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Fandom The Second Rebellion (Skyrim)

"Things went perfectly. Unfortunately I lost some... coin, while going about it, but it's not too big of a loss. Also," She grabbed him by the ear and gave a tug as she brought his head close to her face, "Stop talking so loudly, do you want to bring attention to us?"
She then let his ear go, and she wrapped an arm around his shoulders, leading him off, "So good to see you, my friend! How's the wife, how are the kids? Is Timmy behaving himself?" She continues with the cheery banter until they were well away from the fray of people, before she let him go and leaned against a wall, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed.
"I get your a big bad, college educated wizard and everything," She said, her eyes narrowed to slits, "But do you have so little sense as to talk about secret dealings in the middle of a marketplace that is brimming with other people?!" She grabbed his shoulders and shook him a couple times to emphasize her point. "Do you have no sense, man?!" She let go of him and sighed, her face in her hand. With a swipe, she slid her hand up her face and over her head flipping her hood off with that simple motion.
"Alright, okay, I'm alright," She held one hand up as she fussed with her earrings anxiously, "Okay, great..." She sighed again and shook her head, then looked at Cervantes and said, "Okay, I'm sorry I snapped at you, but uhhh If we had been caught talking about stolen goods in the marketplace- You would not be happy. Anyway, anyway," Her ears flicked forward, "What were you saying about a barrow?"

MightBeASithLord MightBeASithLord
 
Pysmia and her Mare whipped through the snow and cold, she passed along the road with great speed but not loosing her integrity or manners in the time doing so, she was not here to blend (even if she could do such a thing). Her robes were thin and fine, more acclimated towards the weather of Alinor, the harsh northern winds whipped her cloak and robes with the greatest of ease. The city of Windhelm arose from the horizon, this she thought is where I must start my search for this new rebellion, and if at all possible join, but at this moment discretion is key. She brought her horse to a halt on the side of the road, dismounted and found a bit of ice upon the side of the road, she squatted down to meet it and with her finger produced a small flame and melted the ice and stirred to a consistency that when it froze again she saw her face. She fashioned her smooth, long, dark oak colored hair in such a way that her elven ears were hidden. she was glad that she bore softer features than her father, she like her mother looked very human like in the face, but also like her had abnormally large ears and a tall, skinny physique. The scar on her forehead was even more noticeable than before, it was a slash mark from the Great War, luckily in this place she would not be noticed, as that was the last thing she needed. She pulled up her hood and remounted the steed, they began to fly over the white road each gallop leaving a larger mark than the last, she rode for about half an hour before reaching the gated bridge of Windhelm, she could see it the Ancient Atmoran architecture and the wear of the battles it had survived. Crossing the threshold between the two rock types unto the bridge suddenly she felt it and her horse through her, the dead Mer who were buried within the foundations of the city and bridge. She composed herself then backtracked into the stables where she docked the mare. She ascended the slick shone steps back unto the bridge, through the gates she could see the barbaric walls, she made her way to the gates before being stopped by some guards. How shabby and ill prepared she thought looking at their get up with this armor and weaponry it is a surprise that the Goblins haven't conquered them. "Halt there!" He muttered with a thick northern accent "State your business or be-off!" as he spoke tufts of breath were visible.
Pysmia looked down upon the man, how primitive and rude she thought him to be, "My business is my own, and for me to know, not every person in a pointed helmet." she scoffed at him with her aristocratic accent. She began forward only to be stopped by the guards.
"We don't let your kind just prance about." She was starting the get mad, what do they mean my kind? These baboons are surely too dumb to know I am of Altmeri decent, do they think me part troll? She took a deep calming breath before responding: "And of what kin do you suppose I am" she ground her teeth a bit before letting the next world slid off her tongue "sir?"
The guard pointed at her robes when he responded "Mages, now state your business". she thought for but a moment before speaking then responded without hesitation between her words "I am to see a friend within the city, the Grey-Quarter to be specific, and then I plan to buy myself a weapon, I hear there is a fine smith in this city." she then produced a few coins and gave it to the guards before they let her pass.
As she made her way into the city she could hear that, behind her, they were making remarks and jokes about her unusual stature she was peeved but able to move on. She had to find a Tavern in which she could find rumors and a private residence, she found one not far from were she had entered the city. Stepping inside she glanced around the building, measuring people up, she found an empty table relatively far in the back, and made her way along the walls towards it trying to draw as least attention as possible, but without any doubt she was noticed. She sat down and promptly after that a wench had come over to asked for her order. She had ordered a wine and some bread, Pysmia could not stand mead nor did she intend to try the local cuisine thinking that they would find a way to sneak some mildew into her soup to "enrich" it. She sat having a full view of the first floor, glancing around for anything apart from the normal savagery of Nords.
 
