Krom Grimblade /Laintar Dale Hall
Nord, Berserker

Sighing the Berserker stopped following the orc "if he does not want any of my drink then more for me" he muttered angrily. It was getting dark so the Nord decided he had been out long enough and started making his was back to the group.

Entering the Hall once more Krom walked back to his table with his pack still there he grunted in satisfaction looking around the room, He was quite sure no one would dare touch his few possessions besides if he could not trust them to not steal from him how could he trust them in a fight. Sitting back in the chair that he had vacated just a few moments ago he started to reflect on the past.
Staring around the room Krom at all these people all had their own reasons for being here, but what he wondered?.

Drathyn Verethi, Riverwood

Drathyn listened as the ominous voice pervaded the room, the old Nord's staff was glowing. Drathyn listened tentatively until the old Nord was done speaking, he then turned back to Senes and Auelenne.

"So Auelenne, why is a nice old lady like yourself fighting dragons?" Drathyn had been curious of the answer to this question. Since they met in Whiterun he kept wondering what would drag someone of her nature into this quest.

Lord’s Hall, Laintar Dale

Surius Roscius

Surius listened in an anxious silence as the others spoke, his teeth flashing between his plump lips like a hungry wolf, waiting to make its move. 'Not a bad choice,' Surius watched Davian as he spoke, taking a mental inventory of everyone present, picking out those that would be left in his group. The final result stretched his face into a grimace. 'Not the woman, oh please, keep the woman out of our group.' The Imperial himself had nothing against the fairer six- quite the opposite, really- but it was Baal he was worried about. 'The fool can't seem to keep his bloody hands off them,' the nobleman glanced over to the Dunmer, still lurking by the fireplace, 'What's worse is that they almost seem genuinely attracted to the wrinkled elf. How the bloody fool manages it I'll never know!'

Surius was so deep within his own thoughts, he almost missed the Breton's blatant insult. His trained ear barely caught the so-called nobleman's words; he had to catch himself before his mouth fell open at the man's audacity. 'Fancius Pantsius? How dare he!' The nobleman glared at the Breton, unconsciously running a hand over his fine white leggings. He had left his satins back in Whiterun, in favor of more practical fur-lined wool. Finely spun, to be sure, and dyed a dazzling white, not to mention the rare white-bear fur trimming the sides and hem, but to the Imperial it was nearly burlap. His white jacket was similar, trimmed also with a light-gray wolf fur, accented by a silver and opal amulet 'round his neck; the Breton must simply be jealous of Imperial wealth. 'Yes, that is it. They always have been.'

The Imperial was brought out of his fashion crisis by the voice of the Dunmer mage, admitting his inability to perform the spell Surius had suggested. 'What?' he turned to the elf, eyes oozing venom, pearly smile gone, 'What kind of a bloody mage doesn't know bloody mysticism?! What manner of fools have I been condemned to work with?' First the Breton's remarks, now an elf making him look the fool. Surius would have none of it.

After waiting for yet another frost-for-brains Nord to finish pledging his allegiance to Davian, Surius stepped forward once more. He shot two malicious looks at the Breton and Dunmer, hidden behind his veneer of a smile, before speaking. "Ah, I did not realize you were not trained in such arts, my friend." The Imperial made the words sound like an insult. "And of course I can document our little foray into the frigid unknown; I am a proper nobleman afterall, not some would-be warrior with delusions of grandeur. But enough of this, it is not proper to keep our fine host waiting." Surius inclined his greasy head to the Nordic lord, apparently waiting for them to form into their respective groups.

"I would be honored to take one of our parties to this inn; it seems the most likely place for a dragon, afterall. I'm sure our fine Davian would have no problem inspecting this other sighting," the nobleman's smile seemed to cover his round face as he indicated the Breton. "Feel free to take some of our fine warriors with you; I'm sure you could use the company. And as our resident mage was so kind to point out, he should most likely accompany you as well. Other than that I trust the rest of you can decide who you would rather follow." Surius finishd with a flourishing bow, nodding once more to the lord before returning to his seat.

Hanniel Baal

"You are right, friend. I was just thinking the same thing. He would have have us do the fighting and claim the glory for himself." Baal turned to the Nord, practically silent until now, with an amiable smile. The Dunmer was surprised- he had intended his words for the Bosmer- but one sword was as good as another, in the end. The enemy of his enemy was nearly always his friend, particularly when that enemy was Surius.

