[Katie Louise Ingram]

Burne

There was nothing more that infuriated Burne than being ignored. When the Khajiit so easily dismissed his remark and responded with some slight before casually walking off, Burne was in a fury. If he had been younger, he thought to himself, why he might have.. done something about it.
Instead he took to hobbling after the Khajiit and shaking his stick angrily. He continued following her but she was quite a way in front and he moved at a snails pace, even when annoyed. By the time he was even close enough to see her properly he noticed that she was with another female and what looked like a Justicar.
Burne knew something interesting was going on here and decided to see how close he could get to the conversation.

"I am Varlamo of clan Aicandil, one of Auri-El's chosen, Thalmor Justiciar and battlemage of the great Second Aldmeri Dominion! I demand immediately that someone direct me to the Jarl or authority of this abomination of the Stone of Snow-Throat." The elf's voice carried weight, but the khajiit seemed to dismiss him altogether and began to mock him with a convoluted set of nonsense. The other woman seemed to find this highly amusing and was giggling to herself, Burne however was not amused. She spoke in an equally mocking tone and presented herself quite strangely considering something important must have caught the gaze of the Thalmor. He shook his head and scowled in disapproval

And then, to top it all off, a terrified looking man ran out from the inn and stumbled into the Justicar. "Uhhh....Your a spellsword right? You sure look the part."
Now Burne felt like he was being mocked, could this really be happening. "The impertinence of these people", he tutted. The Thalmor seemed equally annoyed and this and flipped, "A SPELLSWORD?! You blithering idiot. I could destroy you in a second! You exist, because I allow you to, just as the Aldmeri Dominion enables the Mede Empire to exist. You are a meek little mouse, run away, back to your false philosophies and Lorkhanic gibberish, worm!" his voice filled with rage and emotion, Burne was glad to see that he was not as cold as some of the Thalmor often were. Why the more he thought about it, the more he had begun to respect this strange man, although his language was troublesome and overly complex.

The elf then turned his attention to the Khajiit, "Suthay-Raht I presume? Though your short hair would suggest you are Ohmes-Raht. How interesting, what is a sugar-cat doing with such a weapon as that? And why does Hircine allow such a beast to wield it? You should not interfere in these divine matters Khajiit, you should leave the spear and the matter, to me and Fiona here, Alkosh and Lorkhaj."

It was then that he noticed the weapon the Khajiit was carrying and regretted trying to anger her earlier. She could have killed me, he realised. It was then that he realised she was working for the daedra. The vigilants would have to be called upon, he decided, that is if I am to stay in this place, I shall not live with a daedra worshipper.

The elf interrupted his thoughts as he decided to talk to the other woman, "Fiona of the Barrow-Heart, Forsworn Witch. Lorkhanic drivel I presume? The beat of the doom-drum is all but a feint tap now, the roar of Auri-El and the Dragon is the new sound you shall have to bear. Run back to your clan witch, why do you veer so far from the Reach? You have a duty, your metamorphosis awaits you. You are a failure to your people. You have no place here in this star-bound pattern of the mythic- Valton."

Burne sighed quite loudly, again with the overly complicated words. It took him a moment to dechiper the mers meaning and then realised the audacity it had to so openly offend both a daedric worshipper and a witch of the forsworn. Speaking of which, what on earth was a forsworn witch doing working for the Jarl. That man had alot to answer for.

Curiousity took hold of him but he chose to hold his tongue for the time being, to further assess the situation.

[Rozlyn Robinson]

Theadas, Valton Inn

Gorbad replied, "I will mostly be doing special items specifically requested by someone, because special items are usually made to look unique, feel unique and even be enchanted. I could, of course, make a few special items every now and then, given that we have enough ore and soul gems to work with. We'll have to see how our mine situation looks like before going further than basic iron and steel, though. If someone does ask around for special weapons and armors, be sure to point them my way. I'd rather deal with the really special and personal orders face-to-face with the customer. But as I said, if I get enough ore and gems to use I will be able to create a few special weapons for your shop as well. We can discuss that later if we get so far." Gorbad shook the mans hand.

Theadas was content “Fair enough.”

“So you’re opening a shop, are you?” he asked Theadas. “I hope you’re not specializing in alchemy because that is sort of my specialty.” He said with a bright smile.

Theadas turned to face the Bosmer “No I’m not,” Theadas answered “As of now I’m not really specializing on anything. A lot of my product is from what a picked up hunting so I have an excess of furs, pelts, tusks and antlers. I also have some clothing, jewelry and gems, but once I get my first set of armour, weapons and equipment from our fine blacksmith Gorbad I will be more of a general store. So in short you have nothing to worry about.” Theadas said with a chuckle.

[Angela Woods]

Nellis Nlesh, outside the keep

The Thalmor solider lost it when Nelsh called him a spellsword. He started blathering about some nonsense about the gods, something about Lorkhan. Nelsh didn't care, but was taken back by the loud yelling the elf was doing. Nelsh tuned him out until he called the nord a mouse. Now Nelsh got anrgy. He may be a coward, but is not willing to let some golden skinned, big browed, pointy eared, arrogant pompous disgrace to mer tell him to scurry. When the elf drew flames, some the Nord's confidence had shrank, but he still had enough to face this Hoity man. However, the elf left Nelsh be, and started talking down to the Khajiit and Witch. Nelsh couldn't take it any more.