Answering the Khajiit's question, Yvondir eyed the cat and smirked. "Not something that you could handle. It's a special brandy made in Stros M'kai; one of the key ingredients is Everflour, which only Mer can digest. I've seen men and beast-folk alike, die from eating it. Plus the amount of alcohol is so potent, that not even Nords could handle it; which is surprising for how much of alcoholics they are. Probably why they can't fight coherently either, haha."

Yvondir got up from his chair and walked towards the Nord who's home he basically barged into. Stopping about 3 or so paces from the man, Yvondir looked him in the eye and replied to his main question. "What if I told you, that I would be willing to help you and your people, rid Skyrim of the Thalmor. Keep in mind too, I was a Justicar for almost two centuries. I know how they think, act, trade, and gather information. You need me General; and if you're wondering what I would like in return, I would like to see the Thalmor burn for what they did to my parents and my people. Despite what you Nords think of Mer, or specifically Altmer in general, I promise you the majority Altmer never wanted all this war in the first place. The Thalmor have been a cyst in the Altmeri government ever since the First Era. Plus", Yvondir turned to look at the Khajiit,"I'm way shorter than the average High Elf, that's because my father was a Redguard."

Stretching out his hand to the Nord, Yvondir simply asked,"Well, do we have a deal?"


0stinato 0stinato Kent Kent Sir Monsieur Sir Monsieur
 
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Gabriel Schiadda
Gabriel grinned. He may be a friend, perhaps gabriel can trust him a little, but not too much, for he is afraid of betrayal.
"Very well, I will take your word for it." He then extended his hands to shake the elve's hands. "I will now properly introduce myself, I am Gabriel Schiadda, former general of the Empire." Many altmer commoners do not support the action of their military, wonderful news. They could take advantage of that, perhaps cause a civil war at the isle, but that is a distant dream with their current resources and power. They have to focus in skyrim first.
@peeps, sorry at school rn​
 
"Oh right," Kumiko said blankly, unimpressed by the Elf's apparent cocktail of doom. "So it's essentially a elf version of Moon Sugar? You know. Poisonous to those who don't fit the criteria... just like moon sugar? I see."

But it was clear Yvondir wasn't listening to him, as his attention had been diverted to the general. Kumiko watched on, wondering why he was feeling so lethargic all of a sudden. His first thought went to the blood loss but he'd bled a thousand times worse than this and come off screaming and running around the hills. His second thought was about blood again, but he'd fed not long ago. He could last a couple more nights with nothing more than an anti-copper taste on the back of his tongue. But there his ideas stopped - he rarely had one thought let alone two.

Though he wasn't exactly feeling faint. It was more... tiredness. Perhaps it was all the political talk. Kumiko Tora was bored by political talk, bored stiff. Thane Tora could handle it, because Thane Tora knew he was getting paid somehow. Whether it be in cash handed over by his Jarl or a swap of information, such as the Thane and the General had engaged in a few minutes earlier. But Kumiko wasn't getting anything out of this talk. He half wished he'd wandered off as Jekkel did, and became inclined to go and find him.

Yet he remembered how Jekkel had looked at him, remembered that Jekkel was... distrustful? Felt betrayed? of him now. So he couldn't exactly go and find his friend now. Who knew what would happen? Kumiko doubted Jekkel would lash out suddenly, but if he did it wouldn't be pretty. Let the guy bathe, let him process it all. He'd come round. He'd realise Kumiko wasn't dangerous. At least, not on this end of the sword.

Or scimitar, in Kumiko's case. He liked his scimitar.

So, as Yvondir and Gabriel were sizing each other up, Kumiko stifled a yawn. Yvondir knew he was different, so showing his altered teeth was a little too close to home now. Too close to reminding the Altmer that he had some sort of reason to dislike the furry companion he'd met.

"So, now you two have made peace," Kumiko said, his usual jovial tone replaced by one of boredom, "are we going to do something to help the cause? And before you sit down and start banging your heads together trying to figure something out, I was half-way into stirring something a couple of days ago. All it'd take is a letter signed off by me and Jarl Shatter-Shield will give the word to start training troops up." He paused. "Not called Stormcloaks - they're illegal aren't they? But... implied Stormcloaks..." Kumi scratched his ear. "Oddly enough I seem to have a lot more immediate power than either of you do, hey? Isn't that laughable?"

But he didn't laugh. He yawned wide.

