[Juliet]

Allard

The witch looked him up and down obviously taking note of his physical features, he had no choice but to endure the inspection despite not wanting his identity to be revealed.

"Magic, yes, that is my profession. I am Fiona Barrow-Heart, Court-Mage to Jarl Spurvhauke. I am actually rather busy at the moment, would you mind stepping outside with me, we could continue our discussion on the way to my study? It is just across the street." The witch said cheerfully.

Court-Mage? Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea, he realised, there could be Thalmor here and they had a tendency to infect the upper echelon. He had no choice but to allow her to lead him to her study now though, especially after being inspected so closly. He spoke quickly and quietly, "I would be happy to do so," and left the building, ready for the woman to lead him to her study. He would appreciate the privacy of such a place, where he could reveal his secret and hope that the woman would help him.

[Johnny]

Raryn - On the road to Volton

Raryn frowned as the carriage rocked from hitting another brick. "Watch it!" he called out, his two guards were at the reigns of the single horse drawn vehicle. Raryn sat inside on soft plumed cushions and watched the woods around him, "What a dull and uninteresting place." he mused, his fingers tapping against the jet black paint.

The carriage wasn't his favourite, it's single cabin was framed by jet black paint with no pattern, the windows were of a clear glass surrounded by deep red curtains and the wheels were thick and made of mostly metal. It was an old carriage, only showing it's age in how it rocked dramatically against any bump.

Raryn pushed aside these thoughts and went back to the map that filled one of the walls of the cabin. Several nails had been hammered in at specific locations, mostly indicating family members or places he'd like to visit, but there was one which he toyed with, Valton. Even the name sounded exciting. He licked his lips in anticipation, he wondered how the other holds felt about this new hold springing up. He thought about the large house he had bought. He pictured a large powerful wooden building with a slanted roof and strong doors. A smile crept along his face.

"How far?" he asked, poking his head outside the cabin window. His favourite bodyguard, Gerald looked down and answered, "A few miles m'lord."

Raryn smiled and leant back, covering himself with a large fur blanket. "Very well." he replied silently, his eyes piercing into the forest.

Raryn - Valton

"M'lord! We're here." The other bodyguard, Jul replied, his Argonian tongue was hard for Raryn to understand at times but it was clear the man was relieved. Quickly, Raryn pulled open the curtains and peered out of the cabin, he could see signs of civilisation, they were obviously on the outskirts.

"Slowly now Jul, let's not stir anyone." he added, noticing that it was beginning to become night time. His favourite time.

At his orders, the carriage lumbered into the town, the large castle keep named simply as Gudslott Keep stood out against the harsh environment. "Very nice." he whispered to himself. Raryn then began to see other people, simple people, wearing simple clothes. This pleased him, he was now of a high status, he was a lord amongst peasantry.

[Emilie Joseph]

Fiona Barrow-Heart, Theadus' Shop, Afternoon


Fiona Barrow-Heart smiled pleasantly at the shop-keep, batting her eyelids as if she hadn't just gone off on a gruesome tirade on the effects of dark poisons, and payed him in coin for one bunch of mountain flowers and a pair of small antlers. She had to rustle around in her innumerable pockets and pouches for a few moments before she found something that wasn't a bug or a piece of dead animal, and produced the correct coinage. She curtsied playfully as she turned away to exit the shop with the Altmer, her expression becoming far more serious as they stepped out alone into the open. The witch looked in his red eyes gravely,
"-If you are a Thalmor spy working with that worm Justicar, I don't want to hear it" she began, hissing her words, "I know the trick: good-guard bad-guard. He's the stick and you're the carrot. But I'm not interested in any offer, and I won't give you a pinch of dirt on the Jarl. You can find your Stormcrown worshippers yourself." she growled, glaring into Allard's eyes.



Jarl Spurvhauke, The Great Hall, Midday


Jarl Spurvhauke looked at the Altmer with dulled eyes. The Elf spoke platitudes of little concequence, then broke into an unusual tirade apparently directed at a citizen of his hold. Spurvhauke 's brow raised when Varlamo mentioned his Court-Mage. A younger Radwulf would have interjected at this point, he decided, and defended the woman in his employ. The old Jarl listened on, as the Elf's tone became risible, and he spoke of Cyrod and Dragons. The Jarl had dealt with mages before, more than a few battlemages in the Imperial Legion, but never one who enjoyed delving into obscurities as much as this present Thalmor. A lot of Bark, thought the Jarl, but for how much bite? How much trouble will this unruly Elf cause my hold? He had never killed a Thalmor with his own hands, but by his acumen and shrewd managment an entire Legion of Nords had survived the A'lkir desert, and visited terrible destruction upon the Aldmeri armies. He thought of all the elves he had helped bring to die. Back then the Thalmor where a statistic, they were a terrifying doom always on the horizon, the constant risk; never seen but always present. And here the Thalmor where now, in his own home, barking on about Dragons and "doom drums". He clenched his fist, and for a moment hated himself, hated himself bitterly. The feeling past, but Jarl Spurvhauke felt a strong desire to be outside, to see his son. To hold a blade in his hand. Would his son still fancy a spar with his old father? No, he's- The memory of Radwulf's wife put her hand on his, and Jarl Spurvhauke remembered himself, looking up at the Justicar how was waiting impatiently for his reply.