He walked up to the elf, stared in his face. The mer's eyes watched like hunter watches prey.

"Now you listen here you scum bag. I don't care if your a Spellsword, a Battlemage, a Necromancer, or even a bloody bard! No one talks down to Nellis Nelsh like that, not even a wanna-be Spellsword like you! I don't care about your Elven superemacy, your smug ways, or your fancy little magic. It's elves like you that give not only the Thalmor a bad name, not just high elves, not even all of the mer a bad name! Your the kind that gives all life a bad name! You think your so high and mighty, do ya? Well shove it up your backside, and go bow before your Thalmor masters! I don't know what nonsense your going on about, with towers, stones, Snow-Throat, and whatever the hell you call Lorkhan and doom drums. And frankly? I don't care! So go swing your sword at some tree, go set some rock on fire! I don't think you would be able to hurt either one!" he yelled out. He raised his hand at the atlmer, and let it fly across his face.

Nellis Nelsh, coward at heart, just slapped a armed Thalmor battlemage.

Before the elf could say anything, Nelsh spit in his face, and started walking away from the elf, towards the Jarl's throne room. With this, he said one last thing to the smug elf.
"You can sleep with the Dragur for all I care, you panzy! Don't need your Auriel-Le and all this talk of dragons. Just give me my Mara and Zeinthar, and I'm happy!"
To add even more insult, the hapless nord picked up a rock, and threw it at the Thalmor's armor. The rock fell to the ground once it hit the plate, but not before making one large dent.

"Good day sir!"

OOC: You'll have to forgive me on this one. Nelsh can be aggressive man when you push his buttons like Keyboard cat, and when he finds courage

[josh evans]

((OOC: Apologies for the aggressiveness, I rewrote this post several times but I can't bring Fiona to react in any way less violent than this. Everyone has limits, everyone has buttons to be pushed, and this is a freakin' Witch we are talking about . How long does the elf have left?))

Fiona Barrow-Heart, the HEART of the TOWN, Midday

Fiona batted her eyelashes as she recieved the Thalmor's verbal assault. She could barely believe her ears. Quickly a fire began to rise in her belly.

"...Run back to your clan witch..."

A little higher now, a little hotter

"...your metamorphosis awaits you..."

Who does this snake-licker think he..

"...You are a failure to your people. You have no place here..."

Fiona's hands curled into tight fists. Her muscles tensed, unnatural energies entering her without consent. Her irises disapeared, then her pupils, her eyes becoming sheets of white. Her bottom lip twitched. All of this was involintary. When she spoke her voice was a low hasp. A hag's voice.

"I should gut you, elf." she growled, a voice less than human, "Child. Blinded by the sun. I should gut you and leave your entrails for the birds. But the birds wouldn't eat you. No, you are too sour, too overfed on merish pleasantries for their hungry beaks. Overated, under-insulated. Your innards taste of sickly perfume, like a Nibenian concubine's bedchambers. Not fit for the birds. Nor the worms. Collapse your telescope, star-gazer and leave this place. There is nothing for you here." by the time she finished, Fiona Barrow-Heart's hands were trembling, one's whole field of vision surrounding her shook, as illusion magicks comprised of naught but escaped aggression went off without her concent. Her heart beat so loud she could hear it. This noise calmed the Witch, and some pallor returned to her cheeks, and colour to her eyes. She bowed her head, glanced at the floor, and looked back at Varlamo, darkly. She spoke again in her own voice, slowly now, and carefully.
"I apologise. What I meant to say was this: speak your tongue before it is removed. You are a guest, and will do well to show the proper respects. The Khajiit you address is a chosen of Hircine and wields the Bitter Spear. If she cannot warrant your respect, then she should your extreme caution. I am not of the forswon, nor am I a hag nor hagraven. But I know how to boil an elf all the same. You Thalmor have great political sway in Skyrim it is true, but do not think to insult a Court Mage in Valton until you have prepared a witness. None present now will attest to your murder, when the next detachment from Old Mary reaches Valton. You were lost to bandits on the trail from Ivarstead. But I do not wish for a scandal, nor should you. So stay your insults and your spells, elf, and speak only your buisness." Fiona spoke so quickly as to afford no interuption. Though her voice was now calmed, her heart still beat, thum-thum, thum-thum, under her briast. Her fingers twitched in anticpation, as did her lip. If spells were to be drawn and killing instinct the difference, she would not be found lacking.

[Nitol Ahmed]

OOC: Sorry, Kalamari... but you really should think before blowing up and Assaulting someone, no matter how "deserving" they may seem.

Tsavani, caught in a rather awkward conversation
Any aggressive behavior the Khajiit may have chosen to act on were quickly abolished as Fiona spoke back to the mage... However, Mr. Fish-face would find himself in a different world altogether. Tsavani, however, did interrupt. "ANYWAY... I'm guessing you won't be in the tavern tonight... but when I killed this beast, Hircine complemented my feat, and instructed for its head to be a trophy, its flesh a feast, and hide... something to be worn, I'm guessing. He's really a flamboyant sort," she explained, seemingly ignoring the Thalmor's interruption.

The guard chose to take interest in the conflict once Nellis chose to get violent, though, and approached to accost him for his crime of Assault.