Twyllvarlais Twyllvarlais Kent Kent Sir Monsieur Sir Monsieur
 
Shaking the Nord's hand, Yvondir smirked and said, "Thank, you Gabriel, I promise to help you in any way I can. I know this may sound like a long shot but I might even be able to get the Direnni to your cause. They are my family after all, though I haven't been to High Rock in quite sometime." Yvondir returned to his after talking with the general. Then the Khajiit started talking about connections and such. Interesting. There is more to this Khajiit than meets the eye. Looking at the Khajiit, Yvondir waited for the cat to finish talking, then he inquired a bit more about this information. "Is that so Kumiko, well I would love to hear about this plan of yours. Please, enlighten us." Yvondir eyed the general for a quick second, scoffing.

0stinato 0stinato Sir Monsieur Sir Monsieur Kent Kent
 
"Not really my plan, more Jarl Law-Giver's plan. In Riften. She sent me on behalf of all Riften to speak to the stand-in Jarl here about reinforcements for Riften. Our little city of thieves has to be kept safe, right?" Kumiko wandered back over to the table, pulling a chair out and angling it so he could face both the General and the ex-Thalmor Hound. He didn't want to take his eyes off them; he had to say his piece and make sure they listened. Perhaps something could come of what he'd say. Perhaps some situation could arise from this that would put the four of them in a good position, as well as tactically creating a path for the rest of the Stormcloaks.

He drummed his fingertips on the wood, "Essentially what it boils down to is..." he looked away, unsure if he should speak of this or not. But... everyone would know one day, wouldn't they?

"My Jarl wants soldiers to protect Riften. Now, she never said Stormcloak soldiers because, of course, that'd be heavily frowned upon. But it's basically what she meant. Riften was always on that side of the fence, so of course she wants trained men of Skyrim to fight for her and her city. So, to pay for these 'soldiers', she offered that the Black Briar Meadery would set up not only a deal but a stronghold of Black Briar Mead here in Windhelm. So Windhelm, like Riften, has a selling-point as a place of the finest quality mead. It'd be quite worthwhile, that's what she thought," he said. "Obviously, if soldiers are needed from Windhelm for Riften, there would be training set up. Soldier after soldier would be produced and the-" he coughed, "totally not Stormcloak army would grow larger by the day.

"The Jarl here has one reason to begin this process," Kumiko looked hard at the two. "All we need to do is give him another. Now it'd be much more helpful if we had a reason for requesting more soldiers for this part of Skyrim, or even if we knew something about Ulfric. Whispered rumours, a location, a secret that would rouse the hearts of men. That kind of thing. But we don't have that. All we have now is an ex-Thalmor agent and a General for a force that no longer exists. So I suggest before we request to see the Jarl - I could easily get us in to see him - we find out something, anything about Ulfric's being now. And also let me send my letter back to Riften. We could at least get the gears moving now even if we can do nothing to influence them."

He sounded important, he thought, saying all that. All the knowledge of his Thaneship coming back to him. Kumiko may have sat down but it was Thane Tora who rose from the chair, fists on his hips, looking between his company.

"What do you think of that?" he asked.

Kent Kent Twyllvarlais Twyllvarlais Sir Monsieur Sir Monsieur
 
Jekkel let out a long sigh. He was quite relaxed in the warm water. He felt free from the conflict below but he was aware he would have to come down eventually. The caravaner mindlessly stared off at the ceiling, memories passing through his head.

Most of them were from when he was but only a club. Life was so much easier. Little responsibilities, little to worry about nice and simple. He remembered exploring the woods with his older brother Ji'ava. Running around as if they were mighty mead drinking adventurers when they were only milk drinkers with a wild imagination. Climbing hills and fighting each other with their wooden swords. Ji'ava always won but that didn't stop Jekkel from trying. After a day of adventuring, they would go back to camp and stuff their faces with food. They always got a tongue lashing from their mother, but the two thought it was rather funny.

Jekkel snapped back into reality realizing that his memories were only memories. He muttered some words of pity under his breath and withdrew himself from his cozy bath. He wiped himself down with a towel that neatly laid next to the tub only to throw it onto the ground. It is the maidens job not his. He slowly strapped on his armor. Dagger on his side, bow on his back and the black star on his belt. The adventurer's hair was still considerably wet but it was not to his concern.

He opened the door only to see darkness before him. "Puff, I know where I'm going." Boldly said for a man with no sense of direction. He blindly walked here and fro trying to find the door. He could see it, the door was outlined in a yellow light. He quickened his pace to get to the door. *Crash* He landed flat on his face. A loud curse escaped his lips. Jekkel had tripped over a large chest that rested next to the bed. After a couple of minutes of fumbling in the dark, he found himself at the bottom of the stairs. He must have looked like a fool his hair was a mess.

He then pulled a chair next to his friend Kumi, he could not stay mad at him he just couldn't bare it but he did tread carefully knowing something else resighted inside of him.

