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Private What Lurks in the Dark

As the ranger helped the young lady to her feet, he scanned the darkness. He could have sworn that he heard something out there...like a booted foot coming down on a branch. Shaking his head, he released his grip on the longsword at his side and looked back to the robed woman. Realizing she'd asked his name, the ranger replied " I am Torin Greenbow, my lady. I've lived as a ranger in Skyrim for nearly fifteen years" he realized that they probably shouldn't spend too much time in idle chitchat. If the lady stayed wet and cold much longer, she'd probably freeze to death. It would be rather pointless to rescue someone, only to have them die later because you were too stupid to take action. "If you don't mind my saying so, we should probably keep moving." Pointing to the East, in the direction of Falkreath. "We aren't that far from the town, and should make it there by morning at latest" with that, the ranger headed off, cloak swishhing through the dirt and fallen pine needles.
 
Arok continued south towards Falkreath, occasionally swinging his sword idly at the raindrops, consumed by thought. Who was in the forest with him, and had the wolf been left on purpose?

After another hour or so, the dim lights of Falkreath caused Arok to relax his stride and sheath his blade. His calves were aching, after they'd pulled his sodden boots through the mud of the forest, but it didn't matter any more. It didn't help that he was carrying more weight than usual, with the finely crafted Orcish battleaxe he'd taken from a Skooma-raddled lone bandit strapped to his back by some old leather strips. At least he assumed the look in his eyes was down to Skooma.

A guard approached him as he neared the gate, typically wary of a large lone Orc. He soon relaxed though, as Arok pulled his hood down and flashed him a warm smile.

"A little late for you, eh friend?"

"Aye, that it is, Skorvar. Didn't think the rain would be quite so bad though. What've I missed around here?"

"Nothing special, but there's been some funny people come into town tonight, lots of 'em, too. Elves mostly, and a Khajiit from what I've heard. I'd wager Dead Man's Drink will be full tonight."

"Ah, no matter. I'll sleep behind the forge, not sure I could stand a loud inn tonight anyway."

"Aye, stay safe."

Arok continued past the inn, and heard the throng of people inside, and a lute playing. He wasn't interested though, not tonight. After spending days at a time away from people, sometimes it's better to ease yourself back into the world.

He left the road and mounted a few wooden stairs, and knocked on a door.

"Hello? Anybody there?"

"Who in Oblivion is that, do you know what time it is?!" The voice rang back.

"It's me you old fool, Arok. I've got something for you, cheap if you want it."

"Alright, give me a minute... It'll be half the price for waking me up, you great fool!"

Lod opened the door and ushered Arok inside. They spoke for a while and the Orc ate while the two bartered and jested over the price for the Orcish battleaxe Arok had been carrying for the last two days. After an hour of friendly arguing, they settled on a price - 80 Septims and the lease of an extra blanket for the night.

"By the Divines, Lod, you have no shame do you? I've walked for four days to get here just to see my old friend and..."

Lod cut him off halfway through his teasing.

"Mammoth piss! We both know you only came here because you heard about the bounty on those bandits everyone's been talking about."

The pair laughed and said their farewells, and Arok set about pitching his modest tent round the back of the forge. Even now, past midnight, the forge glowed brightly and gave off plenty of warmth. There was no need to build a fire for the few hours until dawn. He laid his head on the top of the bedroll, and drifted to sleep, soothed by the familiar surroundings and warmth of the forge, and by the hypnotic pitter-patter of raindrops on the hides and leathers of his modest tent.
 
With his high, nordic tolerance for alcohol, Skjoldr finished off his pints of ale with little difficulty and only ended up feeling slightly 'tingly'. He wiped the froth from his upper lip with a leather gloved hand and then loosed his remaining gauntlet and removed the thick, scarred glove beneath it. He stretched his scarred hands, splaying the fingers and exercising them into fists and back, flat out, onto the bartop. It had been a while since he had felt anything of the sort underneath his bare palms, they were usually covered in thick leather and heavy metal and the feeling of true touch was something nice to savour.