[Kay O'Hara]

Nuramon

“Well I don’t plan to really open a shop to sell my potions anyway, so there’ll be no competition in that regard. Although should you feel like selling potions or anything else alchemical, feel free to come visit me.” Nuramon drunk the rest of his drink and handed Jal some septims as payment although he though Jal should pay him for actually drinking it.

Good mead or ale. How hard can it be? He thought to himself. He stood up and started walking towards the door. “Theadas, Jal, good day.” He gave them a nod and went out into town. He started wandering around town, wondering about the process of making mead or ale. Perhaps our own brewery. This would lower the cost of mead for the inn and get it could be sold in the shops as well. Perhaps even in whole Skyrim or even Tamriel. Sadly I don’t know anything about it, but there are bound to be books about it in a library.

His feet took him closer and closer to the keep as he was thinking who in this town could have a library, until he noticed where he was. But of course, the jarl must have a library. He quickened his pace until he came at a new sight to behold. He went closer to them until he could recognize the court wizard and hear their heated conversation.

He decided to just wait until everything was over and he could address the court wizard. However he stayed close and readied himself to draw his weapons and use his magic if needed.

[leni]

Theadas, Valton Inn

“Well I don’t plan to really open a shop to sell my potions anyway, so there’ll be no competition in that regard. Although should you feel like selling potions or anything else alchemical, feel free to come visit me.” Nuramon drunk the rest of his drink and handed Jal some septims as payment.
“Theadas, Jal, good day.” He gave them a nod and went out into town.

Theadas nodded back. He turned to face the bar and said to the people around him, “You will have to excuse me I have to go back to my shop I have been here for a while and should probably be waiting for customers.” Theadas smiled. As he reached the door he pulled his cowl up and exited the inn. He pulled his cloak close around him and jogged over to the door of his shop. Not noticing the scene that was taking place down the road. He pushed the door open, Damn, forgot to lock it up. Better not become a habit. Theadas then went to the fire place, to the left side of the room. He tossed a couple logs on and lit it up. He then turned around then and made his way up the stairs and into his bedroom. He had a back pack on an end table, he walked to it. Pulled out a piece of bread and took a big bite of it. Bringing his bread with him he made his way downstairs and took to behind the counter. He bent down, opened a cabinet that was under the counter and lifted it up and put it down on top of the counter. It contained his jewelry and gems Theadas was content and awaited a customer.

[Elina]

Giovu - Town Centre, Midday

Once he was satisfied that his stash had been well hidden Giovu had decided to head out and see what the town had to offer. After only a short walk he was rewarded with a farcical scene. Have you heard the one about the witch, the Thalmor Justicar and the naked Khajiit? Normally Giovu would've immediately turned heel and shot off in the opposite direction of a Justicar, but he did want to stick around to see the punchline.

Giovu was too far away to make out what was being said, but the conversation looked fairly civil despite the ridiculousness of the situation. Then things took a turn for the worse, or the better as far as Giovu was concerned. A Nord came crashing into the Altmer. Voices were raised and actions became more aggressive. The Justicar had obviously said something to upset the witch and then the short Nord slapped the elf. Giovu could not believe his eyes. Oh you wonderful maniac! Thankyou for providing me with untold amusemant in the last few seconds of your life. His mouth wide open Giovu waited for the shocked Altmer to retaliate as the little Nord endeared himself further through the comically futile gesture of hurling a rock at a fully armoured Justicar.

[Queen Bitch]

Nellis Nelsh, at the Keep

Nellis had felt rather high and mighty after slapping the Thalmor Justicar. A new born confidence had found it's way to the nord with large sideburns. Granted, this confidence was likely to fade away as soon as he saw bird's shadow, then thinking a Dragon attack was happening, but he still had that pride. However, his enthusiasm was curbed when a guard came walking up to him.
"Sir, you have committed assault. I'm going to have to ask you to come with me." the guard said. His helmet covered his face, but inside the helmet, the guard had a large smile. It's not every day a Poofy sideburned, Fish lipped, meek little Nord goes and slaps, spits, and throws rocks at a Thalmor Justicar.

Nellis kept a plane face, and looked at the guard.
"Alright alright, I know I got a little out of control there. But a man needs to protect his honor. And before you ask me whether to go to jail or pay the fine, I'll pay the fine. I'm not paying with my blood today. Sorry for the scene."

The guard nodded his head, and led Nellis inside the Keep. He was searched, but no stolen goods were food. Nelsh isn't a thief. All the guards found was 1037 gold, many carrots and potatoes, a few potions for health and stamina, and a book detailing the Pirate King, Velek Sain.

Nellis didn't really care about having to pay the fine. It was only 40 gold, so he still had 997 gold left. That would be enough to live off of for a few days or so, and he did get the new job as a miner. If there was a mine, that is. The nord was happy with himself. He's not often brave, but courage seems to find him when he is full of rage. While being searched, he asked the guards if they knew if a mine was in the area.

They confirmed his hopes, saying that and old one was nearby, but no one had been there for years. Nelsh didn't care. Happiness had found him once again, as did work. That mine would be what would give him food and drink, something to do, and a place to sleep. Perhaps litterally.

