She held her head back from the table, part trying to escape the Dunmer's breath, the other realizing exactly how heated this situation could become. A memory tickled her brain; this was the same Dunmer she'd seen accosting a Khajiit outside only a little while ago. She pulled the pipe from her mouth and stood abruptly, knocking over her own chair.

"Sorry..." she said, stepping over it, "I need a drink." She scanned the crowd, knowing that she'd be recognized very quickly if she re-entered the bar or attempted to buy the drink herself.

Her eyes settled on a young mer, obviously here with the same intent, by the way she was trying to chug her drink. Trying, of course, because no one was really good at chugging their first drink, and consequently, she noted, that's why she prefered liquors. Ignoring the fallen chair around her feet, she simply swayed around the obstuction and proceeded to the Bosmer's--that was the only explanation for why the mer was so short--table.

"Allo." This time, the Altmer had the good sense to wait to be seated. "Listen... I've got, I've got a problem. Could you order drinks for me? I'll still pay. They just cut me off and'd recognize an..." she trailed off. This plan probably wouldn't work.

OOC: Please avoid one-liners.

IC:

The Champion leaned back into the shadow, but his eyes still studied the Dumner. A strange fellow, bold and...ugh, what an aura of stink about him. Despite having already noticed it, he couldn't help but grimace anew as a gentle breeze blew past the two men, carrying the smell from the necromancer toward him.

"Well, Zalphon," he said, "I am called Dragonheart." It was not his real name, but it was the name he'd taken a long time ago, when he fought in the arena, and it was the name he was using now to identify himself to friends.

As he spoke, he threw a glance at the bar. J'Tava was there, waiting to talk to him. He frowned. He needed to speak with the politician; he would have to see what the other man wanted -- because he clearly wanted something -- as quickly as he could.

"But you are not from this area...what brings you to the docks so late?"

Ah, the Champion of Cyrodiil, ha, I knew it!

Zalphon unabashedly says "Dragonheart, isn't that the alieus of the Grand Champion of the Arena..."

The Dunmer slipped a folded note across the table which read "I know who you are, Champion, lets go to a...safer...place, do not worry, The Archmagister of House Telvanni has ordered me to slay Ocato, and you could be of much use..."

If he doesn't help, then the guards will hear a loud yell, and a bleeding wound on me, and a man named "Dragonheart" trying to murder a "diplomatic ambassador"...

"Allo." Shara looked up, noticing a very tipsy looking Altmer approach her. "Listen... I've got, I've got a problem. Could you order drinks for me? I'll still pay. They just cut me off and'd recognize an..." She stopped, apparently thinking of something.

Shara usually wasn't much for company, and she wasn't thrilled in the prospect of getting drunk anyways, but this Altmer seemed desperate. Besides, she didn't seem like most of the stuck up Altmer people she had met before.

"Sure, I'll pay for a few of yours. Not sure if it's a good idea though, you don't look too good." Shara motioned for her to sit down at the other chair available at the table. She had read many stories about people geting drunk together that later became very good friends.

Heh, friends. For a person like me...?

Still, the idea appealed to her. And she ordered another drink from the barmaid, while contemplating the almost laughable situation she was in.

A noble assassin that wound up drinking in one of the roughest bars in the Imperial City, approached by a drunk who she was considering begin friendly with.

Yes, I'm definitely some assassin.

Hector watched as the dunmer and cloaked figure talk at the table. He heard the man in the robe mention the name Dragonheart and remembered the name being given for those who rise to the highest rank in the arena. Hector knew the Champion took it as his arena name mainly because he saw one his fights a few years back. Hector was sure this man across from the dunmer was the champion and decided to approach the pair. Stepping forward and pulling a chair up to the table, Hector removed his hood and sat down. "Sorry to intrude on your conversation but I have a feeling I could be of service if you are who I think you are."

Zalphon looks at the imperial and says "What...do you want, imperial, either get away, or I may have to do it forcefully..."

