Fandom The Second Rebellion (Skyrim)

[AlbaGuBrath]

Welcome

Characters ~ Info Thread ~ OOC Page​

”Greetings, citizen. You’ve come here as a civilian, but will you leave as one? That’s for you to decide, but know well that turning tail will not protect you from danger. It surrounds you, all of us, at every turn, and so it is the duty of every true son and daughter of Skyrim to protect their home from the perils it now faces. What’s that? The Stormcloaks are no more? Aye, that’s true, but their people have not been defeated. Like the rocks at sea, they may be hidden for a time, but they will still stand strong. Of course there will be opposition. Some will still stand with their puppet Empire, though even now both Stormcloak and Legionnaire are beginning to see their true enemy and have tentatively agreed to work together. What will come of this alliance is yet to be seen, and not every Imperial has agreed, so stay sharp and be on your guard. Besides former Imperials, some others will seek favor and prestige from the overlords. But fear not, citizen of Skyrim. ‘The Age of Oppression is now nearly done…’
Signed, Gunjar Broken-Sword”

Roleplay StatusRoleplay Status: Active
Accepting?: Not currently. Check back later!
Active Members: Alba (Albagubrath), Jake (Sir Jake), Kitten (explosiveKitten), Lock (Locklaklazarii), Nat (0stinato), Twyll (Twyllvarlais)

Characters:
Jekkel the Strange - Male, Imperial, Unaligned (Jake)
Kumiko Arkia Tora - Male, Khajiit, Rebel (by occupation) - Individually unaligned, but stands with the Stormcloaks because, as a Thane of Riften, it is expected of him. Confused in general. (Nat)
Maroluna - Female, Khajiit, Unaligned (Kitten)
Pysmia Larethor IV - Female, Altmer, Thalmor - A Loyal Member of the Thalmor, A Supporter of the Rebellion (Lock)
Saorat - Female, Khajiit, Rebel - An unlikely member of the former Stormcloak rebellion, but a proud and loyal one nonetheless. Personally devoted to Ulfric, and currently seeking him out to rejoin him. (Alba)
Yvondir Direnni - Male, Altmer, Thalmor (Twyll)

Map of Skyrim and Faction Territories

Red = Currently unaligned territories, may become aligned with one side or the other as time passes
Yellow = Thalmor territory and their allies
Blue = Rebel territory and their allies
Green = Unaligned territories with no interest in choosing sides, wish to be left alone.
Map by 0stinato

 

[Dragonix975]

Veryon hated Windhelm. So unhospitable towards Argonians. At least the Court Mage was part of the College. He drew his coat around him as he walked towards his destination from the College.

 

[0stinato]

Ah, Windhelm. Home to the furious, the racist and the drunk. And sometimes all three at once. The Dunmer, still treated like excrement by a lot of the Nords in Windhelm, kept to the Gray Quarter more and more, most of them deciding to keep their heads down rather than to get into an upset with some hateful Nord who'd had a bit too much mead. It was only now, though, that Kumiko's eyes were opened.


Previously, when he'd come to Windhelm, before his Thane duties kept him mildly busy in Riften, he'd been focusing a lot more of his energy in getting un-lost in the maze of stone streets, each corner chillier than the last. He prided himself on his ability to never get lost, always knowing vaguely where he was, and being able to read the Sun to determine North, South, East and West, but Windhelm had beaten him. It'd turned him around so badly he found himself back at Sadri's Used Wares three times, each time more angry and more cold than the last. By the time he got back to the main entrance of the city, huge, rust-coloured gates looming over him, he'd ordered twice as much as what he'd usually drink at the inn. Just to drown his disappointments in and to bring about an artificial sense of warmth. Although, because of this, he'd been told to leave the establishment, after trying to lick the flame of the candle on the mantelpiece upstairs, and crawling onto someone's table to sleep.


It was entertaining to remember. Though he'd not be repeating any of those mistakes this time - he was on an Ambassadorial trip today. A strong and persuasive Thane was told to go to Windhelm, and the Jarl had chosen him, citing his excellent ability to... distract an argument. He'd done it many a time. If there was a rabble on the streets of Riften, it wasn't uncommon for Kumiko to step in and ask if any party knew where the best butterfly-chasing location was. The two or more fighters would be so confused by this, and would actually make an effort to think of the last place they saw a whole lot of butterflies, meaning that their urge to fight each other was diminished. An odd tactic, but it was one that worked.


But he couldn't go up to the Palace of Kings yet. Not looking like this. He was still dressed in his usual, comfortable armour, the dark, mysterious metal reflecting various dings and cuts with the light. It fitted him, and he'd spent countless months in it. Previously an excitable adventurer, Kumi had decided that maybe it was time to slow things down. Become Thane. Get married. Spend his days idly, perhaps doing a bit of research into Daedra if the mood arose. But then again... his legs always wanted to sprint, and his hands always wanted to feel the weight of something. A shield, weapon or battleaxe. They craved it.


So, Kumi often kept everything he loved with him - the armour, his weapons and his numerous charms and rings. He wasn't one of those Thanes to prance about wearing fine clothes or robes while wandering through along the path to some city. He was a practical man. If a bear came at him, he'd much rather be ready for it, his heavy armour protecting him from lasting damage, his scimitar at his side, loyal and ready for action.


But, as Ambassador to Riften, he could hardly show up to the Palace of Kings in his armour. Even with his helmet off, he looked like some behemoth-wannabe, armed to the teeth and invulnerable. No, he'd have to change. He started walking again towards Candlehearth Hall, hoping he'd be allowed in. He needed somewhere to store his belongings while up in the Palace, dressed in irritatingly light and fancy robes. Surely he would be. He didn't do any lasting damage in his incident last time. And he was the Thane of Riften, here on business. They'd put him up, surely.

 

[Dragonix975]

Veryon spotted the armored figure. Veryon had a habit of taking note of every one person. He had too, lest he get into a fight while at the tavern.

 

[0stinato]

The Hall looked different now Kumiko was sober. The colours were brighter. They were better too, the wooden floor and stairs a dark chestnut. The kind of floor he'd like to lie on and scratch. Just rake his claws along the ground and roll around a bit. Probably best not though, he had to be professional. Though that was easier said than done for Kumiko. He liked to have a bit of fun, but, by experiencing other Thanes, like Erikur in Solitude, he knew he couldn't really have the usual 'fun' while he was playing at being one. Kumi didn't like Erikur much. He'd patronise Kumiko when he'd not expected to be patronised. Kumi always got his revenge though... blood-sucking style.


