Requiem



Masser and Secunda, commonly obscured by many men and mer alike are starting to show themselves in history. After the Oblivion gates were driven back, odd things had started to happen. Portions of 'chosen' claimed to be visited by the unknown 'gods' of Masser and Secunda. Many scholars know that Masser and Secunda are Nirn's moons, and they once believed them to be dead, and long ago. But that seems to not be the case.



They insulted the Nine openly, and many developed cult followings and shrines. Some know of the cult, and many seem to find it harmless. Few seem to truly know what it's true colors are. Violence had also started and many believe that it was common thievery, murder, and kidnappings. It also comes to mind about how they say nothing of the Daedra, but the worse is yet to come, for they have stopped being active openly, and their influence has calmed. But they may be planning something, and that something may be fatal for many...



The rest is to be revealed.


This RP is about unraveling the secrets of a cult, and finding out if they pose a threat to the very faith and well-fare of Tamriel. This RP will be open at all times, (Unless there are an extreme amount of people, which I doubt will happen.) The story will reveal itself over time. You are welcome if you can follow these rules.

Rules for the RP:
1) No controlling anyone else's characters without their permission.

2) You cannot mind read.

3) You cannot know everything there is to know, about what's going to happen next, or everything about the Twin Moon Cult.

4) Be a bit realistic, mm'kay?

5) EDIT: I'm not sorry, but you can be a werewolf. And you can be a vampire.

6) Romance = Welcome. But keep it in this forum's consideration. Which, is like, PG13?

7) You can have more than one character. (But PM their sheet to me.)

8) I am pretty much the creator of this RP...if the sun crashes into Nirn and we all become solar beings, then I guess it'll happen...(Which it won't)

9) Please PM the Character sheets to me before posting.

10) You can know about the cult, but you can't have a very high knowledge of it.

11) If you plan to be apart of the cult, tell me and I shall consider.

12) Any other common rules that I haven't listed...have fun is the most important, though!

Any things marked by an asterisk (*) is required. Though your characters real name may not be known, you could have a nickname.

Name:*

Gender:*

Race:*

Age:*

Height:*

Eye Color:*

Hair Style:*

Skin Color:*

Class:*

Class Focus:*

Major Skills:*

Sign:*

General Appearance:*

Tattoos/Scars:

Weapons:

Spells:

Mental Description:

Brief History:


My character:

Name: Zelric Tetra (Yep, my main TES character..)

Gender: Male

Race: Argonian

Age: 17 (He's a youngin.)

Height: 5'6

Eye Color: An abnormal eye color, Azure Blue.

Hair Style: Fins, short, and a bit laid back.

Skin Color: Morrowind type off-white. Although the color of his scales are of Morrowind reference, he has the build of the Oblivion Argonian.

Class: Endeavorer

Class Focus: Magic. And a bit of speed.

Major Skills: Restoration, Illusion(Journeyman), Mysticism, Alteration, Unarmored, Blunt Weapon, Athletics.(Apprentice)

Sign: The mage.

General Appearance: A thin and fit Argonian, no scars in sight. He seems untouched by the blade and doesn't seem to look like a fighter, or even a mage in fact. Right now he is wearing a white long sleeved shirt, with a black and tattered scarf around his neck. His pants match the shirt, and both are mark-less.

Weapons: A wooden staff.

Inventory: Pockets: (Left: 54 Septims.) (Right: 170 Septims, and a small Sapphire.)

Spells: A few healing techniques, and various fortification spells. He also has scattered spells of his other specialized magic schools.

Mental Description: His parents died when he was 5, so he was taken in the Mages Guild. He studied magic with the help of his new guardian and his personality is quiet and observant. When around friends, however, he can show his really kind and concerned side, which other people overlook when he passes them by. Depending on the situation, though, he could take a number of personalities. His mind is always constantly at work, as if he questioned why things fall when dropped.

Brief History: His parents died when he was 5, so he was taken in by a Mages Guild journeyman. He studied magic at the mages guild branch in Leyawiin, and left to locate a home of his own. Never really liking being far from a Mages Guild branch, he took up a house across from the Guild in Leyawiin. He wonders now and then about his parents, but most of the time he studies and makes friends. The guardian that had taken care of him was sick, so he has found himself stopping by to check up on him. To his dismay, his guardian had a fatal disease. Zelric's magic wasn't enough to save him, and he blames himself for the incident.

Accepting new members; try to vary the ways you come into the RP, I beseech you....

Story so far:

I:

A young self-proclaimed Endeavorer, Zelric received a letter while heading to his desk in the Mages' Guild. The letter told him of an important quest, with a very vague description. Zelric hasn't had a job in a while, so he automatically accepted, and then went on his way to the Imperial City. Along the way, Zelric stops by Bravil for a rest, and eventually meets up with Vespian, the Private Investigator. Zelric and Vespian both agreed to head with each other to the Imperial City, for strength in numbers. As they left the tavern, they came across a Bosmer in the bushes, aiming his bow. Zelric, at first, thought he was aiming at them, but suddenly the Bosmer shot at a Khajiit bandit, lashing out at the two. Zelric and Vespian watched as the Bosmer defeated the Khajiit, and Zelric decided to spare him. After getting information from the reluctant bandit, he concluded that someone may have arranged the attempted assassination from the shadows.

After a brief thought, Zelric and Vespian introduced themselves, and the Bosmer called himself Taleos. With Taleos now in the small group, the three were intercepted by thee others creatures; goblins. Zelric and Vespian were told by Taleos that he would slow the goblins' pace, making for a greater chance of escape. When Zelric disagreed, Taleos eventually made them run ahead. After a chase, Taleos fell to the ground, goblins fast approaching. Zelric was already tired of the beings, and he entered the fray, grabbing a few of Taleos' arrows, enchanting them with telekinesis. As he fired the arrows, he was struck by an electrocution spell. He was also on a tight magicka-usage fatigue, and they made their way to the Inn of Ill Omen. Not long after Zelric and company walked through the door, they were greeted by the Altmer, Melanarde.

She claimed that she was to meet Zelric at the Imperial City, and Zelric revealed his identity. After some wine and rum, the group went to bed, Zelric having a shocking dream, about what seemed to be Masser, one of Nirn's moons. Zelric didn't make anything of the dream yet, but he refused to sleep after the experience. Once morning struck again, Zelric found himself healing Melanarde's hangover, and then they met Keraile. Keraile agreed to join them. Zelric wondered if he really was heading to the city, or if he just wanted travel companions, but he did note that he was actually forming a party of travelers. Now the party is all set, about to head down the roads of destiny...

