Kordin The Furious - Riverwood

---

Kordin's boots made deep ruts in the snow as he led his team through the mountain pass. They had been travelling south from Whiterun on foot for hours now, and the city of Riverwood was finally in view. In a large divet between icy peaks of the Jerrall Mountains, there sat a small town of grey stone bricks and dark green trees that reached to the heavens. As he continued to trek through the deep snow, the chinking noise of metal plates could be heard from his own armor, and many sets of booted footsteps crunched on the frozen earth from the group behind him. The journey to Riverwood had been taken mostly in silence, there had been casual conversation from time to time whenever someone made a remark, but otherwise there was nothing to be said. Kordin had not bothered to introduce himself to his team, and neither had they taken the time to do the same the to him. This suited Kordin just fine, as he had come here to slay dragons, not to make small talk.

Kordin's breath emerged from his mouth as a warm vapor. It trailed off into the sky and dissipated after mere seconds, as the city gate came upon them. It was open, and unmanned. Kordin led his group under the simple stone arch, as they made their way down the main street of Riverwood. The claws on his boots dug into the ice that covered the roadway, keeping him from slipping. He began to wonder how carts and caravans made their way through cities like these, where there was always ice over the roads and no ruts to speak of. On the other end of town, a large building with a set of wooden double doors at least fifteen feet high sat monumentally, with firelight dancing through it's windows. The governor's hall... Kordin thought. It might not have been the tallest building in town, but it was certainly the largest. And after all, what kind of important business would require such space unless it was a political house?

As the massive building came closer, and Kordin ascended the steps to tall doors, two armored guards stepped forward to him.

"Halt! State your business!"

Kordin said nothing, but revealed the folded slips of paper from below the plated scales of his pauldron and handed them to one of the guards, who snatched them out of his armored claws impatiently. The guard's eyebrow rose as he read over the paper, and then looked back at Kordin.

"What is this supposed to be?"

The paper had no signature, and no seal, so Kordin could understand the man's confusion.

"These are orders from the king himself." Kordin's voice was deep, and grave. It had the power of a nord's vocals, and the deep roughness of a dunmer's.

"Yeah, sure they are." He folded the papers and handed them back to Kordin, who slid them once again under his armor. Motioning with his head to his peer, the guard grasped the black handle of one of the doors, and the other followed suit. Together they pulled them open, and the gust of air that came from the heavy doors blew Kordin's fiery hair back. "Go right on in. Stendarr watch over you."

The snow began to slide away from between the talons on Kordin's boots as he stepped onto a bear's hide that lay inside the doors, and continued inside. He looked around to for his target, and took in the room. There were exquisite paintings and ornate tapestries all over the walls, and few torches hung on the wall, leaving the hall dimly lit. Everyone in sight wore high class clothing, that of nobles and politicians, except for one man hunched over on a bench in a shadowy corner. He wore a hooded fur robe, and a scarf protruded his chest and covered most of his face. Kordin approached him, his squad following behind him. Never one to know of manners or formalities, he regarded the quiet man who did not even seem to have noticed his presence yet. "I believe my companions and I have been instructed to seek you out. We were sent here by the king to investigate reports of a dragon sighting."

Auelenne, mountain pass enroute to Riverwood

Auelenne was awestruck by the flawless snowy scenery. It was like something out of a painting.

---

She'd been around Solstheim two or three times in her distant past, but the beauty was nothing in comparison.

-

There she'd only been around the main ports, and established areas. She was warned not to go exploring in the wilderness around Solstheim. Something was out there, they said. No one ever dared to explain what it was. She saw the fear in everyone's eyes - the rest was left up to her imagination.
Nothing gives you a good scare like a legend of an unexplained mystery...
Auelenne's last trip to Solstheim was supposed to be a quick "smash and grab": assault the target's house at nightfall, apprehend the target, and all other contact was to be eliminated. She was with two female Orc assassins at the time, who complained about the cold non-stop.
She stopped at a large pine tree to test fire her steel crossbow. The snow flurries were blowing harder as she took aim, and her hands ached beneath her thin black gloves.
She pulled the trigger, and nothing happened. Ice was building up inside the steel housing. She scraqed it with her dagger, and tried it again. Nothing. She tapped it against a rock, and poured a dab of a healing potion inside to clear the mechanisms. She readied the weapon again, and it fired.
I won't have this many chances when it all goes down...
She looked at the Orc twins for any advice. They were huddled together, and shivering uncontrollably. Their netch leather suits weren't very effective against the cold.
Let's grab the target, kill them all, and get out of here!

The target's house wasn't far from the road. There were no guards outside, and they were able to move in very quickly. Auelenne saw the target illuminated by candlelight inside, speaking to a seated group of unarmored Imperials. She took aim with the crossbow at the target's right bicep, from outside the window. He was lethal with a sword, they warned. His sword arm had to be disabled. One Orc stayed ready at the front door, while her sister moved to the back.
Auelenne squeezed the trigger, and nothing happened again. She poured some more of her potion flask into the housing.
She heard a low growl coming from the rear of the house, and a stifled scream for help.
Auelenne rushed around the corner in a low crouch, crossbow at the ready. The Orc wasn't there. She squinted in the flurried darkness, and could see some dark areas in the snow, where tracks were. The internal candlelight flickered just right, and she saw stains of blood.
This mission has to go down tonight! Where is that s'wit?!?
She desperately searched the area, peering into the dark bushes nearby. Auelenne was afraid to spark up a torch or lantern, as the house wasn't alerted to them yet.
She saw movement in a bush, and could see a dark shape emerging. She fell onto her backside and took aim.
Don't fail me now, don't fail me - -

Light burst from the front of the house as the front door was flung open. It was sufficient enough to illuminate the fierce eyes and teeth of an unusually large wolf, in front of Auelenne.
There was yelling, and a clash of steel on steel from the front. The mission had failed.

-

She shook the horrors of surviving that night from her mind.

---

Where was I? Oh, yes - enjoying the scenery...

She glanced around the party as they entered Riverwood. No one had said much, perhaps they were all lost in memory, or silently suffering in the cold. Their leader, Kordin hadn't even looked her way. She wondered about his leadership experience.
If you want respect from those under your authority, don't ignore them...
She let out a heavy sigh, and wondered what was on the menu for dinner. She hoped it wouldn't be loneliness.

Was the scholar female? he asked himself, he found the human woman pretty but he cared little for humans, "He didn't no, but that's fine, the lord of Laintar Dale will probably tell us about you I'm sure." He stated, deciding he wouldn't make any rash moves, he didn't like not knowing about these people. He knew the enemy were dragons, but it frustrated him when he didn't know all the facts. "My name is Xerca." He greeted, he didn't want to make the same mistake he'd made with the Orc, so he left his hand by his side, he was about to say more when another voice cut him up.