"I've known many good men die because of little lordlings' arrogance." Baal nodded his agreement, wincing at the Nord's barbaric display of displeasure towards the Imperial, but maintained his cool, familiar smile. He was well versed in hiding his emotions, making others believe what he willed, but despite all his practice, his smile never managed to reach his eyes. Those always burned with a cold hate, pools of distant fire, flickering shadows of the madness beneath. "What is your name, friend?"

"Baal," the Dunmer replied cooly, "Hanniel Baal, and quite unfortunately I find myself with the slimy twit you see speaking." Baal indicated Surius with a flick of his gray-haired head, the corners of his thin mouth curving in sincere hatred. "Quite tragically, he managed to wrap me around his finger rather tightly; I am genuinely forced to follow the fool. Without my assistance, the poor snot wouldn't know a bear for a hare."

The Nord was approached by another of his stock- the two could be twins for all their rippling muscle- and gratefully accepted the bottle of Rotgut that was apparently being passed around. Baal frowned at the drink- wine was as strong as he went, usually- but took the chance to turn his attention to the Bosmer he had meant his words for. "And what of you, my good Bosmer? What do you think of our pampered butterball of an Imperial?"

Lord’s Hall, Laintar Dale

Krom Grimblade

Running his hand over his shaved head watching the imperial swine's tirade Krom's eyes began to narrow at the imperial. " such a finely dressed little fop i wonder if he plans on getting it dirty or would his Dumner do all the work for him" the berserker thought angrily. " To speak with such arrogance in his voice" at least the Breton is a warrior and had earned a small measure of respect from from Krom. Surius however only seemed to be dead weight to the warrior "what purpose can this imperial hog serve? If he must do anything then let it be as bait" Krom thought almost happily.

His eyes fell on the dumner next "what are you up to over there?" by the looks Baal kept sending the imperials way Krom began to come under the impression that the imperial's henchman was not overly fond of his master.

Taking another swig from his already diminished bottle of Rotgut Krom could tell that there was going to be problems. Standing up Krom grabbed his gear and walked toward Davian shouldering past the annoying imperial slug making him stumble away, nodding at his new leader in respect Krom took his place behind Davian dropping his gear with a loud thud. "if i am to follow him then i must also support him" thought the Nord.

Elynniel Arthedaine - Lord’s Hall, Laintar Dale

Watching Surius speak, Elynniel reflected that he seemed to be a rather spiteful little man. His flamboyant attire, not to mention his less-than-friendly remark towards Xerca's lack of expertise in a particular field of magic did little to endear him to her, or, she imagined, the rest of the group either. She listened as he spoke, nodding slightly, it was obvious where his nomination of both him and Davian as leaders came from, it didn't surprise her at all to find that both men were leading opposite groups. Though she did wonder how Xerca would feel about this, he seemed to be a rather likable person, and she hoped that his not-so dignified dismissal from a leader role wouldn't cause him to react badly.

Elynniel glanced at Surius once more, her eyes drawn to his flashy clothing, yet again. She hoped he had more proper clothes to wear when they actually set out, it couldn't have been cheap, acquiring finery like that, and she would hate to see it sullied by hard-travel and combat. Stepping forward, she looked at Surius with a slight smile and said
"Sir Surius, I would be delighted if you would have me in your group," She wondered if she was sounding insincere, she certainly hoped not, "I am certain my skills will more make up for a lack of martial prowess."

Tariq - Laintar Dale - Lord's Hall

The more the imperial spoke, the thinly disguised insults and false smiles was edging on the Khajiit, and more and more he felt the imperial being used as a bait would become a reality. Tariq’s face cracked into a grin uttering a half snort at Surius’ response to Davian’s appropriately placed nickname. It seemed the imperial was good at only one thing; making enemies, he was even more obnoxious than Davian, indeed in the Witchhunter’s eyes the imperial made the boisterous breton come off as someone some merits to his tall tales. Tariq was leaning against the table gaze just following the imperial as he paraded around, shooting a small insult at Xerca for announcing that he didn’t know mysticism thusly butchering the imperial’s previous argument.

Tariq didn’t really mind who he’d go along with but if he was to be frank he preferred Davian’s company to Surius’ in fact it would be better for Surius’ continued good health if the Khajiit went with the Breton. The Witchhunter was ill-disposed to the noble, to the point he had to constrain himself not make the plump man spontaneously combust, even if such an act would be a small waste of magicka the satisfaction would completely out weight the consequences. “I’ll go with Davian, I am sure he’ll have use for my skills in mysticism, among others.” The Khajiit spoke up moving from the table and over to the Breton, after the young half-bred lass had announced her wish to go with Surius. “Provided of course, he’ll have me.” The ohmes-raht glanced at the Breton, mysticism was a powerful, and if not rather sinister school of magic.