0stinato 0stinato Twyllvarlais Twyllvarlais Kent Kent
 
The exchanging of goods, passing of gold. A potion into the hands of its new owner. 200 gold in her pocket.
The young Khajiiti woman leaned her back against the frozen wall behind her, her tail swishing lightly at the snow as she watched her most recent customer walk away with his goods. She wasn't sure why he wanted that potion so badly- She could have made him a potion with that exact effect, but stronger. She shrugged. It didn't matter.
While she allowed herself a brief respite, she pulled her thieves hood off and started muttering to herself in her usual fashion.
"So what are am I feeling like today, huh?" She looked up at the sky and narrowed her eyes. It was getting late. She should get something to eat. But she didn't feel like hunting down somewhere to cook her own meal... "I just got 200 gold. Just go buy something in Candlehearth Hall. By Azura, I'm scatterbrained." She insulted herself and lunged off the wall, walking off. Her tail swished and twitched as she trudges through the snow up to Candlehearth Hall.
Immediately upon entering, she tucked her amulet of Nocturnal into the collar of her armor, hiding the thieves symbol before finding a table somewhere. She had no trouble ignoring the stares of the Nords around her. She was used to it, honestly. She had dealt with it her entire life. It didn't bother her anymore.
As she plunked down into a chair, wrestled her tail into a comfortable position that didn't get in the way of the other people, she leaned back and yawned big and wide, showing off her many sharp incisors. Luna could hear a gasp from a Nord woman very close to her, and when she opened her eyes again, she noticed the tavern wench standing beside the table, there to take her order.
The Khajiit ordered the seared slaughterfish. Because why not? And a glass of water. Gotta keep hydrated. And while the wench bustled off to prepare her food, she leaned back in her chair, yawned again and closed her eyes, fairly comfortable that nobody would attack her in this environment.

Locklaklazarii Locklaklazarii
 
When she saw the Khajiiti woman walk into the Hall, her interest was piqued, a Khajiit in the city? , she calmly thought to herself. The Khajiit are not known to be let into settlements in this part of Tamriel... well the obvious ones, she was sure Ohmes and Alphiq made it into cities that Khajiit are banned in all the time. Pysmia eyed this oddity with great intent trying to devine the sort of Khajiit she was, noting the slighly swaggerous pose and the very light armor Pysmia was inclined to believe that the Khajiit was at the very least stealthy. This was her way in a cutpurse or any manor of theif would do nicely to gather information on the rumors of a new rebellion. Though Pysmia could not directly draw attention to herself she had to find a way toget in contact with the Khajiit, then it came to her. Pysmia had waved over the wench in a casual and cool manor, getting the wench she payed her to send the Khajiit word that Pysmia had payed for her food, and that is what Pysmia did, the Wench sent the message to the very relaxed Khajiit.

explosiveKitten explosiveKitten
 
Stretch, yawn, get comfortable, repeat.
All this moving over on Maroluna's side wasn't really about being comfortable, it was about showing off. Showing she wasn't weak and afraid. Baring her teeth casually with a yawn, showing off her muscles with a languid stretch, inspecting her hands while showing off her claws, it was all a part of the act.
You have to appear strong in this city. If you aren't you will be stomped into the dust and snow. I spent enough time face down on these stones because I looked meek.
While she was twisting her back around (earning several very satisfying loud cracks), the woman appeared again with the food Maroluna had ordered. The Khajiit was prepared to pay for it, but the woman insisted that it was already paid. "Someone has already paid for your meal...Ma'am."
"What? Really? Who?" The woman pointed to another woman sitting in the back corner of the tavern... A High Elf. The Khajiit raised an eyebrow as the wench bustled off, then glanced around, before nodding a thank you in her direction and starting to eat.

Locklaklazarii Locklaklazarii
 
Her seed had been laid, as soon as the Khajiit turned and nodded she knew that she had gained some semblance of trust now she continually looked at the Khajiit in order to catch her eye once more, the more the Kahjiit saw Pysmia the more she would think about her, causing an exponential growth of Pysmia's importance to the Khajiit, simple psychology, if she could pull it off. Pysmia sat in watched still looking about the tavern but keeping an eye upon the Khajiit, she was sure not to give away too much about herself, mystery was key to get the Khajiit's attention, and not the other people. She had finished her wine and ordered another from the barmaid, they were tasteless but the only thing she could stomach in this accursed land. Occasionally she would get bored and began to play with the shadows upon the table, nothing too big, she just made characters fight in the shadows on the table, even regaling her victories in Cyrodiil during the Great War. How she missed those days, but here as a Thalmor she would have a larger impact upon her world and her people, a necessary evil, also killing cur was a bonus.