I may have to get rid of this imperial, he is proving to be a pest, a simple command humanoid spell will work, but a frenzy spell will prove to be much more fun...

"I know who you are, Champion, lets go to a...safer...place, do not worry, The Archmagister of House Telvanni has ordered me to slay Ocato, and you could be of much use..." the Dumner whispered.

The Champion nodded slowly, taking the envelope the other man had pushed toward him. "Alright," he said. "But later...I have business here first."

At that moment, a tall Imperial military-type appeared, and pulled up a chair. His frankness in addressing him convinced the Champion that he was, in fact, a military man, probably a legionnaire. “Sorry to intrude on your conversation but I have a feeling I could be of service if you are who I think you are," the other man said.

Zalphon spoke before the Champion had an opportunity to respond, saying, "What...do you want, imperial, either get away, or I may have to do it forcefully..."

The shadowy figure cleared his throat, addressing both men, "Come now," he said. "We're all friends here." He turned to the newcomer. "My friend here and I were just finishing up. Perhaps you would like to order a drink from the bar, and we could speak together in a moment?" He didn't want to offend the Imperial, but he felt it unwise to trust too much to the Dumner. He wanted to set up a meeting place with Zalphon, and then part company; whatever they had to say, they could say in private. He didn't need to risk a scene should the Dumner lose his patience. Plus, he still had to get to the bar to speak with J'Tava, or at least to get him a message before the Khajiit lost patience himself, or was scared off by the tavern's tumultuous atmosphere and sudden influx of people.

The dunmer said calmly "Fine, we won't 'fight' here..."

This Champion is lucky that Ocato's lapdogs can be anywhere...Otherwise the imperial would be dead...

"...Seriously?" she blurted, completely taken aback by the stranger's hospitlity. "Th-thank you, Bosmer." She smiled, tugging a little at her scarf, which had become somewhat uncomfortable in the heat. She took the drink from the approching barmaid's hand, setting it down on the table. "Name's Annellesia, by the way," she said, and finished by taking a tremendous gulp from the tankard. She then fiddled at her belt, emptying out her pipe and placing it at her side, then pulling off a large purse that jangled in the particular way of a purse that isn't as heavy as you'd like. "Fore I forget, as I'm inclined to do..." She counted out a stack of coins and pushed them across the table. "It's more than worth what I'll be drinking tonight, but, consider whatever's left yours." Another gulp of ale followed, but this one was much smaller, only bringing her tankard to half-full. "Now, what's your name?"

My name...?

"Shara Ranin." Crap, why did I use my real name!? "I'm an... accountant for Lord Umbacano II."

Shara took a heavy drink, almost coughing it back out again. She was obviously a newcomer to the alcohol scene, not even being able to hold that much.

Eying the coins the drunken Altmer woman had passed her, she pushed them back over to the lady. "Sorry, but you should probably keep it. I'd hate to take so much money from you."

Shara gave a weak smile. The drink had kicked in a slight bit, but her mind was still on the Redguard with a torn throat. She still didn't get why she was so deeply affected by it. She had killed people, many people, before! Yet here she was, blubbering like a small child.

Shara glanced back at the shadowy figure, who had been approached by three others, and were talking quietly amongst themselves. She had never seen such a powerful figure before, even being around him sent shivers up Shara's spine. "Say, who's that person? I noticed you had sat with him before. I can barely see his face, but he looks rather important. Especially the way those three are treating him."

Hector eyed the dunmer after his comment. "I sure hope your spells are as quick as your tongue elf or you just might lose it. But for the matter of what I want, i'm sure it is exactly what you want. If this man here is who I assume him to be." Hearing the assumed champions request Hector nodded and moved to the bar ordering a non-alcoholic beverage. He wanted to keep himself in the right state of mind for tonight.