Xerca - Laintar Dale

Xerca pursed his lips at the hidden insult, The bastard. he thought to himself as he looked to the noblemans dunmer counterpart. He contemplated for a moment why such a person would ever follow someone as disgusting and cowardly as Surius. "I would recommend someone with more experience to lead the other group, no offence my friend: but I doubt you'd know what to do with yourself if we do end up facing a dragon. I may not know mysticism, but I've had to fight off more then just indigestion." Feeling slightly better, he turned to Revis, "Revis or Jarn would be my first recommendation, they know how to fight and I'm sure they're more than capable." The feeling of no longer leading felt worse than Surius' insults.

He had come to the mission thinking he'd make his family proud, only, his only leadership role was playing Silt Strider for everyone while they got to Laintar Dale. I can do it! he told himself, his eyes twitching in Davians way. Jealousy hit him hard and he cursed under his breath. However, he took a deep breath and calmed himself, he had learnt to control his emotions so it didn't interfere with his spell casting and although he wasn't the best at it - He was able to atleast calm himself slightly. It's fine, Davian is young, but I'm sure he'll be fine. He insisted, his ears twitching at every word.

Jarn Imgarth, Lainter Dale

"Baal," the Dunmer replied, "Hanniel Baal, and quite unfortunately I find myself with the slimy twit you see speaking." Baal indicated to the noble. He continued speaking, "Quite tragically, he managed to wrap me around his finger rather tightly; I am genuinely forced to follow the fool. Without my assistance, the poor snot wouldn't know a bear from a hare."

Jarn let out a deep chuckle. "Ha, don't I believe it." The Dunmer turned and began talking to the Bosmer who was also sitting next to the fire and Jarn took the opportunity to to drink deeply from the bottle of Rotgut again. He could feel its effects now. His movements seem to lag a split second behind his thoughts and he began slurring his words. A part of himself was telling him it was a bad idea to get this intoxicated but Jarn no-longer cared. Besides, the drink gave him the confidence he wouldn't normally have. He downed the rest of the bottle and slung it into the fire. The bottle crashed into the back of the fire place and exploded into a small ball of fire which flashed brightly before disappearing. Jarn stood up, with the ice in his stomach urging him on.

He staggered into the centre of the room, where the other members of the group had been bickering. Xerca, their previous leader had just finished talking and, to Jarn's surprise, had nominated him as a potential leader. He started speaking, his words slightly slurred and his brow sweating.

"No, Xerca. You shall not allow these . . . " He waved a bear-sized hand towards Surrius and the Breton, " . . .these nobles," he spat out the word in disgust, "to decide our fate for us. They have no right!" he said, his voice rising, "they have no right to . . . to . . ." He breathed deeply gathering his thoughts. What am I doing? "The King, my King, commanded you to lead us. I will honour that command. And these . . . men should honour that command too. I will not be lead by a boy nor a pampered noble. Not again. Xerca, you are the King's chosen leader and I give you my sword."

Auelenne, Riverwood



Auelenne perked up at the question, it completely took her by surprise. She tried to quickly anolyze the words as she sifted through them for any hidden or deeper intentions.

It's a simple enough question, stop searching around it.
There is nothing hiding here, trust in Drathyn and Senes.

She soon felt comfortable, but still wasn't sure how to answer it. She grinned.

"Well, nice and old is just an opinion, are they not?" She shrugged. "An observation."
She ran a hand through her thick hair, and pulled the lengths out of her robe collar, from behind her neck.

"Would I be more suitable for dragon fighting if I were mean and young?"
She glanced at Senes, trying to read his reaction.

Maybe. But you'd also be a damned fool.

Davian Hawkstar - Laintar Dale

Deciding to continue the trading of insults with the other noble, and not hiding behind a veneer of diplomacy, Davian Hawkstar concurred with the Imperial's suggestion... for the most part. "Well, if Shirlius Templius here believes she can handle the duties of Dragon Hunting, then I say let her. I, of course, will defer to your leadership, Commander," he explained to Xerca, nudging Surius at with his insult. "Of course, don't hesitate to consult me if you need tactical or strategic advice. Do you know abjurative magic? We'll need elemental defenses. If not... I hope the mages guild here accepts credit from the Bank of Daggerfall and or Hawkstar Estate."