At the bar, the owner dropped her cloth and looked up as Kumiko approached. Whether she remembered him or not was hard to tell by her expression.


He decided to speak first, "I'd like a room for a couple of nights. I'll be leaving things in there so if you don't mind locking it when I leave?"


"You..." Elda, he remembered her name from last time, said. "You're not going to cause us the same problems you caused last time, are you?"


Ah.


Kumiko waved his hand, "Gods no. I won't be here too much, you'll hardly notice me," he smiled. "I promise, if I do drink, two's the maximum at any one night. That alright?"


Elda agreed, writing him in for two nights, which Kumiko paid in advance for. She instructed him which room it was, "down the corridor, second on the left" for which Kumiko thanked her. He went to go, but felt something else. A little uncomfortable, he put some distance between him and the bar, and looked back. Well, no wonder he'd not noticed the Argonian - he was in shadows, and had dark colouring, and his eyes were still on Kumiko.


Immediately, Kumiko's mind spun to the other Argonians in Windhelm - they were all confined to the docks. Every one of them worked for pittance, and their lives hadn't been improved by the Stormcloak victory either. Kumiko had heard the Windhelm Argonians actually had proper sleeping areas now, but he'd yet to sneak around and confirm it. Anyway, this Argonian, clearly, wasn't affiliated with the docks. For one, Kumiko had never seen him before. For two, he had a different air about him, even a different smell. Not salt, sweat and dust as the docks smelled. No, Kumiko detected the faint crackling smell of electricity and raw power, below the smell of books. There was only one place that fit the bill for him, then. The Mages' College. For certain. Not a Windhelm resident. Like him, this Argonian was an outsider here.


And his eyes were impossible to read. Was he sizing Kumiko up? Wondering if he could take him? Like some sort of assassin or hitman? Or was he just... reading Kumiko somehow? Working Kumiko out as Kumiko was doing the same. Difficult to tell. Very difficult. And there was only so much the scent of a person could tell you. It wouldn't tell you if they were planning on killing you.


@Dragonix975

 

[Dragonix975]

Very on could sense the confusion in his eyes. Even in the dark hallway, Veryon could see well. Had come in handy in Sarthaal. The thought of his first encounter with his brother came back to him. The moment both laid eyes on each other. They had both known immediately. One,thing had led, to another, and now Veryon was the only person to know the full story of the last Dragonborn.


He stared at the Khajit. Veryon always made sure to size up someone. This was to determine if he should summon over his Daedric gear and artifacts, or any of his brothers possessions, to defend himself. 


Veryon cast Magelight and stepped towards the Khajit. "What brings you to this foul city, Thane of Riften..." Veryon always knew who people were. It was uncanny.


"I am Veryon Xekrayok, Brother of The Dragonborn and MageLord of the College."

 

[0stinato]

Something inside Kumiko yelled at him to be scared, you fool, he knows your name, but apparently it was being drowned out by his curiosity. As the Argonian stepped up, Kumi worked a few things out quickly. Namely, a) it wouldn't be all that strange if some randomer knew his name - he was a Thane after all, and a Thane who'd had a fair few controversies to his name. So what if he liked to add a little touch of skooma to his mead? He was entitled to by rights. Not by law but... whatever. So, yes, not unusual for someone to know his name. And a Khajiit Thane was... well, Kumi wasn't actually sure if anywhere else in Skyrim had a Khajiit Thane. And nowhere probably would, given his behaviour.


And b) and maybe it was foolish to assume this, but what exactly did Kumiko have to be scared of? This Argonian was sort of squaring up to him, but Kumi could handle himself if it did come to a fight. In all honesty, he'd, of course, like to avoid a fight if at all possible - can't really meet with the Jarl of a city with blood in your whiskers. And besides, one more smear on his title as Thane would be annoying. So, if the Argonian did decide to make a move, Kumi just decided he'd run away. Show he wasn't willing to fight, show he didn't want to end up trashing somewhere for the sake of his pride.


"Well..." Kumi said, tilting his head to the side and moving his ears subtly, attempting to detect maliciousness in the Argonian's voice, "to answer your first question, private and confidential business. And the thing about private and confidential business is that it's not your business," he couldn't help but break into a grin at his own cleverness of that witty comment. He was so proud. "And to address your... second point... so? So what? Brother of the Dragonborn. Not to be rude, but even if the Dragonborn themselves came up to me and introduced themselves as Dragonborn, I'd not really care. It certainly says something about you that you parade around the fact that you're brother of the Dragonborn," he smiled, "but anyway. Lovely to make your acquaintance, whatever you said your name was. It was long and complicated, I'm sorry."


As he'd thought, Mage's College. He gave himself an internal self-high-five for that one. Good job Kumi! Well done. But, Kumi'd never heard of the title 'MageLord'. It wasn't his place to ask, though. The limit of his magic was conjuring a flame atronach or using Flame Cloak; everything else he could take or leave. It wasn't his place to speak of magic, or to question the College. Unlike a lot of people in Skyrim, Kumi held the College in relatively high regard, believing it was good for the progression of Skyrim. But, now with the vague Thalmor threat lingering on the wind, every Nord had renewed their hatred, practically spitting the taste of the word "Mage" out of their mouths. The Thalmor were often regarded as magic-users - it was only natural for the Nords to be suspicious that their doorway into Skyrim could be their very own College of Winterhold.


@Dragonix975

 

[Dragonix975]

This Khajit was certainly a original character. Of course, that didn't change the fact that speaking ill of his brother brought pain to whomever did so. Of course, Veryon was not a fighter. No, he would speak.


"I wish to talk to you. Come, let us have a drink. I am sure we will get to know each other more." 


Veryon summoned his Daedric dagger into his pocket. He did not know what to expect.

 

[0stinato]

Letting the Argonian move away from him first, Kumiko stared at the back of his head as he slowly approached the bar. He had no business getting involved with the Thane of Riften, surely? But then again, Kumiko had got into shadier dealings with people; they'd request to speak with him without his prior knowledge, and, with curiosity, Kumiko would go to them. So far, 90% of the 'meetings' had gone quite well. Some people could judge his character quite well and rightly guess he had some connections with the Thieve's Guild. They'd ask for payment for an item to be fenced, at which point haggling would ensue. After that, Kumiko could sell to Tonilia or see if Delvin was interested on his next midnight excursion to the Ragged Flagon.