explosiveKitten explosiveKitten
 
"...Why the hell is this elf staring at me."
She was muttering to herself.
"...I can feel her watching, nobody just does these things."
She took another bite of the fish.
"I mean, who just pays for a random stranger's food?"
Her jaws gnashed on the food in a not-so-pleasant way. At least, visually.
"And how did a High Elf get into Windhelm? This doesn't make any sense..."
She swallowed the last bite of fish and blinked, then looked back down at the plate. She blinked again, then looked back at the elf. She seemed distracted. Doing some kind of magic at her table. The Khajiit tilted her head to one side. It was taking a lot of effort to not stand up and walk over there to set up whatever job she probably wanted done. But that wasn't how these things worked. It was discretion; subtlety. It isn't as simple as meeting in a tavern and discussing prices. There had to be some form of stealth. Secrecy. She had to find somewhere more quiet to meet.
She suddenly stood up. Some people turned and looked at her, before turning back to nursing their drinks. She continued to stare at the elf till their eyes met, before turning and walking around the table, slowly, with her tail swishing lightly as she walked right out of Candlehearth Hall, to lean against the wall just outside the door, her arms crossed.

Locklaklazarii Locklaklazarii
 
This is my cue I assume Pysmia had though, putting the right amount of gold upon the table, she got up making little noise but her sheer height made some people look at her as she made her way to the door to follow the Khajiit. As she stood at the door she paused to gain her composer, for all she knew there was an ambush waiting for he behind the door, she calmed her senses and then prepared to enter combat if need be. she gripped the Door handle fiercely and pushed it open, as she did so Pysmia was blasted by a cold wind of the harsh weather in Eastmarch; nonetheless she persisted. She stepped through the threshold and was left a bit disoriented, and off balanced and the door shut behind her and she began to regain herself.

explosiveKitten explosiveKitten
 
"....You're a lot bigger then you look from across the room."
The young Khajiit stared up at the elf- literally, up. This elf is mind-bogglingly tall. Like holy crap! She thought the few orcs she had met were tall, but this one blew that out of the water! How old does one have to get to be this tall? This elf had to be ANCIENT. She knew elves lived for much longer then the average human or Khajiit, but how long, she didn't know. It just had to be a VERY long time.
"...So you pay for a random stranger's meal," she pushed off the wall, her head tipped very back so as to see into the woman's eyes, "Stare them down the entire time they're eating, then follow them out when they leave. You either are a very, very generous person with a very strange affection for a complete stranger, or you want something."
She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, looking this one over. She was clearly a very confident woman, sure of herself, as she did not carry any sort of weapon on her person. However, she was wearing mage robes, so she could do just about anything from freezing her opponents solid or conjuring an Atronach to cook an enemy alive. So it's best to not insult this one.
"...I'm going to go with the latter. So what do you want out of Moonface?"

Locklaklazarii Locklaklazarii
 
She responded very little about the comment of here height, it was something she got often even with other Altmer for it was a product of her lineage that she was taller than most other of her race. When the Khajiit was talking she could tell that she was at the very least competently intelligent, which was what Pysmia was hoping for, she gave a little smirk at the question, "Alas, I do require something of you Khajiit, and I think you might be willing to comply," she patted her satchel which rustled with the sound of coin, "What I seek is intelligence, as I could tell within the tavern was that you are more stealthy than other people..." She paused and looked around to make sure that no one was listening to the conversation, she even looked to the rooftops, Skyrim to her knowledge was a wild frontier. When she looked back to the Kahjiit she began to speak once more "So, are you willing to make some coin?"

explosiveKitten explosiveKitten
 
"Intelligence, hm?" The Khajiit looked at her through narrowed, seemingly disinterested eyes as she stared at her claws, inspecting them. All about confidence in these situations. Don't look scared. Don't look desperate. Don't look weak. Any sign of weakness is cause to be eaten by wolves in this downtrodden country.
So she wants information? The Khajiit looked down at her claws while she thought. I can certainly find said information, but what does she want it for? Who could she be working for? This information can be bought and sold too. An Altmeri woman looking for whatever she's looking for. Who knows?
"...I might know a couple people." She shrugged, not looking the elf in the eyes. "But everything has it's price, of course. However, I assume you already know that." Her eyes fell upon the purse that jingled as the elf hefted it. She looked at it for a moment more, then back up at the elf. "So, shall we discuss my price?"