"I am Surius Roscius, nobleman of the Imperial City, and this handsome young fellow is my servant, Hanniel Baal." stated the voice, it came from a plump imperial who was very well dressed. His eyes darted to the dunmer and noticed the strange glint in his eye straight away. Don't trust him. he thought instantly, his ears twitching at the thought. He smiled politely though, "It's good to meet you, I am Xerca Valeci, ordered to lead this group. This far atleast." He added, taking off his satchel. "I didn't expect so many, we only came for one person, yet it seems we've bumped into as many as we started with. I don't suppose you'd know where to get a decent meal around here? Cheap too, might I add." He asked, he was tired from the long journey and didn't care much for pleasentries, Get some food and beer. Then we can socialise.

Riverwood, Governor's Hall

Undrad

Deep in thought, Undrad didn't hear the party of adventurers approach; it was not until he was addressed by a very peculiar voice that he lifted his eyes up from the floor. The dragon hunters had arrived at last and addressing him appeared to be the leader of their party - a Nord with rather unusual looks, mostly because of his red hair and slender frame, both of which seemed to point to Dunmeri heritage (at least as far as the Greybeard could recall, not having seen a mer of any sort for several decades).

Slowly, the aged Nord stood up from his bench and greeted the assembly before him with a small bow, his gaze sliding along each of them. An odd assembly at the least. But they are very few in number; are their skills so great or did Skyrim's courage wane since I climbed Hrothgar? A look of concern could briefly be made out in Undrad's eyes, however it quickly passed. The Greybeard didn't yet know what skills these hunters of sorts possessed and there was little point on downplaying them before the struggle even started. He sincerely hoped, however, that they were worth much more their number, otherwise the hunters would swiftly become the hunted come their first encounter with a dragon.

A silent thump could be heard as Undrad tapped his wooden staff on the floor once. A shimmer of unmistakeably arcane light passed up it, concentrating into a rune carved near the staff's top. As the faint light passed from rune to rune, a voice started speaking; it didn't seem to come from anywhere in particular, but everywhere at once. It was a Nord's voice, but sounded much younger than the Greybeard would have had he not possessed the power of Thu'um.

"I greet you, manmer. I am Undrad Tall-Brow, one of those you seek. However, another has the information you need." The Greybeard gestured with one hand towards the short Nord that waited nearby - the king's messenger. "I am merely here to accompany you during your... hunt."

Tariq - Laintar Dale - Lord's Hall

The ohmes-raht had sat down on the stone floor, though his back was still more or less resting against the pillar, one knee pulled up to his chest and an arm draqed over it. The Witchhunter had positioned himself a little ways from the fire and the actual group. New smells filled the room now as more people approached them, one of them a woman who’s scent smelled mixed, somewhat nord yet diluted with something else corrupting it. The Khajiit regarded the woman, she was pretty as far as humans went that he had to admit, the ohmes-raht logged her scent to memory, “As long as you can fight as good as you can read.” Tariq chuckled lowly a small smile curving at the right edge of his lips flashing a half-grin revealing canine teeth only meeting the gaze of the young woman. “I am sure you’ll come in handy.” The ohmes-raht added, peeling his gaze from the girl then and over to the next pair that approached and in all honesty this was an odd couple to say the least.

A fat imperial, judging from clothing was very likely a noble, and his dunmer… servant that looked like he had unceremoniously ditched the majority of his sanity in a shallow trench somewhere along a side path, at least that was what Tariq could gather from the look in the dark elf’s eyes. None the less the vibe was not a good one; but then first impressions even if they were right could also be quite wrong.

Davian Hawkstar - Laintar Dale

The Breton warrior readily took to the Orc's hearty greeting. "Ha-ha! That we shall, and show them the might and steel of Tamriel's true warriors!" he answered boisterously, feeling a stronger kindred spirit with the Orsimer than Jarn the Nord. As the two halves of the new party introduced each other, he stood back and assessed the others. The woman, while definitely not imposing, did dress and present herself as someone in possession of a useful skillset in any adventure.

Like Jarn, he also had an inherent dislike of Cyrodiilic Nobles such as Surius, despite being a Noble himself. Cyrodiil was a unified, tamed land where even the Fighter's Guild couldn't find enough action to stay afloat. Its nobility gave a bad rep to feudal leaders everywhere... they had no real responsibilities except maintaining their scam and outperforming each other in opulant waste. To Hawkstar, the noblity of High Rock was too busy protecting their lands and cities to take up political backstabbing as a full-time profession. Any noble who couldn't handle a sword or wear armor and stand at the front lines of the battlefield alongise his soldiers deserved to be stabbed by those who could. A noble's first priority is the protection of his peasantry. In all honesty, the Cyrodiilic race in its entirety disgusted him, having all the flaws of their Nordic and Breton brethren, and none of the redeeming qualities brought out by strife.

Xerca's comments to the "Noble", however, banished the cynical thoughts. "Ha ha! I second that sentiment!" he exclaimed heartily at the mention of getting food and drink. "Tavern, pub, mead hall... or wherever! Sounds like a good idea to me." Good food and strong drink served by pretty lasses were the highlights of his life outside battle or exploration, and in the absence of pretty lasses, at least attractive women would do... maybe even not-unattractive women. Or handsom lads in the complete absence of women. ... And a cat is fine too.

Senes Varvun, Governor's Hall, Riverwood

Senes followed his compainions, staying at the back edge of the group. He was thankful for the warmth of his armor and helm, which were specially designed to keep extremes of temperatures from affecting the wearer. He glanced around at his surrondings with a look of distain. He had never liked Skyrim, mainly because of the snow. And, of course, the locals. Senes still retained many of the racial prejudices from his upbringing. He wasn’t particularly fond of Nords, or Khajiit and Argonians, for that matter, though he had developed a grudging respect for Argonians from his time in Black Marsh.

Senes looked around again. How long has it been since I’ve been out in the wilderness of Skyrim? he thought with a small frown. He did some mental calculations and then thought incredulously, It’s been almost 30 years already! He remembered the job that brought him here. The little girl that had been kidnapped. She was the only surviving member of a long line of assassins. What was her name again? Something Marie, Senes thought. He remembered that he and two other mercenaries had tracked her kidnappers down to some ice cave in the middle of nowhere. They had entered the cave ready for a fight, but the cave was completely silent.

Senes remembered walking through the large cave, getting more and more anxious by the second, expecting an ambush at any moment. But none came. And then they found their first corpse. A slaver, stripped almost completely naked and gutted like a fish. Senes and the other two mercs kept walking, though, but only found more and more corpses. They had reached the end of the cave with no sign of the girl they had been sent to rescue. One of the mercs called out her name. There was complete silence for a moment, then a shadow dropped down on him and killed him. The other merc was dead as well, before she even had time to draw her weapon. But Senes managed to catch the shadow, and realized that she was the girl he was supposed to rescue.

Senes smiled at that memory. The girl was a natural fighter, and took to Senes as a father figure almost immediately. He had taken her under his wing for several years, before she moved on to do greater things. He shook his head, ridding himself of his nostalgia for the moment. He realized that he had followed the group into the Governor’s Hall. He caught the words, ‘Undrad Tall-brow’ and realized that that must be who Kordin was introducing himself, and presumably the rest of the group, to. Senes sighed and took off his helmet, slightly weary from the long walk to Riverwood.