"Very well. You may stay in the keep. A room will be prepared." he answered flatly, choosing to ignore most of what the elf had said. Risible, but not worth rising to. What the Jarl said next suprised even himself, "oh, and my Court-Mage is not Forsworn. I may look a fool to you, but I still have my wits about me. She is an alumni the College of Winterhold, and adviser on matters occult, I seek her consul on these matters and trust her no futher. I will have no petty bickering in my Court. As for Talos worship" he waved his hand, "If evidence is found, due action will be taken. I have nothing more to say on the matter. You may take your leave, as I have other matters to attend to" he finished, was that sternness in his voice? Where had that backbone come from? As he dwelled longer on his reply, Jarl Spurvhauke decided he had sounded ridiculous, and the outburst, in defence of that odious Court-Mage of all people, had been utterly unfounded. And so the cloud of melancholy descended again on the old Jarl.

[Steve Fallon]

Varlamo Aicandil, Bastard Who No One Likes, The Great Hall, Midday

The Jarl had reacted to Varlamo's aggravating manner. Perhaps the Altmer had underestimated the Jarl.

"Jarl Spurvhauke. I am a Justiciar. Hunting heretics is what I do, and will do. You can trust that." The battlemage spoke calmly once more. "I would however, like to bring up the fact that I was not meant to be here alone. Valiant purebred Altmerdoon, scourges of Stormcrown, were slaughtered on the roads just outside Valton beside me. Bandits, stormcloaks, us Thalmor have many potential enemies... who they were does not matter. I was put under threat as my comrades fell into Aetherius around me. I killed them all, around ten of the worms fell to my blade." Varlamo exaggerated the number, to make himself seem stronger. "Your roads are not safe. You cannot expect to run a hold without a stable infrastructure Jarl. I respect your position, we will have been enemies in the Great War. You led a great logistical campaign -one that should be remembered throughout the ages- in Hammerfell. Many an Altmerdoon fell to attrition in the Alik'r deserts, perhaps one day you can tell me how you organised such a large and successful operation, Spurvhauke. You let down your past achievements and disappoint by allowing the hold to remain so unsafe. You should invite the Mede Imperials, being from the Heartland yourself. The Imperials can offer you vast power, safety, wealth and... they can offer you the chance to reclaim your past glories. Perhaps you should offer to run their logistical campaign in Valton Jarl."

[darnell waddington]

Raest Kivaan – Entering Valton, Evening

Raest marched his way through the piled leaves, marveling at the beautiful colors in the trees and the occasional animal he would see scampering away in the distance. It was peaceful to say the least, though Raest was rather nervous, which lead to him speaking to himself, “I should leave my helmet on at all times so no one sees my eyes or ears. That leads to nothing good. I should also keep my lycanthropy a secret. People hate werewolves,” he continued resignedly, “I’ll be living a lie, as I’m not a true Nord, and I am a Lycanthrope. Is attempting to live a normal life worth pretending to be what I’m not?”

He gripped his spear tightly enough to hurt his hand, and he took a deep breath to steady himself, though he relaxed a little when he noticed a butterfly glide by on a gust of chilling wind. He stood there, eyes transfixed upon the beautiful, blue insect, and he felt a smile cross his lips as he watched it disappear beyond the horizon. As a man who rarely got what he wanted in life, he had learned to take pleasure in the small things, and he had a small hop to his step as he continued onwards towards where Valton had been marked on his map. During his journey, Raest began to prepare himself for what would likely be a major trial in his life. It was late afternoon when the hold finally came into view, and his resolve finally solidified when he saw his goal, “This is it, no turning back now,” he muttered to himself as he finally passed the first building on the outskirts of the hold.

Raest doubted that the locals would appreciate a random person setting up camp near their hold, so he looked around curiously; trying to figure out which of the many buildings in the hold served as an inn. Finally spotting it, he entered purposefully, knowing that if he purchased a room now, he wouldn’t have to worry about it later so he’d be free to meet the locals. He looked around the inn for the owner, and saw an older Nord who seemed like he was in charge, so he walked over and addressed the man, “Are you the owner of this inn? Are there any rooms left?”