Turning to the offensive Imperial, he grinned. "I hope you know, Serious Rascallius, that, as leader of the second team and with the absence of a mage, you're responsible for ensuring your group has the wizardly support needed for hunting and fighting these dragons... Of course, I'm just certain you'd have no problem reaching into your deep pockets to ensure the safety and effectiveness of the group you've so generously volunteered to lead."

He leaned back with a smirk, until Krom came up and offered his support to Davian. "I appreciate the gesture, Krom. But it's Xerca who needs your support. I defer to the commander appointed by our employer. Even if he doesn't have the tactical expertise, he has more years of experience and greater wisdom than my entire house... Even Uncle Mervyn Hawkstar," he answers. To Jarn's rant, he merely adopted a ridiculous accent that could almost be seen as a parody of Surius' Nibinean accent, but coming off more as a Cyrodillic Breton's. "Aww... shuddupyomouf and git een line, le Peziant. Bifo' I haz to maek you phey!" Either way... it definitely wasn't sincere.

Nodding " i will follow whom ever i must as long as they are worthy" muttered Krom staring hard at Xerca the berserker felt that even though he was a mage he was a good man. Nodding to Xerca now "then the pledge i made to Davian goes for you too mage, My blade is yours i will follow where ever you lead as long as there are many dragons when we get there" he said with a grim smile. With that he walked back to his unoccupied table making sure to stop and stare down the imperial worm before continuing on his way.
Reaching the table he once again dropped his gear on top and sat back into his chair that strained under the bulk of Krom and his massive plate armor. Looking over to Jarn the berserker nodded ,a man that kept his vows was someone you could trust, it was the Nord way.
Krom sat back in his groaning chair happy that things had started moving along he waited wanting to see what would happen next.

Senes Varvun, Riverwood

Senes glanced up as he heard Draythan ask Auelenne what a 'nice old lady' like her was doing hunting dragons. Nice, old lady? he thought. I doubt it. She's probably much more dangerous than she seems. Like he thought Auelenne said, "Well, nice and old is just an opinion, are they not? An observation." She paused, and Senes noticed she looked at him as she said, "Would I be more suitable for dragon fighting if I were mean and young?"

Senes chuckled an said, "No, I doubt it. Being young and mean simply corresponds to being hated and inexperienced. Neither of which are particularly valuable to someone who wants to hunt dragons." He paused and ran hi hand along his face, fingers lingering along his scars. "No, being old is actually beneficial to adventurers. More experience. Less naive. More patience. Less recklessness." He looked at the floor, thinking back to when he was young. All of the adventures. All of the mistakes ...

Auelenne, Riverwood

"Age certainly has its limitations, doesn't it." She said, smiling at Senes. "Like everything, there are pros and cons." She gave a slight shrug.
"It's not that I want to fight dragons, Drathyn." Auelenne said, her voice lowering. "I don't even know if they exist."
She pulled out her sack of cookies and plopped it on the table, motioning for them to help themselves.

"We all have an ugly past at some point," she said to Drathyn, "and a questionable reputation. I'd just like to do something to help salvage what I have left."

Within a single blinding moment, Auelenne quickly unsheathed her glass dagger and stuck it into the tabletop in front of her.
Her eyes admired the quality craftsmanship of the pure green glass, and the intertwined complexities of gold and silver. The candlelight danced within the blade's quivering glass, casting an emerald hue across her dextrous hands. She waited for the handle to stop wavering in the air before continuing.

"And if I have to kill a god or a dragon," she said into the air over the Dunmers, "then so be it."
-
"You two have been pretty quiet about all this, so why are you here?" She said, as she sat back in her chair and folded her arms.

Drathyn, Riverwood

Drathyn listened quietly as Senes and Auelenne exchanged words, Auelenne stating that she didn't even know if dragons were real. "You two have been pretty quiet about all this, so why are you here?" Said the old Altmer as she leaned back and crossed her arms.

"Well, I can tell you that dragons are real." Drathyn unlaced his leather bracer and rolled up his left sleeve to reveal a fresh scar than ran down the top of his forearm. "As for the reason I'm here, it is to protect my family. If these dragons aren't taken care of now then nothing will stop them from destroying all of Skyrim, and possibly all of Tamriel." he said as he re-laced his bracer. "And part of me seeks adventure again, it's been quite some time since I did anything other than hunting. Once upon a time I was a mercenary in the Crimson Blades, I led the northern contingent for 12 years."