Elynniel - Lords Hall, Laintar Dale

Seeing the motley crew of adventurers, or Dragonslayers, up close, Elynniel wasn't sure what to think. The Dunmer and his Imperial... Well Elynniel wasn't quite sure what to make of him, out of all the group standing in the room, he stood out the most. Clad in 'fashionable' foppery, and bearing himself the way a snotty noble would, Elynniel had the feeling that he would likely be more comfortable reclining before a nice warm fire than trekking miles through uncharted, and dangerous, wilderness. On the other hand, he would make a fine mark. The Dunmer was much like a brick wall, she thought, he seemed very much like just a withered old mer, yet something, some sixth sense perhaps, told her that there was more to him than just old age. Just what, she would have to find out.

The giant Nord was just that, a giant Nord, in fact, she would have classified him as a stereotypical example of a Nord, from his flat, nearly orcish face, the rippling set of muscles he possessed and the massive weapon he wore upon his back matched the rest of him. He didn't talk much either though, so for all she knew he could be the world's most charming man, which would be a surprise.
The Bosmer looked frightening, armed to the teeth with all the panoply of battle. Numerous scars were visible on the areas uncovered by his armor, and the way he carried himself, he seemed to be well suited to combat. If the Bosmer looked frightening, then the Breton looked like a walking piece of metal. He too was armed, much like a knight, a very strong knight she supposed, if he could carry so much equipment. She noticed the Gryphon proudly emblazoned onto his shield and the colour scheme of his heraldry, it seemed familiar, but she couldn't quite place her hand on it.

The Ohmes-raht was a surprise though, she had met perhaps two of them in her life and it never failed to confuse her mind, expecting to meet another man, yet greeted by a furred Khajiit. He looked handsome, but then, she noticed that half of everyone else in the room would fit the criteria as well. As she looked over at him, he smiled his rather wolfish smile, somewhat unnerved by his odd smile, she replied with a weak smile of her own. Perhaps smiling menacingly at strangers is a sign of welcome in his culture. she wondered about it, but then the Dunmer spoke,

"It's good to meet you, I am Xerca Valeci, ordered to lead this group. This far atleast." Xerca added, taking off his satchel. "I didn't expect so many, we only came for one person, yet it seems we've bumped into as many as we started with. I don't suppose you'd know where to get a decent meal around here? Cheap too, might I add." Elynniel looked at him curiously, noting his appearance. He didn't seem to be the most powerful, or heavily armored amongst them, so the reason he was leader could possibly be attributed to intelligence. Which she wouldn't mind at all.

"When you're off facing dragons, wouldn't you rather have two handfuls of helpers, rather than just a handful?" She smiled pleasantly at Xerca, "Though you might not have noticed it, we're currently in the abode of the Lord of this village, so no doubt, he will offer us the best food he has to offer. After all, we're going to be saving his town from a rather rowdy lizard." Of course, she had never actually bothered to ask the Lord about meals and accommodation, having spent her time in the local inn, but she didn't doubt he would offer them rooms and meals. Unless he was a idiot noble who couldn't see past the tip of his nose, that would be unfortunate for all of them.

Name: Krom Grimblade

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Race: Nord

Birthsign: Warrior

Physical Description: Krom is short for a Nord standing at exactly 6 ft tall, but dont count him out as massive for he is like a boulder weighing 270 pounds of solid muscle. His body is covered in blue Nordic ruin and symbol tattoos. Krom's face has three long scars across it from a long distant fight with a snow bear which runs across his face from the left side of his hairline to the right side of his jaw just missing his eyes. Krom wears his hair shaved so that there is barely stuble. As for facial hair he has a short black braided beard.(in a chinstrap fashion with the growing longer into the chin area were there can be found the braids)). Krom's eyes are hazel and often change color between green and brown. His eyes are piercing like they can look right through you. These are the eyes of a man who has seen terrible things. His skin is a bit darker than most Nords from having spent most of his time outside.

Mental Description: Krom is calm and quite which is strange for a nord . He speaks only when he feels he must and only then if it is worth saying. Though not overly complex Krom is a good man. Though in battle he becomes consumed by a uncontrollable rage and any that stand in his way will be slaughtered. Krom is a heavy drinker, a warrior with noble intentions but also he is a survivor. He is loyal to his few friends and will die to protect those that can not protect themselves. If you are his enemy you will die. He will not stop and he does not show mercy to those of have wrong him or innocent people.

Class: Berserker Warrior

Class Description: Like the Warrior he is a melee fighter skilled with almost any weapon but having almost no talent with magic. Berserkers live off the land so are skilled hunters. Unlike the warrior they are consumed with a inner rage so they will not back down from a fight and will fight till they or their opponent are dead.


Skills: Blade,Blunt, Tracking, Heavy Armor, Athletics, Acrobatics, Smithing, Block

Weapons: the ancient nordic claymore Dragon's Fang, a one handed silver nordic battle axe, 5 nordic daggers

Armor: Krom wears full plate ebony armor in a nordic style. it has none of that gold gilding in it just some silver to make the nordic symbols more clear. His armor is truly unique having been made by a smith as a gift for saving him from raiders 6 years ago. Krom wears no helm though perfering to have his head out in the open so he can see and smell better.

Misc. Items: Across his shoulder like a cape Krom wears the pelt of the snow bear that he had slain when he was younger and who had also given him the scars he has to this day. He prefers to carry little aside from his weapons and armor he carries his pack which holds a simple tent some food and of course his Rotgut ((its a very strong nordic drink)) He also has a few small traps so he can find game when he is out in the wilds.

History: Krom Grimblade is from the village of Dragon Wood. It is a very old town settled with the first of the Nords came to Skyrim. Krom could trace his bloodline to the 500 hundred warriors who had come to skyrim to battle the elves in times long past. Krom's Grandfather was the village leader and was a bear of a man standing almost seven feet tall His name was Roran Grimblade also known as the Bear. The village though small was of heart people each villager was a warrior in their own right. One day when Krom was out hunting with a few of the Village elders Raiders attacked. Though caught by surprise The people rallied and made a stand at the ancient mead hall. For Krom's family it would be there last for every one of his kin that fell they took at least three. Krom ran back to the village when he heard the sound of battle but he would never forgive himself for not being there to fight beside his family. The village had been saved but his family had fallen defending it, saving the young and elderly. Walking over to the corpses of his family Krom fell to his knees at the side of his grandfather and there he made a vow to avenge his people and his kin to defend the weak and the innocent. Krom took the ancient family blade Dragon's Fang and in doing so sealed his fate. For the sword was no mere weapon but an ancient blade that had defended the people in times long past from the creatures it was so named after and carried within itself almost life it did not speak to it but he felt its rage its hatred the hatred of his ancestors in taking the blade he no longer had a choice he was the last of his bloodline and he was going to set things right. After the battle after all the wounded and dead were taken care of Krom left. To find the raiders and to aid his people in any way he could. He has tracked down each and every raider slaying each one without mercy, but he never felt the peace he thought he would find with each kill his inner fury only grew his rage starting to consume him. He has helped countless people and saved many lives and now wanders skyrim in hopes of finding a worthy opponent. A messenger has finally found him and gave hims a missive from the king. Maybe now he finally has a worthy quest perhaps in performing the deeds of his ancestors he can finally forgive himself.


