Private The Butcher

[Rekamennos]

Susanna the Wicked is dead after spending a wonderful night in Candlehearth Hall with Tymvir Andrel. Tymvir was just passing through Windhelm at the time since now his days are mostly spent adventuring, and he stayed at Candlehearth Hall only to get through the night. Not once had he heard of the local psychopath that the citizens of Windhelm feared for their lives over, known as the butcher, but after getting to know Susanna the Wicked he surely found out that next morning. Two weeks in, now, spending his time helping Viola Giordano in bringing forth adventurers together that will hopefully come to find this butcher--and bring him to the sword of justice--Tymvir is spending more time than he had planned avenging the heartfelt feelings over a woman he hardly knew, but, wished he could have known further...​

​

Will the butcher be brought to justice?​

Or will the members of the search team die at the butcher's hands?​

OOC - The Butcher | Page 4 | Skyrim Forums
^^ OOC Thread

 

[Rekamennos]

Morning. Another day of time to spend hopefully avenging Susanna's death. Tymvir sighed, waking up in the guest room in Viola's house yet again. He had grown attached to the woman like she was a mother of his. One of these days all of the work that he and Viola would have put forth in the past two weeks to gather adventurers would pay off.

"Tymvir?" A familiar, but faint voice called from outside the door. Tymvir groaned in the bed, tossing underneath the fur covers as he realized through grogginess that it was Viola. "Tymvir, are you awake? I was hoping you'd accompany me to Candlehearth Hall for breakfast. You know how I don't like leaving the house without you."

Tymvir agreed with that idea. He hated Viola leaving without her either, because, ever since he had been staying at her home he felt it had increased her safety. After all, a large Nord such as himself walking around town with the small woman would put anyone who could be "the butcher" at unease standing next to Viola. Tymvir grunted as he sat up in the bed, stretched, and then yawned. "I will be out in just a moment!"

He listened to Viola's footsteps heading down the wooden steps of her home, and then made his way out of the bed. Heading over to the armoire, Tymvir pulled out a green tunic and a pair of black pants. He began to dress himself, fastening a black leather belt over the tunic to keep it in place. Tymvir looked around for his boots, which quickly he found next to the door and a smile emerged upon his face as he noticed his brown leather jacket had been folded up neatly next to it. "Viola..."

After dressing, he combed back his hair and fastened it into a low ponytail. He washed his face in the wash basin provided for him within the guest room, and then headed for the door. As he cascaded down the steps, his eyes laid upon Viola with a warm and handsome smile. "Good morning, did you sleep well?"

"Indeed I did. Are you ready for breakfast?" She asked with warm eyes and a nod.

"Yes I am so long as you let me pay." He winked.

"Ohhh! You know how I hate that, but, fine just this once." She crossed her arms as she made her way over to a coat hook by the door to gather her things. Tymvir was still putting his leather coat on his arms at this moment, but after finishing, he made sure there was a satchel of septims in his coat pocket. The two eventually made their way for the door, and of course, locking it up after doing so.

-------------------------------------

"Tymvir! If it isn't our favorite stranger to Windhelm!" Edla smiled, and then her gaze quickly moved to Captain Lonely Gale who was sitting at the front counter. She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. "Lonely Gale scoot over two stools Viola and Tymvir are probably here for my fresh cheese and warm bread!"

"Aye," Lonely Gale nodded, moving over a seat and taking his flagon of mead with him. He looked over to Viola, quickly turned a gaze away and nodded with a respectful smile to Tymvir. Viola ignored his presence, but Tymvir returned the smile and nod.

"How is your cheese this morning, Edla?" Viola asked, making her way over to the stool purposefully sitting a seat away from Lonely Gale as Tymvir took the stool in the middle.

"Just freshly delivered, in fact, would you like some mead, bread, and cheese you two?" She grinned.

Tymvir and Viola looked at each other with a smile, and then they both nodded to Edla as she headed back to kitchen to prepare them a quick plate. When she returned, she also got them both a bottle of Black Briar. Tymvir licked his lips with a grin, taking in the deep scent of Edla's freshly baked bread and the cold condensated bottle of mead in front of him. "You sure know how to keep a kitchen Edla." He smiled.

Edla nodded, "Thanks Tymvir..." She trailed off, coming close to the two of them as they began to eat. She leaned over the counter, and she looked Tymvir in the eyes as she whispered, "Having any luck on your search?"

Tymvir held the bread close to his lips, shooting his eyes about the hall, and then took a big bite taking his time to chew and swallow. After so, he replied softly, "No emergence of adventurers as of yet, but the letters only did go out two weeks ago so it may take time for travel. Do keep me posted on strange faces about the city, will you Edla?"

Edla nodded profusely with a wink. "You got it!" Then, Tymvir put forth the satchel of septims quickly flashing a wolfish grin and a wink to Viola before she had a chance to pay for it. Viola chuckled in between bites, and the three of them continued chatting and enjoying one another's company early in this chilly, sunny morning. As they all enjoyed one another's company, every once in a while Tymvir pulled his gaze away to his pocket. As he did so, he pulled out a simple golden locket he had kept with him ever since Susanna passed.

