Swims-Faster walked into the warmth emanating from the welcoming door of the inn. He opened the door as he strapped his weapons to his back in two well made leather straps he'd gotten attached in Windhelm. The heat of the fire was welcoming after the last week on the road in this cold land, nothing at all like the swamps of Black Marsh. After noticing everyone in the bar, he called for a maid and walked towards the table nearest the fire. After ordering an ale, meal,and a brandy Swims'Faster took notice of the rest of the bar's occupants and made a gesture towards the Argonian in the room as a hello and kept his eyes on everyone else, on the off chance Quickkills came in.
"Doess anyone here know of the Argonianss in Riften that own an inn?", Swims-Faster asked the barmaid as she came by with his meal. He produced a charcoal and plant dye piece of parchment in the likeness of Quickkill,a female Argonian with two gold incisors and half-a-fin on the left side of her head, "Ssshee lookss like thisss, have you sseen her?"
Raksada stepped into the inn, shrugging off the evening cold. He eyed up the argonian next to the door, but determined that he wouldn't be a threat for the moment. The orc on the balcony concerned him slightly more, if only because he held the high ground. He stepped up to the bar and ordered a mug and some roast pheasant, before turning to regard the rest of the patrons.
This will be a fine inn to get business for the guild. he thought to himself. Raksada paid for his meal and headed to an unoccupied table in the corner, preferring to have some privacy while he looked the place over.
He overheard another argonian question the barmaid about the owners of another inn in town, and figured he'd try to listen in on that conversation if he could do it without being obvious. Wonder why he wants to know about them... Raksada thought, genuinely curious.
The pair of nords at the bar looked right at home here, as did the imperial, but it was the redguard that held his attention the most. He could tell even from this distance that his armor was heavily enchanted, and, from the way the argonian and the orc kept their eyes on anyone that went near him, that he was wealthy. Unfortunately, he had two guards, which meant that the odds of pulling a theft on him were slim. Perhaps another day, and there's always another mark if this one doesn't work out Raksada thought, deciding that a robbery in here would make more trouble than it was worth.
Jarek stood in the door wondering if the Nord knew just how lucky he was for staying away from the young man in the black robes, another Imperial from the looks of him, definitely a mage. He took the place in with an extended glance across the room, he was fairly impressed, there was clearly money to be had here. The icy blue stare of the nearby Argonian gave him the impression that a casual attitude should be maintained. He approached the bar, sitting directly in front of the pretty young bartender, if he played this right she would be eating out of his hand by the end of the hour. "I know you Nords can drink but you'll regret offering me free mead" Jarek said with a smirk, accepting his first mug of cold alcohol.
The barmaid looked at Swims-faster with a smile "Looks like you got the wrong place hun and that'll be 9 gold for the food and brandy. It's just the ale that's free"
She walks back to the serving both Raksada and Jarek, after giggling at Jareks remark she reached under the counter.
Upon Passing Swims-faster to collect her money she hands him a flyer.
"This might be the place your looking for, only been there once though.. don't take my word for it"
Jarek finishes his first mug, time to see where these Nords place allegiance, get a better idea of this place, he sat his arm down on the bar to receive his next mug and let his bracer, unmistakably imperial, show openly. If the Nords were sensible they'd ignore it but if they were Stormcloaks, they'd definitely make it known, especially considering they looked about three sheets to the wind at this point.
"Thanksss lasss, you've just sssaved me another three days wasssted here." Swims'Faster paid for his meal, and added an extra five gold for the information, along with an extra ten to keep the brandy coming.
Swims'Faster than stood up and walked towards the man in the black robe by the bar.
"Excussse me...Imperial,right? but do you happen to know thiss Argonian, have you ssseen her?,And do you know thisss inn?" He said, offering both the flyer and the picture to the man.
Zavier took note of the several arrivals that came in after him. The Argonian was looking for someone apparently. By the looks of him, Zavier considered, he wasn't just looking up an old friend, but that was none of his business. The soldier that had just come in held his attention more. A legionnaire, if the bracer he let show as anything to judge by.
He finished his drink and walked back over to the bar as casually as he could. "What sort of person," He asked in general, "Builds an inn just outside the protective walls of a city. Surely that couldn't be a good business move." He carefully placed himself near the legionnaire.