Jarn Imgarth, Lainter Dale

Jarn cocked his head towards the heavily armoured Breton, confused. For the second time in as many days he had the feeling that Davian was insulting him. KILL HIM Jarn felt unsteady on his feet as the voice in his head screeched at him KILL KILL KILL. His head was throbbing and he stumbled towards Davian. KILL HIM The voice had reached a fever pitch that was splitting his head. He could feel beads of sweat dripping down his face. "No." He said quietly, suddenly regaining control of his madness.

He looked at Davian and laughed. "Ha, you're funny, Breton. I like that. But you talk too much." He said, chuckling again. "Now, can we get some food or are we just going to stand here all day chatting?" Jarn swayed slightly and sat down with a thump on a nearby chair.

Senes Varvun, Riverwood

Senes looked up as Auelenne asked him about his own reasons for dragon hunting. He listened quietly as Draythan explained his motives then said bluntly, "I've lived far too long. I wish to leave this world behind, but I have not yet found someone who could best me, and my honor prevents me from ending my own life. This quest ... is noble, and has a high risk of death. Perfect for an old warrior like myself." Senes broke off for a moment and scanned the room, seeing the messenger the old Nord had pointed out a while ago.

He nodded towards the messenger and said, "Perhaps we should speak with the king's messenger and find out where our prey has last been seen? Then we will be one step closer to completing our various quests." He stood up and pushed his chair in. He leaned on the chair as he waited for his companions to go with him to speak to the messenger from the king.

OOC: And away we go! To everyone at Laintar Dale, I have been given temporary control over Lord Bjordi, and shall be posting for him now. Everyone has one post to respond and come join the feast before the timeskip sometime later this week. All you must do is make your final comments and sit down for the feast. After that we can finally get to the action of the RP

IC:

Lord's Hall, Laintar Dale

Lord Bjordi Bear-Tooth

'I have heard enough,' Bjordi thought, a firm frown set on his lips. The carefree smile he had worn mere minutes before was gone; the bickering of grown men never ceased to amaze him. 'Arrogance! Pure arrogance, all of them! Especially the Imperial; something must be done before he gets his whole party killed.'

Once the Nord had finished weighing each hunter, anolyzing both their skills and personalities, he could finally be confident in forming them into groups. There was no question that they would have to split up, but the matter of who went where was more difficult to answer. And, perhaps worst of all, whom he could entrust the leadership of these search parties to. Bjordi watched as each hunter progressively made the choice more difficult; it was obvious he could not simply trust them to decide for themselves- he would have to intervene, and soon. The Nord took a deep breath, wiping the agitation from his face before stepping into the center of the arguing hunters.

"I too grow tired of these discussions," he began, smiling at Jarn- he at least seemed an able warrior- "And more than that I grow hungry. I had hoped you could all arrange yourselves into groups, but I see now that I was mistaken. I forgot to account for the pride of some of our number," he glared at the Imperial and Breton in turn as he spoke, his thick jaw set firmly. He expected no discussion in this matter.

"As such, I have taken it upon myself to form you into groups. The king has sent me reports of all of your various skills, and I have seen for myself your attitudes. This is the best compromise I could make. If you are not happy with your group-mates, you can either svck it up, or you can leave my hall now." Bjordi folded his thick arms across his chest, his voice booming through the wooden hall. "You are here not only to hunt dragons, my friends. Remember, you are here to save Skyrim, perhaps all of Tamriel, from complete devastation. If you cannot pull together for that, then the gods have mercy on us all." The noble let the words echo for a moment, staring at each and every hunter with a level eye, before continuing.

"Now then, since I see we are all in agreement, here are the men- and women," he smiled at Elynniel, "That you shall be working with. Davian Hawkstar, you shall be leading Tariq, Jolgier, and Krom Grimblade to the farm plantation south of the mountains. Xerca Valeci, you shall lead Surius Roscius, Hanniel Baal, Revis Cervin, Elynniel Arthedaine, and Jarn Imgarth to the destroyed inn south of Amol. That is not a suggestion, mind you, that is an order, as surely as the king himself spoke it." Surius opened his mouth to speak, but Bjordi silenced the Imperial with a hard stare.