 

[Mini Mongo]

Sipro awoke from the forest, it was bright now, and early sunshine glistened in the trees. His previous prey, a Argonian, slim and frail lied lifeless next to him, he grinned, his fangs were small and unable to be seen by the naked eye, but any real Vampire hunter would know what he was. He took one last bite in the body, barely any blood, digging deep it was hard to feed, but he would be hidden for now. The prior night he had stripped the Argonian of everything, also removing it's organs and actually eating them, a disgusting habit Sipro had picked up, almost as gruesome as how he killed. He looked over to Windhelm, it was early and only a few guards stood watching over the land, but Sipro was far to well hidden to be seen.

Sipro knelt down next to the body, readying his claws he began to put his insignia into the carcass, like always next to the heart, or at least where the heart should be, but Sipro had already disposed of that. He then stood, leaving the body to rot, and began to make his way to the path that led to Windhelm, instead of just heading straight there, which would look suspicious.

He reached the path, and made his way to Riften, the Guards looked at him with a heavy gaze, and just as he were to enter the City a Guard stopped him, putting his sword to the Khajiits throat. He held his temptation to slaughter the man, instead keeping a cool, trying to act out his disguise of a merchant. ''What is this about, threatening a merchant?!'' Sipro shouted to the Guard. He looked down and up at the Khajiit ''You don't look like a merchant, Cat, why would you be dressed like that, and have two daggers?'' the guard questioned, luckily not seeing his other two daggers, and the arsenal of weapons he kept hidden.

''With the Butcher about, no merchant can be to careful, would you not agree?'' Sipro replied, as he did the Guard lowered his sword and sheathed it again, giving way for Sipro ''Go in'' the Guard said bluntly. Sipro walked into the familiar city, he put a evil smile across his face, he was already excited for his next kill. He would first go to the Merchants, sell his stolen goods, though no one knew of their source, and then head for the Inn. He approached the Merchant, placing down the clothes, a necklace and a small dagger. ''How much for all this?'' Sipro questioned the merchant.

She looked over the goods, putting a fake smile to her face ''I'd say 12 gold for the Clothes, 20 for the Necklace, but I cannot buy the dagger'' she replied ''I'll take that'' he replied, the merchant handing over 32 gold. He then made his way to the smith, showing him the dagger ''I wish to sell this to you, smith, how much?'' Sipro asked inpatiently, the smith looked up to the item, placing his hammer down on the table next to him ''I'd say, 12 gold?'' the smith asked ''Fine'' Sipro replied, a somewhat annoyed expression upon his face. The smith handed him the gold and took the dagger. Sipro's trade was done, now to the Inn.

Sipro walked to the Inn, opening both doors he instantly caught site of a huge Nord man and a somewhat weaker looking women, a shame, she could of been Sipro's next prey. He walked over to the Nord, noticing he held a nice locket, keeping a fake smile upon his face ''Hello there friend, a nice locket you have there, how'd you get it?'' Sipro questioned the Nord, taking particular interest in the locket he held.

 

[Rekamennos]

Tymvir's focus was upon Susanna's locket in his hands. He went into somewhat of a minor flashback, remembering her golden blonde hair, the warmth of her skin on his chest during his sleep and how that put him at great ease. It reminded him so much of Leilani, and the brief time they spent together as a couple. He gripped the locket tight as he turned away looking down at the bread in front of him that was nearly finished off. He began to contemplate on his curious perplexing obsession over the woman he had hardly known but for only one night. What can he say? He was a sucker for blondes.

Soon his thought process was interrupted by the sudden voice of an unexpected stranger. 'Hello there friend, a nice locket you have there, how'd you get it?'' Sipro questioned the Nord, taking particular interest in the locket he held. Tymvir looked over, somewhat abruptly, and he studied the man having learned that every person he came across male or female was very possible to be this mysterious killer. Looking back down to the locket he commented on, Tymvir lifted a brow, and then quickly put it back into his pocket. He picked up his bottle of Black Briar, eyeing Viola, and then he sipped it.

"Indeed. A pretty locket that used belonged to a pretty girl."

 

[Melee]

Snow around Windhelm was a little different from the snow around Winterhold, or at least it seemed like it to Melee. She couldn't remember a day when it wasn't windy, gray, and an absolute pain to get anywhere around the College. This snow, she thought delightedly, was beautiful. The only wind present at the moment was a light breeze that whirled the dusty top layer of snow through the air, shimmering in the light against the bright blue sky overhead.

Unfortunately for Melee, her reasons for coming to Windhelm were not at all comparative to the beauty of the landscape surrounding the city. She had read a letter, which was now folded neatly inside of the pouch hanging from her waist, posted on one of the market stalls that said something about a killer roaming the streets of Windhelm. By the sound of it, this was a serious matter which was unfortunately being ignored due to the war.