OOC: I know there are no rooms left, but I felt like having him ask seeing as he’s not aware they’re all taken. When turned down it’ll give him an excuse to set up a camp outside anyway.

[Alex [AK]]

Bayard Arcturus - Valton Gates, Evening

Bayard shifted slightly in his boots before the gates. He looked around softly, observing the structure. Sure ain't no fabulous castle, thought Bayard. But I guess it will suffice. He then walked through the arch, entering the town of Valton. His journey was long and tiring, since he had walked all the way from Winterhold. With him he carried his satchel, filled with various items, and his axe, strapped to his waist. As he walked through the road, some townspeople looked in his direction, with a slow expression of fear, but also curiosity. He ignored them, as he did with most other people that found his hidden visage like one of that from a nightmare of some type. He wanted to check in at an Inn before the sun goes down behind the mountains, but upon examination of his coin purse, he had almost half of what was required. He grumbled under his breath.

He figured he would have to find some kind of residence for the night, as he could not afford the Inn. He decided to look around town for some kind of snug hole for him to stay in, and headed down further into the town. He popped open a bottle of Black-Briar Mead and took a quick sip - he wasnt a heavy drinker, but enjoyed the flavor of the mead soothing his tounge. Guess I'll have to find some kind of work here, He thought. But we always have tomorrow. Or any other time, for that matter.

[Carlitos Avila]

Clayton... the Inn...

Evening had come, and Clayton remained where he was, sitting in a corner of the inn all by himself. Erik and Bulder had gone off to check out the mine, and the others had since retired to their headquarters. Clayton however, decided to stick around and watch as people came and went. Most people gave a suspicious eye, and he didn't much care. Once again, he had his feet up on a stool, his hands behind his head. He'd sent the other boys back after they'd had a few rounds, no need for a drunken brawl this early, and he assumed they were getting settled in, enjoying a meal. As for Erik and Bulder, he knew that they'd be thorough in their scouting; Erik was meticulous like that.

Clayton thought back to the incident with Nelsh. He was a little concerned over how quickly he'd assumed that Erik was their leader, how kindly he'd spoken to him, and then his shock and trepidation upon discovering it was actually Clayton. Erik was a good man, a loyal man, but he'd still keep an eye on him nonetheless. Still, no point worrying about nothing he'd decided as he watched the fire crackling away.

First, he'd need to get his gang a good reputation; finish some contracts, be generally helpful where they could, get the people on side. Once the general public was on side with the Crimson Sons, then he could deal with the Jarl and his men, get into their good books. Not too much boot-licking mind, he had no desire to be Thane. However, for the Sons to commence their more secretive dealings, which for the moment were postponed, their were three people he'd have to coerce, the Jarl, the Captain of the Guard, and the court wizard.

Clayton prefered not to bribe them, far too obvious that his boys were up to something. A few errands for the guardsman, maybe helping out when their men fell injured or sick might get the captain on side, and being overall helpful for the Hold might be enough to gain the Jarl's trust. As for the court mage, he had no idea.

Clayton continued to weigh his options while he relaxed in the warmth of the tavern.

[Jacob Phillips]

Edited because of time/date issues~

[Luna Lovegood]

Tourmund,Inn

"I'm sorry friend, we have no ale. Nor food for that matter. I'm serving my own concoction if you like. It's not the most pleasant drink but ..." Jal shrugged. "It does the job."

"Well that was what I was speaking of,I heard some folks saying it tasted good after the third,bring one.Well if it were of your interest I have some friends back in Whiterun at the Honningbrew Meadery."

[Angela]

"Well that was what I was speaking of,I heard some folks saying it tasted good after the third,bring one.Well if it were of your interest I have some friends back in Whiterun at the Honningbrew Meadery."

"Really? Tasted good? Well, waddya know. I've sent letters requesting shipments so thanks for the offer but .. no thanks. I'd imagine the mead from Black-Briar and Honningbrew will be here within the next couple of days if not sooner." Jal turned around looking for the boy. He saw him joking and laughing with a pretty young girl.

"TOM. OI, LAD" Tom looked over, embarrassed to have been caught. Jal gestured.

"Go bring this fellow some of the homebrew. And be snappish about it. " Jal said sternly but smiled to himself when the boy couldn't see him.

At that moment a tall looking Bosmer walked in.

“Are you the owner of this inn? Are there any rooms left?”

"'Fraid not matey. They only built three rooms into this place and they've all been taken. You're more than welcome to share the fire though."

[Ana]

Raryn - Hlaalu Residance.