He noticed however, when he looked around with a smiled caused by familiar memorability, that a strange man had cast a fleeting glance at him and his drinking partner before returning his gaze to the group surrounding the bounty letter and stood up to offer his services. Skjoldr's mood instantly fell flat, a flat that was spiky with rage, but still a rather sorrowful flat. Those bandits meant nothing to those gathered there, there was no personal vendetta against the outlaws within that rag-tag group of adventures of different races and creeds, but for the mourning noble, he felt rage even against the piece of parchment that held the bounty. Those bandits, when they struck his father down, might as well have wounded the son personally for the amount of animosity that Skjoldr directed towards them.
He wasn't know for his indescisiveness, even at the most crucial times (which had led to his current exile), so something as strong an 'insult' as this, caused him to have no internal debate.
These bandits would die. They would fall like animals at slaughter and he would offer them no merciful deliverance to Oblivion as he doubted that his father was shown any such mercy.

Yet, he got a strange vibe from the varied group that occupied most of the south-east corner of the old tavern and he couldn't quite place it. The variety of races didn't phaze him, he had seen such diversity in his wandering exile and social gatherings...but something was indeed...'off' about some of them and it caused him to weigh the situation in his mind...should he approach them?
Now, he was never one for hesitation or shyness, but a cautious frame of mind enveloped him. It was a lack of trust, he believed, and yet, he gathered up his gauntlets in a large, calloused hand and stood; clapping his friendly aquaintance on the back with his spare hand and thanking him for his kindness as he made his way over near the group.

Skjoldr didn't just stand at the fray like a awkward sellsword, but neither did he barge into the tightly knit group and demand the attention fo the strange women with the bounty letter. He found a empty space on one of the table benches and sat next to a patron who wasn't interested or involved in the group at all, just trying to enjoying his cheese, bread and wine. He sat on the edge of the bench, elbow resting on the oak tabletop as he figured that this information, because it was in a tavern, that it was of public interest. He said not a word, but quietly and respectfully, listened.
 
Elyzona made her way through Falkreath, desperately in need of drink. The night was darker than normal. She felt the presence of… something. Something not right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Elyzona shivered in the strange cold that was dotted with heavy raindrops, pushing back a lock of her light blonde hair behind her ear. If there was ever a night to wear a helmet, it was this one, and she began to regret not bringing one along. Though, she was glad that she left her robes at the College in favor of her warmer Leather armor.

Elyzona was a delicate, pretty girl on the surface, and drew the looks of many men on her way to the local Inn. Elyzona ignored the hungry eyes that fell upon her. There was only one man for her, and he was dead.

She eventually came to the entrance of the Inn, named Dead Man’s Drink. ‘How fitting.’she thought to herself, before pushing the door aside and entering.

Elyzona drank in her surroundings before making her way to a table in the corner. She noticed the odd crowd in the tavern, with only a drunken Nord seeming to fit in seamlessly. The other patrons consisted of Elves and Khajiit, and a young-looking Imperial. Odd, how similar the young Imperial's appearance was to her own. She sensed that the elves looked different than most, but given her inexperience in the world outside the farm, she could not quite discern what was different about them. She shrugged it off, paying little attention to the ongoing conversations around her. Idly, she wondered if the young Imperial would approach her. His kind, young men that is, always seemed to think they had a chance to bed her.

Elyzona made her way to the bar. “One Mead, please, ma’am.” The barmaid eyed her warily, replying “Aye, you look a bit young, but like you could use a drink nonetheless.” Elyzona grinned for the first time since Sor died; he always commented on her innocent appearance. She slid her gold to the barmaid, noting that she was running low, and suddenly remembering why she traveled here. “What’s the word around town? There were rumors of disappearances spreading all the way to Winterhold.” The barmaid confirmed her suspicions, saying little more than the fact the rumors were true. Ely thanked her for her service, and retreated to a small table in the corner, sipping slowly on her Mead. She needed the warmth from the drink to fill her, to aide her in her quest for Strength. She wished now more than ever that Sor was here to wrap his strong arms around her, and to remind her that she was becoming a Strong, Determined young woman.
 