II:

The group continued North toward the Imperial City, and having gathered a good number of people to join him on his journey, they reached the city without much trouble, aside from encountering a murderer stalking the roads. Zelric and Melanarde did not back down, however, as Taleos went ahead to seek out the Bosmer who had murdered the Imperial. Eventually losing him, Taleos and Lauro returned with the group to the city. Upon their arrival, those of the group said their good-byes, as they seemed uninterested or too busy to join them on their quest, which they didn't want to mention much about. Zelric assumed the city was glamorous, but it was hard to believe so when people continuously shoved him in their haste.

So far, Zelric, Melanarde, and Taleos were left in the group now, all of them having different plans. Zelric suggested they go to the Arcane University, where Melanarde said she was told to go to. Having received to notice on where exactly to go aside from the Talos Plaza, he went to the University instead. However, at the plaza, Fears-Not-Death and Menelri were conversing and getting to know each other. Eventually they almost chanced upon the group when they were in a jewelry shop, a robber threatening the owner. However, when the thief tried to escape upon coming outside, Taleos subdued him.

Fears and Menelri remained inside to purchase something, and before they came out, the group was gone. Taleos went off to evaluate the price of his Dwemeri weapon. The price fetched 1,500 Septims, but Taleos refused to sell to the man, only wishing for an idea of the money it is worth.

Now: Zelric, Melanarde, and the strange Argonian Fin are observing an odd letter addressed to Zelric. The letter was an odd symbol of two crescents, waxing and waning in dripped ink. On the back of the letter is a score of obscure characters that were found undecipherable by Zelric.

Taleos is still in the shop in which he had the price of his sword evaluated.

Menelri and Fears are on their way to the Arcane University, making their way through the Arena District.

Glass Argonian's Character:



OOC: Alright guys. 3rd Thread, and that took like, what, forever? =D From now on I will include a "Now" section in the OP in case there are those who are lost. If you would like this changed or updated, let me know.

Another thing: Miak, the Orc we met....I will include her in the second summary if she is still RPing in the RP. I will need Orestes to PM me if he is still interested in the RP.

Name: Islyths-Eij

Nickname: Fin

Race: Argonian

Age: 20

Gender: Male

Birth sign: The Tower

Focus: Adventure

Main skills: Claws/Hand-To-Hand, Shortblade, Light Armor, Marksman,

Secondary Skills: Acrobatics, Athletics, Illusion, Alteration, Mysticism

Class: Shadow. Time during his sojourn in Solsthiem gave Islyths the sneaking, hunting, and survival skills he uses daily today in his adventures. Also while he was there, a hermit taught him in the ways of three Schools of Magicka.
General appearance: Rather well muscled; Lean. Smooth scales everywhere, most likely polished regularly. His face almost always has a grin on it, except for when he is in the heat of battle. His hands are smooth, and well cared for, despite his time in the wilds of Solsthiem. He has the coloring and build of a Vvardenfel Argonian.
Hair: Slick, tan-and-green fins with earrings. Jagged scar running up across his left eye. Chunk of tail missing from a werewolf bite.

Eye Colour: Right:Emerald Green. Left: White, cut up through the middle.

Height: 6'3

Tattoos/Scars: Jagged Scar over his left eye.

Mental Description: Islyths used to be the most social argonian you would ever meet. However, after a while, he longed to see the world. So he ventured to solsthiem. There, he was infected with Sanies Lupines (?), and he has been a changed man ever since. He shied away from all but his closest friends. His trust became hard to earn, and easy to lose. He maintains his sanity today.

Primary weapons: Dual Silver Daggers (Razor Sharp), Claws(Even Sharper)

Secondary weapon: Iron Crossbow(Single Quiver of 12 Bolts)

Clothing/Armour mostly worn: Moderate Fur clothes, Sunglasses(God only knows for what). Dark brown hood. Wolf Skin Scarf.
Armor: Full Nordic Fur

Inventory:
Septim/Drake/Currency: 76 Septims
Left Pocket (Pants): Small bag of moonsugar.
Backpack:
-3 health potions
-1 Lockpick
-1 Common SoulGem(Kagouiti)
-1 Grand SoulGem(Werewolf)
-3 Rat Skins
-3 Portions of Rat Meat
-3 Rat Tails
-1 map of Cyrodill
-1 Map Of Vvardenfell and Solsthiem

Misc: *Pyromaniac
*Love of soft mammals. And khajiits.
*Drug Addict.
*Werewolf


Bio:
Islyths spent the first 17 years of his life learning combat techniques in Black Marsh. He was the son of a well-known argonian. He began to grow tired of the adventures there, however. He hired an adventuring party to journey with him to Solsthiem. It consisted of his three best friends, One Female argonian(Swims-In-Gold), One Male (Flies-With-Birds), and a Male Khajiit(S'Veer).
For the first two years, all was all right on the shivering isle. They hunted and lived, gaining valuable life experience. They lived off the land, had merry adventures, and became known figures, loved by the few settlements.
In a raid on one of them, on his twentieth birthday on the third year, by the spawn of Hircine, his compatriots were slain, and he was infected with the disease with no chance of cure. From there, he purchased a boatride to Cyrodill. During his time in the country side, he has come to control his more primal urges, striving to only feast on bandits and other criminals, or wildlife.
Current History:
Islyths has recently arrived at the Imperial City, where he headed to the Arcane University and met Zelric and Melanarde.

Name: Gi'Shageer

Gender:Male

Race: Khajiit

Age:38

Height:7'1

Eye Color: Dark Yellow with flecks of Green

Hair Style: Rusty blond, almost Red

Class: Mercenary

Class Focus: Combat

Skills: Athletics, Heavy Armor, Blade, acrobatics, hand to hand

Sign: The Lord

Physical Description: Gi is a huge Khajiit, more like to a lion then any cat. His rusty blond mane borders his large face and evil looking yellow eyes. His body is thick with muscle that extend from his feet to his broad shoulders. His snout is house to two long, cruel looking fangs and long sharp claws extend from each of his upper paws. He Tends to wear his armor at all times, moving in it as if it was made of cloth.

Weapon: A huge Scimitar which he wields skillfully with one hand

Armor: Steel Plate Mail Tunic With a large, battered, round steel shield with a lions head on the front

Mental Description: He is a cold and calculating creature, never letting much show through his facial appearance. He Has learned from pass losses to never get to close to anyone, instead developing a gruff exterior that tends to ward off anyone that isn't frightened enough to approach him in the first place.

Brief History: Orphaned very young, Gi learned how to live of the land. After roaming continuously in search of a dependable food source he happened on an old Khajiit. Intending to pickpocket or at the very least beg, he approached the slowly hobbling cat. However, the moment the old cat set his eyes on Gi he was convinced that the huge Orphan was his long lost lost nephew. The Old creature took Gi to heart as a son and taught him all he knew. But, just like everyone who Gi Came to trust and love, The old cat died and Gi was once again an orphan. Being of age now he joined as an apprentice to the Royal Khajiit Millitary and prospered in the environment. Soon he was Accepted as a real soldier and he fought many battles and saw many of his best friends die before he quit and became a Mercenary to achieve his own ends.