The decision to come to Windhelm had not been an easy one for Melee. She had spent three or four days mulling over the pros and cons in her head, as well as listening to Arcadia's input and general gossip around Whiterun. Was it really worth it to risk her life to help bring down a killer, one in a city she had neither been to nor had a desire to visit? It was no secret that the city Ulfric Stormcloak called home was less than friendly to anybody, long-time citizen or visitor, who was not a Nord. When it came down to it though, Melee could not ignore the plea for help, even if it was from a stranger. She would go to Windhelm, and provide whatever assistance she could.

Surprisingly, it had not taken much to persuade Arcadia to let her take the journey to Windhelm. Melee suspected Arcadia thought she was taking the chance because she was bored at her shop, although she had adamantly denied any such claim. Melee loved working for Arcadia; the work was enjoyable, easy, and laid back. She couldn't imagine a better life for herself at the moment. But she also couldn't get the thought of a killer roaming the streets of a city and getting away with murdering innocent people. Arcadia had understood, and she was soon on her way.

Melee's daydreaming came to an end just as she was approaching the city gates, large, foreboding, and entirely unwelcoming. After some openly hostile looks and words from some of the guards, she was allowed in, even though her question about the whereabouts of the inn remained unanswered. Luckily, the inn happened to be the first building Melee laid her eyes on, and she started for the only structure in sight that looked even remotely warm and inviting. On her way up the stairs, however, she couldn't help noticing a young female Dark Elf being taunted by a few guards as she made her way down the street. She had heard stories of just how bad the racism in Windhelm was, but now she would have the pleasure of seeing and most likely experiencing it first hand.

The exterior of the inn did not disappoint Melee as she stepped inside; a warm rush of air greeted her, bringing feeling back into her rosy, nearly numb cheeks. Her eyes fell on the bar, where quite a few people were sitting as they ate and conversed with one another. She made her way over, pulling the note out of her bag. Finding an empty spot, Melee held the paper between two of her fingers and looked at the woman behind the bar. "Excuse me. Do you know the people who have been sending out these notes? I've come to help them."

 

[Rekamennos]

Edla turned at the moment a new face showed at her counter. She let the words of the woman fill her ears, and a polite smile quickly turned to serious. Her eyes shifted over to Tymvir who was caught in conversation, and then over to Viola who was still working in to her meal. Knowing that the butcher could be around any corner, she was somewhat hesitant to answer the woman's request. Instead of outright giving her a response, she looked Melee in the eyes and nodded softly, but only once. The rest of her lingering gaze had a "follow me" kind of focus as she walked from around the counter and began to head down the hall towards the kitchen past the few guest rooms in her tavern. She hoped that Melee would follow.

When the two finally came to the kitchen, Edla looked over to a grey elf bard she had employed which was pulling a sheet of fresh bread from the fire. She crossed her arms, and then spoke up, "Go on excuse yourself I have company with me." She motioned her arms for the bard to leave, to which the woman nodded setting the fresh bread down on a nearby counter, and then heading back up the stairs close by to continue playing for the guests of the tavern upstairs. Edla looked back to Melee, once more, and finally said, "It's hard to speak on such things when your own home is turning against you. I do know who you are looking for, and they will be very pleased to know someone has shown their face in Windhelm to answer their call."

 

[meben15]

Edwin frowned as he cast a critical gaze over the impressive fortifications of Windhelm. He didn't like this city, the few times he had visited he had found it both ugly and hostile. The first time he traveled through the place he had been driven out by the guards for knocking some mans teeth out on the street. Some nord had been bothering a Dunmer woman on her way to the market, Edwin never could stand bullies.

He traveled to the city of kings now only because he had to. His good friend Ri'saad had delivered him a message from a certain Viola Giordano, who was asking for adventurers to join them in a search for the 'butcher', a mass murderer that had taken up residence in Windhelm. He had killed countless nord women in the past few weeks, all of whom were horribly mangled. This type of crime was absolutely disgusting to Edwin, so he felt obligated to travel to Windhelm and see what aid he may offer Viola.

As he walked through the gates the chill of the wind on the bridge outside reduced and he sighed. Looking around the cramped city he wondered were he might start looking for his 'employer'. Well only one place would make sense, the inn, for that was were all adventures seemed to start. Candlehearth hall was only a few paces in front of him, so Edwin quickly walked forward through the door and into the warm interior of the inn. Rubbing his gloved hands together he walked past the empty bar and into the common room. He suposed he better ask around for this Viola. Walking in between the tables he stepped up to a Dunmer woman with a lute, a bard who seemed to be taking a temporary break from her playing.

"Excuse me M'lady, do you know if Viola Giordano is in?" He asked the woman politely. She nodded and pointed over to a table, "She is over there with the big man." Edwin nodded and thanked the woman, walking over to stand by the fire and watch the two. A Khajiit man had just walked up to them and seemed to be talking to the big nord man sitting next to Viola. Edwin decided to hang back for a bit to see how his soon to be acquaintances acted. Always best to get a feel for a persons character before you have to deal closely with them.

 

[Geel-Kajin]

(OOC: Melee, how many assistants does Arcadia have!? All your characters seem to have served her in some way)

Windhelm.