The Nord gave his words a moment to sink in, but not so long as to allow for any questions. "Well, I for one am absolutely starving. If we are done here, I invite you all to join me, for a feast worthy of those who hunt dragons!" Bjordi roared, a friendly smile lighting his face. Servants hurried into the hall, bearing a procession of trays and platters, each more succulent than the last. In no time at all the long table at the end of the hall was covered in steaming pies, fruits and cheeses, golden goblets with pitchers of wine, mead, and every drink a Nord could hope for. And at the center of the table sat a whole roast boar, glistening with glaze. Bjordi's mouth already watered.

Lord's Hall, Laintar Dale
Krom Grimblade



Nodding in acceptance, Krom stood up more than ready to eat. Taking one last swig of his Rotgut to clean his pallet the Nord warrior started removing his equipment. First reaching to his side and removing his nordic battle axe and placing it on his pac. Next came his greatsword "Dragon's Fang" reaching over his shoulder he started unbuckling the shoulder scabbard very slowly finally taking it off he carried it almost reverently. Finally he unclasped his his cloak. The long silver/white pelt still even after all these years the thing was untarnished and had kept him warm even on the coldest winter nights. Setting his weapons and cloak neatly on his pac the Berserker straightened up his gear would be safe here he decided. "No one here would dare take my sword even if they did they would be dead before they reached the door" Krom thought darkly for he was far from unskilled with his daggers and he was more than capable of throwing one at a fleeing target.


Turning around and taking just a few steps away from his gear Krom felt something not words but more of a mental tug. Look back at "Dragon's Fang" he sighed and grabbed it taking it with him to the Feast. Putting the sheathed blade on the back of his chair the Nord felt almost happy. Before him was the largest spread of food he has ever seen! Mouth watering Krom was eyeing the boar with the glint of a challenge in his eye. "if i can dine like this just once a month! such food and i did not have to kill or harvest it myself" the Berserker thought happily. Helping himself Krom grabbed a whole pitcher of mead and proceeded to down its contents as fast as humanly possible. Emptying the pitcher Krom's eyes fell upon something that made him grin like he hadn't since his village was attacked. Before him was a steaming platter and its contents could be only one thing braised elk cooked in reduced Rosethorn Mead. Tipping most of the contents of the platter onto a plate in front of him staring at the tender moist meat small cut onions and minced garlic were floating amongst the au jus. Grabbing a spoon he slowly lifted the first bite to his mouth. Upon tasting it Krom just sat back in shock" this tastes just the same as when my family would make it" remembering times long gone Krom truly smiled for the first time in years looking down at his meal he began eating in earnest he tried a little of everything and allot of boar making sure to wash down each bite with a bit of drink!


Looking over to Lord Bear-Tooth, Krom actually grinned at him" my compliments to your cooks Lord Bear-Tooth i have not had food of the caliber in far too long. Thank you for this" Krom told the Lord. Looking around the room Krom was wondered if any one else was enjoying the food. Raising his glass and standing the normally silent Krom nodded to the entire group" for glory and victory over our enemies! May the gods have mercy and strike down our enemies so they wont have to face the force that is us!" The very intoxicated Krom bellowed before emptying an entire flagon of Rotgut in one gulp. Blood pumping through his head the berserker was having a hard time keeping his bloodlust under control. Krom had to fight himself from getting up and taking his sword outside to find a foe"one night please just one night of rest it has been so many years since i have slept with out worry" gritting his teeth Krom fought back his inner fire using the boars leg he ha don his plate as a target for his building fury.

Though it was a constant battle he was able to control himself for the duration of the meal after all " this could be the last time any of us can eat like this before our quests begin". Controlling his anger Krom was actually able to relax for just one night.

Elynniel Arthedaine - Laintar Dale - Lord's Hall

Elynniel smiled faintly as Bjordi's thunderous voice roared through the hall, silencing all of them save, Bjordi, who could then speak in relative peace. She listened to him as he spoke, though she noted that the group led by Davian had a distinct lack in numbers compared to the group led by Xerca, her group. Personally, she was delighted, she wouldn't need to be taking order's from Surius, which would make her feel a bit less guilty about borrowing his equipment later on. As the Lord concluded his speech, a wide grin broke out on Elynniel's face, eyeing the huge assortment of food being placed before them. The mere sight of the food, the succulent smells and aromas, the wafting mouth-watering scent of expertly prepared beef, with generous amounts of gravy heaped on it... She could go on and on. Deciding not to waste any time, she grinned at her fellow companions, then to their noble host, making a eloquent bow in his direction,

"My Lord, you do us a great, great, honour. We came as a ragged group of travelers, but now, now we are dining like kings." Elynniel wondered if this was so that they'd all have one last, memorable meal before they were killed, but she'd rather not think about that. Smiling appreciatively at Bjordi, her face set and determined, she continued, "I... We, will find the dragon which plagues your land, and bring it back, in your honour." Well, really, they were doing it for the King of Whiterun, but still, Bjordi would certainly be very appreciative if they brought news that the dragon rauaging his land was slain. He would offer some reward, no doubt. With that, she spun on her heels and all but charged the table, eager to sample the delights that their host so graciously provided.