OOC: WELCOME! And now for the humiliating initiation ritual that I just made up. Bend over and drop your pants, Ive got a bowl of steaming hot linguini here....muahaha. Err, AMZ, Might I recommend quoting the last IC part from the last thread to put in the OP? That might make it easier for peeps to respond.

OOC: I'll just put it here.

Semi Last post of mine, tagging Aulakauss.



My last IC post that tags no one, as Chaos responded to this. This is here for reference material.




OOC: Golden star for you and your linguini, Chaos.

IC: Moonlight glistened off Gi's armor as he strode swiftly and stealthily through the ally ways of the Imperial city. "A young Argonian with fins on his head an armed with a staff, accompanied by a small company of mixed races" thats what the man had said. Should be easy thought Gi, finding a baby lizard followed by a merry band of fools. He crossed through the large oak doors and descended the stairs into the temple district. It was not long until he found what he sought, a grubby looking Woodelf beggar huddled against a curb. Gi picked up the sleeping creature with one hand, he slammed it into a wall. "Ppplease don't hurt me" it stuttered, cringing away from the huge Khajiits yellow eyes. "An Argonian, a young one, armed with a stick. Where?" Gi demanded, letting his fangs show. "I..I saw them go that way" the elf said pointing towards the Arboretum. The Bosmer slid down the wall covering his head from the huge cats teeth, he lowered his arms from his face and looked around frightfully, but the hulking lion-like Khajiit had gone. Swallowed into the night like a wraith.

OOC: Sorted.

Name: Menelri Mephstapha [Born as Arangaer Ilsutran]
Nicknames: Men, Menni, anything else you can think up.
Gender: Female
Race: Bosmer/Wood Elf
Age: 67 [looks about 25]

Class: Shadowrogue
Class Focus: Combat/Stealth
Major Skills: Illusion, Destruction, Unarmored, Short Blade, Marksman
Minor Skills: Security, Athletics, Acrobatics, Light Armor, Speechcraft
Birthsign: The Lover

Eyes: Yellowish Green
Hair: Black
Skin Color: Normal, but pale.
Height: 5' 2"
Build: Muscular in a stringy sort of way.

General Description: [http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/Aulakauss/RP%20pics/Menelri.jpg] - [http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/Aulakauss/RP%20pics/Menelri2.jpg] - [http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/Aulakauss/RP%20pics/Menelri3.jpg]

Primary Clothing: Pictured
Tattoo/Scars/Piercings: Many scars on her arms, all self-inflicted, two tiny gold rings in lower lip, small silver ring in left eyebrow.

Armor: Pair of black steel boots. Occasionally wears light cuirass or gauntlets.

Inventory:

[Pockets]: Green tomato, 7 lockpicks.

[Pouch at waist]: 210 gold.

[Small backpack]: Sewing supplies, beef jerky, misc. scraps of cloth.

Weapons: Duel silver shortblades, 40 silver arrows in quiver, silver bow. All provided by Imperial Legion.
Magic: Incapacitate [Paralyze 10 seconds/touch], All sorts of fire spells of various grades.

History: Menelri was born Arangaer Ilsutran, but hated her name and thus changed it when she was fifteen. She hissed at her mother when she was called by her birth name from then on out. She has three brothers, none of whom she knows the wherabouts of, and is the second youngest of her generation. She lived a sheltered life, and due to the raging insanity of her father, her mother was usually distracted and never had time to teach manners or morals to any of the kids. Insanity is inherit in her family, as her father and his father prove, but it usually emerges later in life.

When she was thirty-seven, she moved out of her home in Chorrol and away from 'the brats' as she called her siblings, and into the world. For a while, she was just a misunderstood, but mostly normal gothic teen girl, but when she was caught stealing a horse [she didn't know it was illegal to borrow things without asking] and was imprisoned at the age of fifty-five despite her profuse apologies and promises she was going to return it, she cracked. When she got out, she went on a murdering rampage in a small town called Hackdirt, burning most of the buildings to the ground. She was arrested and held in prison all through the Oblivion crisis, though she did wave at Mehrunes Dagon as he stomped by her cell window and yell 'Hi!'

The guards never knew what to do with her; she screamed profanity at the guards when they came in to empty her chamber pot, inventing new swears to use even, mercilessly slaughtered rats that wandered through her cell and piled their bodies in a corner and refused to let them clean it up, stayed up at night singing and disturbing the other prisoners, and hoarded tomatoes whenever she got them in her meals. They only hoped she'd get better.

She didn't.

Now, she is one of Cyrodiil's last hopes as, despite her undeniable lack of sanity, is one of the country's finest swordswomen. She has been brought before the Elder Council and told that she will be fully pardoned if she can do something about the cults. She agreed on the terms that a metal statue of a candlestick be erected in the Imperial City if she succeeds.


Personality: Menelri is what most folks would call 'Blessed by Sheogorath.' She is small, fierce and undeniably partially insane. Speaks strangely and often bluntly, telling others what she thinks despite offense it might cause, and randomly raises and lowers her voice pitch while doing so. Has strange and sometimes creepy habits, swears where completely unnecessary, and has no manners to speak of.

Other Traits/Oddities:
- Is bisixual. This often has effect on comments she makes about others.
- Subject to fits of randomly spouted insanity.
- Hates people reminding her of her stature. Often reacts with threats.
- Loves anything that shines.
- Loves tomatoes. Refuses to tell anyone why.
- Flirts randomly and with wild abandon.
- Has very little alcohol tolerance
- Is nearly totally oblivious to physical pain.

Misc Skills [non-combat]:
- Expert seamstress. She made all her own clothes from ones she'd seen pirates in the City docks wearing.

_______

Name: Melanarde Dorayn
Nickname: Ember, Mel, Melani
Gender: Female
Race: Altmer/Dunmer [leans towards Altmer]
Age: 137 [looks 25-30, but is more equivalent to 45]

Class: Fire Adept
Class Focus: Magic
Major Skills: Light Armor, Destruction, Alteration, Unarmored, Long Blade
Minor Skills: Speechcraft, Enchant, Alchemy, Athletics, Mercantile
Birthsign: The Lady
Birthdate: 27th, Hearthfire
Eyes: Red
Hair: Blonde and Orange mixed, worn either loosely or in a ponytail. Comes to mid-back.
Skin Color: Pale Orangish-Yellow
Height: 6' 1"
Build: Moderately muscular, but still looks distinctly feminine. Her actual feminine features; the curve of her waist and size of her briasts, are not very substantial, though.

General Description: Melanarde is an elegant sight to behold; her silken clothing flows around her when she moves, occasionally shining in the light, her steps are light and graceful and her movements are fluid as water. Her voice is soft but firm, not commanding, but speaking of someone who expects you to listen to her, she has an exquisite vocabulary and keeps a nearly perfect house.