The walls towered above him, dark and foreboding. He looked up at the grey skies, and despite the time of day, shivered. It seemed as if they carried some strange chill, like some greater being was at work in the realms of men.

This was not the first time the medicinal man had visted Windhelm, but it was the first time he felt such a terror within himself. It filled him with worry and anxiety, and suddenly the looming shadow of Windhelm was intimidating. He began to notice the cold for the first time that day, and it bit away at his confidence.

I feel an impossible fear. What lurks within the alleys of Windhelm, to terrify a man that believes not in higher powers?

Now that such doubts had taken root, the medicinal man could not shrug it from his mind. Every step he took seemed to whisper it's warning, every exhale of breath a torturous shudder. The closer he got to Windhelm, the deeper he seemed to plunge into this unknown abyss. It was as if his next movement would bring him to his death...

The medicinal man stopped in front of the ominous city, a frown set hard on his face. He believed in science and logic, yet the ludicrous notion felt so real, so frightening... He pulled his robes around himself, in hope of the warmth warding away his worries. No doubt it was the Winter air that clouded his thoughts. He would feel better within the cities.


Only the deluded believe in the supernatural. I have seen too much to be deluded.

Yes, that was it. There was always a reasoning behind everything that happened. Even the medicinal man, he too was not a higher power. He cured and killed in equally great measures, but as much as he played god, he was a man of mortal limitations. There was always logic tied to extraordinary feats or feelings, and he would not be swayed by unfounded instincts.
The unschooled knew no better than to believe in greater powers- But they were uneducated with the cruelties of the real world, and would not understand. If there where gods, they would never allow cruelties that he had seen. But he, on the other hand, was a fool to think of the supernatural. They did not exist, and he would not trick himself to think as such.

But as the medicinal man entered the gates, a quiver went up his spine...

 

[Mini Mongo]

Sipro looked around cautiously as new faces entered the Inn, possible new targets, or possible new threats, one could never tell in Sipro's situation. He carried on speaking to the new man as a new face entered into the fray, standing back it seemed he was looking over Sipro and the two people he spoke to, perhaps trying to see his behaviour, or making out his weaponry, either way Sipro began to speak again.

''Where is she now, if I may ask?'' Sipro asked the man, currently Sipro didn't look as big a threat seeing as he was as well 'hidden' as before, but the Nord man seemed incredibly wary of all that entered the Inn, either this man was not one to trust strange; A good touch. Or, the man clearly was in search of 'The Butcher' which gave reason for Sipro to act cautiously.

The man that stood behind watching them continued to remain still in his position, not introducing himself, perhaps these new faces were here to track down Sipro, he had good reason to believe this, being that many would not accept his crimes so lightly, it would explain the letters and posters that had been handed out across Windhelm, but the City remain quiet, and Sipro's kills, easy.

The City was dark and damp, and many potential souls to enter it's great walls had retreated back, fearing of the Butchers presence, this was a foolish and weak decision, not only did they commit more of the women of Windhelm to their death, but only made it easier for Sipro to escape the clutches of the law. Be it Imperial or Stormcloak, Nord or Argonian, man or woman, all that heard of the Butchers crimes wanted only his death, but most retreated back to their homes, like cowards and fools.

 

[Rekamennos]

''Where is she now, if I may ask?''

Tymvir let the words play through his ears for a moment as he took another swig from his bottle of mead. He put his hand on his pocket, and then pulled away as he returned the bottle to the counter and looked up to the Khajiit locking deep into his eyes. Tymvir's piercing silver eyes seemed to look through Sipro's soul.

"She's dead." Tymvir replied, a snap to his tone. He now had adjusted his stool completely to face this stranger. He briefly turned back to the bottle, pulling it off the counter and setting it in his lap cupped om both hands. "Tell me friend, have you been around Windhelm long, or are you just passing through?" An interest sparked in his eyes that he hadn't shown before. In the two weeks of time that Tymvir had been here, staying up day and night working on this butcher case with Viola never once had he seen this character. As his thoughts buzzed through many questions that came to mind, he centered himself to focus one on at a time so that the stranger wouldn't feel pressured by him. He knew that he was capable of coming off hard.

 

[Mini Mongo]

The Nord took a swig of his mead, turning his stool to face Sipro, it was clear that this man was curious of who Sipro was, by the way he was looking at him, he had figured that the Nord had never seen him before.

"She's dead." the Nord man replied, he was snappy.

He took another sip of his mead before carrying on "Tell me friend, have you been around Windhelm long, or are you just passing through?" the question pondered in Sipro's mind, he would stick to his cover. ''I'm a traveling merchant friend, but my business has been slowed down with the recent murders, I now tend to rest outside the City walls, this City is a dangerous place would you not agree?'' Sipro's words were convincing, as for his act, he wasn't exactly looking the total part, but he was convincing enough for now.

The fire was warm in the Inn, and occasional crackles broke any silence that may have begun, the person in the background continued to lurk, and every so often Sipro would look at the man.