Motivation For Aiding the King: Honor and aiding his people in time of need and if all else fails something he can direct his berserker rage on.

Krom Grimblade/ Laintar Dale

Krom Walked into the hall taking everything in in a single glance. Sizing up the group as a whole Krom could not make any conclusion." Perhaps this group will confuse the dragons long enough for me to get close enough to slay the beasts", he thought to himself. Stepping further into the room Standing before the group he introduced himself, in his deep gravely voice he said," I am Krom Grimblade i have been sent by the King to aid you in your quest my blade is yours "and with that he found a table to place his gear on and sat with a grunt next to his equipment the the strong chair groaning underneath him from the weight of his armor . Searching through his pack he finally found what he was looking with a slight smile on his lips he pulled out a bottle of Rotgut ((this is a very strong nordic drink)). Pulling off the stopper with his teeth and taking a long pull on the bottle before offering it to any one. Offering the Rotgut to no one in particular he warned "this is very strong"..... " It will even make a Breton feel like he has the strength of a Nord if he does not pass out first that is" he said eyeing Davian

OOC: I shall post for Riverwood soon enough.

Lord Bjordi Bear-Tooth, Laintar Dale

"Now, before you all get just a little drunk, we'll have to go over this, of course."

A young Nord approached the group in the main room of the Lord's Hall, boasting an exquisite fine robe of purple linen. He was quite a handsome man, his dark brown hair wind braided behind his eyes. He boasted a round nose, fitting perfectly up with his muscular face. The Nord himself was of rather average height, only reaching six feet, something that was slightly smaller than the average Nord. He walked in expensive sandals, putting forth the aura that he wasn't as stern, old and wise as the King of Whiterun. It was common knowledge among the citizens of Riverwood that their Lord was an antic man of many parties. Only a rare few knew, that unlike the other young, jocund noblemen, Bjordi Bear-Tooth was a very smart man. Though care-free, he ran his property which was bestowed to his will to the fullest, directly under the King of Whiterun himself.

"Though, I'd have to say. You're a wild bunch."

He said his second line, winking at the Nedic girl Elynniel, which he found to be very attractive. The time for such parties of women and ale would arrive later. For now, there was business to be done and dragons to slay. While the group was carrying thieving ladies such as her, along with giant Orcs and Nords, quiescent Bosmer, Dunmeri Mages, homicidal prisoners, and even arrogant noblemen, it was no secret that this was an odd bunch. The King of Whiterun had done his absolute to best to ensure the joining of men and mer from different ethnicity and backgrounds. The other greetings in the party would have to wait, as it was time to get down to certain important business.

"Well, Xerca, unfortunately, the scholar that the King had heard of could not make the trip, but I have fetched these b*stards, a fine replacement for any scholar. After all, I doubt she would approve of the feasting of dragon hearts."

Bjordi took his scan around the group, observing all of the different beings once more. Quite a few had been added to the current squad of dragon slayers assembled by the King. As much as Bjordi would have liked to have the glory of the large matter at hand, it was not in his place to control it. He would contribute when he saw fit, but the slayers would be on their own when it came to hunting the beasts. The nobleman let out his rather boastful voice once more, only in a less cocky matter.

"It so appears that we've had two recent sightings in the area. Seeing that there are so many of you, I suppose you could divide yourselves into two groups. If you can come to an agreement on who is going with who, we shouldn't have much of a problem. Though, if it's necessary to babysit you all, then I assume I'd have to..."

He began to pace back and forth, first taking a strong look up at the Orc, patting him on his shoulder.

"Of course, you've been sent to hunt dragons. And while I'd love to aid you in such a noble cause, my own wars await me. As you've heard, civil war is bound to come to the country. Whether it should be in a day or a month is not for us to decide, but I will be prepared for such things when they come. As for you, you will do your own job, for these dragons are nothing to be underestimated. Of course, if you're all as capable as the King thinks you are, you be able to kill these things. But that remains to be seen..."

He walked away from the Orc, approaching the Khajiit with ease, observing the weapons across his back. Bjordi was doing his best to see the tools the King had bought, and how they would play a vital role in the slaying of the dragons.

"The first location that should be addressed is a farm plantation, set put north of the village, on the foot of the mountains south of Winterhold. No one has heard from the farm in a week or so, and while I have sent a few of my own men to do something about this, nothing has come to the surface. A young lad from Winterhold came in a few days ago, heading south. He said he had seen it...one of them...big, green and black, large shining scales, forty feet in length, flying in the sky. Of course, one man's word is a stretch, but this is what you are here to do. And if it is a false lead, so be it. However, the farm is a certain different concern, entirely. And dragon or no dragon, the farm mystery must be solved..."

The first mission seemed quite small for a group of heroes. A small farm disappearance wasn't the most exciting thing, but every issue had to be addressed with the talk of dragons. It was even a bigger factor that the mercenaries had not returned from this settlement. Surely they would have retraced their steps had they survived their quest.

"The second is a bit farther north, south of Amol. There has been another sighting, more severe than the first. An entire inn was blown to flames, destroyed. The inn was located at the crossroads between Windhelm, Amol, and this old village of mine. Of course, the inn would be very important, seeing that it is a major rest sight for travelers coming from the north and east. I believed it was first built after the Dunmeri migration from Morrowind. Should you come upon it, search out the area for the dragons, notably north of the inn. Many sighting have been reported from that area. A large blue and red dragon, slightly longer than the first."

The Nord paced back to a chair, sitting down by the large fire which lay right from the main entrance. He attached his naughty young grin, stretching ear to ear.

"Of course, once you've arranged yourself into groups, we'll have ourselves a feast. But first comes the business, always."

Xerca - Laintar Dale Lords Hall

"Yes, you're quite right about that." Xerca sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "It's been a long trip and I tend to get grouchy when I'm tired." He added, smiling back at her. He placed his staff next to him, leaning against the table, "I guess you're right about the food, hopefully there'll be bear meat, I've never tried it myself; but I hear it's pretty good. Much better than the guar meat we get back home." He said, a shudder running down his back as he remembered his fathers guar and scrib jelly stew. They may have been the richest family in the town but they sure had some strange tastebuds.

As the newest member of the group arrived, his armour glinting in the firelight, Xerca felt a twinge of frustration. How many more people are going to be joining us? He recalled a time when he had worked in collaboration with the local security forces and found that there had been a traitor in their own squad. He didn't like recruiting random strangers without even a reference. How was he going to rely on them in battle? Should he? No, I'll rely on myself and no one else. Was it constructive to think so? No. But he had no choice. Davian was arrogant, the nords looked like solo soldiers, the bosmer was a little crazy, the orc was.. An orc and he'd never seen a khajiit that wasn't in iron chains. Was he willing to put his life on the line and give these guys a chance? Not unless it was against a simple bandit.