Nellis was let go, and he walked out the keep doors. The Thalmor battle mage eyed him with hate, and Nellis did the same to him. He felt that not all the gifts in the world where going to make the elf think better of him. Deciding to walk back to inn, he saw the orc as he entered.
"Gorbad, I think this is going to the start of a beautiful business relationship" he said.
"Turns out there is an old mine near here. Nobody's been there in years. Think of all the ore that could be there!"

[Lisha Boo]

Varlamo Aicandil, Thalmor Justiciar, Town Center, Midday

Varlamo stared into the witch's eyes as he witnessed her growing anger, perhaps regretting his momentary loss of calm. He had never lost his calm before in his life, and these feelings of anger and frustration were unfamiliar to him. The Altmer was uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Valton had made him feel insecure, Varlamo was eager to find a peaceful space where he could gather his thoughts and recollect his theories and plots. Ever since the ambush on the road to Valton, things had been going wrong.

Things only became worse when the cowardly Nord experienced some kind of transformation into a man brave enough to insult and then assault a Thalmor battlemage. Varlamo showed no reaction to the insults, seemingly unfazed, and as the Nord slapped the Altmer around the face, Varlamo still somehow maintained his newly developed calm. Inside however, he boiled, plotting the death of this 'worm'. As the rock impacted the Ebony elven craft armour, it dented the plate, which was designed to dent under pressure. Varlamo was still impressed by the Nord's strength however. 'I could hurl you into the wall, break your neck... I could BURN your eyes from the insides... Perhaps I could simply just melt your face off you rat! No... this is not at all the state I should be in. Anger is a force of Padomay, I must control myself. Aka guide me.'

"You shall regret your actions Nord... No one gets away with such actions." The battlemage calmly warned the now retreating offender. Noting down in his mind that he needed to see a blacksmith to get his chest plate repaired.

Fiona had been brewing, her anger fermenting into pure hatred, into something supernatural. She now released this unnatural rage in a highly aggressive rant, half transforming into a Hagraven. Varlamo was ready to telekinetically draw his weapon, and potentially fry the witch alive, as her hate almost boiled over into outright violence. She managed to calm herself down however, but not before strongly insulting the Altmer's integrity. She warned of the Khajiit's power and shortly after spoke a personal threat, a threat the trained battlemage dismissed. However, she was correct on her point about the cat. The cat has the Daedra on her side, Varlamo knew now not to offend someone with such powerful friends, and regretted his lack of control in his aggressive introduction. Fiona however wanted peace, and Varlamo knew that any hostility and rivalry would need to be carried out covertly and subtlety, so peace would be suiting. The Thalmor are already treated with aggression in Skyrim, especially in a region so close to Stormcloak territory, Varlamo would need to be more agreeable if he is to succeed in this inhospitable land.

The Khajiit thankfully did not prolong the conflict, and her socially unusual interjection broke the tension somewhat. On her comment on Hircine being the flamboyant sort, Varlamo decided to comment, and hopefully ease the strained relationships at play. "Hircine shares a cordial relationship with Clavicus Vile. The Prince of the Hunt is certainly one for tradition."

Varlamo in reality however was just thinking of how he would get his hands on the spear. Back at home, the wizards there would love to have such a powerful artifact in their hands. Varlamo would receive heaps of praise and prestige. 'The spear will be mine...'

The battlemage turned to Fiona, to respond to her ask for him to state his business. "I am third born of the Aicandil clan, members of the arpenia of Alinor. Aldmeri Justiciar, sent here on a holy mission to hunt for the Heretics of the mere man emperor Hjalti. I must speak to the Jarl for consultation on this important matter. Considering you are the court mage, I presume you can take me to the Jarl?"

[chirsty aggas]

Glathor, Valton then transistions to Gorbad's Forge, Midday

Glathor finally made his way back to Valton around noon. He was in need of some coin so he decided instead of making a blanket with the hide, he would sell it to the local blacksmith. He looked around and didn't notice a clear sign of where the forge was located. He turned his gaze upward and searched the air for smoke. He spotted a very strong black plume coming from the side of a one-story building and started to walk in that direction. 'The smith should be able to make good use of this' he thought to himself while pulling the hide out of his satchel. He walked around the corner of the structure and stopped.

"In need of some hide?" Glathor asked the old orc standing at the forge.

[Maeva]

Fiona Barrow-Heart, the centre of attention, Midday


Fiona looked down at her shaking hands. Her thoughts at this time mirrowed that of the High Elf. Control. I lost it. In front of the whole town. Her hazel eyes darted at all the onlookers. You're not in the covern any-more she told herself, closing her eyes and breathing slowly, palms glowing the Witch casted a calming charm on herself. This is civilization. You don't sort out your differences by flinging spells and making sacrifices. But there will be revenge, oh yes. She started to calm, a warm sensation washing over her body, But in the night, as is our way. Yes. In the Night. The witch opened her eyes drowsily. She watched the Justicar respond to her as if he were a distant figure, viewed through a spyglass.

"...Considering you are the court mage, I presume you can take me to the Jarl?" Fiona blinked and wondered how to get rid of him.

"I can, but maybe you should find him yourself" she replied breezily, finishing in a smile, "If you're to hunt successfully for Talos-worshippers, then hunting for a Jarl should be no problem" she heard herself say these words, and she walked off in the direction of the inn. Fiona had a sudden yearning. Why had she even been so angry before? He's just a lost little elf, far away from home. Of course he'd be scared. Shouldn't have snapped really. He's not worth my time. But I'm hungry, yes. Should get something to eat, and to drink - drink! These thoughts dominated the witch's mind as she wandered toward Valton's yet-unnamed inn.