Of course, 10% hadn't gone well. The few that didn't had usually resulted in someone attempting to blackmail Kumiko. The usual things came up - I can get you framed for destroying the Blackbriar Meadery, I know you and Maven aren't the... best of friends, or You killed your housecarl and I have proof. The more half-baked ideas Kumiko could pick holes in enough to send the blackmailer scurrying. The more solid ones required a little bit more of a direct approach. At a knife-edge. It was a good thing all these 'shady meetings' went on out of the main sight of cities. The perfect choice for a good murder.


In the middle of a bar where two people had walked past in the space Kumiko and his new Argonian acquaintance's extremely brief chat, maybe not so much. But that was a good thing, probably. Meant the Argonian couldn't turn around and try anything. But still, being wary was no demon.


He cleared his throat and continued talking, light-hearted and confident as usual, "Not to say I'd hate your Dragonborn sibling or anything, not at all. Simply, I don't think being Dragonborn means I should fling myself to the floor and start kissing their feet. If I meet the Dragonborn, and he's nice to me, I'll be nice back. Simple as that, really," he didn't really think his dismissive comment about the Dragonborn had come out exactly as he'd planned. From what he'd said, Kumi felt like he'd figuratively put a hand up to the Dragonborn's face and swiped left. Get out of here, you're insignificant to me. That wasn't the case - Kumi just wasn't one to judge someone based on what they were. He had Vampire blood, for Arkay's sake.


"But anyway, what's this about? I do have places to be so I can't stay here long. Just, say what you need to and we'll discuss it if I have time," he bit his lip, "I've still got to get changed," he pondered to himself. "Takes ages to find a comfortable tail spot in clothes like that..."


@Dragonix975

 

[Dragonix975]

"It is just... Do you happen to have heard of a man named Sanalthar Silian?" Sanalthar was the reason for his visit. The man had stolen a Daedric artifact.

 

[0stinato]

Kumiko's eyebrows raised at the name as he tried to recall if he'd ever heard it before. The Argonian's smooth voice was a good timbre for the name, the S-sounds flowing effortlessly into he letters that followed it. The guy was probably pretty persuasive, with a voice like that. A little like Madesi back in Riften; that guy could sell air to Kumiko and he'd not complain.


Sanalthar Silian. Throughout his travels when he was more into adventuring than he was now, he'd certainly heard a lot of names. But, given how badly he'd remembered the name of the Argonian sitting literally adjacent to him, it wouldn't surprise him if he'd heard the name Sanalthar Silian and totally wiped it from his memory some time ago. Even his dealings as Thane, the name wasn't ringing any bells at all. There were some names close to that he knew... Silus Vesuius in Dawnstar for example... but no name matching that exactly.


He tilted his head again, "Sanalthar Silian, it sounds either... Argonian or Redguard. But I'm afraid I can't say I've heard the names, no. Maybe if you tell me more context surrounding him I might've heard of that. Thanes are informed of a lot."


Thane's weren't informed of a lot. They had to go out of their way to ask guards to catch them up on things they should know regarding the law, and try to get information from their Jarl if possible. So Kumiko was lying. All he wanted was information about this Sanalthar Silian. Purely and wholeheartedly out of curiosity. And besides, the Argonian had brought up the subject - it was only fair he let Kumiko know why.


"Let's discuss it over some mead, shall we? What's your poison?" he asked, withdrawing a few septims and laying them on the bar, a sign he'd cover this round.


@Dragonix975

 

[Dragonix975]

"Blood of Daedra. I have one on me right now. I also can conjure up some Daedric armor, could show you that." Veryon poured out all the blood from the canteen into his throat. "So, Silian is a Redguard, right? Well, he goes and steals something that I need, something called... The Eye of Alduin, well one of his eye's. The other is mine. I want it. He is supposed to be coming to Windhelm soon. I will spring a trap."  


Veryon on looked over his prospect. " So,you in?" Veryon laid out 500 septims.

 

[0stinato]

Kumiko was alarmed. This Argonian had just drunk blood in front of a normal Nord woman. He hastily tried to cover the guy's tracks, commenting on how he'd have to try what must be Talen-Jei's latest brew. Talen-Jei was a pretty well-known experimenter of alcohol, and he gave each drink elaborate and interesting names. Why shouldn't 'Blood of Daedra' be included on the same list as the Cliff Racer, the White-Gold Tower and the... other one. Kumi couldn't remember what the other one was. Thinking he'd covered the whole shocking affair pretty okay, he quickly ordered some Honningbrew Mead, now needing something sweet to lift his spirits, and harshly instructed the Argonian to follow him to his room where they'd talk.


Kumiko led the way, but this time thinking about the Argonian's offer. In all honesty, 500 gold was barely a scratch on what Kumiko carried with him, but the idea of an ambush appealed to his sneaking preferences. But he was Ambassador for Riften. And he'd already been seen with the Argonian. Was it too risky?


Once secured in the room, Kumi turned on the Argonian, "Are you seriously foolish enough to not only drink blood but Daedra blood, in full view of a Nord in Windhelm?! Surely you know how blood-drinkers, AKA, Vampires, are treated in Skyrim? I don't know if you're one, but I certainly am, and I'm not sabotaging my right to walk free because of your incompetence. Drink bloody wine or something in public! Save the blood for when you're on your own. I won't cover for you again, pretending Blood of Daedra is, like, a cocktail or something. For the love of Dibella, if I get thrown out of this place and arrested again I will be coming after you."


He walked to his bed and sat heavily on it, not entirely sure where his outburst had come from. Maybe it was the stress of playing Ambassador.


"Look, just... tell me a little more about your plan, okay. I can't do anything tonight, you know. Got more pressing concerns tonight. And I'd need to develop an alibi, as would you, should anything go wrong. And are you thinking of killing him? Because if you aren't, that might be a turn-off for me," he fiddled with a chunky ring on his finger - a ring of Namira. "It's been a good long while since I've... you know, eaten," he looked up with a smile. "But I'll probably agree. It's been too long since I've had the thrill, you know?"


@Dragonix975

 

[Dragonix975]

"Don't you see! If I don't consume the Blood, I will die." He let the Oblivion symbol branded on his eyes show. "I am in a pact with Peryite, Molag Bal and Mehrunes Dagon, and Hermaeus Mora. I exchanged everything for their gift. I am no longer mortal. I am worse. Worse than vampiric. I am Daedra."

 

[0stinato]

"Y- you're..." Kumiko paused. Standing before him was a Daedra nay mortal. Which is exactly what he wanted to be. He wanted to have the power, he wanted to be on par with Sanguine and Sheogorath, he wanted to laugh as he watched little people running around, or appear to them in some weird form and demand he be brought milk. All the milk. Every drop they could find. To be sitting in front of one wasn't exactly scary, it was just... annoying. Kumiko hadn't ever been able to find out how to become a Daedra. And someone'd beaten him to the punch.