As the nord told him about the drink he had, Xerca became intruiged, he'd heard about Rotgut, and due to his infatuation with anything alcoholic, he took the bottle and looked the nord in the eye. "The name is Xerca, I lead this ragtag team." He introduced before taking a long swig. At first he felt nothing but warmth, a slight tang on his tongue but after a second or so, a deep burning sensation began to eminate from his stomach. His face twitched slightly at the tips of his lips but other then that, he managed to hold himself together. "[censored] me." He exclaimed, "This has got to be illegal." He'd had trips off skooma which felt less dangerous then drinking that stuff!

He was interupted from saying further when the lord arrived and began talking to them, We're going to seperate again? he thought to himself, confused but he let the man speak. He liked both missions, they both gave certain leads and both led to dragon sightings. "I think we should stick together, we have no idea how strong these dragons are. I'd at least like to test them first before we start spreading out our strength. Otherwise, we could find ourselves overwhelmed and this party would be over before we blew out the candles." He spoke out, handing back the bottle of.. Whatever it was.

Krom Grimblade, Laintar Dale


After taking his bottle back and smiling at the way the foolish dark elf for attempting to drink it but respecting him for the attempt "Not many can even swallow the stuff". Noticing the lord enter the room and waiting for him to finish his speech Krom stood from his seat the Berserker nodded to the Lord in respect, In his deep gravely voice he said " I will go were i am most needed Lord Beer-Tooth, my blade is yours". With that the warrior sat back into his seat the wood once again groaning under the weight of all his gear. Taking another pull on his bottle of Rotgut he thought to himself " we must begin our quest soon before there are any more attacks" his hand kept sliding to the hilt of his axe he was beginning to grow restless.

" we should be out there now surely these beast hunt at night as well as the day!" he thought but kept it to himself. Eyeing the group around him again he started to size up each individual " i wonder if they know what they are getting themselves into" he muttered silently to himself. Eyeing the other Nord in the room Krom nodded in respect the other warrior was obviously a veteran of many battles. Aside from the Nord the bersker was having a hard time getting a feel on the rest of the people in the room. The Khajit kept eyeing people and smiling with a wolfish grin. Not knowing if he should trust him he moved on to the next person, an orc "perhaps this one is a fighter too" he hoped ,there were far too few warriors here.

Elynniel - Lords Hall, Laintar Dale

Bear meat. Funnily enough, despite having traveled far across the lands of Skyrim, she had never actually had the chance to taste it, presumably because Bears are Bears, and Bears tend to be rather frightening creatures. She certainly didn't envy whoever goes out hunting the beasts for their meat. Her thoughts were interrupted by the approach of yet another hulking mass of muscle, naming itself Krom Grimblade, offering, surprisingly enough, yet another able hand to aid in their quest.

"Pleasure to meet you, Krom." She smiled her usual smile, "I am Elynniel, and though your offer of ale is enticing, I'm afraid I'll have to decline" She remembered the last time she drank some of the Nordic ales. It did not end well. On the other hand, Xerca readily sampled the drink and judging by his less-than dignified response, she felt she had done right in not drinking it. It was then that the Lord, she racked her brain for his name, Lord Bjordi Bear-Tooth, spoke.

Elynniel noted both of the locations mentioned by Bjordi. While the Inn would certainly seem to be the most obvious place to look, with all the fire and brimstone. The farm warranted searching too, if only because of it's isolated location, and the fact that it provided food for the town. But Xerca raised a good point, if there was indeed a dragon at either of the spots, she would much rather have the lot of them together at one, than split at both.

"I would have to agree with the Dunmer, but I'm also inclined to disagree with him. In the off-chance that we do find a dragon waiting so close to the area, it would be better to keep together. But both of the areas mentioned by Bjordi have some significance, we can't just neglect one or the other. The Inn serves as a crossroads, so it would definitely make sense to investigate near there, but the farmland is a important source of food for the town, so if there's even a possibility that there is a dragon, Bjordi would need to send someone to investigate." She glanced at the lord with a wry smirk,

"After all, it wouldn't do to have a revolt in his very own town, not if the rumors of a coming Civil War are to believed. So while I might not agree with splitting the group, it's likely for the best. Besides, if we do find the dragon, it's not like we need to engage the thing right there and then, you could send a messenger to the other group informing them of what they've found and we could reform our group to better face the beast." She knew there were some flaws in her logic, but she'd leave that to others to point out and argue and whatever it was they do, she just stated her opinion and that was enough for her.

Name: Jolgeir
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Race: Nord
Birthsign: The Warrior

Physical Description: Jolgeir is a very muscular and attractive man, he stands at 6 and a half feet tall exact. Jolgeir sports blonde shoulder length hair that makes his sky blue eyes stick out. He has a very round and masculine face, his body is also home to many scars most of which are on his right arm and back.
Mental Description: Jolgeir is a sane man but is very ruthless and non caring towards others, but you would not know it considering the fact he is not very social. Jolgeir will do almost anything when there is a large reward involved.

Class: Warrior
Class Description: A Warrior is a ferocious warrior who strikes fear into his opponents hearts, Warriors live a life of conflict so when battle comes it is as familiar to a Warrior as the back of his hand.
Skills: Jolgeir does not have a very large amount of skills but the few he has are vital to his occupation. Give him a sword and he is unstoppable, put him in the middle of a forest with nothing but the clothes on his back and he’ll find his way out. Overall Jolgeir is a brute with the skills to survive, he is a force to be reckoned with.

Weapons: http://www.knifeblades.dk/image/Dragon%20sword.jpg that Jolgeir took from a man he killed, in fact Jolgeir was supposed to give the sword to the man he got the contract from but Jolgeir liked the way it looked so much he decided to keep it. The sword is very sharp and light which makes for a deadly weapon.
Armor: http://www.fantasy-armor.com/images/armors/AE1448.jpg http://www.nightmarefactory.com/CS221.jpg
Misc. Items: N/A

History: Jolgeir was raised by his father only, unfortunately he experienced his fathers death at an early age. Once his father died Jolgeir was adopted by an inn keeper in the small village he lived in, two days after he was adopted bandits stormed the village and killed everyone, except Jolgeir, instead they took Jolgeir and tuned him into a Bandit. Jolgeir traveled with the bandits for a few years before experiencing combat, during this time he was trained by several bandits. When he was old enough he started to go on raids with the bandits and made a name for himself as a brute, but Jolgeir got bored with this quickly, the rewards they were getting were not nearly good enough for the work they had to do so he abandoned the bandits and became a freelance mercenary. Jolgeir has not done much since becoming a mercenary.

Motivation For Aiding the King: It’s the reward

Jolgeir, Laintar Dale

Jolgeir made his way to Bjordi Bear-Tooths Hall in the village of Laintar Dale. This was the place where he would meet the other people hired by the King to kill dragons, once Jolgeir found the group he inspected the members of it closely, all was ok until he laid his eyes on a Khajiit. Jolgeir instantly became nervous and beads of sweat began to form on his forehead, Jolgeir was terrified of Khajiits just being in the presence of one sent shivers down his spine. Jolgeir didn't move or say anything, he was completely petrified.