However, if you look more closely, you'll see she is not your average noblewoman. A glint of silver at the top of her blouse indicates the armored corset she wears, and her body is well-toned and muscled. Under the skirt, mail greaves and a knife slipped into her garter are worn over her strong, nimble legs. The clothes on the outside hide the warrior she truly is.

Primary Clothing: Long, layered silk skirt of various shades of orange, Orange silk blouse with ruffled sleeves, reinforced with leather in the chest, brown leather heeled boots. All have charms on them that make them fireproof.
Tattoo/Scars/Piercings: Elaborate fire tattoo running from her shoulder, wrapping around her arm and coming to her fingertips on left arm, many small burn scars all over her body, small gold navel ring.

Armor: Mithril mail corset worn as underwear, covers chest and torso, greaves of same material and occasionally worn Elven plate gauntlets.

Inventory:

[Pockets]: Embroidered orange handkerchief

[Medium-sized Travel Pack]: Folded blanket, three vials of homemade perfume, small jar of tobacco, several little pieces of paper for making cigarettes, quill, corked inkwell, small journal, various other personal effects.

Weapons: Daedric Longsword sheathed at hip, Morrowind style design [has the design of the Morrowind Daedric Shortsword], silver dagger slipped into her garter under her skirt.
Magic: Fire spells of all makes and ranges, flame-based healing spells that she created, powerful lock-altering spells, med-strength frost-shield spell.
History: Melanarde is the child of Elanende and Vedalamus Dorayn, her mother an Altmer, her father a Dunmer. Because of this, she was born with very potent magickal potential and natural resistance to flames.

Her parents were not wed when she was born on the twenty-seventh of Hearthfire in the middle of a rainstorm in the basemant of the Bruma Mage's Guild, but the mages that delivered her and helped her mother through labor swore not to tell anyone about this fact for the shame and humiliation it would bring to both parents and child.

Growing up, she usually lived in the Guild hall, spending most of her time as a little girl wrapped up in a blanket, reading by the fire. Through her reading, she gained a vast vocabulary by the age of fifteen and sometimes even had to explain her words to a few of the older mages. She wrote poetry and small stories that entertained and delighted even the most callus of men and she was a sweet, if somewhat bossy, young woman. Due to an unknown flip side of her fire resistance, though, the chill of Bruma often landed her in bed with colds.

As she grew older, her parents and their friends in the Guild trained her, and she took quickly to the schools of Destruction and Alteration, mastering many fire and lock altering spells, and a frost shield spell to keep her out of the sick bed, by the age of twenty-two. She continued her literary studies, poetry and writing as she got older, but her parents worried about the somewhat violent nature of some of her works. She developed an unhealthy fascination with fire as well, and would sometimes be heard screaming as she ripped off a flaming piece of clothing.

At forty-three years of age, she finally left Bruma and her parents, saying it was simply too cold for her, and moved to Skingrad, buying a small home just outside town with the money she'd saved from odd jobs done for the Guild and got a job as a bartender in the local tavern to pay for her own food and clothing.

After a year, she could no longer take the jeering and flirting of drunken tavern goers, though, and took up the blade, taking on freelance quests from, ironically, many of the same people she wanted to get away from in the tavern. After several years of success, she had a manor built in town with her earnings. When she met the count to arrange it, he was taken by her beauty, and as his own wife had been comatose for years, wanted company. He agreed on the terms that she spend dinner him. As they ate later that night, he told her of what had happened to him and how he had become a vampire and gave her an amulet enchanted to protect against Porphyric Hemophilia, saying he could never let such a thing happen to such a pretty woman. He also offered her a position clearing out vampires from nearby caves since the vampire hunters asked too many questions for his liking. Flattered by the treatment he gave her, she agreed, and over the years they occasionally spent an intimate night or two together. She cared for him, but despite sleeping with him, never fell in love with him. Janus, on the other hand, was mad over her.

Being the count's employee and bedmate came with its fair share of bonuses as well; she was given a daedric longsword he'd been keeping as a collectible and was made mithril armor that could fit easily and comfortably under her clothes, specially fitted to her body, and often wears the armored corset as underwear despite the coldness of the metal. In her free time, she studies the workings of fire magicka, and has, through many years of literally painful research, manged to make her body and clothes fireproof, and develop healing methods using flame energies. One side-effect of this, however, is that she gets sick from cold very easily and must keep warm at all times. Later, in boredom, she also got herself an elaborate tattoo on her left arm of flames, and pierced her navel.

Personality: In business and to those she doesn't know, she is manipulative, often insulting, and very self-centered. She will do about anything to get her way and always makes sure she gets the most out of deals, even if she has to do things that are less than morally sound to get them. She rarely gets angry, but uses taunts and insults freely with those she dislikes.

To friends, though, she is witty, cracks jokes, and is very relaxed and casual. Those who she invites into her home receive the finest of hospitality and are given nearly full access to all the commodities of her house, including her magickally heated and run shower and bath and are often served meals during their stays.

On her own, she often shuns clothing altogether and relaxes either in the bath with a book or someplace near [or in] the fireplace. She makes it no secret that she does this, however, and occasionally even answers her door completely nvde or in thin nightclothes or undergarments, or leaves a note on the door for people she's expecting to come in while she's in the shower. Some think she gets a sort of twisted joy out of the shock on people's faces when she does this, and they are most definitely correct.

When out in the community, she often spends time reading in the sun or harasses the churchgoers. On occasion, she stops by the tavern for a glass of rum.

Other Traits/Oddities:
- Obsessed with having her things neat and arranged
- Flesh and hair are immune to burning; sometimes relaxes in her fireplace
- Can be very blunt and insensitive at times, but at others is compassionate to a fault
- Often rash and impulsive, occasionally to the point of arrogance
- Is a totally different person once you know her than she is when conducting business
- Obsessed with fire
- Flesh, clothes and hair often smell faintly of burnt wood due to her habit of 'fire bathing'
- Extremely vulnerable to cold

Misc Skills [non-combat]:
- Exquisite cook; she's made meals for the count himself before
- Can use magicka to repair broken items. Cannot restore missing parts or sharpen weapons, however
- Persuasive, though not exactly smooth about it
- Makes perfume out of herbs for herself

ooc: Welcome, Grizzly!

ic: Melanarde got up and looked at the writing after she watched Zelric shred up a letter. Wondering what both the script and the letter said, she looked over the strange runes and put one of her slender orange hands to her chin in thought.