But it meant there was still hope.


Kumiko shook it off and scowled at the Argonian, "And I'm telling you, I don't care. You drink blood in public, you're going to be hounded, and I will be too. If you're going to disagree this much with me you clearly don't see the foolishness of your actions. Daedra aren't omnipotent, you know. You can still be banished off this plain of existence."


He sighed. He was too wound up to want a fight, and too stressed to want to drink. The mead on the side table, normally so alluring, just made his stomach sink. He wanted this whole thing over with, the Ambassadorial trip, and the Argonian's wishes. Just, get it over with, don't argue about the blood thing anymore. Just try to avoid him in public, but talk in private. It was simple, they wouldn't have to come to blows. The room they were in was making Kumiko feel a little trapped too. He loved small spaces, loved curling up in them and sleeping. But the dust on the floor, the light crawling up the walls, it all felt very unfamiliar and strange. Even the hide on the bed was different - it smelled different, it felt different. It was odd how just spending a night away from his usual fortress in Riften could upset him so.


"Just... sit down," Kumiko said, gesturing to the small chair beside the door. "Talk to me about your plan, I don't want to argue anymore. If I think it's worth the risk and my time I'll help you. I just hope, for your sake, Silian isn't coming tonight, or you'll be on your own. Why do you want my help, anyway? Couldn't you just smite him down with your, I don't know, Daedric fists or something? Or would that be too obvious?"


@Dragonix975

 

[Dragonix975]

"Well, I need you because, let's say, Silian will be prepared for me. Not for you. I will distract. You will attack, ok? Also, you mentioned the blood? Only vampires can see Daedric blood. This will all happen in three days time. You can find me in the Hall." 


Veryon on walked off to towards the Hall of Kings. Vampire, Cannibal, yes this Khajit was certainly going to be useful, especially for his other plans.

 

[0stinato]

Well. Now Kumiko had found himself roped into something potentially career-wrecking. However, even being a Thane for the better part of a year, it hadn't been long - he'd not lost his adventurous and murderous spirit, and still had a taste for power. It wasn't like he was at the point in his life where he'd feel the weather in his bones. No, he was still, by all accounts, in the prime of life. Everything he'd learned over the years he'd not forgotten. He could still move silently, could still squat in front of someone and somehow be looked over, could quieten himself even from the superior sense of animals. Intelligence in the field. Connections to various illicit activities, especially in the Thieve's Guild where he'd felt right at home rolling across the floor to retrieve a tiara or something, he was highly skilled in sneak and swordplay. However, what he felt most happy doing was sneaking up behind someone and slitting their throat.


That gave him a rush even orgasms couldn't top. Well, maybe orgasms could top that. He wasn't sure which one he'd prefer.


But anyway, no time for either a kill-thrill or an orgasm. He had to get up the Palace of the Kings. He'd brought with him some fine clothes, which he drew out of his pack. Throwing them on the bed, he proceeded to judge them for a while - was the blue the right colour? Would it compliment his eyes or would it be too dull? It was far too late to ask now. He only hoped the fine and not at all sarcastic ladies up at Radiant Raiment hadn't been screwing with him when they told him it'd match his eyes. And the silver and sapphire circlet he'd brought. They told him it'd bring out his fur colour. But... they knew best right? Although, come to think of it, both sisters, Taarie and Enderie, they were both Altmer. And, given how every member of the High Elf race was automatically assumed to be part of the Thalmor, Kumiko was surprised they hadn't been ousted yet. Just on account of their race. Like the Dunmer were treated here in Windhelm. However, maybe that was because they were sort of directly affiliated with the Jarl of Solitude now, as well as outsourcing to various other important people. And, just to prove this, Kumiko had got tailor-made clothes for himself from them. So maybe that was it. Protection of the Holds on account of their sewing prowess. Kumiko wouldn't be surprised.


He took off his armour, changing into the robes. Without the heavy weight of the dark armour on his shoulders, Kumiko felt as if he might just float away. It honestly felt like he was wearing nothing at all. The only non-armour clothes Kumiko was used to wearing was just a worn pair of trousers of his. He'd put them on and go tearing around the countryside, armed only with his trusty claws. Usually half-drunk, there was no other way to do it.


Unhappy, he tried to let his tail hang somewhere it wouldn't be uncomfortable, but the belt around his waist was making it very hard, and trying to keep his dagger concealed on his person just in case was just a nightmare. On top of that, he was getting hungry. Well, that bottle of mead would have to do. Securing his armour and other completely legal belongings (don't mention the skooma) beneath his bed neatly, he snatched up the bottle. He'd kept his heavy boots on, seeing as he'd forgotten shoes. But, unless anyone wanted to get a look at his legs for some reason, they'd probably go largely unnoticed. He left the room and, on walking past the bar, asked Elda if she could lock his room until he came back, to which she agreed. Nice woman. Good to her patrons.


He hated the posh clothes even more as soon as he stepped foot outside. The wind had picked up a little, the walls of the city buffeting it around at all angles. He could feel it go up the robes, and grimaced.


"I want my armour baaack..." he wailed to himself, taking his first gulp of the mead. "Ughhhh, Arkay's sake. I hate this place. Bits of me are gonna get frostbite and fall off, how am I supposed to consummate my marriage then?"


He continued moaning his unhappiness as he walked up to the Palace. He straightened his back as he approached though, needing to make a good impression to the guards. They had to let him in, after all. And a good first impression was certainly what he didn't give, giving a carnivore's smile as he finished off the last of his mead like a weird and common lout. It was no wonder he was stopped -


"Halt. The Jarl's busy, he'll speak with no one. He has an important meeting, and we've been instructed to send all the rabble away," said the guard, his face completely shielded from sight. His hand was hovering beside his sword - a straight steel one by the looks of it.


Kumi raised his eyes to the helmet, "An important meeting with the Ambassador from Riften, isn't that right? The only Ambassador in Skyrim to be Khajiit? The one who's currently wearing blue, has a fabulous tiara, and who'd like to get in out of the cold? I know."


"So..." the guard did take a second. The one on the other side of the gates hurried up to relieve the situation. She pushed the door open, apologised to "Thane Tora, sir" and let him in. As he walked through with a smug smile, he heard her give her colleague a slap on the shoulder before returning to her post.


Ahh, tonight was going to be enjoyable.

