade?" She asked with awe. He's right though. I may not be a warrior, but I can hold my own in a sword fight. Then her eyes slightly fell, as she remembered the first time she used a sword.

[i]Bandits came storming into the city. They burnt homes down, and killing innocent people. The town guard fought them off. Even the Fighter's Guild jumped in. Zeela was running from the castle court yard. She took her bow and pulled an arrow back. She aimed at a bandit whose sword was locked with a guard. The guard had his back to Zeela, but she aimed carefully. She let the arrow fly. It barley missed the guard and hit the bandit. The guard kicked the bandit to the ground, looked who shot the arrow, and nodded. She nodded back and the guard ran to fight more. Zeela slung the bow over her should and ran over to the bandit. She saw the scimitar and picked it up, her eyes glowing in excitement. A bandit came up to her and swung his sword. She screamed and ducked. The blade swished over her head. She jabbed up ward but the bandit sidestepped. Then brought the sword down. She parried the sword and jabbed out again. This time the sword made contact. The bandit fell and she started to shake with fear. The bandits retreated and Zeela fell to her knees. She was taken to the castle to rest. The next few days the guards trained her with the sword...

Robert looked up from his meal to the Nord that approached him. He recognized the heavily-armored man as the one speaking with the Dunmer earlier, while he was fixing up the thugs; seeing no reason to mistrust him, the Knight Hospitaller gestured to a free seat in front of him. Taking a small sip from his glass of water, Robert didn't seem in a hurry to answer; calmly, he swallowed the water, before leaning back slightly.

"I hail every man and woman, and offer my aid to all those in need; for that is the way of Mara, and her hospital."

What does he want from me, I wonder? Was it just curiosity that led him to follow me, or does he have a different motive? Whatever the case may be, should he ask for help, I must give it. Even if he wishes me ill. Robert's face remained expressionless while he spoke, and didn't shift a bit with his thoughts. I don't believe, though, he's here to bring harm; I may not be the best when it comes to making out people's true intentions, but he does not look like someone who wished harm unto others. A warrior of one or another sort, judging from his apparel, although how good a warrior remains to be seen.