Jarn Imgarth, Lainter Dale

"Finally." Jarn went and sat down at the long table which was covered in food stuffs of all kind. He grabbed at various meats, elk, venison, lamb, boar and placed them on his place. He at greedily stuffing meat, bread and meed into his mouth. "My thanks, Lord." He said through a mouthful of food. He looked over at Krom who was busily filling himself in a similar manner to Jarn.

"What do you say we make this interesting, friend?" Jarn said to Krom, a mischievousness look in his eyes. "I wager I can drink you under the table tonight!" Jarn picked up a pitcher of mead, and raised it towards Krom. "Cheers" he said loudly before raising the pitcher to his lips and drinking deeply. He placed the pitcher down and smacked his lips in appreciation of the fine drink. "That's the stuff."

A savage glint in his eyes, Krom nodded Clanking a fresh pitcher of Mead against Jarn's they proceeded to become beyond the point of oblivion. Smiling and truly happy Krom and Jarn soon had a growing pile of bones and empty pitchers and flagons in front of them. "To skyrim, may all her enemies fall before our blades!" Krom toasted Jarn in his booming voice.

Davian Hawkstar - Laintar Dale
Who the hell does he think he is? Davian thought bitterly at Lord Bjordi Bear-Tooth's assignment of the group. It wasn't that the Breton had a problem with the assigned groups... In fact, he agreed with them, but it was the principal of the matter that bugged him. In his three eventful years of freelance adventuring, Hawkstar felt that such issues as party dynamics and makeup, especially in the event of splitting the party, had to be discussed and carefully thought out, even if the discussions did get heated. Heck, even the king's descision to arbitrarily assign a leader bugged him, as such positions were usually filled by . "Lord Bjordi, as a veteran in this sort of undertaking, and speaking as a social equal to you," He interrupted the Nord as soon as he expressed his decision to override the discussion with his own grouping adding "At least until my Father shows up again," to his second qualfier under his breath, "Trying to expedite such important issues are not in the best interests of Skyrim. Furthermore, you are trying to exert an authority you do not have. We are knight-errants, not contracted mercenaries nor conscripted soldiers." As he was about to continue, his stomach interrupted him. "But, this can be discussed in greater and more pleasant detail while we dine," he finished, letting Bjordi finish his speech and welcome them to the feast.

Taking the liberty as a Lord himself to dine beside Bjordi, Davian rather politely elaborated on his reasons for correcting where the Nordic Host was in the wrong on the issue. "I have no issue with your groupings, but I'm afraid the agreeble arrangement was out of serendipity," he explained, enjoying the exquisite food. While he was used to and didn't mind the flavors of hardtack and dried rations as an adventurer, he always appreciated the luxurious binges the wealth of such dangerous profession afforded. "My point being, we are not under any contract or obligation to kill these Dragons, having recieved no advance payment prior to this undertaking, nor expecting payment until its completion. While, as quest-giver, you do have the authority to give ordered secondary objectives - as you have with the instruction of where to investigate - the responsibility in figuring out how to accomplish such goals, such as the distribution of talent, is on us."

Davain Hawkstar looked around the hall after discussing the imminent issue, willing to continue the discussion civilly with Bjordi, and open to discussing a less contentious issue as well. His disposition during the feast could have been described as uncannily Nordic, yet not completely without "cultured" Breton influence. He ate, drank, and was merry as much as anyone, and quite vocal in his appreciation of the quality of the meal before him. Often, such praise was to the more subtle qualities of the food that most Nords don't care or think about. Though he didn't restrain his drinking, he held his liquor well... and could possibly give a better impression of remaining sober longer than many Nords in a Drinking Contest due to the incredible endurance he built up over the last three years.