Julius looked up as the door open for what sounded like the thousandth time that night. 'What now?' thought the young imperial. He turned and saw a woman that looked only a couple of years older than him. Maybe. She wasn't bad looking either, although Julius didn't see himself as so crude that he'd make any...improper advances on her. He did go over to the bar to talk, though, wondering if she was here about the bounty as well. Taking a seat on the bar stool, careful to keep his distance from the two Nords, he turned to look at her.

Nervously, he cleared his throat. "H-hi. I'm Julius...are you here about the bounty the jarl put up? Almost everyone is. I think." glad that he'd managed that many words he smiled kind of awkwardly. Then he remembered something "I'm a mercenary, by the way" he said, trying to sound important and jabbing himself in the chest with his thumb. 'Wow...that was dumb sounding...' he thought.
 
Elyzona was jerked from the reverie of her old life that she had fallen into rather abruptly, by an apprehensive stammer coming from the young Imperial man she noticed upon entering the bar. "H-hi. I'm Julius...are you here about the bounty the jarl put up? Almost everyone is. I think… I'm a mercenary, by the way.” He said to her, with nervousness coating his voice. Elyzona recognized that he was attempting to make a strong first impression on her. It didn’t seem that he wanted to bed her, though, and she decided that she would entertain his company... for now. “Something to be said about that Imperial luck, I suppose”Ely mused to herself.

Realizing she had once again fallen into her own thoughts, she turned her attention back to the young man. “Julius, was it? So sorry for my… lack of response. I suppose I was lost in my thoughts, yet again. Weeks of travel will do that to you”, she offered him a smile, attempting to ease his nerves. “My name is Elyzona, and I am no Mercenary, unlike yourself. I was not aware of the bounty, as the barmaid had not mentioned it to me upon my arrival.” She snuck a sideways glance at the barmaid, who rolled her eyes at Elyzona before continuing her work. “What is this bounty for, and what’s it worth?”
 
The number of people in the tavern was growing. All sorts of people. Tokos figured that if he was to rent a room there for the night, he'd have to do it soon. He then heads to the bar and asks the barkeeper.

"Excuse me, do you still have rooms available?" "Yes, that will be ten septims for a night."
"I'll take it" he answers as he picks up a handful of gold and puts the necessary on the table.
The woman starts looking for the key, when Tokos' attention was caught by the word "bounty". He then realizes that next to him is that Imperial boy he met earlier and a woman next to him talking about the bounty. "If it's the bounty you're interested in, I'd suggest talking to that altmer woman there in the corner."
The barkeeper then returns with the key and points out his room. Tokos thanks her and then heads to his room to get some rest.
 
Falkreath, Ghubaric thought. Ugly little hamlet. As the Redguard approached the his hands fell to his newly acquired coin purse. The new political situation had allowed Ghubaric to expand even faster than he predicted. Though the outbursts of unexplainable circumstances limited how much he could actually make. The mercenaries who guarded his shipments had to be better paid and equipped and such the bottom line went down. But Ghubaric rarely worried his turbaned head about such measures. He looked around noticing some of the looks his obviously foreign garb garnered. But they looked away when he tapped his scimitar, Songbird, and stared at them with his purple eyes. He stroked his forked beard and wondered how he was going to gather some more gold.

He approached the tavern. A cheery spot called Dead Man's Drink, and entered and found an odd sight. For one thing there was more than five villagers in the common room. And there were a collection of people huddled around a woman. Ghubaric thought this was odd, sure she was attractive but you thought she was Azura the way they crowded her. He saw a hooded elf talking to a khajiit female. He hugged the wall ordering a glass of wine. That one, Ghubaric thought. I feel like I have met him here before. But he shook that thought away and looked at the strange Thalmor again. Ghubaric rarely entered Falkreath, and that elf was very distinct. He simply stood there watching the two elves that garnered the most attention from the others, planning for one's bed and the other's coin.
 
The woman had a soothing voice that eased his nerves a little. It helped that she had a nice smile as well. Then she asked about the bounty, and Julius thought back to the scary Altmer.Before he could answer, the Khajiit man told the Breton about the Altmer in the corner.the woman could go over there if she wanted, but there was absolutely no way he'd go himself. That hungry look she gave him....the Imperial shuddered.
 