Raryn wasn't disapointed when he saw his home, it was like the others in this district, large, tall and well built. The woodwork was fine and the building looked sturdy. The carriage pulled up next to it and Raryn watched as Jul went to go to the nearby stable to keep the horse safe. Meanwhile, his other bodyguard was opening the carriage door and folding out some steps. It was a fine evening, bitter though but no less refreshing.

"Would you like us to prepare your meal for this evening?" Gerald asked. Raryn smiled, he was glad both his bodyguards were aware of his special talents and were willing to assist him.

"No thankyou Gerald. I think I shall go and and feast on my own tonight." His smile was twisted and cruel at the thoughts of some pitiless porper, fresh from the big city to tend to their farms being drunk dry. He laughed and patted his guard on the shoulder, "Come, let us find out where we are."

Entering the house, Raryn noted that it was in good condition, there were no rugs or any real furnishings but he was sure he could buy such means here. A few plant pots here and there and Hlaalu Residence would become a grand home. He didn't look through all of it though, only making sure that there was infact a bed and some other nessecities. Coming to the conclusion that he was pleased with his new home, he decided to go in search of company. Jul had yet to arrive back from the stables so Gerald came along.

Raryn - Tavern

The two walked in silence towards the Tavern. Raryn was becoming esctatic and as they entered the great inn felt like he was about to burst. Luckily, he had a lifetime of training to hold his true emotions in and only show what he wanted. He instantly noticed how his fine clothes made him stand out. The well made gold embroidery that lined his sleeves and other edges stood out against the black cloth. Meanwhile, his bodyguard was dressed head to toe in iron armour, a steel sword and shield at his side.

"Grab yourself a beer Gerald." He stated, handing the man a few gold septims. He knew the man wouldn't drink too much, and probably wouldn't finish his only beer. His bodyguards were good like that.

Meanwhile, Raryn walked up to the bar, "A glass of fine wine, please." he called out. Expecting them to say they either didn't have any glassware, or they didn't have any wine.

[Katy Hogben]

Felix Sulla, Outside the Hold

After receiving no reply Felix made his way outside, pushing his way past the recent influx of customers as he did so. His plan, as simple as it was, was to pick up work as a sellsword in the new hold and climb his way up the latter from there. The eventual goal was to earn enough to purchase himself a plot of land to build a house on, yet without steady pay it would remain a pipe dream. His stomach rumbling, Felix spat on the ground and made his way down the main road once more, turning his mind to problems in need of immediate solving.

After reaching the city gates Felix climbed the stairs of a nearby watch tower to get a better view of the clearing below. Much to his surprise a wealth of deer and other edible critters could be seen galloping too and fro only a few miles out. His next source of food determined, Felix descended the staircase and made his way to the stable just down the road. The boy he'd paid to tend to his horse came running up as soon as Felix spotted him, a worried look on his pock-marked face.

"M'lord... I mean, Sir... I'm so sorry! I-I-I was washin' and brushin' your horse like you paid me too when it bucked me and ran out all of a sudden!"

Felix fixed his icy gaze on the adolescent boy and grimaced, allowing his disapproval of this newest development to be seen quite clearly.

"That was no mere horse, boy. It was a charger. A war horse. If he ran off it's because you or some other Nord bumpkin frightened him. Now, tell me true boy... What did you do to spook my horse?"

The young man bit his lower lip for a moment as he realized he'd been caught in a lie. Apparently finding no other fibs to tell, the stable boy spoke up once more in a shaky tone. "Well, sir I uh... I was tending to another horse just down the way there when I knocked over a pile of old scrap metal by accident. Before I knew what was goin' on your horse was at a gallop headin' towards the south. If I could've stopped 'em I would've, sir..."

Felix spat on the ground once more, this time at the idiot's feet. "Were we back in Cyrodill and something like this occurred, I would have you beaten, tarred and feathered for it. To lose a knights mount is a grievous offense punishable by death in some lands. Keep that in mind for when I bring my steed back to this run-down stable, trash."

His peace spoken Felix began the trek south on foot, still quite peeved that his horse had been spooked. Even so it wasn't the first time the skittish beast had run off after hearing a loud bang and likely wouldn't be the last. Felix had since come up with a way to track it down over multiple different kinds of terrain by imprinting a specific design on each horseshoe. The design was the insignia of the Sulla family's coat-of-arms: a large lion perched atop a jutting rock over looking the plains, ferociously roaring to the sky in defiance.

Felix had finally picked up his mount's trail after four hours on the trail leading to a southern clearing, where he assumed the massive black destrier was grazing the fields and filling it's belly. Upon reaching his destination however, Felix would instead find more tracks leading even further south, deeper into the snow. On top of that the sun had already started to set causing the temperature to drop dramatically. What's more he was entirely unarmored and therefore unprepared for a serious fight, save for the steel plate gauntlets on his hands. Angered at this revelation the young knight could only turn back, realizing the best course of action would be to wait in town for the night and pick up the search first-thing in the morning.