"Memory's fuzzy," she said at length, trying to recall exactly which of the players he was. She knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that he was one of the important ones, and that she'd met him before, but with more pressing matters at hand, such as a pretty girl and the fact her stomach wasn't taking kindly to the ale, she didn't try that hard to remember. "But I don't think he likes the idea of people knowing he's around. Even if he already knows that people do." She sighed, took another quaff from her tankard, and smiled brightly. "War's about to begin, though." The smile, however bright, wasn't a smile of true happiness. She was drunk, and though the euphoria pressed in on her cheeks to a point of numbness, she understood in a basic way that her hands would be steeped in blood by the time it was over. Her hand idly graced the scar beneath her eye.

"But what has you so troubled? Never seen a money-pusher so troubled." The second sentence was more of a mumble--meant for herself more than anything, but it was still fairly audible. She knew who Umbacano was, in the way that any experienced silencer knew who their buyer's pawns were--that is, she knew of him, but wouldn't be able to pick him out on the street until it was her job to.

Her chin quivered, thinking about violence again. She'd known a woman once, a long time ago, who took her in off the streets and helped her stave off an addiction to sugar. She was kind, and didn't think too badly of the girl she sheltered, no matter how drunk and beligerent Annellesia'd gotten. The only thing that had infuriated her were the fights. The drunken brawls outside of taverns.

The Altmer pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes deeply. Then, with a smile, she opened them again.

Unfortunately, the drunk Altmer wouldn't give much of an answer to Shara's queries. She definitely felt something strange about the shadowy man in the corner.

Oh well, a person's business is their own, I guess.

"But what has you so troubled? Never seen a money-pusher so troubled." Shara glanced at the Altmer surprisingly. The Bosmer girl had always prided herself on the ability to keep her emotions to herself. Was the Altmer that cognitive, despite her drunkenness? Or was Shara so troubled it was showing on her face?

"Troubled...? Uh...of-of course not!" Shara laughed nervously. Pathetic. The lie was so obvious it was embarrassing. "I've just been thinking about something...something that's been bothering me."

About how I'm feeling conflicted about how I've lived my life, and all the lives I've taken. About how only a few hours ago I tore out a sleeping man's throat. Shara had to keep her identity secret, of course. Being Lord Umbacano II's personal point man (and in turn, Ocato's lapdog), was quite a problematic profession, especially since she was having doubts about it now.

"I've...seen some pretty violent things in my life. And one...one has been bothering me a lot." Shara was relaxing, slowly. She knew she shouldn't, her natural self-alertness was screaming out for her to just shut up and leave. The alcohol was having quite the effect on her by now, even though Shara had just finished up her first pint. "I'm probably stressing over nothing, though..." Shara trailed off. Her profession was hardly a social norm, she shouldn't even imply anything!

Just shut up and leave, Shara. Shut up and leave. Try as she might, she didn't get up. She didn't leave. Silently, the Bosmer girl hoped the alcohol wouldn't make her say something she would regret.

Zalphon sips his wine, and says, "Dragonheart, you heard of that, 'Champion' character, running around, slaughtering people or torturing the old and the young... I heard in the Imperial City, he killed an innocent young girl, the daughter of a merchant... Only family he had left, poor fella, buried her and took a dagger to his own chest. I hope the guards find this wicked, demented, horrible 'Champion'".

I am testing how far I can go before he attacks me, if he doesn't attack me after this, I know he isn't a complete moron, especially with Ocato's spies everywhere. The Champion will either try to kill me, making it obvious to the guards he supports the Champion and either be killed or thrown in prison. However, if he doesn't that means he can keep his anger 'stored' when I perform some not-so-honorable tricks to destroy Ocato, the Telvanni way, using blackmail, kidnapping, and murder...

"Liquor's quicker," she commented in an offhand way. "You'll get used to it." She took a pull from her tankard to close her statement. "Never get used to violence, mind. Unless you've always." Too drunk to read farther into the Bosmer's words, Annellesia frowned sympathetically. "At least it wasn't by your hands. That's the worst." She shrugged, relinquished her grip on her tankard, and set her hands on the table. This, of course, was why she preferred brothels--what should she say next? Too drunk to think of a proper answer, she merely took another gulp from her tankard, silently concluding that after this encounter ended, she'd visit the ladies up in the Elven Gardens.