Aethalia crossed her legs under the table, and watched an...interesting Redguard enter the tavern. He moved to the far wall and seemed to be observing both her and the hooded Altmer. 'Good to know I'm not the only person of interest' she thought dryly to herself. Then, deciding it was time to communicate with her fellow high elf, she gave him her best 'come hither' look. She also noticed the tall Nord that had moved from his seat at the bar, to a closer bench, and was clearly listening in on the conversation. Aliah didn't mind, as she intended to head out for the bandit camp the next morning.
 
Salthar noticed a Redguard enter the bar, barely giving him a second glance, but then the vampire paused, and looked back at him. The vampire knew him from somewhere...he just couldn't remember where...Deciding not to worry about the man for the time being, he returned to his observation of the woman in the corner. Then he noticed her look, clearly an unspoken summons. Leaving his seat, the Altmer vampire moved over to her table, and took a seat, smiling in a curious manner at the woman. "You seem to be a very popular woman, my dear. I wonder, if you've got room in your venture for one more..." he trailed off leadingly. He had absolutely no interest in joining the adventure for gold, he had vast sums of gold back at the Bloodlet Throne. However, this red haired, pale golden skinned Altmer woman drew his interest.
 
Aethalia smiled at the Thalmor-robed Altmer, her suspicions that he too was a vampire were confirmed. He has typical elven features with midnight black hair, and the pale gold skin of an Altmer vampire. "One who holds the key to gold is always popular" she said, knowing that in most cases, whoever held gold in these times ended up dead in a ditch. "And yes, I'd be happy to have another Altmer with me on what I'm certain will be an interesting adventure" with that, she smiled at him, genuinely curious to find out this strange vampires' tale. Obviously, he was confident among the Nords, and wore his robes without the slightest hint of fear of retribution. Perhaps she'd learn more about him as they began their adventure.
 
Donath no longer needed to pretend to be drunk. He was on his tenth tankard of ale when his drinking buddy, the tall Nord abruptly went off to sit near the elf woman. The warrior didn't blame him, the woman was rather pretty, and Donath was neither pretty nor all that fresh smelling. Deciding he should probably get his arse up if he wanted to join the adventurers (which was now starting to look like a small army) and talk to her. Unfortunately, that damned vampire was their as well. Shrugging, Donath shoved himself away from the bar, and almost fell flat on his face. Stumbling over to her table, he grinned like a half wit idiot, and said "Aye, your hignessness! I'll have you know, that if there's gold to be had, I'll be joinin' your little expedi- expedition! Ha!" Then the Nord swayed dangerously, offered another grin, and slammed to the floor, armour and all, passed out cold.
 
Averain watched a strange looking Redguard enter the tavern, but by now, the vampire had learnt to pay such strange folks no mind, as they seemed to be crawling over the Dead Mans' drink like ants on a sweet roll. He saw the smaller of the two Nord warriors in the bar walk over to the female Altmers' table, bellow a line about joining her, before collapsing like a sack of potatoes. Lifting a gauntleted hand to hide his mirth, the knight only shook his head. "This party keeps getting better and better" he muttered to himself, wondering when they were going to set out. And how they would fight as a group, because no matter how one could fight on his or her own, when in a group, they needed to be ready to follow the leaders orders, and to fight alongside one another with ease.
 
The warrior from earlier on had looked drunk before but now, when Skjoldr saw him approach the group, he was unashamedly and unabashedly bladdered. His actions were swaying and uncoordinated and his voice drawled with the words blending into one another or cutting the ends off each other. Plus, the bald nord had drunkards blush on his cheeks and a glowing nose and..well...he would have seen more if that face suddenly wasn't flat down against the floorboards of the old alehouse; nose crushed against the aged wooden boards that would smell of the ages past along with damp, spilled mead, urine, blood and earth.

It wouldn't be friendly of the noble to allow his former drinking partner to just lie there at the expense of the merriment of others so, despite having a good old laugh himself, he hoisted the rather heavy nord up off the floor by grabbing him under his armpits, and went to sacrifice his own bench space to plonk Baldy's armoured ass. He slapped him round the face twice with a leather glove and then grabbed a unowned jar of ale and tipped it over the unconscious strangers head. It was slightly warm, but should have do the trick. His smile was of juvenile enjoyment and he sank back into his old feelings of comeradie. It reminded him when he and his friends would retire to the tavern after a hard day of fighting...drinking, playfighting and laughter usually ensued.