Before making his way back to the inn to purchase a bed for the night, however, Felix would drop by the stable once more to have words with the idiot who'd potentially lost his horse for good.

"Oh, hello again sir. I see you don't have your hor-"

The back of Felix's armored hand crashed into the young man's face, breaking his nose in with shear concussive force in the process. The stable boy merely staggered backwards and clutched both hands to his face, stunned at being struck so viciously and suddenly. His point made, Felix managed to put on his calm, careless facade once more and strut towards the inn as if nothing had happened, though anyone with basic observational skills could see the rage boiling under the surface. After copping a seat near the fire Felix noticed a few specks of blood encrusted in the cracks of the gauntlet he'd struck the boy with, and began casually wiping it away with a sleeve of his tunic.

[Pants]

Tsavani - Evening at the Inn
As dusk set on Valton, Tsavani made her way to the inn... She'd promised the few people she'd met in the town so far that she'd tell her story here tonight, and that time had finally come. As she stepped inside, she found herself greeted by ambient warmth, her recently-cleaned fur fluffing out to release the trapped heat from her body, and by stares of the patrons (mostly the conspicuous band of mercenaries) - a reminder that she had yet to find a set of clothes to cover herself. And yet, she found that she didn't mind - the warmth of the inn would probably make any substantial outfit unbearably stuffy for her.

She was also greeted by memories, back from her own inn in Chorrol. But... something seemed missing. The place was too clean... no, not clean, as the Oak and Crosier was far more tidy than this place. It was barren: No decorations, only the simplest furniture, and most significantly, the lack of the pleasant scent of fresh food and the wide selection of bottled and casked drinks. She paused once she was clear of the doorway, taking in what scents were around. The distinct scent of fresh-cut pine was welcome and reassuring - the place and its furniture were only recently constructed, and explaining the lack of furnishing and foods. The other notable scent was a mixture of bad alcohol and rancid honey. Nords... they have NO taste in good drink, she thought dismissively to herself. Then again, overhearing the Innkeeper, she figured that he wasn't proud of it as more than the most basic something in any capacity.

Keeping her grip on her spear, she looked around for anyone she had seen earlier in the day, pulling a chair off to the side of the room, but where others could speak and listen to her. She fidgeted in her chair, making herself as comfortable as she could, smoothing down her fur and skin to keep it from getting pinched up against the wood. "No food or drink at all in this place?" she asked almost rhetorically. It was hard to believe that there would be no nearby food market the inn could have stocked from to cover until they got a more steady supply...

[Ashley Tamen]

Nuramon

They had arrived at the inn. Nuramon got off the cart, careful not to hurt his leg more than it already was. He then picked up his bag. He then turned to Sargon. “this is the inn. You can get a bed here. If you want I have a spare bed in my home to.” He offered his old friend. “I’m gonna go finish some business now.” He waved at the dunmer and went inside through the back entrance.

He saw Jal attending to some customers and when he was done with it Nuramon called for him. “Hey jal! I have something for your inn.” He called out. “ I hope you know how to cook.”

[remi lasisi]

Raest Kivaan – The Inn: Hela’s Folly, Evening

"'Fraid not matey,” the Nord began, “They only built three rooms into this place and they've all been taken. You're more than welcome to share the fire though."

Raest was actually a little relieved, as he hated the feeling of a mattress beneath him, and he had only asked so he would appear more like a normal Nord. He enjoyed sleeping outside beneath the stars, feeling the wind against his face, which is probably his Bosmer nature showing through. Raest decided he would simply set up a camp outside later, using the lack of rooms at the inn as an excuse if any guards bothered him. His lips hinted at a smirk before immediately returning to normal, and he decided to introduce himself to the Nord.

“My name is Raest Kivaan, by the way,” he paused politely for the Nord to introduce himself, and then asked, “Do you have any water here? It’s been a long journey since I entered Skyrim, and I’m absolutely parched,” while waiting for a reply, Raest leaned his spear up against a wall, and then leaned his shield upon the base of his spear. He saw a naked khajiit out of the corner of his eye and blinked rapidly, almost confused by how strange such an occurrence was, then he returned his gaze to the Nord.

[Sammygirl]

Graymane, Helas's Foly inn

Seeing nobody at work at the smithy – whether it's owner was inside with a customer or out for one reason or another – Elarian turned his way to the inn. Which unfortunately still had the warning about lacking supplies. But at least from the sounds of it it seemed people were there. Maybe the local smith was there too, though he didn't have too much hope.