"They look vaguely familiar, but.. after almost a hundred and forty years, everything starts looking familiar. Gods I feel old sometimes.." Mel commented thoughtfully, then looked down at the letter as she listened to Raminus say that a werewolf soul would be worth thousands. She has thousands, but.. not with her. At least.. not as many thousands as this thing would cost. If they ever stopped by Skingrad, she could buy the thing though. For now, perhaps she could get him to at least let her look at it. Or.. she could try to steal it, but.. that seemed inadvisable to do in the middle of the Imperial City. She was tough enough to punch her way out of the city, but she wasn't willing to kill guards over a soul gem. Besides, she had a job to do and being a wanted felon suddenly would put a kink in that.

"What did that thing saw that scared you so much you destroyed it?" the half-Altmer inquired politely of Zelric, looking over at him with skeptical red eyes.
_______
Menelri looked up at Fear a little oddly, then at the Arena. "I like watchin' people kill each other. What's wrong with that?" she asked innocently, thinking of a Khajiiti woman she'd once watched bite the neck of one of her foes to kill him. She couldn't recall the woman's name though.. Then there's been the Dunmer that paralyzed his foe and ripped his intestines out. She'd always thought that that Dunmer had looked familiar, but she couldn't place his face.

"The Arena was one of the only things they let me do for entertainment.. I wanted to fight in it, but.. they said I'd just get killed and didn't let me. Made me sad." Menelri admitted.

Fin tosses the sack into the air behind him and spin-bats it with his tail towards Melanarde. "Catch! " Fin chuckles and returns his attention to Zelric and the letter.

"I...I was just anxious, that's all. I didn't really rip anything up aside from the envelope. Not anything inside it." He stated to Melanarde, looking over the runic symbols once again. Something about the symbols wasn't quite right, but Zelric couldn't just p lace his finger on it. They looked like an adverse form of Daedric, but with intricate swirls and sharp points at the eventual ends of the swirls. Not ever character was similar, as some looked closely related to Daedric, but modified in some way. "Do you think this was modified from Daedric script, Raminus?" The young Argonian asked, but the mage was still scribbling down some samples of the language.

"I'm not sure. Some of the characters appear closely related to Daedric, essentially, but too many aren't close to Daedric at all to assume that they are indeed a form of Daedric. I'll have to give this to the Arch-Mage. Once he figures out what this is, he might be able to decipher it, even. Only time will tell. However, I assure you that it will take some time, but I'll send a messenger after you once we get an idea of what exactly this is."

Zelric looked over at Raminus and nodded politely. "I appreciate it."

________________

Fears looked at Menelri in an odd way, before eventually pressing on, talking as he went along. "Think yourself lucky, Lady Menelri. Many in the Arena aren't too honorable, considering a lot of the combatants are imprisoned. Not that I'm meaning offense, but I do believe some prisoners would do anything for freedom. Cheating a death match is common, I'm sure." Explained the Argonian, opening the gate to the Arboretum.

ooc: We now interrupt this post for an announcement.

WAFFLES! :rock:

Now back to your regularly scheduled post..

ic: Melanarde caught the bag of soul gems easily in her hand and opened it up. Inside was the disc-shaped stone that she knew as a Grand Soul Gem (ooc: I always liked the Morrowind designs better :shrug:). Reaching in, she took it out and looked at it, feeling the magickal power emanating from the thing.

"I could make a hell of an enchantment with this. For all I know, it could be more potent than a Golden Saint soul.." she mused, then grabbed her rum, took a gulp and turned the thing over in her hand. "Amazing.."

After a moment, she looked up at Raminus and made a thoughtful face. "I wonder what language that is. I've never seen it before." she commented uselessly, then looked to the young Argonian. "Anyway, what did the letter say, Zel? What are we supposed to do?"
_______
Menelri shrugged nonchalantly and walked into the Arboretum. She snatched a Steel-Blue Entoloma cap from the ground and munched on it, knowing exactly what it was and enjoying the flavor of the fungus. Looking to Fears with her mouth full, she had a thought and swallowed so she could talk.

"What do you think the people at the University will be like?" she asked, "I hope they're nice."

"That's the thing...the Elder Council didn't even bother to send anything with this that told us what it is, or anything. Perhaps they expect us to assume it a clue of some sort...it might be their symbol...or...something. The hand on the back puzzles me even more than the unknown characters, however." Zelric explained, watching Raminus go off to meet with the Arch-Mage. "I'm sure once Raminus finds out what the Arch-Mage thinks of this, he'll be sure to send a messenger of some sort. He did say that, right??" He asked, just to make sure. He already assumed the answer yes, and to his surprise, Raminus came back down, and looked listlessly at Zelric. "Young Zelric...the Arch-Mage wishes to see you."

OOC: Let's assume that all Faction quests have been done, but not by the same person. In this case, the Arch-Mage will be named [Insert Name Here].

Actually, I'll think of it soon enough. Next post, I'll have it.

_____

Fears thought for a moment, and assumed what most people assumed about the mages at the university. "Well, from what I have heard, the mages are quite impolite, and have horrible superiority complexes. I'm sure they won't be too unfortunately irritable, though. Just by a sum." He said, not far off. "Just don't do anything you'll regret..."

Fin let out a small chuckle. "You wont be doing ANYTHING with it until you pay me. No worries, I'll through the kagouiti in for free if you buy the wolf." Fin held out his hand to take the sack back.

ooc: At long last, my polar opposite characters meet!

ic: Telling Menelri not to do anything she would regret was a bad idea; she remembered few things she ever did and regretted even fewer. Better advice would have been 'Don't do anything that will make people want to strangle you.' but sadly Fears didn't know that.

Besides, nobody's perfect, right?

As Fears and Menelri got to the doors of the University lobby, she took off, jumping stairs as she climbed and burst through the door just as Melanarde put the soul gems back in their bag as was about to hand it to Fin. As the little elf shoved open the door, she looked at Mel, who was staring at her as if she was a zombie wearing a top hat and doing vaudeville skits, then at Zelric, Raminus and Fin, in that order. She then made a face and tried to figure out which one was Zelric, if any. After a moment, in which Mel grabbed her rum and took a sip of it without taking her eyes off Menelri, the small Bosmer thought to just ask.

"Uhm.. Are any one of you named Zelric?" she asked cutely. Melanarde blinked at hearing a voice that sounded like it ought to belong to a ten year old child, then wondered if Menni was a ten year old child. Only the sight of the dual silver shortswords, silver shortbow and like arrows dispelled that. That and seeing her pointed ears and realizing she was an elf and not a tiny Breton. Until now, Mel had been too stunned by the tiny, pirate-garbed oddity that had just walked in the door to notice any of those details.

"Wh..why.. Why do you ask?" Melanarde finally said after regaining herself.

Menelri paused a moment to think on this. "'Cuz I needs ta talk to 'im. Elder Council sent me to help him with some cult peoples." she answered after a moment's thought, then stuck her hand out to Melanarde, "I'm Menelri, by the way. What's your name, pretty lady?"