[Jason King]

Varlamo Aicandil, Thalmor Justiciar, Town Center, Midday

The Khajiit had been abandoned by the not entirely sane and sober Fiona. The cat had something the battlemage wanted, and before heading off to visit the Jarl, Varlamo hoped to dig his theoretical claws into this juicy prize a little. He circled the cat, bearing a sinister smile.

"Tell me of your story daughter of the Mane, I bear a lot of respect for the sugar-peoples of Elsweyr. The land of cats is after all part of the Aldmeri Dominion, after our wizards valiantly, heroically and kindly brought back Masser and Secunda, flesh of Lorkhan. But that is metaphysics and politics, chosen of Hircine, we should not speak of such things. Come, we should talk of how you managed to get your paws on such a powerful artifact such as the Spear of Bitter Mercy, weapon of the hero of Battlespire, scourge of Dagon.... Tell me what you plan to do with such a thing?" The Justiciar spoke with a soft tone, mincing his words.

[Tyrel]

Giovu - Town centre then Theadas' Shop, Midday

What an anti climix. From the stories Giovu had heard of the Thalmor in Skyrim the little Nord should be a pile of ash by now, but he was being led away by the guards, not even lightly singed. Perhaps the Nords had embelished the talk of the Thalmor. They are a people prone to hyperbole after all, with their tales of dragons and 'the voice'. All the same Giovu concluded it would be wise to put some distance between himself and the recently assulted Altmer and the enraged witch, not to mention the disconcertingly exhibitionist Khajiit. He turned and headed back to the shop he's seen accross from the Inn.

Giovu entered the building and was surprised to see the blonde Imperial from the Inn behind the counter. He looked very young to be able to afford his own shop. He must be minding the place for his parents. "Oh! Hello again. ...Theadus wasn't it?" intoned Giovu.

[Mark Churchman]

Tsavani, Town Center
The khajiit shook her head at Varlamo's queries, keeping his earlier contempt for her in mind. "I'm sorry, but I am none of those things. I'm Colovian born and raised, more Cyrod than Khajiit," she dismissed his titles to her apologetically. "As for my story... You're not the only one around who wants to hear how I came about this. I'll be telling my story this evening in the new tavern. You can drop by after your business with the Jarral's concluded to hear it," she offered politely enough. "As for the spear... I intend to hunt with it, though I don't know what, yet."

With that, she turned to head toward the keep, to check to make sure the slain Sabrecat's body was being left alone, and then heading to visit the Orc's forge - She had some hides to talk about.

[carly mcdonough]

Varlamo Aicandil, Thalmor Justiciar, Town Center, Midday

The battlemage turned slightly distressed at the Khajiit. "You can't merely hunt with such a thing! I'm not sure you understand the ramifications of possessing such an artifact..." Before Varlamo could say anymore, Tsavani had walked away carelessly.

Slightly frustrated, Varlamo realised he would have to employ some Lorkhan-style trickery in order to steal the Spear. He would also have to gain Hircine's favor, as the Prince would not allow someone who he did not approve of to wield such a weapon. Both of these tasks are difficult, and the Altmer felt the need for a quiet thinking space again. 'I must speak to the Jarl first, then I can speak to the blacksmith, and then relax in the Nordic tavern, if such a thing is possible in this Shor smothered mess of a province.'

Varlamo also needed to consider the various services of the town, particularly remembering the Mercenary guild he had passed by earlier on. He would need to hire exterior help if he is to complete his already growing complex plots he envisioned in his mind. First however, he needed to consult the Jarl, inform him of the Thalmor's arrival in the hold, and the heretic hunting that will ensue. Varlamo looked around, searching for any building that held authority. His search was ended swiftly as he noticed a large stone keep, a single turret on it's side, which the Altmer frowned upon, realising it to be the home of the court wizard.

With all the ponce and swagger of a true Thalmor missionary, Varlamo strolled into the keep, his cloak dragging dust behind him. Staring at the slightly surprised Jarl, Varlamo declared his status. "I am Varlamo of the Aldmeri arpenia of Aicandil, paladin of Aka, evoker of Triminac and Magnus. Thalmor battlemage and Justiciar, sent by the great Second Aldmeri Dominion to seek and destroy any Talos worship in Valton and it's surrounding area. You are obliged to cooperate with the finding and execution of such Heretic blasphemers, lest you break the terms of the White Gold Concordat of 4E 175 and Imperial Law, openly defying Imperial authority and declaring yourself a rebel, aligning yourself with the Stormcloak Shezzarine vermin who reside nearby. I trust you will not take such a foolhardy approach."

[Jessica Colville]

Tilcedo Fulbar-Midday-Making his rounds

Tilcedo sighed,he hadn't seen any action lately. He thought about going to the inn and getting some drinks. Most likely drinking himself to pass out and then waking up outside in the cold. Instead, he walked back to his house. His shift was ending and all he wanted to do was sit down. He walked into his house through his door and took off his helmet. He sat the helmet on his dresser. He looked around to make sure no one was inside his house and pulled open the third drawer in his nightstand next to his bed. He pulled open a secret compartment and pulled out a riddle that he hadn't solved. The riddle read What lays on it's side, but stands on it's side? "What stands and lays on it's side? Tilcedo questioned himself. "Feet? No, legs? Wait, Numbers!" Til pulled out a device out of the secret compartment that was filled with random symbols. One stood out to Til, a black hand was painted on it

"What do wars rely on?" The device said with a frightening voice. The voice didn't phase Tilcedo, for he had heard it many times. He found it on his wife's grave along with a riddle.