"Wake up princess."

When he looked around he saw the Redguard entering and the suspiscion returned. He had seen and worked with plenty of redguards, good warriors, traders and aquaintances most of them...but this one looked particularly...cruel, and Skjoldr's guard (which had momentarily slipped) was back up and in place within seconds.
 
Elyzona's conversation with the young Imperial was briefly interrupted by a passing Khajiit who said "If it's the bounty you're interested in, I'd suggest talking to that altmer woman there in the corner."
She nodded her head to the Khajiit, silently thanking him for his information. She turned her gaze back to Julius, who seemed lost in thought- and was that a hint of fear in his eyes? "Well, Julius, I thank you for your company. Though I think my attention is needed elsewhere, as I can't turn down an opportunity to make a little extra coin. Enjoy your evening." Ely set down her Mead, leaving Julius alone for the time being, and slowly approached the unique looking Altmer. 'I still can't quite figure out what's different about her...' Ely thought to herself. 'No matter. She has the ticket to what I can only presume is a bounty yielding a lot of coin, and regardless of differences, I should familiarize myself with her.' As Ely reached the Altmer's table, she did her best to look intimidating- quite the challenge, for the delicate-looking blonde-haired Breton. She puffed up her chest and removed any trace of friendliness from her face and eyes, and stated simply: "I want in."
 
Donath came back to consciousness spluttering and looking infuriated. he turned a dangerous look on his fellow Nord, although there was no real threat as he looked almost comical with warm ale trickling down his face. "Bah, ye silly fool, now ye've wasted perfectly good ale on my head!" Roared the Nord, grabbing a cloth to wipe his face and head with. Honestly though, he wasn't angry. Any man that would go through the trouble of hauling him up from the floor onto the bench where he sat now was worthy of Donath's loyalty.
 
Aethalia looked up from her discussion with the Thalmor to see a young woman, that couldn't have been older than twenty years of age. She was Breton, and didn't look like she'd seen as much violence and death as the others in the tavern. But when she spoke, there was a certain resolve to her voice. "I want in." The Altmer vampire winked at her fellow blood drinker and smiled at the girl. She could have said quite a few things to her, but by the look in the Bretons eye, it was clear she wouldn't be dissuaded simply on her word.

"You should be careful what you wish for" the vampire said, before pretending to consider the other womans words and nodding "Very well. Here are the details" she said, handing over the letter. Then she stood, stretching her arms high above her head. "Those heading out with me in the morning should get their rest. We depart at first light" with that, the Altmer tossed a bag of septims to the innkeep and headed up to her room, planning on getting some rest before facing the sun.
 
"Nobody drinks warm piss my friend," Skjoldr laughed and clapped the spluttering nord on the back with a toothy smile.
The man who had been trying to enjoy his meal, grumbled and mooched off somewhere else with his wooden plate, probably outside as Skjoldr was convinced the disgruntled foodie would find no solace within a now rather crowded and rowdy tavern.
So, the noble plopped himself heavily down next to Donath and rested back on the table, nudging obstacles in the form of candles and jugs, away from him with his elbows. Sighing heavily and tasting his own ale saturated breath, the noble rubbed one of his temples and slid one half full pint of ale behind Donath so that it ended up at the bald nords far side in hands reach.
"So, I'm guessing the pay's good for those bandits in the hills?" He asked, scratching the back of his neck where his armour had rubbed slightly.
 
Donath grinned and nodded "Guess you're right there, friend" as the other Nord slid a pint of ale towards his end of the table, the bald Nords' hand shot out, almost of it's own accord and snatched the drink. He brought it to his lips, raising it in a salute before downing almost all of it in a swallow. "Name's Donath Stonesplitter, friend" he informed the man, and then listened to the mans' question about the pay on the bandits. He nodded "Thousand gold was the last I heard. That pretty elf lass-" he pointed to the Altmer woman that was now making her way past them," Is gathering a band to wipe them out in the morning, I think"
 
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