OOC: (Sorry for being away everyone, I got sick over the weekend).

IC: The cloaked figure stared at the Dumner, wondering where these insane accusations came from. If it was an attempt to provoke him, it certainly wouldn't work. "I'm sorry," he said, "I have not heard of anyone like that. But, where did you want to meet?" He sipped his drink slowly, still studying Zalphon. "I don't mean to be rude, but I do have to say hello to a friend yet."

He glanced toward the bar. The Imperial was still there, and so was the Khajiit. "Good," he thought. "Neither of them have left yet. I better finish up quickly here, though."

Zalphon handed the imperial another note which read "I am just seeing how aggressive you are, to see if you will attack over insults, for I have some not-so-nice means of getting this done, my preferred methods are blackmail, kidnapping, and murder."

Hmmm, he is sensible, not like most other imperials... The Archmagister was right, this one will be of much use...

OOC: Rachel I'm kind of waiting for you >_>.. I don't have anything to post about until Ocato calls upon me or something or you PM me something to do, because I don't want to screw with the story. ty :]

Shara constantly found herself looking back at the figure masked in shadow, and the evil-looking Dunmer sitting with him. They were....strange.

Ignoring some of what the heavily intoxicated Altmer was saying, Shara listened in on some of their conversation. Her sharp Bosmer ears picked up some, but not all.

Pity. He seems like an interesting individual.

Sighing, Shara finished off her third pint. Realizing that she was now likely drunk, Shara laid her head back, looking up the ceiling, trying to focus her thoughts.

"At least it wasn't by your hands. That's the worst." Shara snapped back to reality, realizing what the Altmer had said. If Shara was a follower of the Nine, she would have been certain they'd forsaken her.

That's totally right. I can't go back to what I was before, can I?

Shara felt some relief at that. What's the point worrying about something she could do nothing about? She lived a fancy life, basically at ease with everything, despite the assassination contracts. If only Umbacano would disappear...

No! I can't be like that! If I kill Umbacano, I'd likely not live very long. Then what can I do?

Shara took another drink from her fourth pint. At this point, she was very drunk, but she still couldn't resist listening in the the conversation behind her...

Kale had started his rounds around the bar. He had had enough of these people just wasting away on acohol, and he wasn't sure how many people he had just thrown out. About 10.... 12 maybe. But that didn't matter he, this large ass crowd had made him nervous and he had the feeling that if he didn't start cutting off people now they might try something violent later. He even through Ormil out of the party and locked him inside his chambers, and his orc friend was helping him out by beating up the people who refused to leave.

He soon came up to a Bosmer girl sitting in a chair. She had about 4 pints of alcohol covering her table, and he doubt she looked sober to stay long enough but asked just to check.

"Excuse me Miss how much have you had tonight?", he said tapping the bosmer on the sholder.

The Champion took the note and read it, then smiled slowly. This Dumner was an interesting character, and that was putting it mildly. "I see," he said. "Well, I look forward to discussing this further." He paused, taking a key from his pocket. "There is a little shack on the water front," he told him, slipping him the key discreetly. "The last one on the far end. If you're interested in talking, I will be there in an hour."

With this, he rose and walked toward the bar. He wasn't sure how the Dumner would take his leaving like that, but he needed to get to his other allies. He avoided the bouncer -- he'd already had a few run-ins with the rowdier folks, and, though having only had a few sips, Dragonheart didn't want to risk a run-in with him -- and headed straight to the corner of the bar where J'Tava stood. The Khajiit was not looking entirely comfortable.

"Bartender, an ale!" the Champion requested. Then, he lowered his voice to a whisper, audible only to the Khajiit. "Good evening, my friend."

"Good evening, my friend." J'Tava was pleased that the champion had skillfully gotten rid of the Dunmer, doing so without causing a fuss or potential enemy was a good decision indeed.