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

Saorat shivered against the wind as she entered the city of Windhelm, grateful for the hood she could pull over her ears. True, the hood was meant to protect her identity (at least as far as a strange cat wandering the city could be anonymous), but it was also very good for keeping out the wind. The cloak draped over her shoulders did the rest, as well as keeping her leather armor out of sight. Civilians didn’t typically strut about in their armor, but with a bounty on her head if she was discovered, Saorat wanted to take every precaution.



It had been a long day and largely unsuccessful one. She and General Drenmare had followed rumor, hearsay, and half-truths all the way from Riften trying to find the former Jarl of Windhelm, their High King, Ulfric Stormcloak. It wasn’t easy with Thalmor spies and cowardly traitors willing to sell their country for a gold piece scattered across the countryside, but there were still a few good loyal men and women who made their travels possible. Of course, they couldn’t openly say that they were rebels and the farmers couldn’t openly give them aid, but their lives had been saved several times by misdirected soldiers, food “forgotten” in a conveniently hidden barrel, or a few casual hints about dangers to come. Yes, there were still men and women true to Skyrim, and Saorat was very grateful for them. These were they people she fought for.



Rumor was common in the nearby countryside, as people entertained themselves with gossip and song as they gathered around the fires each night, but much of it wasn’t very reliable. For example, one man claimed to have been walking through his field when a talking metal sphere crashed from the sky, yelling something about going to space. Even more ridiculous than that, someone else had mentioned something about a Khajiit Thane in Riften, and that he was coming here! Saorat chuckled to herself, a low rasping sound, and shook her head slowly. A Khajiit Thane… That would be the day! Unfortunately, as entertaining as these tall tales had been, she had heard no good news about Ulfric and only bad news regarding the Thalmor. Evidently, they were becoming increasingly annoyed by the reports of rebel soldiers popping up in the countryside and causing trouble for any Thalmor who dared travel without an armed escort and were going to send troops into the city to run them out. If the rumors were true, Windhelm was at the top of their list.



Saorat wandered around the familiar city checking to see if Drenmare was anywhere to be found. She loved walking the familiar streets she had learned while stationed in the city under Ulfric. The high walls and beautiful stonework were a far cry from her native Riften and she felt very happy here. Her paws led her to the courtyard of the Palace of Kings, which she had often guarded and wandered past while off-duty, relieved to see that it was still there and protecting its inhabitants. Now, though, she felt a sour ache in her heart where pride once was at the thought of someone else sitting in the Jarl’s throne. Did the banners still fly overhead? Was the beautiful blue carpet still adorning the floors? Who stood in the side room, now that Galmar was gone?



However, these painful thoughts were interrupted as she spotted something else unusual. Someone was entering the palace gates, not an uncommon sight. But this person had large, furry ears peeking up from under… a tiara? Saorat shook her head to clear her mind, wondering if the mushrooms in last night’s soup had gone off. She didn’t see Drenmare anywhere, so she returned to Candlehearth Hall to wait for him and see about picking up a few rumors. If nobody was willing to talk about Jarl Ulfric, maybe someone at least would be able to explain the city’s strange inhabitants.

 

[0stinato]

It was always warmer than Kumiko expected in the Palace of Kings. An unseen heat source was keeping the room fairly toasty. Or maybe it was just the lack of wind in here, so it seemed warmer. Whatever it was, Kumiko was developing chilblains in his fingertips. Mild chilblains, being only a bother, feeling like they were slightly on fire. And another thing! He couldn't go around referring to himself as Kumiko here. No no no! He'd have to be Thane Tora and talk in the third person.


Thane Tora would very much appreciate it if the steward were to give him more milk, if he please. It would please Thane Tora to no end! Followed by a posh and over-the-top giggle.


Or maybe that was too far. Calling himself Thane Tora would probably be enough. Enough to convince the Jarl he was a professional man who took his occupation incredibly seriously. He was wearing a sexy circlet too - how could anyone call him unprofessional?


He put his chin up, shook his hair out of the way of his muzzle, and began striding down the length of the main hall, all the while resisting the urge to jump up on the table. He had his eyes on the Jarl, and was sure he recognised the bearded man sitting in the throne. But just who was he? Jarl Law-Giver back in Riften probably had told Thane Tora the Jarl of Windhelm's name, but... lots of things had happened on the journey North. He was hardly expected to remember. Surely the Jarl would introduce himself as Thane Tora was going to. It would only be polite, after all.


As Thane Tora drew nearer, the Jarl stood up. His steward, a Nord lady, also moved towards Thane Tora, but Thane Tora reckoned that, by her expression, she was a bit out of her depth in this job. And that was probably true. But she'd get used to it surely. Give her a month or two, she'd be good at taking care of the more monotonous affairs. Thane Tora allowed a grin to escape as the Jarl extended his hand.


"You'd be the Ambassador for Riften, I assume," his voice sounded bristly beneath his newly-kept beard. It was a fantastic beard as well, completely hid his neck. Maybe he grew it to combat the cold winds of the city. Stop his neck getting cold.


Thane Tora took his hand and they shook graciously, "I am indeed. Thane Tora. I take my duties very seriously, so don't be put off by the tail," Thane Tora quipped. "Jarl Law-Giver has her complete faith in me and I trust we can talk civilly on the matters that must be addressed."


Thane Tora had no idea what matters had to be addressed.


"If you're willing, I'm willing," said the Jarl. He did look slightly caught off guard by the whole a Thane of Riften is a cat thing. "I'm the relatively new Jarl, as you know. Torbjorn Shatter-Shield. I was chosen because I was judged as having a strong will and a bond with the people of Windhelm. You must also meet my steward, Hillevi Cruel-Sea. She's a close friend and helped me through the death of my youngest. I considered hiring her husband as my steward but... I feel much safer with Hillevi at my side," at this, the Nord woman stepped forward with an anxious smile.


"Always a tragedy, young death. You have my belated condolences," Thane Tora was enjoying the company of the Jarl. And, yes, he probably was the correct choice for the position. He had a fair amount of power, as he was in charge of the docks. Thane Tora didn't know if he still was though. Eh, it wasn't important. What was, though, was getting onto the subject of the meeting in hand... which Thane Tora was ignorant to. He hoped he'd pick up what they'd be talking about on the way. The Jarl led Thane Tora through to the left, to the room recognised as previously as Galmar Stone-Fist's strategy planning room. It was strange not seeing a big table in the middle of the floor, a map of the region pinned down by daggers. Instead, the table was off to one side, and map-less. There were a few chairs around it, and each person took their own seat. Hillevi was joining them for whatever reason, but the Jarl seemed to enjoy her presence so it was probably okay. Thane Tora sat opposite the Jarl - two powers at the heads of the table.