Jarn stared at the fire while the others discussed whether or not to split up. He sighed. Battle was always complicated, he knew but he disliked being involved in the planning and complications. He was most happy when he had clear and simple orders to follow. Battle tactics and planning could be left to someone else. Normally those who kept themselves away from the front lines. The prospect of food and ale did sound nice though and Jarn wished the others would quickly come to a decision.

OOC: Not the best intro post, ever, I'll admit, but I was excited to get going. Should be great fun.
Oh, and PFA, I'm not ignoring Undrad, but Cassius arrived just after he spoke. And shall I post my CC here, too, as well as the other thread?

A large smile broke across Cassius’s face as he caught sight of Riverwood looming in the distance, its structures becoming ever clearer as their horses trotted through the heavy snowfall. Two mountains dominated the village, though the quaint wooden buildings and pine trees created a picturesque scene of prodigious beauty – so perfect it looked artificial.

Cassius’s steed, flanked by the nobleman’s two guards on their respective mount, crunched through the thick snow. The Imperial, whose face was veiled by his cloak’s hood, attracted the gaze of a few onlookers, though most continued on about their business, a reaction Cassius was not accustomed to; as he paraded through the Imperial City’s cobbled streets, he’d be met by fanatic followers from all corners of Cyrodiil, all screaming and cheering at his omnipotent presence. The nobleman sighed gently, reminiscing over the showers of wealth back home, before his attention was swiftly stolen by an Argonian child sitting on a bench a few paces away, staring mouth agape at Cassius and his two men. The Imperial cocked an eyebrow and then scowled. An Argonian? Here of all places?
Shrugging off the thought, Cassius addressed the sapling, “Avert your gaze, foul beast!” he spat. With those words, the guard to his right forced a steel boot into the petite lizard’s chest, sending the ‘creature’ off the bench and on to the snow. The Imperial chuckled, patting his companion on the pauldron.

It didn’t take a moment for the trio to reach the entrance of Riverwood’s grand hall. Cassius dismounted his noble stallion, Whitestrake, and shoved through the large ornate wooden doors, frowning at the lack of security posted outside the hall. He was almost taken aback at what lay inside.

Wonderful tapestries decorated the walls; fine sculpture resided in each corner, beautiful paintings hung, and elegant furniture dotted the hall. Indeed, it was a domicile of aesthetic wonder. Nodding in approval, Cassius strode forward, pleasured by the soft crackling of fire on its hearth and the smell of roasted meat, and shook off the snow clinging to his cloak.

The Imperial was, however, slightly nervous, and was thankful for the hall’s dimness, as it effectively hid the flushed expression on his face. He was late and consequently rather embarrassed, which tarnished his shining reputation. Still, he was not one to simply live fading in the background; he stood forward, guards at his side, into the group he easily identified as the ‘dragon slayers’ – his comrades for the weeks to come, possibly longer. The commander, Kordin, was easy to recognise. Ugh… a crossbreed, Cassius thought, fighting off a scoff. Instead, the Imperial introduced himself.

“Greetings, sir. I assume you’re the one they call Kordin? Please, excuse my… poor punctuality. Complications, you understand?” Cassius paused for a moment and threw back his hood. “But excuse my manners; I am Lord Cassius Civello II, at your service. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, truly.” Cassius smiled warmly, though his words were forced and unnatural, almost slurred. The Imperial could have sworn his guards were sniggering behind him. Never again… he cringed, and reluctantly offered a hand, engulfed in a steel gauntlet.

Drathyn Verethi, Riverwood

The snow crunched under his feet as Drathyn made his way back into town with the deer hide on one shoulder and the sack of meat on the other. Smoke billowed from the chimneys of the many houses. Drathyn noticed three armed men on horseback trotting through the village ahead of him. Ahh more people to join our group probably. A few people eyed the knights as they made way towards the Governor's hall, one of them was a young Argonian who was sitting on a bench playing in the snow with his feet. As the trio approached the boy Drathyn overheard the apparent leader of the group yell at the boy"Avert your gaze, foul beast!" then the guard on the right planted his armored boot into the boy's chest knocking him backwards into the deep snow. The leader then patted the guard on the back in a friendly manner. Appalled by the act Drathyn quickened his step, rushing over to help the young boy. Drathyn felt sympathy for him, the Dunmer once enslaved the Argonians and Khajit, an act of racism and discrimination. Living among the Nords Drathyn was also discriminated against for being Dunmer, the ancient enemy of the Nordic people. This gave him a take on life that his ancestors did not have. Drathyn did not discriminate against any race feeling as though all should be treated fairly, including the beast races.

Drathyn set the hide and bag of meat on the ground as he pulled the young Argonian from the snow, brushing the snow off of him. "Are you ok?"

The young boy looked up at Drathyn, surprised that a Dunmer of all people would help him. "Ye...yesss, I am fine."

Drathyn turned around and untied the sack, taking out a chuck of the wrapped meat. He turned back to the boy and handed it to him. "Here take this, it's fresh."

Once again the boy looked at Drathyn with surprise while he reached out and took the meat. "Thank you sir."

Drathyn grinned and patted the boy on the back. "Now get home, it is cold out." The boy nodded his head and took off down the street. Drathyn retied the sack and threw it over his shoulder again, grabbing the hide and tossing it over his other shoulder. He walked up to the Governor's Hall, leaning his shoulder into the door to open it. He walked inside to see an elaborate hall decorated with the finest tapestries and furniture. The rest of the group was over by a corner conversing with an old Nord, Walking towards the group was the three men who had came into town before him. Drathyn tossed the bag of meat on the floor by the door, setting the hide on top. His expression turning to disgust as he approached the leader of the trio.

"You there, knight. What was your reason for assaulting that boy in town." barked Drathyn in a aggressive tone.

Tariq - Laintar Dale - Lord's Hall

The Ohmes-rath exhaled through a sigh leaning backwards, pressing his back flat against the pillar behind him. Tariq had taste bear once; it wasn’t that bad really even if it felt odd eating another apex predator, or maybe it wasn’t bear at all he had fought a wolf for it and the corpse hadn’t been in any easily recognizable state. Standing up the Khajiit listened attentively to the lord’s words, explaining that they would split up once again; one would head to a desolate farmstead and the other to burn down inn, both yielding sightings of dragons; if there were dragons at both splitting up seemed like a very bad idea taking down a dragon was difficult enough and the more people around surely helped making things easier. The Witchhunter had to admit that the pretty half-bred human lass, had a point in her assumptions but as did Xerca.