"Uh.. M-Melanarde. Nice to meet you." she managed to say as she took the offered hand, though she was still stunned with surprise at the blatant forwardness of the little woman. Menni shook it happily, then let go and looked around.

"So.. Is Zelric here?" she asked again.

"Hm? Oh, yes.. he's.. over there." she replied and pointed to him briefly, "But.. the Arch-Mage wanted to talk to him."

Without hesitation or thought on why this might be an unlikely suggestion, Menelri asked, "Can I come with him then?"

Shrugging, all Mel could think to say was, "I guess you can ask.."

Menelri squeled happily, ran to Zelric and tugged on his robe, then looked up and asked, "Can I come with you mister Zelric?"

As soon as Menelri burst through the entrance-way, Raminus was about to ask her why she had done that when she asked about Zelric. Considering she was with him, he stayed silent. Zelric gave her a puzzling look for a second, and then he smiled at her. The little piratey girl seemed kind of cute to him. Once Melanarde pointed to him, though, he snapped out of it. "Yes I'm-" He started, before Menelri came up, asking him if she could go with him into the Arch-Mage's study. The Argonian hesitated for a moment, and looked to Raminus as if looking for an answer, or some help at least. The Imperial nodded slightly, an then nudged his head in the direction of the teleporter that lay next to him.

After receiving confirmation, Zelric nodded to Menelri, trying his best not to make a scene out of how such a cute girl was to help them with such a mysterious cult. "Yeah, common." He said, and Fears crossed his arms as he came up to Zelric. The larger Argonian towered inches above him, and he looked up, teetering his head to the side like a confused puppy.

"So...you're Zelric, then?" The larger Argonian asked, looking cold yet friendly at the same time. Zelric had no idea how he managed to pull such a thing off.

"Yes. I'm Zelric...and you're...the nice Argonian from smiley-ville, right?" He asked, as if serious.

Fears-Not-Death reeled a little from the question, and then shook his head. "What are you talking about, boy??" He asked, obviously confused. "My name is Fears-Not-Death."

"Your name sounds quite fitting..."

"Why yes, it is." Fears replied, bringing his larger scaled hand out for a handshake. The black scarved reptile stared at it for a moment, and then looked down at Menelri before remembering what exactly that movement meant.

"Ohh, you want me to shake it. Terribly sorry." He apologized briefly, thrusting his own hand forward and shaking his hand casually. "I'm, afraid we'll all have to get acquainted later, though. The Arch-Mage wishes to see me, and Menelri volunteered to come along with me."

Fears nodded in understanding, and searched for a seat. Finding that none were available, he shrugged inwardly and remained standing. "Fair enough. I'll be here when you get out."

Zelric nodded back, and then slowly led Menelri to the teleporter, which Raminus was still standing by. "It would be best not to keep him waiting." The mage said, the Argonian agreeing in thought.

"Come on, Menelri."

Fin looks at the teleporter briefly. After a moment, he adds. "Well, I'll wait down ere then. Oi, mage..." He points a finger at Raminus. "Could you go get me some roots and berries and junk from your alchemy place? Stuff em in a sack, any type. I need them for my travels." Fin demands in the form of a question.

At being told she could come with, Menelri clapped her hands and hugged Zelric about the waist. "Thank you!" she cried happily, then let go and walked to the teleporter, humming a strange tune entirely different than the one she'd been humming in the bathhouse.

Menni felt the world fall out from under here and then rematerialize as she arrived in a room with lots of shelves and a round table in the middle. Sitting down in a chair, or rather climbing on it and squatting, Menelri looked around the room a moment, then back to Zelric and Raminus. "So.. what do you guys need us to do?" she asked curiously, then perked up suddenly and added excitedly, "Do we get to kill people?"
_______
Melanarde watched the two go and wondered what they were going to be talking about. Part of her considered following, but she didn't want to piss Raminus off too badly. After all, she might need his help at some point during all this. So, to give herself something to do, she turned to Fears-Not-Death.

"Fears-Not-Death, huh? So.. how did you come to travel with that little stripe-dressed oddball? Is she like this all the time?" she asked, just trying to strike up conversation without it being idle, useless blather.

Zelric looked up, staring at a man no other than Liam Craine, the new Arch-Mage of the Mages' Guild. Liam stood a few inches over Zelric as well, but only about one or two above Fears-Not-Death. He had a slender but well-fed body, and a long dark blue robe with specks of white flickered across the silk. He was Breton, and his eyes looked listless but scholarly, hazel orbs staring down at the paper Raminus had copied some characters upon with interest. His hair was visible, as he had no hood upon his head, straight black hair running over the sides of his head, and in the middle of his face. is hair was about nose-length on him, and he looked foreign in some way that Zelric couldn't quite place.

"Ah..." He mumbled in a whispering voice, looking up with his wizened eyes at Zelric. For such a young person, he looked like he acquired the knowledge of an elder. He didn't look a day over 25, however. "So...you are the one they call...Zelric, yes?" He asked pronouncing his name "Zel-reek".

The Argonian nodded quickly, and Raminus nodded his head toward the Arch-Mage, looking at the paper scrolled up in his hands. He also kept in mind that the other Argonian wanted some ingredients for travel, but that would have to wait. Zelric caught on, and stepped forward, handing the binded paper to the Arch-Mage. "Here you are....do you have any clues as to what kind of language this is?" The young Argonian asked, curious.

Craine looked up to him, and then to the scroll, before gently opening it in front of him, fingers tracing carefully over the ink as if he were caressing the art. "It looks like an inverted form of Daedric script. It will take me some time to figure out what all of it means, but the easily read Daedric characters should give me enough clues to decipher the meaning of this...in Cyrodiilic. I ask that you leave this with me, and once I figure the meaning of the scroll, or learn something new...I shall have Raminus send a messenger. Don't worry, we'll find you wherever you are."

Zelric cringed at the word "wherever", as if the Arch-Mage was implying something with that. Either that or he was just using a snooty tone with him. "Y-yes sir." He said despite his annoyance, and backed up.

"First...I suggest you check around the city; ask some locals what they think, what they know. Decide whether they are lying, and report any suspicious people to me at once."

To you? The Arch-Mage? But what about the Imperial Guard, or maybe the Blades? The light-scaled Argonian thought, before voicing his thoughts. "But shouldn't the first people to turn to be the guard?"

The Arch-Mage's face softened, and he shrugged ever so slightly. "Boy...you really are new to this city. If I were you, I would only trust the guild. The council nor the guard can't be trusted with genuine activity. All they do...sit....watch...execute when they see fit...we mages do things efficiently; don't you trust us?"

Zelric looked at him for a moment, and began to sort of understand what he was really saying. "Yes sir. I'll be sure to do so."

"Very good, then. I shall instruct Raminus to allow you some...access to our services. Raminus, you know what to do."

"Yes, Arch-Mage."