"Numbers." Tilcedo said. The device opened and displayed a dagger. Til slowly reached in, afraid of what might happen. Til pulled out the blade and saw the blade part of the dagger had something written into it. You are a fool. You wasted years of your life and now your nothing but a washed up guard. Only holding onto the remains of your life. "[censored]!" Tilcedo shouted, he threw the dagger at the wall. While he was doing that he saw the handle had a mark on it. The mark looked like it had a black hand on it. Buit Tilcedo couldn't really tell. "Would a blacksmith know the mark?" Tilcedo questioned, he pulled out the dagger and held it in his hand. Tilcedo kept his helmet off and walked to the inn in town. Tilcedo slethed the dagger and decided to get a drink before checking out the dagger. He walked in and sat down.

"Hey, could I get a drink? Also, do any of you know a blacksmith? I've got a blade that need identifying." Tilcedo said before relaxing in his chair.

[Kate Murrell]

Nellis Nelsh, at the nameless inn

Despite Nelsh's thoughts, his orc friend was not in the inn. Saddened by this, he decies to wait for the blacksmith to arrive. Taking the table he had earlier, he looks through his bag after throwing it down onto the table. Finding a sack inside, he reaches in to the sack.

"Carrots. Potatoes. Of course." he said nochalantly. He was sick of having the same food for the past couple of days. All it has been is carrots and potatoes. He couldn't pay for anything else, and he already lost money because of his actions towards the Thalmor Battlemage. Gonna have to buy that guy a drink....say I'm sorry. he thought to himself. While the elf did threaten to kill him, he could not help feeling sorry for the atlmer. The Thalmor aren't accepted very much, and if stayed in the town, a lot of hate would be set agasnit him. Nellis decided he would try and let bygones be bygones. After Nellis apolgized, of course.

Nellis threw the sack inside the bag, and peers inside again. He see's his iron sword, studded armor, leather helmet, leather boots, and leather bracers are all inside, near his favorite book, Pirate King of the Abecean. The sword is improved, yet hardly sharper than it was before it hit the grindstone. Along with this, the boots of leather had been hammered on at a work bench.
These should fetch me a very nice price at the trader's. Wait, does this town have a trader? he thought to himself.
If they did not, Nelsh would be best off selling to the Blacksmith.

"I sure hope he gives discounts to workers."

Taking his book, Nelsh opened it up. He always loved it. Ever since he found it at a some book store in Cyrodilii, it captured him. The song inside the pages sounds so much like the famous bard song, "The Dragonborn comes". The big nosed nord had no care for this though, as to him, this song of Velehk Sain was much better. Looking down on the words, he sang them out.

Now Nellis Nelsh isn't a bard, or a very good singer. But pratice has made perfect with this song, and he sang out just as well as any bard could sing "The Dragonborn Comes".

"Poke out your eyes lad, pour lead in your ears
Those sails portend madness, dark horror and fear
Abandon your lasses, your ship and your gold

Blood on the water, Velehk this way comes

A noose from the rigging, a plank from boards
Do yourself in, don't try at crossing swords
Mercy's not a shipmate among that heartless horde

Blood on the water, the Pirate King comes

Stout Empire Galleon or Swift Elven Skiff
They every one splinter and just as soon sink
But only after crew and captain have their fun

Blood on the water, your days are done

He'll tear your gut and he'll eat your heart raw
His eyes gleam red, his heart will never thaw
Mark well these words, you quaking babes

Blood on the water follows Captain Velehk Sain"

[Julia Schwalbe]

Theadas, his shop

Giovu entered the building and was surprised to see the blonde Imperial from the Inn behind the counter. He looked very young to be able to afford his own shop. He must be minding the place for his parents. "Oh! Hello again. ...Theadas wasn't it?" intoned Giovu.

Theadas looked up, it was the imperial from the Inn. “Yes it is, the one and only." Theadas grinned. "How may I help you, uhmm Giovu..?”

[Kortknee Bell]

- Clayton... Crimson Sons Headquarters -

It seemed that trouble had arrived before the Sons could start it. Clayton caught sight of the Altmer moving over towards the keep from his window, and poked his head out the door to watch him as the elf, obviously a Thalmor, disappeared from view. Later he'd heard an argument that could tear the veil to Oblivion itself. He could only make out angry voices, but that was all he needed to hear to know that it was a very serious argument.

"Shor's balls." Clayton muttered "And people call us uncivil? Pah."

He himself wasn't a Talos worshipper, but he knew that a few of the boys, Erik included, still did; not that any of them were particularly religious anyway. Clayton looked back into the building and saw the Dunmer and the Breton playing cards, the Bosmer drinking in the corner and Erik leaning up against the wall.

"What was that all about?" Erik asked, moving over to where Clayton leant in the door frame.

"Dunno." Clayton shrugged "Sounded like a Thalmor was having a row with the castle mage."