Suddenly as he spoke he begun to feel a hunger for blood, this was not good, he had only just recently fed, and if his appearance showed before his next kill, he would be shunned, found out and killed, be it by Citizens, Stormcloaks or Imperials.

 

[Bruynzeel]

Having just picked up a small satchel of food stuffs for Windhelm, Xantos remembers the crumpled letter for a call of adventure. Mumbling to himself "Huh wonder if the offer is still good. Be in town anyway."

Which was exactly how he had lived his life while adventuring.
Rumors only followed if there was something else along the way.
In the direction he was gonna travel anyway.
As much planned as random happenstance.
He truly enjoyed living this way.
No ties to one place, a friend in every town.
But nothing to keep him in one place.
Wandering was his way.

Looking in the satchel bound for Candlehearth hall were fresh eider cheese wheels, elf's ear, other packets of spices and eggs. "Eggs! Crud now I have to watch how I walk and not to get hit in the back. If I get a few horker loaves I can deliver them to Kynesgrove along the way and pad those eggs til then." plus he mused to himself "And haft to watch for Bars." he mockingly does his best nord accent. Chuckling at his own jest.

He continues to get supplies then leaves Riften. He takes up a brisk walk with a steady pace.
Covering ground as fast as his ears and eyes would let him, just common sense to be wary on the roads. There were indeed bears, wolves, skeevers, skeletons, and bandits in abundance across Skyrim. The survival aspect of it was just as enticing as the constant change of scenery. The ground quickly covered to Shor's Stone and through with only a small chase by slow spiders. Wolves over to the east of the road ahead but the wind in his favor he just picks his steps better but doesn't slow down. But does swing around his bow and clasp two arrows one along with the bow in his left hand and the one ready to nock in the right. He quickly glances down to assure himself he had remembered to put on his dagger and he continues listening closely to see if they would react to him.

Succeeding in getting past without notice, he relaxes but does not put away his bow instead he just swings it in hand along side him as his strides take him ever closer to his goal. The yellowing leaves giving way to pines and cedars. His decent along the valley that borders the hot springs area. Here you have to watch for larger spiders and bears. And just as the thought was entering his head the sound of a couple of bears hufffing at each other in most likely "a hey this is my yard" he thought. But still he slows listening to the right as he heads off toward it while keeping an eye through the trees at the pair of bears on his left.

He is getting good at as little disturbance of the nature in this northern forest as he was in his own. Only take a life in need of being taken. For food or defense only. Soon he is topping the snowy hill to Kynesgrove and its adjacent Streamscorch mine.

Entering the simple road side inn, the sound of a bad lute but a beautiful voice lilt out with the warm air gust. The scent of fresh salmon steaks and leeks filling the air. He continues in. "Hey Tessie, what you have on to boil?" "Your heart, if you don't tell me where you have been." "Hahaha you know, around. Never the same place for too long." Walks up and gives her a hearty hug. "Hey now I got hitched." "Dang my luck. Who's the lucky guy?" "Larrs" "Larrs is a lovable loaf, has he gotten any better at smithing?" "No but he has gotton better at bragging about it." "He does a fair trade though. Would'nt have em if he wasn't honest would you?" winking at her and grinning "You are honest enough, just not a stay kinda guy." "Too true, so I have horker loaf. Would you be interested." "Sure. How many?" "Four, one less than normal but do you think I can still get dinner and a room for it?" "Like I would let you rest your feet with no food. Of course anything for you Sam." "I'll make up for it next time through. Larrs at the forge?" "Yeah banging away, wish he'd treat me like that forge and stoke my fire more often." "Whoa, you should tell him. Not me." Winks again as they head toward the kitchen to off load his sale. "So are you staying long." "No just the night, do you have someplace cold I can put my pack? I have eggs for WindHelm." "What do a bunch of roosters need with eggs? You should sell those to me." Laughs back "You know a deal is a deal with me I promised to get them there."

A pleasant evening of exchanging stories, theirs of a simple life, and his just as simple ,just in a different way. Shared food and drinks and he retires. When he gets up in the morning the sounds of the forge coming from the large bedroom off the kitchen he helps himself to a flaggon full of coffee and makes his way out and down the road to Windhelm. Passing a Khajiit caravan just setting up. "Hey Khajro, I have that family amulet you wanted." "This one is honored if ever you need someone to walk by your side and help you in your travels. Khajro will." "Thanks buddy but I walk alone most of the time. And you have a good thing here." "Yes, Khajro likes his brothers." "Well I have trading in town todo, take care." "You as well, friend."

Then the long walk up the narrow bridge, the guards patrolling with earnest. As he passes a couple are discussing the latest murder on the streets. Mostly rumor and hearsay. So he continues into the gates and up the stairs to enter the Candlehearth hall. Unusually quiet, and a touch melancholy.