“A messager would take too long.” Tariq spoke through an exhale, taking a step away from the pillar he had been leaning into thus far. “If there really is a dragon at either one of these spots; sending someone off with a message makes the party lose a viable fighter further crippling their chances of surviving the fight.” The ohmes-raht explained gaze fixing on the woman as he trailed the room noticing the almost petrified nord in the background, his brows narrowed into a slight frown the Khajiit could swear the human was staring at him. Peeling his gaze from the nord, the witchhunter continued; “Secondly the amount time the messager will use, coupled with the time it’ll take for the, say, Farmstead team to rendezvous with the Inn team which are engaging the dragon; will leave the dragon with ample time to kill the Inn team leaving nothing but burnt, half-eaten corpses, and a possibly very angry dragon greeting the Farmstead team upon arrival.” Blowing away a strand of his mane that had fallen into his face.

The Witchhunter didn’t discredit their ideas as they all had good points but the reality of the situation was that if they split they were on their own. “As people have said, splitting up is the only option if we shall stand a chance of covering these two sites, as his Lordship-” he gestured to Bjordi, “Commands us to do; if we do split up we have to take into account that each group will be completely on their own in a time of crisis.” The Khajiit didn’t like the limited options and grim scenario more than he was sure anyone else in the group did, but what choice did they have?

Revis Cervin-Lords Hall, Laintar Dale, Skyrim

Revis nodded as opinions on the matter of splitting up were traded back and forth. Even some of the "Hardened Warriors" of their party seemed to find a larger party as the wiser decision. Perhaps it was the "Group of Individuals" thinking of the Endblades that led Revis to find this plan of action fairly counter-productive. If half of their group couldn't take the dragon for the amount of time such a messenger would take, it is unlikely that having more warriors would positively impact the situation, merely increasing the net body count.

Finally, Tariq soundly resolved the matter, as far as Revis was concerned. "Yes, splitting up will expedite our risks, but there's nothing we can do about it", would be the gist of it, he thought. Better than wasting their breath arguing away when they could be eating something freshly killed and still bloody while they were all still awake. Unconsciously, Revis ran his tongue along the outside of this viciously sharp incisors. Finally, the stoic Bosmer rose, kicking the stump he had been sitting on to its side loud enough to bring attention to his empty corner of the room.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't see the productivity in sitting around discussing matters that have no better solution. We should make do with the situation and hope that once we do encounter the dragon, which we haven't even gotten positive confirmation of the presence of, hope that we are up to the task. We all signed on to slay Dragons, correct? We knew the risks before we set off, so mulling over them now won't improve them. We would be better off eating, resting, and preparing our equipment for the days ahead, would we not?" Revis growled in his distorted, scratchy, animalistic voice, the series of Rhetorical questions coming faster than any attempt at a response could be made by the...slower, members of the crowd.

Done with his tirade, Revis brought a hand up to the jagged lines scar tissue across his windpipe. Revis rarely spoke as much, or with as much vehemenence, when he could help it. Quickly, the Endblade waved a hand in the air to indicate he was done speaking and stalked up to the Orc, Krom, and insistently siezed the flask of rotgut he had offered earlier and downed a fifth of it, the searing drink soothing his agitated vocal muscles.

OOC: I may be a little late in saying this, but I at least enjoyed your joke, Scow. "And maybe a cat"

IC:

Lord's Keep, Laintar Dale
Hanniel Baal and Surius Roscius

Surius listened with a keen ear at the conversations going on around him. Years with the Elder Council had made him sensitive to such matters, where four arguments could take place at once, with many councilors participating in multiple debates. The majority of his attention remained with the Dunmer mage, as he was the current leader of their ragtag group of hunters, as well as the boisterous Breton that seemed to think little beyond ale and women. 'Both fine pursuits, my friend, but not when business is at hand.'

The Imperial frowned at the skinny woman, who spoke of dragons like they were little more than a trifle, with a politician's smile covering her pretty face. The worst part was that she spoke sense. He would have to keep an eye on Baal around that one; the Dunmer seemed as interested in seducing women as he was mutilating men, especially smart, able bodied ones. 'Perhaps he enjoys a challenge,' the Imperial chuckled, eyeing his murderous companion.

Baal had slipped away as soon as Surius had made his introductions, leaning against a wall by the fire where a few other adventurers had settled down. 'Must be the quiet ones,' Surius thought, 'Perfect company for the maniac.'

The Imperial's thoughts were drawn away from Baal as the Nordic lord strolled down the hall, approaching the group with- 'What a surprise,' - a joke about mead. Surius' attention abruptly shifted to the Nord as he gave the details of their task. 'Split up? Hardly a good choice, given the fact we're dealing with dragons.'

However, the nobleman kept his thoughts to himself as the others bantered on. Listening to the Khajiit speak, Surius' agitation grew past the limits of his patience. The Imperial's face drew into a scowl as the cat continued; Surius was not one to wait once he had decided to speak. Finally, the Khajiit ended his lecture on messengers and- with a quick glance at Baal- Surius stepped forward.

"Messengers? Please, my dear Khajiit, you speak as if we were not in the company of an able mage. Xerca," the Imperial turned to the robed Dunmer, "I would assume you know enough of Mysticism to create a simple link for a short message, no? It was commonplace within the Legion, back in the days of the Empire; I am sure it will work just as well for us as it did the Septims." Surius brought his attention back to the Nordic lord. It was his decision that mattered, in the end. "As long as someone in the other group has even a spark of magical ability, then a two way connection should prove child's play."

The Imperial gave the Khajiit a wide smile before continuing, "And as for the issue of dividing our strength, I do not think four men- or mer- would make a terrible difference against a dragon. Our primary goal is to actually find and report these beasts, and hopefully bring enough proof to return to the beast with soldiers. Not to doubt your strength, of course," Surius eyed each warrior in turn, from the Orc to the towering Nords, which seemed to be multiplying by the minute, "but even if one of the groups does find a dragon, we would at least need days of careful planning before the battle. These locations do not sound remarkably far from one another- not by horse, at least- and until the rest of our company arrives, the unfortunate folk who discover the dragon will most likely be running. Perhaps if we are lucky we could even lure it into a trap."

The noble shrugged; combat was not his forte, but effective communication was a staple of every nobleman's education. Let the fighters worry about what to do once they found the damned thing, he was only concerned in making sure he got his cut afterwards. Enough of them seemed to be in it for the glory, or- strangely enough- the challenge, he was sure they could devise some way to kill the beast.


Baal merely chuckled as the Imperial spoke. 'The poor man is near helpless without me. Does he truly believe that defeating a dragon will prove as easy as finding one?'

"These soft nobles know precious little of blood," Baal chuckled to the Bosmer sitting in front of the hearth. If he would be handing his life to these warriors, he might as well begin by earning their trust. Baal had quickly found that a common dislike of Surius was often enough to foster a friendship, especially among "honorable" mer such as this one. Besides, the Bosmer seemed useful...


OOC: Two characters means twice the dialogue!

Rexroth, Laintar Dale

Rex was pleased to see that the young son of Hawkstar had some fire in his blood, having quickly embraced his warrior's greeting. It didn't take long, however, for the Orc to grow quietly uncomfortable, as the size of the group within the Keep continued to grow. He was accustomed to travelling alone, after all, voluntarily embracing the nomadic life of a warrior. His only interaction typically came from small villages and towns where he'd trade for whatever supplies he needed, and move on.