Locklaklazarii Locklaklazarii
 
Compliance was good, Pysmia had gotten this far and she intended to go further, but not hear, not in the middle of this Nord infested city, right at the gates, no they needed somewhere where they would not be bothered, "Yes we shall discuss this transaction, but not in our current position, perhaps the Grey Quarter will do? If you don't mind the walk of course." She slightly nodded towards the direction of the Grey Quarter, and took a step towards it trying to nudge the Khajiit along. "Now about your price, I would like to know how much and what it would entail." She was still very slowly creeping towards the quarter but was still very much within a comfortable conversational distance. If she was able to pull this conversation into the Grey Quarter there would be less change of the guards hearing or interfering, she assumed that being in the open like this as an Altmer was a risk in and of it's self. She was comfortable around the Dunmer her family has good relations with a few of the Families in Morrowind she was sure they would not be bothered in there.

explosiveKitten explosiveKitten
 
Jekkel's head rested on the back of the chair, he had a blank stare on his face. The current topic...politics, quite frankly the caravaner wasn't in the mood for politics he would much rather be doing something else. He had just had a nice warm bath, a belly full of food and a bit too much to drink. Perhaps a nice cozy bed was the appropriate topic for Jekkel to be focused on. The adventurer exited his seat and stretched. "Hey Kumi I think I'll head back at the inn if you need me, I think it's time for this one to get some sleep." He said gesturing to himself.*Yawn* "just come find me if you need me,"

As he departed he seemed to have stumbled over his own feet a couple of times. He then found himself trudging through the snow. The cold didn't really faze him, he was still quite warm from the mead. He trudged here to there greeting everyone he encountered. He was profoundly tired but that doesn't mean he wasn't happy. After some time had passed he found himself in a familiar corridor "err haven't I been here before?" but he quickly shrugged it off, he was sure he was going the right way. The Candlehearth hall wasn't very far away from the manor, he would surely stumble upon it sooner or later.

Later definitely much later. Jekkel's tracks were all over Windhelm. It would be quite safe to assume that the caravaners sense of direction was absent, not to mention he was drunk. Did you really think Jekkel guided his horses around skyrim, on the contrary, it was the other way around. If Jekkel didn't have his horses he would be a very lost man as he is now. He seemed to find himself on the steps of the gray quarters. There was no hope for Jekkel finding the inn by himself. He was very close to Revyn's shop he could ask him to help guide him there but he did not want to bother him plus he would damage his pride. He sat there head buried in his hands he just wanted to be in the bed.

It was after about five minutes of moping he heard two voices. He stared down the alleyway two figures appeared out of the gloom. A very small khajiit and a very tall altmer. It was difficult to say who made who look tall or short. The two were talking about prices for something rather sensitive. To be honest he didn't want to know he just wanted to get to the damned inn. He quickly got to his feet and approached the two, but to his miss fortune he missed a step and took a nasty spill down the stairs. He stumbled down the stairs at an alarmingly swift rate. He lay at the bottom of the stairs at the feet of the two. "I'm rather lost can you help find my why to the Inn?" He said face down in the snow.

(Hey everyone sorry for the delay I was having a writer's block. Also, It is very late where I am now so if my post doesn't flow very well that's why.)

0stinato 0stinato Twyllvarlais Twyllvarlais Locklaklazarii Locklaklazarii explosiveKitten explosiveKitten
 
"No, Jekkel, wait--" it turned out a part of Kumiko's brain held something called 'responsibility' that he hadn't been aware of until just now. Watching Jekkel leave, seemingly a little woozy, had made his internal mind frown - what if his friend got hurt or something? His skin would be all soft from the bath, and his reflexes would be slower because of the alcohol. However, that part of Kumiko's brain evaporated rather quickly as he waved his hand at the door and turned back to Yvondir: "Naah, he'll be fine..."

"Anyway, about our plan," he said, though Thane Tora wasn't really in the forefront of his mind anymore. "I can go and finish the letter, and maybe we could both go to the Jarl together? He'll certainly make time for me, and I think speaking to an ex-Thalmor about the Thalmor's tactics and... other stuff... could be worthwhile to help the cause. Who knows? Maybe we'll even get paid. Or thanked. I don't know what you want. But I think that's a good plan."

He hesitated, "I also think it's probably best if Jekkel didn't come. He wasn't too happy with me before. I mean, I don't expect you to be either, since, you know, impure blood, or whatever. He seemed nervous around me though, so perhaps it's best if it was just you and me. I think you can maintain the stiff upper lip, don't let on to the Jarl I'm some sort of night terror," he laughed. "I'm not a terror. I'm a l'il puss-puss. Ahh, c'mon. Oh, actually, before you do, grab something. Expensive wine or something. Buttering up Jarls makes 'em sweeter on you, it's what I've found. Butter them up and they listen to you. Drug 'em up and they let you sit on their face."