The Argonian approached him. Zavier took a look at the picture he had been given, "I might have seen her, but I've seen most of Skyrim at this point. There have been Argonians in almost every city. If I saw her I probably paid no mind. I'm sorry." He said. "Why are you looking for her anyway?"
"Someone who clearly has either the means to defend it, the backing of the Thieves Guild or is just plain foolish...I have a feeling if you ask questions like that in a place like this you'll get an answer, even if it is one you don't like." Jarek responded to Zavier's query while keeping his eyes on the Nords at the end of the bar and keeping his light conversation with the barmaid going.
The Imperial answered him and Swims'Faster sighed and nodded at his answer, "Ssshe iss none of your concccern, but thank you, what iss your name Imperial?"
"I am Zavier Martres." He answered, "And you?"
His earlier query had been rudely turned aside with a veiled threat, or a warning, depending on how one chose to look at it. 'The Thieves' Guild, eh?' Zavier thought. He hadn't made contact with the guild in Skyrim, not that he hadn't considered it. From what he heard the guild in Skyrim had only just started to get back on its feet after a spell of absolutely dreadful luck. It didn't seem worth the bother to make contact, at least until he neared Riften. Now that he was here, he considered, it might just be worthwhile to check in on how things were going.
"My name is Sswims'Fasster in your tongue, Zzavier, I take it you are a Mage of ssorts, do you know all the ssecretss of the sschool of Conjuration, Imperial?" Swims'Faster asked quietly,-knowing the disposition of the Nords towards magic- with a glint of hope in his eye, perhaps this one may be able to teach him more so he could expand upon his knowledge.
"I do know of Conjuration." Zavier said, quietly, "I have many talents." He looked around to the Nords, but, despite their distaste for foreigners and mages, they loved their ale and beer more. Zavier wondered why the Argonian asked about this, and whether it was wise to let Swims-Faster know.
"That, Zsavier, is not what I asked, and you have nothing to fear from me," he said, noticing the shiftiness of the man in the robe, "All I asked for was to see whether or not I can learn any more of it from you, I've had very little luck in finding a worthy mentor in this land, and I've been here for over a year. Misss, my brandy pleasse, and an ale for Zsavier here as well. Just put it on my tab." Swims'Faster then folded the flyer and picture into each other and tucked them inside a pouch secured around his neck, under his armor and padding.
Interesting. The Argonian wished to learn of Conjuration, from him. "I suppose I could teach you." Zavier said, carefully as he picked up his ale. "I would require some incentive to do so, though." It was always better to introduce negotiation as subtly as possible. It put the minds of the customer in a more accommodating mood, when you asked them to provide a price, they usually became more amiable to bargaining.
"A favor for a favor is what I propossse, Zsavier, you teach me what you know, and I will help you with a tassk of your own, that iss, of coursse, if your knowledge outssstripsss my own." The Argonian knew about negotiations, as he'd spent many hours over the last year bartering and negotiating his services to both Stormcloak and the occasional Imperial he felt was trustworthy enough to deserve his specific set of skills. "However, I would have to sstipulate that should I hear any newss of my... friend... I would have to beg your leave, although you would still have my arm should you need it, and you can contact me through a... being of the outer plane we may both share a certain knowledge of to get my attention. I would also be willing to show you the intricaciess of both spear and dagger, should you wissh to learn them."
Faulgor looked down from the balcony, eyeing the other occupants of the inn through the slits of his mask, sizing up each and every one of them. Turning towards the stairs he began to make his way down to the bar below, his large, booted feet making the boards creak and groan, straining under the weight of the Orc as his armor plates clinked against each other with every step. He paused for a moment once he reached the foot of the stairs as he scanned the lower floor, then slowly approached the bar and sat on a sturdy-looking stool. The Orc was cautious in his movements, unsure if stool would hold. It seemed strong enough for now and Faulgor allowed himself to settle down and sit comfortably. Reaching behind his head and unbuckling the straps to his helm, he lifted it slowly and set it atop the bar. Next to come down was his hood which he let fall to his shoulders as his face was revealed. Dark eyes with near-black irises, short, thick, black hair atop his head starting at the widow's peak at the top of his forehead. Cocking his head slowly to one side, he cracked his neck, the vertabrae popping audibly before his straightened his neck and sighed. He motioned the barmaid over and spoke softly so only she could hear. She soon brought over a bowl of hot venison stew and a tankard of Jagga and set them before him next to his helm. The bowl itself was carved from wood, as was the soup spoon that had come with it, whereas the tankard was of steel and plain as one might expect. The Orc had picked up the spoon, though seemed miniscule in his large, callused fingertips. Deciding against using the spoon, which he simply set aside, he raised the rim of the bowl against his lips and began drinking the hot stew. The mouthful of broth was swallowed, leaving bits of potato and venison that were soon chewed and eaten, then chased by a rather large gulp from the tankard. Jagga was a drink Faulgor grew most partial to - the mixture of pig's milk and honey fermented to (if you went to the right place) perfection. This particular tankard-full was satisfying, though not, by any means, the most satisfying that has ever passed through his lips. Though the food and drink had been free, he still felt compelled to compensated the barmaid for her hospitality and left a stack of twenty gold pieces on the bar. Idle conversation had been occuring through the inn, some his trained ears managed to pick up, though most of the words that had been exchanged were of no immediate concern of his. With that realization, he continued to eat his meal and drink his drink.