"Now then," the Arch-Mage started again, looking over at Menelri before waving his hand dismissively. "leave me and take the girl with you. I don't deal with convicts."

Convicts? Does he mean that...but how could such...wait, what!? Zelric inwardly demanded, before nodding toward Menelri and the exit. "Come on Menelri. You go tell the others our first order of business, and I'll go with Raminus to receive our supplies. Do you remember what was said?" He asked, motioning her out. Before they left, though, he stopped, and looked down to Menelri.

"Are you....a convict? You were in prison?"

______

Fears looked over at Melanarde as she spoke suddenly, and rubbed his fingers together. "She seems rather eccentric, Lady Menelri does. She was in prison for many a year, and that left her a bit disturbed, I'm sure." He explained to the Altmer, before wrapping his right hand around his own neck. "Did you notice the collar about her neck? That was put there by the council. I believe that...whenever Menelri misbehaves some way...it will injure her. A way to keep her in check, they assume. I believe it's cruel."

OOC: Remember peeps, YOU CAN STILL JOIN. Also, mesa cant do anything right yet.

OOC:Guess who's back? But before I can continue posting as Fears; aulakauss, would you happen to have Fears Char. sheet? I'm going to need it posted before I can pick up where I left off.(nevermind:found it. and thanks for RPing Fears for me Aulakauss. I really apreciate it )

Name:Fears-Not-Death
(nick':reaper)

Gender:Male

Race:argonian

Age: 20

Height:6',1"

Eye color: Blood-red, with purple specks

Skin Color: blue-Green on his back,red on his front

Hair Style:Horns(straight,not ram)

Class:Marsh Warrior

Class Focus: Long blade, Spear, a bit of magic, and light armor

Major skills, Long blade, Spear, Destruction, Light armor, Alteration

Sign: the atronach

General Appearance: sinewy, looks more like an acrobat than a warrior. he wears a mix of chitin and netch armor underneath a black cloak(complete with hood). he always carries a green soulgem on a pendant around his neck (all my characters have a soulgem pendant). he has one long scar going down his left arm, and is a little conscious of it, and tries to cover it up. he has tribal tattoos going down the sides of his face, around his neck, and all the way down to the middle of his back.

Weapons: always carries a steel longsword and a glass dagger(the most expensive thing he owns). he also will use magic if needed.

spells:open, lock, greater fireball/frost/shock,poison

Mental description: he has a cold, calculating exterior, but only maintains this because he is ashamed of his past.on the inside he still has the heart of someone much younger, but refuses to show it. he is very clever, and can see ways out of situations that some others can't. he also can have a bit of a dark sense of humor

Brief History: born in morrowind, where argonians are generally treated harshly, he moved his life into Cyrodiil. once there, he and his family were happy, but his parents were among the first to be killed by the Twin Moons cult. He was unable to save his parents and is still bitter. he now uses his skills trying to get revenge for his parents.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Fears-Not-Death talked with Melenarde he found himself wondering how this series of events had come to occur. he walks into a bar, walks out, meets a convict, and his world is thrown upside down. What could possibly happen next?

OOC: I go join now!



Now to begin! */OOC*


The door to the King and Queen Tavern creaked open, and a large, armored Khajiit entered. He did not look amused, so most people who initially looked to acknowledge his presence quickly looked away, especially once noticing the forboding scar on his left cheek. The sword at his side and the spear strapped to his back clattered in unison with the armor plating as he strode to the counter and sat down. His bracers clacked on the wood as he crossed his arms and leaned on the counter, waiting for the lady within to serve him.

OOC: YAY!

ooc: Moyuko! I mean.. Saitiyo! Good to see ya. Sorry this took a bit for me to reply. Was off molesting metroids and space pirates and feeding my face.

ic: As Kituo came in and sat down, a shortish Khajiiti female stood at the bar in a provocative, yet not quite immodest outfit, cleaning a metal tankard with a rag. A black and red corset-style shirt of custom design clung to her top, covering all but a small but noticeable amount of her cleavage, the small sleeves of it falling just short of her elbows. On her lower half, she wore a pair of black leather greaves with a lace-trimmed skirt of similar color to the top over it so that one could no see the greaves without sticking their head in a place it didn't belong. A pair of battle-scarred black adamantium boots clung to her little feet, the foot of one having been occupied with tapping on the ground prior to Kituo's entrance. Her manner of dress made her look every bit a pirate wench that had been left ashore when her crew left, but nothing could be farther from the truth; not only could she barely swim, she hated ships. They always resulted in a loss of lunch and bile for her.

As the scarred Khajiit walked in and the room fell silent, she knew who it was without looking. Only one customer could evoke such silence from her usual band of drunken louts that loved to try their hand at playing grabass with her, and that was him. Her snow-white, and oddly humanoid looking face tilted up to him as he came in and sat down. A small scowl sat on her delicate, seeming misplaced elven features as she regarded him from behind slitted green eyes. Then her mouth tugged up in a smile and she chuckled softly, a mischievous chuckle, the only kind she knew how to make.

"Kit, you always kill the fun." she informed him jestingly, her voice, like her face, having an oddly elegant, elven tone to it. The Khajiit growl was there, but it was subtle. As she set down the tankard and brought a bottle of beer out from behind the counter, cooled with a frost spell she'd only recently learned in the last two years, and poured half the contents into the container, she shook her head.

"Don't you know how to smile, you hardassed furball?" she teased him eloquently as she set the drink down in front of the man and leaned on the table, giving him a nice view down her shirt which he never seemed as distracted by as most of her regulars. She often used her femininity to shut people up. It was about the only thing she ever used it for in truth; she was hardly a lady. But this one never needed shutting up. She just liked teasing him. Sitting down opposite him, she itched at the ruffled cascade of blood colored hair that fell from her head, gracing her body with a seemingly out-of-place tint of redness. After a moment, she leaned her elbows on the table and lowered her head so she could look up into his eyes from where he sat, facing down at the table.

"C'mon.. give me a good, honest grin and the beer's on me." she prodded him playfully, yet with a bit of caution. She'd only known him a few days, maybe a week at most, but he always seemed reserved and sad to her. She never thought he'd get mad at her for her teasing.
_______
ooc: Just letting Saitiyo see this so he can get going, then I'll edit in Menelri and Melanarde's postingz. Feels good to play Karst happy for once since, lol. She's so fun when she's chipper. Here we go, editness! Go go Elder Pain Collar!

ic: Menelri stood up like a thing possessed and began to draw her sword in anger. She believed herself innocent due to the fact that the men and mer of Hackdirt had tried to kill her prior to her firebombing of their town. At this moment, though, she let out a small, shocked cry of pain, grabbed her neck and sank to her knees on the floor, the silver blade sliding back into its sheathe.