Soon he made his way inside, and ceases wondering why his attire had raised so few eyebrows – the naked khajiit sitting near a wall would certainly raise the bar of interest way above his own clothes, no matter what their quality. Amongst the other customers only one of the mercenaries remained, which suited him fine. But I wonder how that worthy kept himself busy in the afternoon. Probably watching his underlings and thinking how to make the most money out of them and the town. I don't care much as long as they're not trying to make money out of me...

Other than those two, only one of the customer attracted his attention. Not only was the old dunmer wearing an attire of uncommon quality, the presence of a bodyguard hinted at some serious money. Possibly old money, even if the black and gold wasn't something he would have picked himself. Old money, or old debts seeking a refuge. Another possibility would be someone betting on our jarl's success or maybe one of his creditors. Either way there might be something to gain there. But it can wait...

Elarian picked a seat close to the khajiit, making no attempt to hide his interested as his eyes wandered over – though unless most men he also watched her hands and overall frame as well as the spear she had left leaning on the wall. I can't tell for sure unless I see her move, bur it doesn't looks like she's got much training in fighting, I wonder how she came to get and keep such a spear while managing to loose her clothes. I guess there's an interesting story there. And maybe other interesting things...


He greated her with a warm smile, devoid of the contempt many dunmer still held for the khajiits and his voice equally friendly. “Good evening, I'm Elarian. I hope I'm not being nosy, but a spear isn't exactly the clothing usually worn at an inn. I suppose there's some interesting story to explain it and I'm curious about it. Would you mind telling me about it ? Around a plate of whatever the innkeeper might cook, to sate your stomach and my curiosity.”

[Matt Bee]

Tim the Guard, Helas's Foly Inn, Evening


Torleif Ost-Hjul lent in on the bar and gulped down another mouthful of Homebrew mead. The drink left him a little woobly in the legs. Every time he put the mug to his lips he was reminded just how strong this brew was. The guard blinked and looked at the slightly bored farmer he was chatting up. He had been complaining to her how all the other guards called him "Tim", and didn't respect the name his father had given him. A name passed down through generations of the Ost-Hjul, who for centuries had been huscarls to some of the nobliest houses in all of the Rift. There was an awkward silence as the farmer looked about to see if she could start a conversation with someone else, when behind her back there was a great commotion. A tall young Knight had assaulted a boy, striking him in the face with a steel gauntlet. The guard called "Tim" sighed and replaced his helmet onto his head, nodding at the rather relieved woman
"Madame" he said, and marched off across the tavern. Why always me? thought the Guard, bitterly, First that creepy witch picks on me, then I'm the only one on guard when that man attacked the Thalmor..why do I always seem to do everything around here? he sighed, moving rather gingerly through the crowd on his bad knee.
"Halt. You've assaulted a citizen of Valton. I'm going to have to put you under arrest" he drawled, placing a leathered hand on Felix's shoulder, "Pay the fine or spend some time in the Court Jail." he recounted robotically, feeling a little weak in his legs, Torleif Ost-Hjul's attention more on stopping himself sway from side to side than anything else. What was in that mead?!

[Kelly Osbourne Kelly]

Felix Sulla, Outside the Inn

The pvssyring murmurs of bystanders could be heard as Felix felt a hand grip his shoulder. His first reaction was to lower his right hand to the pommel of his blade and rest it there before turning to see who dared to order him to halt, a look of bewildered annoyance on his young face. The knight had never cut a town guard down on principle alone, finding it below him to mix with such lesser combatants, but the thought had crossed his mind as he met eyes with "Tim".

"Remove your hand from my shoulder or you'll feel the edge of my steel." Felix said in a tone that left no room for interpretation.

Felix paused for a moment as the sudden urge to relay his reasoning for striking the idiotic stable boy came upon him.

"That simpering whelp caused my horse to go sprinting into the cold. He's lucky I didn't run him through on the spot." Felix muttered through clenched teeth as his rage rose to surface. Already he had begun assessing the area around him, taking mental notes of potential tripping hazards to avoid should a fight break out. It wouldn't be an ideal scenario as he would most certainly be outnumbered, but taking a few with him on the way down would be sufficient enough. Such was his resolve.

[Del Arte]

Tim the Guard, Outside Felas' Folly Inn, Evening

The Guard glared at Felix. The mead was starting to burn a fire in his belly. Who did this little Cyrodiil think he was? Torleif Ost-Hjul thought back to how different his last arrest had been. He took his hand from the Imperial's shoulder, only to rest it on the handle of his axe.
"I don't care why you did it-" he said more sternly, "But assault is assault. Look at the poor boy" he gestured at the whimpering child, who has hiding half behind a discarded cart, clutching his nose as it poured crimson.
"Now. Pay the fine, or come back with me and we can find you a nice patch of straw to sleep on in the castle dungeon." he said rather aggresively, not liking this man's tone one bit. At the same time he wondered if that nice farm-girl was watching somewhere in the gathering crowd.