"Great." Erik grunted "Now there's two pompous upstarts roaming around."

"I wouldn't be too concerned with it." Clayton dismissed "Besides, someone might get the irrits with our new elf friend and give us a contract."

Erik chuckled before returning to a serious face "And what if that Thalmor instead gives us contracts?"

"Then we get paid well." Clayton replied, before looking back at the boys. "Any of you thirsty?" He received a few nods in reply, aside from the Bosmer. The short, shaggy Nord descended the stairs.

"Did I hear right? Are you buying us drinks?" he asked.

"Don't sound so surprised, Bulder.." Clayton said seriously. "Come on, I'm going to the tavern, any takers?"

Bulder, the Dunmer and the Breton nodded, while Erik shrugged in agreement.

"Right then. Come on boys." Clayton grinned, heading down the street towards the inn, bouncing his coin purse in his palm. Erik followed next, then Bulder, the Dunmer and the Breton. They tramped down the street towards the tavern.

"What's the chances they haven't got ale to serve us?" the Dunmer said, nudging his Breton companion.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll have something." Clayton grinned. He could be quite 'persuasive'. They finally reached the inn and strode through the front door, crowding the doorway.

"BARKEEP!" Clayton shouted to the inn at large, turning more than a few heads, as the boys made their way to a table near the wall "Anything with kick, and keep it coming!" He laughed to himself as he made his way over to his fellow mercenaries, and took a seat. He then placed his coin purse on the table, and it fell with the heavy sound.

There were already a few patrons in the inn, and Clayton relaxed in his seat with an easy cool, propping his foot up on a stool and placing his hands behind his head. This was his town now; even if no one else knew it yet. They'd learn in time. The others followed Clayton's lead, leaning comfortably, like they owned the place. When Clayton took notice of the few stares they were receiving, he had a suspicious inkling in the back of his mind.

"Tell some jokes." Clayton muttered. "Laugh a lot."

"Do you remember that time I took a mule into that brothel?" the Breton said loudly, and soon they were engaged in boisterous conversation. Clayton however remained silent and cool as he waited for the inn-keeper.

[Amelia Pritchard]

Gorbad Yak-Bogadbu, (an old orc male, blacksmith) the inn and outside.

"Gorbad, I think this is going to the start of a beautiful business relationship" he said.
"Turns out there is an old mine near here. Nobody's been there in years. Think of all the ore that could be there!"

Gorbad thought for a moment. An adandoned mine would surely contain all sorts of vermin, spiders, wolves, bears maybe even trolls or saber cats. It would be dangerous to go to the mine alone, heck, it could even be dangerous to go there with 5 armed men.
"That's great news Nellis, however, an abandoned mine is most likely a dangerous place. We need to put up an armed party to go there and investigate, clear out the place of greatures that might be there and then you can start working. I'm not sure who you should talk to about that, the guards, the witch, the khajiit, that mercenary company? You'll have to figure that out yourself, at least for now, I've got some business to attend to with others." He finished with a smale, waved good-bye and walked out of the inn and headed for the general goods store, but the witch Fiona and him nearly rammed into eachother.
______________________________________________________

Fiona Barrow-Heart walked off in the direction of the inn.

"Fine day to you, court mage, Fiona was it? I'm Gorbad Yak-Bogadbu, the blacksmith and enchanter.." (he added enchanter as that was surely going to catch the witch's attention) ".. here in town, and I'm looking for filled soul gems. Special weapons are highly valued and well, I can't make them without soul gems. Please let me know in the future if you can provide me with a small amount of them, preferably filled with grand or greater souls. Come find me again if you are interested" He smiled again, his normal warm and friendly smile, and headed for the general store. He had forgot to say something to the Theadas earlier.

Theadas was in the middle of a converstaion with an imperial when Gorbad opened the door slightly. He didn't enter fully, but stood at the door and said what he had to say loud enough for both of them to hear him,
"Oh yes one more thing Theadas, about the special gear, if you could be so kind as to be on the look-out for special ore, basically anything else than steel, iron and corundum, and also small soul gems preferably filled petty or lesser souls, you could help me in creating some special weapons for your shop. I have just enough iron left to make one of each weapon and armor piece for you. You can expect them in just over a day or so. Total pricing for it will be 295 septims for the weapons and 335 septims for the armor. (includes a shield)." With that he left the shop, hurrying back to his forge to begin the smithing.


*OOC: that 70% is the amount you can see in the UESPWiki page for each weapons and armor. So an iron swords 70% cost is 25, and you can then sell it for 35. (25 / 0,7). Also, in the skyrim UESPWiki there's no iron bow, so I took it's value from the long bow. 30 gold.*

____________________________________________________________

Back at his forge, his work is interupted by a man who looks like a hunter:
"In need of some hide?" Glathor asked the old orc standing at the forge.


Gorbad thought for a moment. He did have enough leather for now, but after he'd have made these iron things that wouldn't be true anymore. He saw an opportunity here.
Actually yes. But furthermore, I'm looking for an able hunter to bring me leather regularly. Even with all the metal in the world, it won't be of much use without some good leather and leather strips. So if you could go out hunting at a regular basis and bring me the hide you find, I'd be grateful. I'll give you 25 gold for that hide you have there. What do you say?" All this time, Gorbad was hammering the first of the items on the list, an iron sword.