The discussion was beginning.

 

[Jellyon]

The soft snow beneath Drenmare's boots collapsed on itself, sinking his weight to the former bottom. He grunted in annoyance ignoring the blistering cold that surrounded him. The blowing pieces of snow smacked aganist the metal creating a bell like ring. Each one had a different size and shape which made each ding unique. Nature had ways of making music. While heavy armour had always been his best friend, he rarely considered it to be a pest. At the moment it was only doing nothing more but hindering him. Oh, how he could wish for some fur coats and shoes. The idea for warmth was comforting but it was the idea for mobility that had got him intrested. Thankfully the white powder could be pushed aside effortlessly as he took each step forward.


Drenmare lifted his chin to see the gates of Windhelm in the distance. He narrowed his eyes to improve his vision since the blowing snow covered his face. Confirming it, he held down his hooded cloak from blowing off whileist pressing ever onward.


"This better be worth the damn trip." He muttered.


Drenmare gotten himself held back from Saorat whom he was travelling with. She was a handful when it came to decsion making. Upon the mere whif of Ulfric visiting Windhelm, she insisted on investigating it. At first Drenmare had out right refused it since it sounded like a trap made up from the Thalmor to capture any rebels dumb enough to believe it. But after several countless hours debating Drenmare gave in with the condition that they had to be extremely cautions when they got there. If at any time there was much as a slight of danger they would leave without warning. With or without Ulfric. Drenmare prayed to Talos that she was safe and sound. He tightned his grip around his amulent of Talos. Then started to pick up speed. He was close now, the sounds of the city life could be heard over the old stone walls. As he passed by the guards, they suspiciously eyed him. Concerned, he tried to not make any sudden movements. Just as he was about to touch the gates, one of the guards called over to him. Drenmare halted stiff.


"Traveller! Before you go inside, I need to know who you are. It's my job to know who goes in and out of the city." yelling from a ways away.


Drenmare turned to see a young gentlemen no more than in his twenties jogging towards him. He wore the traditional Windhelm gear with exception of the helment which was held in one hand. He was armed with the typical weapons just like any city guard. When the guard got to him he stopped for a second to catch his breath. Drenmare stared at him with an expressionless look. With a closer look at him, he seemed familiar. He could not quite put his finger on it. Drenmare quickly rolled back through his memories for any sign of the guards resemblance. Nothing. Finishing up, the guard straightned himself back up giving out a friendly smile to his new perhaps friend. Drenmare gave out a small sigh, pulling down his hood avoiding a direct line of sight of the chance he knew his identity.


"My name is Irlor. I am just a humble traveler heading over to Whiterun to do some local hunting. I came to Windhelm to stay for a nights rest before continuing on my journey."


He hoped that the guard would take the bait. Short and sweet. Drenmare was not the greatest lier after all. The guard raised an eyebrow.


"Oh? Well it seems odd to stay over for the night on a sunny day like this. You are can hit the next cabin if you kept going. Saves you time alot of time." He replied with optimism.


Tch. Drenmare did not expect he needed to improvise.


"Well as you get to my age, your muscles don't work too well anymore. The distance is quite rather far." laughing to make it more engaging.


"Uhuh..... You said that you were going to do some hunting. But I don't see any bow or arrows on you." Scratching his chin inspecting Drenmare.


Drenmare stopped laughing. This guy was asking to many questions for his liking, he needed to leave, and soon.


"I need to buy some supplies before I get there. My old equipment had gotten lost on the last trip and I fear that buying from Whiterun would cost me a bit of coin." still giving a friendly smile.


The guard kept at analyzing him from all angles as if he was seeing if Drenmare's story was evident enough. With a complete scan, the guard nodded his head for the go ahead.


"Everything checks out. I do hope you enjoy your stay here at Windhelm!" waving goodbye.


What a relief. A second more and off he went to the chopping block for all to see. This is why he hated the big cities. Nothing more than trouble. Drenmare stepped inside, entering the town square.


Now where could she be...


(Best I going to do today. Sorry for grammer and etc.)

 

[0stinato]

As it turned out, the discussion between Jarl Shatter-Shield and Thane Tora actually ended up being more of a lecture for the latter party. Torbjorn was obviously well-read on the subject, just the Thane expected him to be. He would be a try-hard for a time. Learning everything, missing nothing, reading all the reports, until he realised he had people to do that sort of thing for him. Until he realised all he need do was sit there and get everyone else to make decisions on his behalf. So it was no surprise how up-to-date the Jarl seemed on the subject that was hanging just below the clouds, casting a subtle but inescapable shadow over Skyrim - the latest Thalmor threat.


Following the Stormcloak victory, the Empire seemed to have backed off a bit, no doubt still keeping an eye on Skyrim, just waiting to see how the native-ruled land would go downhill so they could gloat about it. But the Thalmor had kept pressure on the whole time, despite the loss of the side they had been assisting. Either they were just sore losers who wanted to do the best of three rounds, or they were being suspiciously stubborn about wanting to take over Skyrim. Thane Tora wasn't the most knowledgeable of that whole thing - he'd been so busy sitting on the fence, indecisive about what side he should join, that the whole civil war had been over before he'd done anything. For that, he was very grateful. It meant he didn't have to have a lasting bond.


It also meant he wasn't sure what stance to take on this new threat. The Thalmor, Elf supremacists, were obviously the threat and what any respectable Nord or son or daughter of Skyrim would see as the Bad Guys. In that respect, the Thane was certainly on their side. Thane Tora was on the Rebellion side. But Kumiko wasn't sure what side he was on. Thane Tora had to fight for Skyrim, being a Thane of one of its cities and a strong citizen of the land. But Kumiko was an indecisive little shit.


The Jarl was speaking mostly about the new threat, managing to go on for an hour and a half outlining the whole thing, getting gradually more animated through refills of mead. He would get particularly excited at the prospect of the war, but Thane Tora couldn't tell if that was because he was basically drunk at this point, or hated the Thalmor that much. He'd shout such phrases as, "We kicked them out once, they don't know to stay gone!" or "If they do come running in we can get them out again!" It left the Thane with not a lot to say in terms of the conversation. He knew Jarl Law-Giver would certainly ally herself with the Rebellion, as the East of Skyrim was known for its strong bond to the land. And, as such, Thane Tora would be on that side too, of course.