[matt oneil]

Gorbad Yak-Bogadbu (old orc male blacksmith) midday to evening, his forge.

The sun had crept slowly towards the tree-tops. In his forge, impressive weaponry had been hammer the entire day. A flawless iron war axe, capable of causing lethal bleeding with only a single strike. An iron sword that was surprisingly light and fast. A mace that could crush armor. A dagger so sharp that merely dropping it could sever a finger and also a perfectly balanced greatsword, a massive warhammer and an impressive battleaxe. Over half of the shopkeepers order was already made, every weapon sharpened and reinforced to perfect quality. All of them would last long and inflict much damage, in the right hands.

With the evening upon him, Gorbad finished his days work, put everything in their right places and went inside his house. There, he changed to something more comfortable. He placed his orcish boots and gauntlets in a chest by his bed, hang his blacksmiths apron by the door and walked over to the wardrobe. A belted tunic with matching pants would be perfect for a late evening at the Inn. A pair of fine boots wouldn't hurt either. On his way out, he locked the door and headed for the Inn.

Outside, some kind of arguing was going on. A guard had stopped a young man, most likely some sort of knight and was talking about assault and what-not. The knight looked like he was about to gut the guard, but managed to calm himself down and mumbled something about his horse sprinting out in the cold. It wasn't Gorbad's problem, so he walked casually past the two men and entered the now highly crowded Inn.

In the Inn:
He gave a nod and smile to any familiar face and ordered a mug of the only drink the Inn had. He handed the coin to the innkeeper and was shortly served a mug of the homebrewed, "mead? ale? Bah, what's the difference", he thought. He was tristy, so he drank all of it in one swoop. "Certainly has a kick to it. Not too shabby.", he thought.
"Could I have another one, please?" He said to the innkeeper.


OOC: Edit: Changed barkeeper to innkeeper.

[Sophie Miller]

Felix Sulla, Outside the Inn, Evening

Felix snickered as the guard gripped his own weapon, standing ready to react should the fool make the mistake of unsheathing. His hair was stuck to either side of his face, matted and wet from a light drizzle he'd walked through on the road back which made him seem a bit wild. A large part of him wanted the encounter to go south if only so he could impress upon those around him how serious he was, though a sliver of rationality yet remained. His hand had made it's way from the pommel of his broadsword to the hilt, though it was not yet gripped around it.

"Since you relayed an ultimatum to me, perhaps I can return the favor. I haven't the coin to pay nor the patience to sit in a jail cell. I do however have the talent and experience to cut you down where you stand. So here you have two paths before you, one leading back to the barracks and the other to Oblivion. Choose wisely."

Felix would then wait to see if Tim would call his bluff or take the notably less dangerous route and return to his rounds. Either way the agitated Imperial stood ready for either outcome.

[Fluffer]

Tim the Guard, Outside Felas' Folly Inn, Evening

The guard stared down Felix Sulla. The silence dragged out, around them the crowd moved back inperceptably. The mead in Tim's belly was warming him, and the heat was rushing to his head. He felt the eyes of a dozen villagers on him. He began to sweat inside his helmet. The seconds dragged on. At length he gripped the handle of his war-axe and drew it slowly from his side. His heart thumped. The mead was making Tim feel dizzy, but he knew his job, and he wouldn't be intimidated.
"Very well. I'm afraid you'll have to come with me. I'll take you up to the castle and we can see what the Captain of the Guard thinks of your ultiwhatever it is" he said uneasily, keeping his balance, not raising his weapon for now. The guard they called "Tim" had forgotten there was no Captain at the moment, and was also completely unawares that this young man was one of the leading candidates to take up that position. "Tim" Ost-Hjul wasn't feeling too good; he could feel the alcohol in his blood now, and a swelling in his head. He felt a little like he was going to be sick.

[rolanda h]

Felix Sulla, Outside the Inn, Evening

Felix could feel his blood quicken as Tim opted for the more entertaining route, gripping his axe and speaking some nonsense about a captain. The faint sound of smooth polished metal rubbing against wood could be heard as Felix drew his own weapon, tightening his grip around the thickly corded hilt of his blade as he freed it from it's sheath. Length-wise Felix's weapon carried the advantage though he'd neglected to wear his armor that day. One well-placed blow from the guards axe and a bad day would worsen significantly. Felix was about to initiate the battle when he noticed Tim stagger a bit, causing him to hold back and size his opponent up once more.