Nothing in Kumiko's brain told him that last statement was incriminating. On the contrary, it seemed like just another day in his world. Strut around, stumble onto Morthal, do a bit of boat-to-boat hopping before persuading the old-lady Jarl that skooma would help her arthritis. And, in a way, it probably did; it was definitely not something she was thinking about when she was out of her head.

Kumiko only remembered the threat the guards posed when he got to the door. How many Khajiit would there be in the city? Very few, perhaps it was only him. If any of the guards recognised his furry face before they got to the Jarl, he could be arrested. He glanced back at Yvondir, but decided to say nothing about it. Instead, he stole one of the General's teatowels.

It'd make a decent cowl, provided he could tie it right. After a few clumsy attempts, he finally got it to stay where he wanted it to, despite it flattening his ears horribly. His breath was hot on his own whiskers, the material seemingly too afraid to let the warm air out, as if it was the only comfort the thing had received in years.

"We're off to see the Jarl, then!" he cried, stepping out into the street.

Twyllvarlais Twyllvarlais
 
When Saorat woke from her “nap” and realised that it had unintentionally turned into a real one, she leapt up with a start. What was she doing? They could be anywhere by now! What time was it anyway? As she blinked her eyes uncomfortably and stared uncomprehendingly at her surroundings, she looked more drunk than when she was faking it just before, much to the amusement of the bard. She was standing in her place just like always, but had a smirk that definitely was not usual. Saorat scowled her irritation at the woman, which only made the grin grow even wider. After a moment, Saorat had to relent and chuckle to herself. She had to admit, it was a bit funny… What wasn’t funny, however, was her missed opportunity to learn valuable information.

Thankfully, by the time she woke, most of the inhabitants of the Hall had returned home, which meant that the streets should be relatively clear while she did some exploring. Sure, there were still the guards to worry about, but with her knowledge of the streets and her natural visual advantage, she felt confident that she could avoid them without too much trouble. She would slip out into the streets, check old hiding places, listen at doors and windows, seek out friendly contacts, and so on in the hopes of finding some information. If all else failed, she could probably convince a guard to bring her down to the dungeon for a look around. It was never hard to convince them that a cat was up to trouble, whether that was the truth or not. The funny part was that it was even easier for that same cat to get out of trouble. It was against her nature to seek out trouble with the law, but it was a compromise she was willing to make if it meant protecting her comrades.


As Saorat wandered through the streets listening carefully for a familiar voice, she heard one, though not the one she was looking for. She paused to listen, trying to figure out why it was familiar and who it belonged to. It had an unusual character to it, rather raspy for the usual inhabitants of the city. Then, suddenly, she realised. The voice was Khajiit! Another cat here in the city? Who were they? What were they doing here? She should go speak to them! It had been so long since she’d had the opportunity to speak to another Khajiit and until now, she’d hardly realised how much she missed it. But, she had work to do, information to gather… She heaved a sigh and began to move on when a sudden thought stopped her. What if the Khajiit had valuable information? After all, she could be inconspicuous when she took a notion, so why shouldn’t this stranger? At any rate, if he didn’t, she could easily move on after taking a moment to satisfy her curiosity. Surely that couldn’t jeopardise anything, right?


Her mind made up, she immediately set out to find this unusual stranger and hear news of activities in other parts of Skyrim. However, as she approached, another voice stopped her. This one was also foreign to these parts, but had become uncomfortably common recently, It was high-pitched and nasally, and it made Saorat’s skin crawl with fear and anger. This was the voice of an Altmer, possibly even one of the Thalmor. Immediately, she stepped into a shadow and leaned against the wall to catch her breath and gather her wits. She should leave now, before the maybe-Thalmor found her. But, what were they doing with the Khajiit? What if they were in trouble? She couldn’t leave them to the mercy of the Thalmor…


Slowly, carefully, she peeped an eye around the corner and peered out at the pair. The back of a tall figure was silhouetted against the other side of the street, which she assumed was the Altmer. Good, that meant they were less likely to see her. Also turned away, but still more in her direction, was a strange-looking figure in a cowl. It took her a moment to figure out that this was the Khajiit, and one that looked very much like the tiaraed one she’d glimpsed earlier. But now he had… a towel on his head? By this point, it appeared that the stranger wasn’t in any real danger other than of looking very silly, but Saorat was puzzled by the situation. A strange cat with a napkin on his head speaking to an obviously high-bred mer in the darkened streets of Windhelm, of all places! She really should leave now, it was simply common sense… But a moment later couldn’t hurt, surely. Curiosity drove the cat to take another peek.