He just couldn't get over some things he thought. One of the biggest reasons he found himself unable to ally himself with the rebellion or the legion previously was because he'd started thinking too deeply about the future. The Empire had a pretty strong reputation. So if they were to have won, and the Empire controlled Skyrim, it was unlikely the country would suffer much. In actuality, life might have been made better for the average man. Especially the foreign faces. But at the same time, who was anyone to deny a man the right to pray to a specific God, or to strip him of his ability to run his own land? So, the Stormcloaks were certainly no bad option either.


But look where the victory had got them. The Gray Quarter in this very city was still... there. Some Nords would treat Argonians, or Khajiits, or Dunmer, and et cetera with contempt. Bosmer were generally left alone by the average Nord, renowned as good hunters and archers. And Orismer were left alone in a more literal sense - their cultural ways saw them happily walled into their tribes for most of their lives, and there was very little news about Orismer tribes being bothered. Some Orismer lived in the more modern cities, but perhaps anyone with a racist word to say was too intimidated by them to speak. It was hard to judge.


And, to top it all off, Ulfric was gone, hence why he was speaking to Jarl Shatter-Shield rather than Jarl Stormcloak. That was some impressive foresight right there, Thane Tora didn't think. As he'd worried, the Stormcloak victory had only made tensions thinner somehow. Though perhaps that was because of the Thalmor's refusal to back off. It created a tension above everyone's heads, and no native would trust one another, always suspecting an undercover Thalmor agent to be in their midst.


And Riften had been hit hard by this particular tension. Already hated by a lot of natives, businesses and cities for the Thieve's Guild and its reputation of death (Kumiko could swear every tenth person to enter the gates never got out), there were more fights than ever. Talen-Jei and Keerava had almost been run out of their tavern, and an arson threat had been made against the Black-Briar Meadery. And what the hell did Maven Black-Briar do about it? Nothing. The Jarl sent more guards to the meadery for its protection, but no arson ever happened. In a not-too-distant part of his mind, Kumiko suspected it was Maven who'd made the anonymous tip-off, just to get the number of guards at her disposal up.


"Which brings me to your city, Thane," the Jarl finally said. At this point, Thane Tora was tired and only wanted curl up next to the Candlehearth fire and have a little cry. But no, he had to keep professional.


Thane Tora leaned forward onto the table, eyes serious, "We've been the victim of a large amount of abuse, yes. Jarl Law-Giver sent me to negotiate with you on that."


"Your city's protection, yes. Now, Windhelm's begun recruiting for the Stormcloak Rebellion, and there are a decent few generals who are training soldiers up, just in case the worst comes to the worst. I would be willing to sign a few soldiers over to Riften once they're trained, if you're willing to offer me something in return."


"Yes. I've been thinking about that. Jarl Law-Giver practically dipped into her own coffers in order to persuade Maven Black-Briar to export Black-Briar mead more cheaply to Windhelm. I'm aware its popularity has been growing recently, so much so that it's definitely overtaken Honningbrew. As such, the Jarl suggested that Windhelm could profit from its own Black-Briar mead holding. Not a brewery as such, but more another place where Black-Briar mead flows thickly. You'd be the only city in Skyrim with such a holding of this size, which would certainly boost your economy."


"Go on," said the Jarl. All hint of alcohol had vanished from him and he was soberly playing the bargaining game.


"And I was personally thinking... I spent some time in Candlehearth Hall before I came here tonight. And I realised that it's certainly the most popular punter's building in the city. Not just drinking, but socialising and place to rest. And I thought about the Bee and Barb back in Riften. I happen to know of someone who specialises in creating new brews, more than just the usual meads and wines. I was wondering if you'd be interesting in also benefiting from his talents. Then, with the Black-Briar mead holding secure in Windhelm too, it'll become a popular destination for the Nord who likes a good drink."


"I see. Anything else, not alcohol-related?"


Thane Tora risked a smile, "As alcohol is Riften's most lucrative export, the Jarl wanted to let Windhelm benefit in exchange for extra protection over the coming months. But I am merely the Ambassador who's been roped into bargaining. However, I believe I've made good offers to you, and, should you accept both favours we'd be willing to give to you, I'll sort it out as soon as I can. All we ask for is experienced and trained soldiers to protect us from the hostilities of this new threat."


The Jarl was quiet for a while, before he stood up. It was the cue the meeting was over, and no decision had been made. Thane Tora stood too, and the two shook hands once again. As they walked back to the main hall slowly, the Jarl informed him he'd have to think it over, perhaps when was properly sober. Thane Tora gave the appropriate laugh, and requested to know sometime in the next couple of days, so all the preparations could be made as quickly as possible, so both ends would benefit for as long as possible. Fortunately, the steward had been writing down the more important parts of the deal, lest any be forgotten. Thane Tora informed the Jarl where he'd be staying every night, and goodbyes were exchanged.


How long had it been? How long had Kumiko been playing professional, likeable Thane? It was ages. Felt like millennia. Sat in stupid clothes with an itch on the back of his left knee. It was killing him. So, when he got outside, into the cold and bustling city again, he was glad. He could satiate that itch, stretch all he wanted, and go back to being himself again.


((Literally 1584 words, every single one exposition. Good GOD.))

 

[Dragonix975]

Veryon hated snow getting into his boots. As he walked towards the bridge to lay out his trap, the stuff kept squelching around in them. As he made his way to the top of the gate, he saw that the guards were interrogating a hooded figure. This was the second such figure he saw today.


Veryon silently casted a Fire Rune. He dropped a mat over the rune, and walked away. He would tell his Khajit friend to collect his remains.


As he made his way back towards the hall, he started to feel the pain, and he heard the whispers. He dropped at the feet of a slender hooded figure in front of the Hall...

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

Saorat’s mind raced as she headed back toward Candlehearth Hall, still with no lead on Ulfric and without any glimpse of Drenmare. Sure, he was travelling a little ways behind to avoid creating suspicion, but shouldn’t he be in the city by now? What if something had happened to him? He was difficult to get along with, but not nearly as difficult as Galmar (Saorat was still convinced he’d had a personal grudge against her) and he was a good man. The thought of him coming into trouble because of her troubled her deeply. She’d been willing to risk much for the chance to find Ulfric alive and was the cause of their coming, against Drenmare’s better judgement, and the thought of it being for nothing filled her with dread. Though she was anxiously watching for him to show up again, she was dreading having to give a poor report.