"'Eh? If you're trying to fight me drunk it's practically suicide..." Felix said in an increasingly annoyed tone as he stood with his blade readied. Felix was by all means a dangerous malcontent, but slaying a drunk carried very little honor with it. Less so than killing a town guard, even. The knight seemed to consider something as he loosened his grip.

Seemingly coming to a conclusion, Felix would lower his blade and speak once more though in a far calmer fashion. "So be it. For now I'll comply with your demands, guard. But mark my words... Should we meet again when you're health is improved, I will put you down like a dog." With that Felix sheathed his blade and stood fuming silently, a mixture of irritation and boredom in his eyes.

[cheryl wright]

[OOC: Now it should be alright sorry again guys! ]

Daikanos. Roads of Valton. Late evening.

He had been travelling for days. He had been on Solstheim when he heard of the new hold being built and he had decided that it would be a great place to restart his life and perform an honest job for once in his life.

He had travelled through the ice cold winds and blizzard of the Northern regions of Solstheim. Then took a boat to Skyrim, which he still hates by the way. And then it wasn’t a long trip to Valton. He had dealt with the occasional bandit or Thalmor that annoyed him and made it in one piece to the hold. He never doubted it. He never doubted his skills.

The streets were as good as empty and a strong, cold wind played with his dark red hair and pushed the hood of his cloak off, revealing the worn face of battle hardened Dunmer. His hand was clamped around his sword’s handle as he tried to ignore the cold and he pushed his hood over his head again with his other hand.

When he passed the stables he could see a large commotion in it when he saw a man hitting one of the stable boys. Daikanos stopped walking to watch what was happening. Bloody savages. He thought. Not much later a guard swayed his way to the Imperial man and tried to arrest him.

"Halt. You've assaulted a citizen of Valton. I'm going to have to put you under arrest" he drawled, placing a leathered hand on Felix's shoulder, "Pay the fine or spend some time in the Court Jail."

"Remove your hand from my shoulder or you'll feel the edge of my steel." Felix said in a tone that left no room for interpretation.

Felix paused for a moment as the sudden urge to relay his reasoning for striking the idiotic stable boy came upon him.

"That simpering whelp caused my horse to go sprinting into the cold. He's lucky I didn't run him through on the spot."

"I don't care why you did it-" he said more sternly, "But assault is assault. Look at the poor boy" he gestured at the whimpering child, who has hiding half behind a discarded cart, clutching his nose as it poured crimson.
"Now. Pay the fine, or come back with me and we can find you a nice patch of straw to sleep on in the castle dungeon." he said rather aggresively

"Since you relayed an ultimatum to me, perhaps I can return the favor. I haven't the coin to pay nor the patience to sit in a jail cell. I do however have the talent and experience to cut you down where you stand. So here you have two paths before you, one leading back to the barracks and the other to Oblivion. Choose wisely."

"Very well. I'm afraid you'll have to come with me. I'll take you up to the castle and we can see what the Captain of the Guard thinks of your ultiwhatever it is" he said uneasily.

"So be it. For now I'll comply with your demands, guard. But mark my words... Should we meet again when you're health is improved, I will put you down like a dog."

Daikanos saw the crowd moving backwards as the guard gripped his axe. He could see immediately that the man was drunk and in no condition to put up a fight. The Imperial on the other hand looked like he wanted nothing else and Daikanos knew that the guard wasn’t going to stand a chance at this moment. He still had respect towards guards. A small left over from his time as a Royal Guard and because of that he felt the need to protect the man.

He put his hand on the Imperial’s soldier and brough his mouth closer to the man’s ear. Imitating the evil, slick voices that rang in his head he spoke to the boy as he placed his other hand on his sword. “I’d say you speak to the guard with the respect he deserves and go with him to the barracks.” He said. “You know what. I’ll even join you two.” He tried to place as much treat in his voice as he could. “Or do you wish to fight me against me instead?”

[LADONA]

Allard - Afternoon

The witch looked up into his bright orange eyes gravely, "-If you are a Thalmor spy working with that worm Justicar, I don't want to hear it" she began, hissing her words, "I know the trick: good-guard bad-guard. He's the stick and you're the carrot. But I'm not interested in any offer, and I won't give you a pinch of dirt on the Jarl. You can find your Stormcrown worshippers yourself."

Allard was taken aback by what the witch had said and took a moment to process it, "What do you mean 'that worm Justicar?" He demanded, they can't have found me already, it was impossible. He was shaking with fear and took a moment to calm himself as he had been taught. Assess the situation, he told himself and then anolysed what the witch had said.

"I need your help," He said slowly, "I am in a great deal of peril and that 'worm' has just made it even worse. By naming him that I take it you are not exactly an ally of the Thalmor and therefore it is in your best interest to help me, one of the few of my race who will fight against them." He looked into her eyes this time, unsure how she would react.