"J'Tava does not drink the dizzy water, but he is pleased to see you as well." The Khajiit had his thin, furry arms crossed on his chest, leaning against the wall nonchalantly. One hand ventured into his coat, retrieving a tightly rolled parchment, sealed with maroon wax.

"These are the traitor Ocato's plans, all things from budget to military. Dragonheart should find the last section helpful indeed, J'Tava has seen the dread king's plans concerning our small force." It had not been easy to aquire, but his rather unique position offered him the oppurtunity to intercept such notes. Being one of Ocato's trusted infiltrator's had its uses, afterall.

OOC: I'll leave the contents of the note for you to decide, Rachel.

With a discreet smile, he took the parchment and slipped it into an unseen pocket. "Many thanks," he replied. This information would be exactly the sort of thing he'd need for planning any sort of missions. Retrieving a note from the same pocket, he handed it to J'Tava. "This is a list of some of the men who served Martin and Uriel Septim...they've disappeared since the takeover, and I haven't been able to find any trace of them...if you can dig up any information about them, you know where to send it," he said, finishing with a smile.

Then, glancing back at the Dumner he'd recently been conversing with, he added, "Oh, and if you hear anything about that one, a Dumner called Zalphon, foreign, a necromancer I think, I'm all ears." He wasn't sure why, but he had a feeling that he should know more about Zalphon...and one never knew what J'Tava might overhear. "I'll check in with you in a few days," he said, "but, if you need to be in touch before then, you can leave a message with Aelwin in Weye." The retired fisherman was a friend of his, one who he'd done a good turn for many years ago; after Ocato's coup, he'd worked as an information relay for Dragonheart, passing notes and messages whenever necessary.

OOC: Excellent, thanks Darkom. Also, I leave the list of names, and what you want to find about them, up to you.

OOC: Sorry, HW, didn't realize you were waiting on me. Here ya' go.

Dispatching his messenger, Ocato sighed. He'd just summoned Gauj Keijenx to his chambers. True, it was the middle of the night, but the Nordic vampire had already wakened him...and, anyway, vampires never seemed to need to sleep.

It hadn't made him comfortable, seeing Gauj prowling around his bedchamber like that...particularly in light of the fact that the vampire had tried so many times to convince him to accept vampirism.

Ocato shuddered at the thought. He was half terrified that he might wake up some morning to find out that Gauj had gone ahead with his scheme of turning him into a vampire. As if I don't have enough problems, he thought. Without the populace using vampirism against me too!

No, he was definitely going to have to do something about this...and the best way to keep Gauj from prowling was to keep him occupied. And he had just the task in mind.

"Yes, J'Tava will find out what he will." The Khajiit took the note, storing it safely within the soft pockets of his luxurious coat "And concerning the elf, J'Tava already knows what he has been told. The Zalphon is of the Morrowind house Telvanni, a Master, so he said to J'Tava."

'How fortunate this one was, and how unfortunate the smelly one is. Now he has J'Tava to contend with.'

"Though this one finds him a fool, the Telvanni could help us greatly, despite how much J'Tava despises the Gray Skins." With that final word of advice, J'Tava turned to the nearby door and left the pub without a proper goodbye. Walking onto the stone work of the waterfront harbor, he made a beeline for the city.

'J'Tava must return to the palace soon, the dread king grows suspicious. Thank Baan Dar that he assisted this one tonight, and praise be to Rajhin that he hide me from the Legion.'


OOC: Short, but it gets the job done. For all intensive purposes, J'Tava will soon go to his chambers, and tommorow start the task given to him. Whether someone that would be in the palace wishes to speak with him or not is their choice.

EDIT: Zalphon, who are you talking to? Me and the Champion were whispering in a corner, you were not privy to our conversation. After she handed you the key, you were effectively cut out of the conversation. And you can't really interrupt her before she talks to me, as it is already over. I'm gone, no one but those in the castle can speak to me any longer.