Anoke watched the new-comers file in, and nodded to his Orc associate. He had only been in Stens employment for a few months, and didn't want to look unprofessional. Keeping his keen blue eyes on the whole scene, he sized up the individuals. A few men, A Khajiit, another Argonian. He sighed, though one of relief, at the absence of Mer. His dealings with Dunmer in particular had been less than friendly of late. Resting a clawed thumb on the top of his row of knives, he was content to lean back against the wall on the first level. Mind beginning to wander, he stared at the other Argonian. He carried a spear, though his hands looked as if they'd be more comfortable with a knife.
Perhaps he's born under the shadow.
Keeping his ramblings to himself, he sat down at a nearby table, making sure he was clearly visible to the Orc. If anything happened, it was important to know where the other was.
HEY IM NOT THERE!!! I changed my sheet and he is meant to look like the picture
Muttering, a conversation can be herd between the two Nords.
"Look at that, damn imperial thinks he already owns the place" One Nord said to the other.
"He should know we don't take to his kind here"
"Doesn't he know Riften is under control of the Stormcloaks?"
"Heh, for his sake i hope it's a mistake... why don't you remind him?"
"Me? I have nothing to do with the war, its you that spent the last few years with them"
"Well i suppose.. just watch my back will ye.. not like i need it.."
The larger of the two Nords walked over to Jarek, he leaned in close to his ear and with a croaky whisper Jarek heard "We don't take kindly with you around here, Riften is ours. Now i'm being nice here.. your lucky you ain't dead kid, just a friendly word'a warning."
Raksada signaled the barmaid for another ale, as he watched one of the nords walk up to the imperial. [i]Always,the nords try picking fights with anyone who may be a part of the Legion[/il] he thought. He decided that if a fight was going to break out, the large orc that had just taken a seat at the bar would stop it before it got too far out of hand. Just to be sure,though, Raksada adjusted his footing so he could be out of the corner and ready to fight as quickly as possible.
Swims'Faster noticed the Nord walking up to the other Imperial in the room and readied his body to spring into action should there be any retaliation. "Find me if you agree to the terms I have sset, Zsavier, I'll be by the fire." He then took his brandy back to his seat and leaned back, positioned so that his spear and javelin were in easy reach as well as a single kick out would send him into a backwards tumble to the wall where he could more easily defend himself. There was a cat in the corner doing much the same positioning as Swims'Faster. That caught his attention, as few of the Khajiit he had met readied themselves to fight, most just found a dark hole to hide in and waited for the danger to pass. His respect and his caution for the cat went up. He swirled his brandy in it's glass and slowly sipped it, flicking his tongue into the dark red liquid, not the best he'd had, but then again, he was in Skyrim, the land of ale,mead, and cold summers.
The Orc's ears perked up as one of the Nords walked up to the Imperial, though it seemed the Nord had made sure to keep his voice low enough to prevent any eavesdropping. Faulgor imagined he couldn't have been saying anything too friendly considering the obvious differences between the two. For now, there was nothing to be concerned about, though the Orc slowly lowered his right hand near the hilt of his sword and readied himself for anything that might come about. He kept his left hand on the bowl of stew and took another mouthful, maintaining the appearance of complete disinterest.
I have to ask you a question: Where did you find your pics? I couldn't find any good ones. I search for Nord skyrim on google, and i got mostly rule 34 pic (it was werid, i tell ya). So can anyone post a link?