Truth be told, the resistance wasn’t faring very well. The rebels were growing tired of fighting, they just wanted to go home and be with their families. Saorat couldn’t resent that, but it was disheartening to hear of the few remaining soldiers slowly slipping away. Added to that was increasing attention coming on them from the Thalmor. At first, it hadn’t been so bad. Perhaps they thought the rebellion would die away on its own or didn’t want to dirty its hands with quashing an uprising that held the support of good portions of the countryside.



But eventually they couldn’t ignore it any longer, they had to act. Popular support was also starting to wane as cold, half-starved men showed up on farmer’s doorsteps demanding food and shelter, and becoming desperate if the inhabitants refused or were unable to comply. It was shameful, really, but terribly pitiful. Now, there were rumors of rebel sympathizers suddenly… disappearing. Nobody knew exactly what happened to them, but many citizens blamed the elves, while others claimed they were being framed by the rebels. Some said it could be bandits, and other dismissed them as idle tales. Whatever was going on, it just stirred up the already chaotic struggles of Skyrim. Most people weren’t really sure who to trust anymore…



These thoughts and others occupied Saorat’s mind as she traveled the familiar streets back to Candlehearth Hall. As she drew near, however, she began to sense an uncomfortable presence. She’d been jumpy ever since she’d returned to the city, but was there really someone following her? One ear twitched uneasily and she could hear the light crunch of snow behind her. A knot formed into her stomach and she slowly reached for a dagger, but clutched air and suddenly remembered that she’d lost it during a recent skirmish. Her bow was still on her back, but it would be difficult to use in such close combat. That left just one option. Taking a breath, she unsheathed her claws and whirled around to face her pursuer.



Something attacked her face and she slashed wildly in a panic. When she was able to see again, she realized that her attacker had been a ferocious… snow flurry. A look of confusion briefly crossed her face and she started to laugh at herself, but it was immediately wiped away by the sight of a figure crumpled at her feet. Concerns about a prowler disappeared in a flash and she was quickly kneeling by the stranger’s side and checking for life signs. He was breathing, that was good, but his flesh was cold and clammy. Of course, the man was an Argonian, so that would be expected in this climate, but it still felt unnatural. As she tilted his face upward to be able to see him better, she noticed a few red spots staining the snow.



Her paws began to tremble and she struggled to cast a weak Restoration spell before trying to heave the stranger onto her back. It wasn’t much, but it would at least buy him a few extra moments. Unfortunately, she had no magic able to lighten her load and she stumbled under the weight. Finally, she managed to half-drag half-carry the man through the door of the inn, mercifully only a few steps away. Her fur burned as every eye in the room turned toward the spectacle coming through the door. This was exactly what she was supposed to avoid. Why was it she was always calling attention to herself when she was supposed to stay hidden? Isn’t this exactly what she’d done in Riften, and nearly got the entire town guard sent after their camp? Apparently this cat wasn’t so sneaky after all. Thankfully, she had a few friends in the Hall who would be able to help if worse came to worse, but she hoped it wouldn’t come to that.



She lowered the man to the floor, striving to ignore the circle of stares. “This man just collapsed outside…” she gasped “Is anyone here a Healer?”


@Dragonix975

 

[Abdel featherfall]

TSCHIRA. "Ria"
​

 
​

Tschira had heard some interesting rumors floating about the ratways and dark ally ways. Whispers and rumor of Ulfric being alive started to catch her ears. If he was alive that meant she still had a real shot at putting the hurt on the Thalmor and the Imperial Legion. This was an opportunity that she refused to pass up. Wether it be Rumors or mere conjecture she had to check it out. For her and her mothers sake.
​

 
​

After all they had endured Back in Morrowind and even the poor treatment of Windhelm. She had grown to hate the Empire with everything she had. It didn't take her long to decide she was going to leave her mother here in the care of the Thieves guild and head to Windhelm. To her old Sanctuary before the empire had sacked it and ended the war. She gathered her traveling clothes and slipped them on over her usual leather apparel, that consisted of a skirt specialized leather leggings designed with her unique leg shape in mind as well as a leather corset and leather top. 
​

 
​

She always wore dark colors. The leather was black and perfectly fitted to her form. It was designed to be alluring without revealing too much. There was about 5 inches between the skirt and the leggings where her thighs were exposed. Showing her striped markings. She was a Rare sub species of Khajiit one that if you hid the ears and tail and didn't look at her legs simply looked like a somewhat short and very gorgeous Wood Elf. Her skin markings covered her sides, hips, thighs and calves. And even along the back of her neck and shoulders, including her upper arms. She had no Fur except on her tail and Ears.
​

 
​

She threw on her Traveling clothes which covered all but her face because it would be cold. She was hoping for once not to attract any attention. She set off on her journey to Windhelm. The Journey through the marshes and swamps near Riften was the easiest part. Able to sleep in a safe house or two along her way. She was unaccosted until she reached the Windhelm bridge. She tried to snek past the young guard while he questioned another traveler about why he was there. And how he'd hunt without equipment. Sadly she didn't make it as he stopped her as soon as he let the other man go. 
​

 
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"Evening Miss I need to have your reasons for entering the city!" 
​

 
​

She simply smiled. " Greyson it's me, Ria. I'm coming back for a while. The Swamp decided not to agree with me."
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​

The guard stared at her for a long moment before recognition flashed in his eyes. " Ah! Jsanni's daughter! Right head on in! Sorry to keep you!"
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With that she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and let it drag off slowly as she passed. Crossing the bridge and heading right to Candlehearth hall. The Old tavern hadn't changed much. She pulled back her hood to reveal her Catlike ears and gave the barkeep a smile. Ordering some Alto Wine she went and sat by the fireplace, taking the time to listen to the chatter going on around her and and even some of what was being said above. She took a moment to pull her tail through the special hole made exactly for it. The fur on the tail was a bit ruffled but she didn't seem to mind.
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​

It was at this point that the pair stumbled into the door. She let her ears perk and chewed on her bottom lip looking at the two. " if you Drag him over to me I may be able to help." She said as she slowly set her mug down and began rummaging through her small travel bag. The bag which contained a few potions and papers was sadly not large enough to Contain the Twelve Cheese wheels and seven potatoes. That the fabled Dragonborn used to heal Mid combat but the Potion would suffice.
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@AlbaGuBrath
​

 

[Dragonix975]

Veryon felt the sweet potion enter his mouth. He regained consciousness and saw a light, as bright a Dawnbreaker when he glimpsed at it. He raised his hands and Restoration flowed from them, giving him the strength to stand up. He went towards his room and motioned for the other two to follow.