{ 0stinato 0stinato Twyllvarlais Twyllvarlais
And here, kids, we see the perfect illustration of the old idiom! Can anyone take a guess as to what it is? xD}
 
"Well, I'll be honest," she crossed her as the elf nudged her along into a seclude looking alley, "I don't get too many requests for just information." She raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the wall, looking around, "But yes, I do know some people." She glanced about once more, "Normally my price is 500 bits for the usual job, but considering you just want information I'll drop it down to 350, just to be nice." She gave a casual glance in Pysmia's direction.
"This is how it works. I go and gather my information, and while I'm doing that, you go off and rent the biggest room at the inn in the Gray Quarter and wait there till I return. But first-" she was about to continue to inquire about payment, when some very random gentleman just stumbled into the alley, fell flat on his face and asked for directions to the nearest tavern.
"... I certainly don't think you need a tavern the way you're stumbling about." She mumbled under her breath, then looked at Pysmia with mild suspicion in her eyes. Is this a set up? A trap to catch me?

Locklaklazarii Locklaklazarii Sir Monsieur Sir Monsieur
 
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Yvondir listened carefully to what Kumiko had to say. From his perspective things would work out pretty well for the most part, though Yvondir wasn't sure if it was gonna play out that easily. Who knows how many Thalmor spies would be lurking in Kumiko's Jarl's court. Though considering his options at the moment and his few and far between connections he has in Skyrim, Yvondir had no choice but to go along with it. His biggest concern was making sure to not get caught by Thalmor patrols on their way to Riften. Yvondir knew the Thalmor inside and out. They had to approach this carefully.

"I see, their are questions I would ask due to the sake of time at the moment, so I can wait till we're on the road. Now that you mentioned alcohol, I have a better idea. We need something more potent than normal wine, we need some Dunmeri beverages. Sujamma and Flin are my go to. They're nice and strong, and will knock out a fat Orc out in one bottle. We should head to the Grey Quarter before we leave."

Already taking lead out the door, Yvondir was a bit surprised by the Khajiit's eagerness to set off. Yvondir put away his mall bottle of brandy and followed suit out the door into the cold night in Windhelm. Yvondir saw a sign with an arrow pointing eastward with the words "Grey Quarter". signaling to Kumiko with the flick of his hand, Yvondir lead the way. The cold really bit at Yvondir's face. Despite being in Skyrim for about 2 years, he could still never get used to the cold. As he neared the Grey Quarter, Yvondir heard a couple of voices, one sounding very familiar. Too familiar. Then he heard a couple of soft footsteps behind him and Kumiko. Stopping in his tracks, Yvondir spoke up loud enough for the person to hear.

"For a Khajiit, you're not very good at stalking or sneaking." Yvondir turned around and waited for their stalker to show themselves.

0stinato 0stinato AlbaGuBrath AlbaGuBrath Locklaklazarii Locklaklazarii Sir Monsieur Sir Monsieur explosiveKitten explosiveKitten
 
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"Well, I'll be honest," she crossed her as the elf nudged her along into a seclude looking alley, "I don't get too many requests for just information." She raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the wall, looking around, "But yes, I do know some people." She glanced about once more, "Normally my price is 500 bits for the usual job, but considering you just want information I'll drop it down to 350, just to be nice." She gave a casual glance in Pysmia's direction.
"This is how it works. I go and gather my information, and while I'm doing that, you go off and rent the biggest room at the inn in the Gray Quarter and wait there till I return. But first-" she was about to continue to inquire about payment, when some very random gentleman just stumbled into the alley, fell flat on his face and asked for directions to the nearest tavern.
"... I certainly don't think you need a tavern the way you're stumbling about." She mumbled under her breath, then looked at Pysmia with mild suspicion in her eyes. Is this a set up? A trap to catch me?

Locklaklazarii Locklaklazarii Sir Monsieur Sir Monsieur
"Find out about rebellious thoughts within the city, and you will be paid most generously. Now I will be at a Dunmeri inn, there we will discuss your findings." She pulled her hood up and then made her way to the busiest looking Dunmeri Tavern/Inn, where she would sit down and orders tea and the largest room, she once again sits in the corner.
 
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Jekkel was quite baffled at the response of the two. They treated him like a drunk .... a Drunk!? How could the two have the audacity to do such a thing. He slowly got up from his knees but before he could do so the Altmer walked away from the ally. "the nerve of some people" He thought. There were only two people in the ally now, himself and the Khajiit. She looked as short as she did afar, but the weird thing was it felt like she was the one looking down on him. He was on his feet but it felt like he was on a ship out of Skyrim. His legs were wobbly and his mind was groggy. He then realized why they treated him like a drunk, he was. The caravaner began to lean on the wall of the ally. "Surely you can treat a caravaner with a little more respect?" he said slightly slurred. "Sweet mother of Talos how drunk am I?" he muttered under his breath.

explosiveKitten explosiveKitten
 
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