"No! Please, no! Don't.." she started to gasp, then stopped talking and let out a piercing scream of pain as she felt like every inch of her body had just been punched at the same time by enraged Flame Atronachs. Her skin ached and burned for a whole ten seconds that felt to her like an eternity before the pain stopped, leaving her muscles tensed to uncomfortable levels. She groaned pitifully as she relaxed her body gradually and grabbed Zelric's leg, sobbing hysterically into his kneecap.

"The.. the pain.. why.. not fair.. tricked me.." she sobbed incoherently, only the few bits of her gibbering ranting being understandable to anyone.
_______
Melanarde handed Fin back his soul gems and nodded to Fears as he explained Menelri in a nutshell to her, noting the collar in particular.

"I thought it was odd, but.. she's odd, so.. I didn't question it like I would have if say, you had come in wearing it." she explained, "But I do agree, it seems rather cruel to me. I'll have a look at it and see if I can't get it off her without causing her too much pain. I know enough about enchantments to do it I think. Unless they've got some ancient vampire master enchanting things in ways I've never heard of before, which I'd not put past them for a moment."

Seeing as the walls were of thick stone, she couldn't hear the little woman crying in agony because of the very thing she was discussing with Fears.

"Y'know, I wonder what she did to piss them off?" Mel mused a moment later. "I know they're moody lot, but still. Putting a torture device on a small girl? Seems awful extreme to me."

As the lady approached him, Kituo took a minute to undo the sword sheathed at his side. He meticulously untied the ribbon-like sash that held it firmly to his side, as if it was some complex device that would explode if it was not taken apart properly. The thin fabric loosened, showing slack, and he took the sheated blade off to prop it against the counter in front of his seat, where it would be ready if he needed it, but not clattering unnecessarily against the plates secured against his thigh. The spear was a different story, but he ignored it for now; its reach was much too large to make its removal practical in this area.

He snorted as she poked at him, brushing her hand away to reach for the bottle of beer. His eyes made their way from her hand briefly over her chest to her eyes. It was not meant to be an intimidating glare, but it was natural that his pervasive rough demeanor would override any softness that he could attempt to inject. The last bits of everyday charm were drained from his face in the same series of events that put the very obvious scar on his cheek. Of course, while all that had happened, females were the last thing on his mind, as they so often were as a permanent result.

As he looked at her with some combination of fatigue and boredom, he released his strict Legion posture, removing his arms from the counter in order to slightly stretch them. "This one is still too dry to make it... honest," he said at last, for a split second regaining the natural charm found in the typical Khajiit tavernmonger. He leaned against the counter once more, earning another set of clacking sounds from his heavy bracers. The bottle raised for a long moment before the inevitable sigh as it dropped back down to the wooden surface.

"I am sure that something a little stronger would cause me to remember this action sooner." He had, once again, changed from traditional Khajiit third-person to the more common Cyrodilic manner of speech. With it returned the rough undertones of a man who surely had more than his fair share of hissing and shouting. It was something he seemed to do entirely at random, and the origin of such a quirk was far from clear, as much of the information of his origin was in general.

ooc: Pity I can't take Karst with us.. Ah wellz.

ic: Karst suppressed a smile as his eye eyes meandered over her chest to her eyes, though he likely saw the withheld smile in her eyes. They were always a dead giveaway of how she was feeling for anyone who could read them, even if she could act any emotion she wished at almost any time she wanted.

"Well, then, three gold. Six if you want another one, which I assume you do. You always do, don't'cha?" she said, pushing the tankard over to him and getting up, "You get the rest. I can't stand beer; my stomach ties itself in knots every time I drink it, so I don't. I'll take whiskey over that sour stuff." she said rather matter-of-factly, though still maintained her casual, carefree tone.

Her red-laced black skirt swished as she walked with dull, quiet thumps over to the bar and grabbed a jug of whiskey, poured herself a glass and put two gold in the small jewelry box they used as a cash drawer. She pulled out another beer and it frosted over in her pale palm as she carried it and her drink to Kituo and set both down just as a drunken Nord called out to her.

"Hey! Hey, furry lady. Get me another bottle of.. uhm.. Med." the Nord slurred. Karst smiled good-naturedly at him and grabbed a mead, chilled it for him -it was the only magicka practice she got aside from healing Ra'Veldas's cuts and bruises, of which the little six-year-old Khajiit seemed have a lot of, so she used it constantly- and set it on his table.

"That's 'mead', Ulgar, you drunken bastard." she said kindly, and he growled in annoyance.

"Gah.. Gods damn it.. I never.. never say it right when I've been drinkin' it, does I?" he slurred back.

"No, you doesn't." she replied sweetly, then whirled about in time to hear the door creak open and see a tiny Khajiit, about two feet tall with hair like hers and red, slitted eyes to match the hair, trot in like he was a customer. He went straight to Karst and tugged on her skirt.

"Mommy! Can I has some gold to get something to eat? I'm hungry.." the little one asked his tiny voice. Karst knelt gently to bring herself to his eye level and hugged him.

"Ra'Veldas, what have I told you about coming to mommy's work?" she asked sternly, and the little one's black ears shot back and his head hung.

"That I'm not a'sposed ta come.. unless it's an emergency.." he recited obediently. Karst smiled at hearing this and pulled ten gold from her pocket, took his hands and set the coins in them. She kissed him on the top of the head while she closed his hands over the gold.

"Good boy. Now go get yourself some bread and a sweetroll or something and then go play. I'll be home in a few hours." she cooed softly to him and he smiled, shocked he'd been given what he wanted and not just told to go home.

"Thanks, Mom!" he yelled joyously as he left and a few customers stared at them. One old man began shaking as he saw the little Khajiit's demonic looking eyes and no sooner had the small child left, the man pointed and screamed.

"Demon! Little demon child! Kill it! Kill it before it kills us all in our sleep!" he cried in his croaking voice, finger outstretched and shaking, Karst stood up and her eyes narrowed to slits. She walked over to the man and grabbed his collar, shoved him against the wall about a foot off the ground and pressed her face to his.

"That's my baby you're talkin' about, you ungrateful old codger. So, unless you want me to make a suppository out of your rum there, I suggest you can it." she growled angrily in his face, then headbutted him and knocked him out. Letting the limp body fall gracelessly to the floor, she went and sat down in the chair across from Kituo in an unusual manner: her rump on the top of the back of the chair, right foot in the seat, left one on the edge of the table and tail hanging from under her skirt to hang with its black tip just a few inches from the floor. She growled gutturally and took a large gulp of the whiskey, winced a little and set it down.

"I hate that old man.." she muttered, then sighed and looked to Kituo again from her odd perch. "I need a better [censored]in' job than this. No way to raise a kid.. Being a single mother and a barmaid ain't easy. Just hope he turns okay from all of this crap.." she explained and took another gulp. She never drank away from work, but while there, she both needed it and had easy access to however much she could buy, so she drank. At home, though, she was clean and sober.