Samuel shudders with a sense of cold. Shaking fresh flakes of snow from his cloak. Stepping up to the bar looking for Edla. But not seeing her heads to the kitchen. There she was talking in hushed tones with a Lovely lass. "Edla dear, I bring the groceries." He says with a smile. "Sam, you dog. Good for you having fetched it. Lets get those eggs in the kitchen." "By all means the longer they are in my pack the longer I have to worry about breaking one and getting my stuff sticky." Edla laughs but it seems a bit forced, like she has been stressed lately. "Whats up?" "There have been murders on the streets we are a city in dispair." "Anything I can do?" "You hardly let paint dry let alone stick around long enough to solve anything." "But if you or any of my friends in town got hurt I would want to help." "Ok I will have the guy organizing help, get with you. Your room is the first to the left. Have you met Melee?" And hands Sam a key and 20 septims. "Plus if you listen to him breakfast is on me tomorrow." "Eggs, and horker slices?" "With grilled leeks and potatoe hash."Then he turns toward Melee and takes her hand "No, I have not met such loveliness." Kisses Melees hand on the top and winks, releasing it. "Watch this one he is a bit of a flirt." Edla returns out to the bar and Melee and Samuel start out of the kitchen as well. "So what brings you to Windhelm?"

 

[Melee]

The woman at the bar wore a warm smile as Melee approached bar, but as she finished her statement regarding her reason for coming into the inn, her expression turned very serious. With a few furtive glances, she made a slight gesture with her eyes and head for Melee to follow her into the kitchen behind the bar. Feeling slightly confused, she obliged with the woman's unspoken request and made her way back into the kitchen, which smelled of fresh, warm bread straight out of the oven.

A young Dark Elf, a bard by the looks of her outfit, was setting the last few trays of freshly baked bread on the counter when who Melee assumed was the innkeeper dismissed her. When she said she knew who had sent out the note, Melee smiled and nodded softly. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm Melee, I saw the note posted around Whiterun, and I just couldn't stand to stay away knowing the situation here."

Before the innkeeper could respond, a draft of cold air made its way through the kitchen, shortly before a male Bosmer did the same. He greeted the innkeeper, Edla, warmly and set a satchel he was wearing on the table gingerly, saying something about bringing groceries. After the two briefly exchanged words, Edla brought his attention to Melee, who had been smiling and leaning against the counter as she watched the two talking. It was clear that they were close friends who had known each other for quite some time.

The man, who Melee now knew as Sam, introduced himself in a rather personal and intimate way, causing her face to flush slightly. His demeanor and actions were only solidified as sincere by Edla's statement, expressing how flirtatious he could be. Stifling a small laugh, Melee nodded warmly at him. "Well, now I know who to really watch out for."

Edla returned out to the bar, with Melee and Sam ambling out behind her. He asked her reason for coming to Windhelm; the fact that she was new to the city was certainly obvious, as few High Elves, or Elves in general, came to the city because of it's harsh, xenophobic attitudes. Pulling the note out of her satchel, Melee held it up for Sam to see, her amber eyes growing serious. "I'm sure you've seen these posted all over Skyrim? I couldn't stay away when I heard about the atrocious murders taking place. I know I'm a stranger to this city, but I can't ignore a plea for help this strong, especially considering the circumstances."

"But unlike myself, you seem to frequent this establishment quite a bit. Do you live in Windhelm, or do you just visit often?"

 

[Bruynzeel]

"Well now I am hurt... And I was just about to compliment your hair."
As they continue out toward the bar. "But yeah I come here often. I don't reside anywhere. I usually just travel around by whim but I have a way of making friends."

Then pulling the rumpled up note from his pocket smoothing it out as he understands how little respect he had given it. "And of course there was this. Somethings are against the common good and I just felt I had to help protect some of my friends. Besides this place has gotten pretty bleak. Noone is mentioning that there are obviously people even right here missing. I havn't heard the story of the Candle all morning. Which is not usual."

Walks over and the uncomfortable nature at the bar leads him to look for a table instead. "Want to join me for a meal? As it looks like we might be working together soon might as well break bread together too."

 

[Geel-Kajin]

The Butcher...

The medicinal man read the pamphlet, his eyes narrowing. To think that he would meet a rival in a city such as this, a rival who shared his use of night and shadows. For men of this trade to meet, it was more than just a rare coincidence. It was fate. Fate had brought him together with another man of this terrible trade and craft. Another of his kind.

No, we are not the same. I am a healer, and he... he is merely a homicidal maniac. Our methods may be similar, but our motives lie in the two different sides of good and evil.

Appeased by his reasoning, he let the pamphlet go. The sheet of paper tumbled from his hand and fluttered downwards, towards the ground below. But as it neared the cobbled pavements of Windhelm, a sudden gust of wind blew past, picking up the paper and flying it to the skies above.

The medicinal man watched the pamphlet soar upon the breeze, past the gritted stone and blackened rooftops. It pained him to know that another monster like him was out there, one unwilling to repent. Somewhere in these jutting chimneys and twisted houses, somewhere in these alleys and streets...

The pamphlet lost itself within the residential avenues, breaking his chain of thought.
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The medicinal man sighed, leaving the noticeboard. Before he began anything, he would have to set up a firm residence. Candlehearth inn would be a good choice. After that, he would be free to set about with his job of healing and help. With all the time spent travelling to Windhelm, it had been too long since his potions had been put to good use. The bottles jingled by his side like a constant reminder, and he ached to use them.