[Jessica Lloyd]

Giovu - Theadas' Shop

"What do you actually sell here?" The vast array of pelts hung on the wall suggested the young man was, or at least was supplied by a talented hunter. "I'm actually looking for ingredients and you seem to be the only trader that has set up so far." said Giovu as he toyed with one of the huge tusks on the counter. He'd not seen a mammoth yet and considering the size and weight of the tusk he resolved to do everything he could to avoid them. "I could also use a calcinator, but I suppose that's more of a specialist item."

[Cheryl Rice]

Tilcedo Fulbar-Midday-Valton

Tilcedo saw an Orc walking out, Aren't Orcs really good blacksmiths? Here's to hoping I'm right, cause if I'm wrong, I'm going to regeat it. Til thought while standing up and walking out. He walked out following the orc. Leaving through, he was caught by a guard.

"Tilcedo! How's it going? I came to get a drink, you want one?" The guard said, Tilcedo shook his head no, and contiuned doing so. Tilcedo was starting to lose sight of the Orc as he opened a door. Tilcedo quickly pushed the guard aside and walked at a faster pace. Tilcedo kept track of the Orc as he headed towards a forge. Yes, he is a blacksmith! I hope he can idenify that mark on the bottom of the handle. Tilcedo thought before catching up to the Orc at the forge

"Hey, my name is Tilcedo," Tilcedo introduced himself while pulling out the dagger, "I need you to idenify this mark on the bottom of the handle, it looks like a black hand. I'm willing to bet it's the Dark Brotherhood. I need to know for sure, please, it's very important that I do."

[Emma Parkinson]

Nuramon

The argue was over and it seemed everyone was going about their business. The khajiit left the group, ignoring the altmer’s last words. The raging man was being taken away by a guard, probably for his own good. A bit later the court wizard left for the inn and he saw the thalmor continue towards the keep to have a word with the jarl.

Ah, let it be, I’ll ask about it tomorrow. I don’t feel like being close to the thalmor who is already short tempered and the same goes for our court wizard. I think it’s time for some special me time. He thought with a smile.

He ran off towards his home, burst through the door and ran up stairs to his room. There he opened the closet and took out a sleeveless leather cuirass, leather shin protectors and under arm protectors. He also pulled out a small package wrapped in leather which he laid on his bed.

He opened the package and revealed a well crafted chainmail cuirass of a very light weight with short sleeves. He changed clothes and took some brown and green pants and tunic. Over the tunic he threw his mail cuirass and then he took a wool shirt over it to keep out the cold. Then he continued to put on his leather armor for extra protection.

He picked his bow from a weapon rack and took a quiver of twenty steel arrows with him. The tips were specially designed for hunting animals standing on their four legs. His other arrows with horizontal tips were locked away from curious eyes.

He closed the windows and doors of his house, locking everything with magical spells, because he planned on being away for the remainder of the day or even the whole night. He enjoyed sleeping in the open in a tree.

He took off through town, passing the inn, which was now getting really crowded. It seems that it will run pretty good after Jal has bought everything he needs. He got out of town and dived straight into the forest. The sun shone brightly and was standing at its highest place. Nuramon figured he had all the time in the world and he started climbing the biggest tree he could find. He moved quickly going from branch to branch, moving up the tree like only a bosmer could, until he found a nice looking group of branches close to eachother.

He sang a song to the tree in the old bosmeri language and after a few verses the branches started moving until they formed a nice, small platform covered with leaves. Happy with the result Nuramon laid himself down on it and started on his quick powernap.

[Nina Mccormick]

Jal, unnamed (soon to change!) inn.

Jal stared, a little taken aback by the gold Nuramon had just given him. Before he could refuse it, Nuramon had left. He was giving that drink away for free! Oh well, he could give back the money when he gave him his share.

Jal pocketed the gold and went back to seeing to his other guests. He needed a name soon. But what to call it? Something to do with animals? That's pretty standard practice for any inn. Horses? The Four Legged Horse? The Black Bear? The ... no they were all awful. Then it hit him. He'd call it Hela's Folly. It was the name of the ship he'd spent half his life on. Probably the best days of his life too.

He quickly hobbled outside. The piece of paper he had nailed to the door earlier was still in place, fluttering lightly in the wind. With a piece of charcoal he quickly added:

CURRENTLY SERVING NO FOOD OR DRINK -

Jal thought about it for a moment and then wrote underneath

Unless you're feeling brave.

On the same piece of paper he wrote:

HUNTER NEEDED - WILL PAY WELL

ARTIST NEEDED - WILL PAY WELL

With that done, he headed back inside. A group of men had just walked in. Jal instantly recognised them as the mercenary sort. Young'uns. He had been like that himself. Full of quick laughter and short temper. They're leader, was a big old Nord. Similar to Jal in many ways - they're type wasn't exactly uncommon - minus a couple of career ending wounds. Jal suddenly felt huge envy for him, bellowing for drink, surrounded by brothers who would die for him. Jal walked over.

"Well met friends, shame to say we don't have any proper mead or food right now. The only thing I'm serving is my homebrew. Which is so awful I'm giving it away for free!" Jal finished in a hearty chuckle. "Haven't got much left like, but it packs such a punch you don't need much. You lads brave enough to give it a go?"