Tariq - Laintar Dale - Lord's Hall

The Witchhunter saw no need to debate the issue of group configuration deciding to stride over to the table and get a good meal before the groups were forced into setting out. The Breton noble however, seemed to protest against the exerted authority displayed by the lord. The Khajiit mentally rolled his eyes, ‘Nobles!’ He thought to himself through an exhale ripping off a chunk of meat from the roast he claimed his own. Hearing the claim of being called a knight Tariq halfway wanted to object, but decided against it most people should know that he was no knight, far from it, he was a peasant, a freelancer that excelled at hunting demonic and monstrous creatures as well as megalomaniac mages, and even a lich here and there for good measure; his Witchhunter profession was hardly novelty it was gritty, quite dangerous work, and some would argue underpaid but Tariq couldn’t exactly afford to be picky and those that asked for his services were often either peasants or apprentice mages procuring for a specific hard to obtain ingredient; Tariq knew very well that those trolls didn’t give up their fat without a fight.

The only gripe Tariq had with this particular mission was not the vague context of it all, and neither the extreme dangers it involved but rather the fact that he hadn’t been paid in advance for it. Killing a dragon was not like slaying a local bandit or highwayman, no, rather it equated going up against an ancient lich; an extremely intelligent and powerful foe.

Xerca Valeci - Laintar Dale

When Xercas name was called by the lord, he felt a tingle of excitement, I am to lead! he thought as the man read out the names of who was to lead him. Infact, he was so caught up by thoughts of it, his brain only acknowledged what those names were a few seconds later. What?! he choked on the first two members of his party. His heart sank a little, it was going to be a long trip, no matter which way they went but with the damned foolish noble - It would be a very long trip. He noted the others, Jarn, Revis and Ellynial. Or something like that. It was a good group, he wouldn't lie. But did he have to have the noble bastard?

He tried to take his mind off it, the warriors roared in excitement. He found the entire thing a little barbaric. He was used to quant toasts about success and private words about strategies and who to rely on out in the area he was working in. But, the food was good, the ale was brilliant and his counterparts sure did know how to put on a good show. So he was happy, he was full and for a few moments, he stopped worrying about the noble stabbing him in the back or how a big dragon would have him for pudding.

He rolled his eyes at Davian, had he exchanged Davian for the nobleman? If so - He was glad. His patience with Davian was wearing thing, probably from the earlier gripe with leadership. Xerca felt a sort of competition between Davian and himself and this angered him. I would be a better leader. he told himself as he slurped on a goblet of thick, red wine.

Laintar Dale - Split Up

The Farm House

Davian Hawkstar, you shall be leading Tariq, Jolgier, and Krom Grimblade...

The House seemed much older than one would think. A cloudy sky overlooked the house, endless mountains and forests laying behind it. Davian, the arrogant noble, found his way through to the front door of the house. He opened it. It seemed the inside was desolate, but looked nothing like anyone would imagine a farmhouse to be. A few bookshelves were stacked here and there. A poster of cloth hung up on the right wall beside the door, showing a dragon. The door led into a small pathway, about ten feet in width and only 5 yards long before it opened up into a large, rectangular room. In the middle of the room, most notably, was a square wooden table. Two books sat on it, one red and one blue. On the right side of the table, a bloody note sat. The piece of paper was accompanied by a knife, which was directly plunged through it and into the table. Footprints of blood were seen on the right side of the table.

The rest of the group approached. As old and dirty as the house was, it seemed organized in a manner that people were living there. The rest of the group approached. Now they would decide who would follow into the room, and what they would investigate.

The Inn

Xerca Valeci, you shall lead Surius Roscius, Hanniel Baal, Revis Cervin, Elynniel Arthedaine, and Jarn Imgarth to the destroyed inn south of Amol.

The group arrived at the road sight, all mounted on horses given to them by Bjordi. The inn- or where the inn was supposed to be- was black ash beneath piles of burnt wood. Even some of the forest remained charred for unknown reasons. A large roaring sound, almost meaning something in some ancient language, came from the east in the forest. Should the group take the road around the forest on their horses? Should the group dismount and go through the woods? Should the group remain in their location and wait to see if the sound gets closer?

Riverwood

North of the Town

The group approached. An open field lay there, surrounded by a circular pattern of forests. A large cave was seen in front of them, but as the sun was setting on the other side of it, one could not see what was in the cave. A small noise of moving air, almost like a strong gust of wind, headed towards the group from the cave. Several dead bodies, some dismembered, some charred, some both, lay outside the cave in front of the group. Should the group wait and possibly examine the bodies? Or should they travel into the cave?