A quick purchase of his room, and he was done. Placing his belongings, he made his way out of the room.The medicinal man felt a thrill now, a thrill that came before the moment of healing. Through medicine and magic, he would cure all disease. His work would begin, but first...... First he needed willing patients. They would be first in line for help.

But in the end, all would be cured.
To the crowd, he cried:

"Health is not restricted to the rich who can afford it, nor the young whose resilience is of envy. People of Windhelm, should you seek a cure, I will bring it! Come forth the ill and dying, and you will find remedy."

The medicinal man addressed the inn in whole, in hope that they would seek his help. Already, he saw the faces of many ill and sick- That Nord over there, bottle cupped in hands. He had drunk in the sins of booze, and needed a cure from alcohol; The pale argonian addict, skulking in the corner. He reeked of the corruption of skooma, hideous sweet toxic; Last of all, everyone! They were all guilty of some evil, for they had ridden don the path of imperfection. Oh, if only they would help themselves!

Of course, these were the ones who would never be willing. Only those of common illnesses; flesh wounds, Ataxia; only they would step forth. Never those who would really needed the help.
But they will get it, all the same.

 

[Rekamennos]

Tymvir's wolf senses kicked in, and he felt eyes on him. But this wasn't anything different than the several sets of eyes that were peering about from all over the tavern. Of course, he could easily mistake the sensitive feeling for someone passing a glance--but these eyes felt different.

And so he looked, turning his gaze quickly to the corner to find a Breton man with long black hair studying him. He had heard faint questioning by a passing bard in that same corner, asking about Viola, which put his already quick heart rate a bit forward. Turning his gaze around his area, he looked to Viola whom was just finishing up her meal and getting ready to excuse herself from the counter. He knew at this point he had disregarded what the Khajiit stranger had said, but, Viola was the one he protected. "Are we off for the day?" He asked, knowing her usual routine would come into place. She shrugged, turning in her stool to face the stranger Khajiit and himself. "Not just yet. I want to listen to Ragnar the Red, I think, so excuse me please." She gave Tymvir a quick smile knowing he would be ready at the second to dismiss his conversation and follow after her to a new place within the tavern.

But, she rested a hand on his shoulder and patted it. To him this told her that she was comfortable, and that she didn't need him to follow her around like the watch dog he had been presenting for the past two weeks. Many left her alone, and were more "cordial" since he adopted the place of her protector. As Viola made her way off to request a song from the Bard, Tymvir slowly began to turn back to the Khajiit while watching her like a hawk. A new face then came in to the tavern, and he felt the stinging stare quickly pass by him in the distance.

A fraction of his attention came back to the conversation he left behind for a few moments, and he began to mull over what to say back to this stranger. The bottle of mead in his hands was empty, so while thinking about it he placed it back on the counter next to his empty plate. ''I'm a traveling merchant friend, but my business has been slowed down with the recent murders, I now tend to rest outside the City walls, this City is a dangerous place would you not agree?''

"I too agree, the city has become unfortunately a place of fear for most. But I assure you I can hold my own...though it doesn't seem like it would make sense to reside outside the walls with how many other dangers there would to be had. And for a traveling merchant nonetheless you must have to put up with bandits...would you disagree?" His hands now clasped together, and he was looking the man in the eyes at the last finish of his response. Quickly they faded back to Viola, who was smiling happily and clapping along to the old Ragnar song. He sighed, looking down once, and then back to sharing sight between both people in gather of his attention. Tymvir was a dedicated man when he was passionate about something, and with so much loss he had gone through in his double life so far he was not about to let Viola slip out of his hands. He knew that he was a stranger to Windhelm, but he became a part of the predicament that "The Butcher" laid upon the citizens of this city once he lost Susanna. He knew that he and Susanna did not know one another long, but he didn't care, he knew her well enough to know she didn't deserve what she had gone through. Tymvir was a loyal kind of man, and when he set his mind to something he like any Nord would see through their promises until whatever outcome would be had. It was also apart of his Ula blood, upbringing, and moral values to stand by the just.

 

[Skyrimosity]

Andurs Fellsword looked at the unforgiving walls surrounding the snow covered city, somehow an eerie gloom drifted from the walls out into the surrounding environment. The gloom infected all... nothing seemed to be spared. A shiver ran up his spine... perhaps it was the cold, perhaps not. But as he walked the bridge to the gate, he could not avoid the unshakable feeling of evil. It was in no way explainable but in every way felt. The great terror ran through him a second time as he questioned his motive for being here. No... I must help catch this Butcher! I must be the hero! His words lacking strength, he entered the city without much reassurance.

Looking around, the fear was nearly tangible. He felt as if he had drawn his Dwarven Greatsword that he could slash through the fear in the air, somehow wiping out its presence. But that was surely not the case. He would, first and foremost need to acquire a room to sleep in. No doubt the building in front of him, the CandleHearth Inn, would have a room. For some strange inexplicable reason, the building chanted evil upon him. It seemed to carry forth such an air of evil and murder that one would normally grow sick from it. But it was, no doubt, just the smell of his prior battles with bandits. Andurs enters the building.