True, the lord that hosted them within the keep had made it clear that the group was to venture forth in two seperate parties, but even then, Rex was being asked to go into battle with a larger clan than he'd ever travelled with. Just the thought of it made Rex wonder how commanders and generals, leaders of great armies of men and mer, accomplished such a feat: how could they know the heart, the mettle, of every warrior under them?

A great deal of talking followed afterwards, talk of both messengers and feasts. Rex was sure he'd heard another of the group echo his own thoughts: that their time would be best spent hunting down the winged beasts they'd been tasked to, rather than standing around talking.

As the number of travellers and the sound of their conversations mounted, so too did Rex's discomfort. Shooting the Nord nobleman a curt glance, Rex spoke. "I thank you for your offer, noble, but I prefer to hunt for my meal." Why anyone who claimed to be a warrior would allow another to kill their prey, deny them the chance to earn their meal, was beyond the Orc. It seemed fairly obvious, however, that those in the Keep would be occupied for some time, between their talking, feasting, and love of drink.

Without another word of explanation, Rex marched boldly into the frozen waste outside.

[OOC: The line is "A cat is fine too." Fortunately, it's taken completely out of its original context. Hopefully ]

Davian Hawkstar - Laintar Dale
"Ha, you say that Iike I'm not already as strong as a Nord!" Davian Hawkstar responded to Krom as the Nord boasted of the Rotgut. However, as he waited for his commander to accept a quaff of the beer, the Lord had a chance to speak up and diverted the Knight's attention. Standing at attention throughout the briefing, he deferred his full respect for the Lordic Nord, saying nothing.

Once Bjordi mentioned the feast, Davian stood at ease. "Ha, yeah!" he shouted enthusiastically at the news of a heroic meal. Turning to Commander Xerca, he let the Dunmer express his doubts about the wisdom in splitting up. He considered the other's positions as the Rotgut was passed around... by the time it reached him, he wasn't sure whether there was enough for him to take a drink without depriving Krom of the rest of his generously-shared drink, "Yeah, I've had Rotgut before... not bad. Of course, what I'd really want is that Morrowind vintage of Brandy... anyone know anything about that winery or brewery? Dagon, or Daggorath, or something? Haven't seen any like it in a while. My uncle Mervyn Hawkstar, Son of Davian Hawkstar the Second, gave me a bottle for my 16th... Rotgut's like tea next to that stuff," he casually conversed with the others about the beer between the discussions.

"With all due respect, Commander," Davian began once he felt it was his turn to speak up, eyes following the passing of the Rotgut for just a moment. "I've had experience in this sort of situation. It's not how many of us that matter, as much as where and how our skills are distributed. Smaller groups move faster, allowing us to get there before the trail gets cold. Splitting up also allows us to investigate both places at once," he explained, voicing counterargument to Xerca's fears. "With your permission, I could take Tariq, Rexroth or Krom here, and another warrior to investigate the farmstead, while the rest go to the destroyed inn. Of course, another group would work as well. However, I'd advise having Revis and I in seperate groups... our skills are redundant with each other, so one of us would be largely useless. I feel Tariq and Revis sh Hi ould also be in seperate groups: Despite their teamwork on the way up here, it would be better for each group to have a hunter-tracker. The problem I'm seeing is we have too many warriors... you are the only magically-inclined member of the team. I have no clue where Fancius Pantsius or his henchman could fit... except maybe as bait for the Dragons." His contempt for the Imperial was as brash as the rest of his personality, considering he had the gall to suggest that last course of action even as he sat right next to Surius.

Rexroth's abrupt descision to leave the hall annoyed Davian. Just how many of us are absolutely foreign to the concepts of teamwork and party dynamic? he thought bitterly to himself.

Auelenne, Riverwood

Auelenne was seated with her back against the wall, fighting off the urge to nap. Her head bobbed up and down as she snapped out of it, and then surrendered to it again.
I have got to at least look like I'm paying attention... the realization came to her.
Get on your feet, Auelenne!

She immediately jumped, and was wide awake when the hall doors opened with a sharp bang.

"You there, knight. What was your reason for assaulting that boy in town."

The words came from her new friend Drathyn, and he sounded very upset. She groggily looked around, and saw who the words were for.
She yawned and staggered behind Drathyn, following him to the newer faces inside the hall.
Perk up! Look awake!

"Assaulting a boy?" She asked aloud, but the words were more for Drathyn. She wasn't sure what she had just heard.
She grasped the handle of her dagger, and glanced at the ceiling with a heavy sigh.

Elynniel Arthedaine - Laintar Dale

Elynniel listened as the others of the troupe voiced their ideas and strategies. They made sense, mostly, but she wasn't sure about the Imperial's suggestion of having some kind of mystic link being formed between the mage and another. She hated the thought, the idea of having another person being connected to her mind, in any way, shape, or form. It just wouldn't feel right. After all she had heard the terrible stories of magi controlling others and playing them like a puppet. Of course it's entirely possible that these are tall tales, exaggerated by peasants, but then, she didn't like to take her chances when there was a possibility of something getting inside her head.

Elynniel found Tariq's and Revis' suggestions to make sound sense, after a moment of thought. The fact that they both seemed to be well-seasoned fighters was reassuring, to her at least anyway. She found Davian Hawkstar to be reasonable, his suggestions for group division made sense, having a balanced group of mixed specialties would definitely help if they encountered any flying lizards. He was rather blunt though, Elynniel thought, glancing at Surius with a bemused smile, eyeing his expensive attire with a practiced eye, wondering just what he kept on him. She also wondered if there were many nobles in Laintar Dale, experience had taught her that if there was one thing nobility liked, it was extravagant parties and feasts. Coincidentally, she loved parties too, especially the ones that were exclusive.

Turning her attention back to Davian, she nodded in agreement,
"I think, I agree with the way you're grouping us together, Sir Davian." She smiled slightly at that, from what she'd seen of Davian, he wasn't exactly the typical example of a Sir, "I wouldn't mind either group, though the inn seems to be a fine spot for investigation. Of course, I'll leave it to the discretion of our noble leaders to decide that." The inn held some interest for her, perhaps because of her familiarity with them, and the comfort of familiarity that influenced her choice. That wasn't to say she was familiar with burning inns, those tended to be rather rare in her experience.

Xerca - Laintar Dale Hall

Xerca nodded at the responses he was given, "You make good points, and I'm afraid I don't know much in the school of mysticism, my abilities are more focused then someone from a normal magic school." He stated to the nobleman. "So we'll split up." He added glad to have come to a decision.

"I would recommend Surius go with the other group, he can read and write I assume and we will need to document these sightings and any findings in case they could lead to preventing other dragon attacks." He insisted, he watched as the orc walked out of the group.

"Davian, you shall lead the second group, I would recommend Tariq, Surius, Hanniel and Krom. That would give you, yourself, your hunter, another warrior and the scholar. I would take Revis, Jarn and Elynniel." He hoped he had divided the group up evenly, he was a little worried about dealing with a smaller group, but he figured Surius wasn't really a member more then he was an item of the group.