He looks around at his fellow patrons, taking a few mental notes about a few of them. He wondered if any were the Butcher... but far more likely he wondered if any were the leader of the group that would be the Butcher's undoing. The man took a seat at a table, not too far from a fellow Nord and a Bosmer. After demanding (not asking) the waitress for a mead, he took out his journal and began to write about his adventures of the day. He simply wrote

"Made it to Windhelm. Sense evil. Not too sure what to think. Undoubtedly something will happen here. Soon. I only hope it is for the good not the bad."

 

[Mini Mongo]

Sipro began to sense something, a foul smell, the sense that cursed the room was familiar, it reminded him of....Werewolves. That foul creature that stalked the night, and it was close, very close....The Nord.

Sipro said nothing and instead carried on his conversation without any reason to stop, listening as if nothing had changed ''Some would say it's dangerous but I don't believe so, the forest is a safe haven, and it guards me well. As for bandits, they used to take my stock yes, but they soon stopped...'' Sipro gave off a smile, a evil smile, his memories of slaughtering the bandits flying through his minds like a bat in the sky, each kill was satisfying, almost as if he relived the moment.

He washed back into the real world, the Nord staring at him with utter confusion, Sipro hoped he hadn't been dazed for too long. This happened commonly with the Khajiit, his insanity and lust for kills brought back into his head just by the mention of anything relevant to it.

A man, a doctor perhaps walked into the fray, his aura was evil almost as he began to chant; "Health is not restricted to the rich who can afford it, nor the young whose resilience is of envy. People of Windhelm, should you seek a cure, I will bring it! Come forth the ill and dying, and you will find remedy."

Sipro felt something satisfying about this man, he sensed a common feeling between them. Sipro held his tongue, he said nothing to the man but listen to him rant. Soon Sipro had to go, and go he would.

''I must depart my friend..'' he said, leaning in closer and whispering so only Tymvir could hear ''I know of your true nature...'' the sentence trailed as Sipro lent back, he have off a grin and walked out the door, a stare heavy between him and that doctor, something wasn't quite what it seemed about the man.

He opened the door of Candlehearth in, it was still afternoon, but in a few hours sunlight would fall, and the moon would cover Windhelm. He would disregard his own rules, Sipro needed to be gone soon, but he would feed off the citizens of this damned city as much as possible.

 

[Melee]

Although the inn was beginning to experience an increase in activity, Melee couldn't bring herself to think of it as lively. There was something strange about the entire scene, no doubt because everyone's mind was simultaneously preoccupied with the killer and whatever else was going on in their lives at the moment. Sam asked her about finding a table for a meal, and she nodded politely with a sincere smile on her face. It had been a while since she had eaten, and even with the uneasy atmosphere looming over everyone's heads, her appetite remained present and undisturbed.

Among the typical background noise of chatter, as well as a Bard singing "Ragnar the Red" across the main area of the inn, Melee's ears picked up a noise that stood out to her. It was a voice that was as distinct as the message it was conveying, one of redemption of health and a cured being. She turned slightly toward the voice and saw an Argonian healer standing amongst a group of people huddled in small groups around the Bard and the fire.

His enthusiasm and zeal was not lost to Melee, who could sense his devotion simply by hearing his voice. He had the sound of someone who had just made a brilliant personal epiphany, as if they had found a secret they had been searching their whole life for, or found the perfect job to perform for the rest of their life. A smile was evident in his voice, even if he wasn't wearing one on his face. His passion was certainly sincere, and almost admirable in Melee's eyes. Somebody in this forsaken city really wanted to help those less fortunate than themselves. Maybe he should be recruited for this group.

Turning back to Sam, she flagged down one of the wandering barmaids so that the two of them could order some food. After they told the waitress what they wanted, Melee leaned back and folded her arms, trying to get comfortable in her chair. "So Sam, tell me a bit about yourself. You did say, after all, that we would be working together. It makes sense that we know each other a little better."

 

[Bruynzeel]

Looks up as the barmaid arrives. "I would like a veggie omelet and horker slices thick and crispy with coffee. Oh and some of the fresh bread I smelled as I came in." Winks and smiles "Plus what ever she wants."

Waits letting Melee give her order but doesn't really listen to it instead he lets his mind wander to his surroundings. Lots of new faces around here. Overhears the adamant healer. "He seems to have something to offer. No one sounds like that without being sure."

Smiling Samuel turns and looks closely at the effort she is making at being relaxed. "How does one describe themselves without sounding like a bragard? I am not a good man? Well I am not, a great man. I travel too much for most. I have no real roots anywhere I breeze in and out of others lives. I share only snippets of the lives I am around and for some reason I suddenly feel I must pay back some of the generous nature of people I have found. Like Edla and others. I make my way all around Skyrim and I just go where ever the next job is taking me... What about you, Do you have a story?"