Zavier considered the offer Swims-Faster made. His own skill in daggers wasn't terribly good, he had to admit, and he was quite well versed in Conjuration. He had never turned down learning a new skill before, perhaps he could even make use of the spear-fighting skills that Swims-Faster was offering. It was well worth considering.
One of the Nords came near the legionnaire and muttered something that Zavier couldn't hear. Being this deep in Stormcloak territory probably wasn't the best place to reveal that bracer, he wanted to say, but held himself back. Zavier made a quick and casual survey of the room, trying to determine what spells would get him out as quickly and as bloodlessly as possible.
The barmaid had her conversation cut short with Jarek, however she was blissfully unaware of the sudden presence of tension in the room. She noted the signal of the dark furred Kahjiit and walked over to his table with a freshly poured ale.
Sten However was fully aware of the situation but little did he care, he stood up from his seat and headed upstairs behind and out of sight to where the Orc previously stood.
"Thank you, miss" Raksada said to the maid, accepting the drink. "I'd stay away from the bar for a bit though. Looks to be a fight brewing."
Raksada watched as the redguard made his way upstairs. Smart man he thought to himself. Means he'll be an even harder mark than I thought. Might be best just to forget about him for now. He enjoyed challenges, but had learned over the years that it was best not to go looking for them. They found you often enough as it was.
Swims'Faster continued to lick at his drink, taking in all the sights in the tavern. The lone Redguard in the room obviously was someone important with all that gear, most of it rare, but all unusual. The Khajiit in the corner watched, almost wistfully he would say, as he walked upstairs and out of sight. this cat is someone to watch for, he may have connections inside Riften that can point me in the right direction for Quickkills.
Swims'Faster quickly gulped down the rest of his brandy, and, beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol, decided that it would be best to begin to play it up a little. In the act of throwing back his drink, he swallowed to not waste it, and fell over backwards in his chair. As he fell, he knocked his weapons over off the wall, making a racket, got up, and sauntered over to the Khajiit's table, goblet still in hand, and plopped down in the chair opposite the cat.
"Hey, kitty, you know t'hecitwell?" He slurred. "You know whetheBeean'Bar' is any good as a place tosto'ont'way?"
Jarek peered at the Nord, followed by a grin. A lot had changed in the moment between showing his bracer and the Nord getting up to the challenge, for one that huge orc had sat at the bar and everyone else seemed to have shifted uneasily. The Khajiit had called away the barmaid at the right moment, no need to get her worked up over this. It would be best not to push these ale swigging Nords any further,
"sorry, I meant no offense and if you are looking for a Legionnaire you haven't found one, haven't been one for a couple years."
Jarek shifted his cloak off to reveal plate armor, only his bracers were imperial. He allowed his cloak to fall more and exposed his sword still sheathed against his side.
Jarek wasn't going to get in a fist fight with this Nord but if the fool really wanted to match steel, Jarek wouldn't back down.
Raksada was startled out of his reverie as one of the argonians fell out of his chair, appearing to be rather intoxicated. He kept his left hand under the table, gently touching his dagger as the argonian made his way over.
"Hey, kitty, you know t'hecitwell?" He slurred. "You know whetheBeean'Bar' is any good as a place tosto'ont'way?"
Raksada relaxed a bit. It appears he only wants some information. he thought. "Yes, the Bee and Barb is a fairly good place to spend a night." he said, having made it one of his preferred haunts. "I stop in there about twice a week, see if there is anyone worth knowing coming into town."
The Nord slammed his hands down onto the bar in a somewhat aggressive manner, this was accompanied by a hearty but forced laugh.. one that was far too loud to be genuine.
"i'd make ye buy me a drink lad, lucky for you they're free."
He starts to make his way back to the table but turns harshly.
"Way i see it is there is only one way t'solve this. I'll show you how a true Nord drinks! Last man be a'standin is the winner. What do ya say?"
Jarek agrees to the contest, thinking the Nord may just want to get him drunk before the fight, either way Jarek had planned on getting drunk so it didn't matter...now he was wishing he had gotten the chance to eat, as he hadn't since breakfast.
The Nord gave the same and now very irritating laugh before downing a tankard of ale.
Jarek was beginning to feel the drink, not nearly as much as that Argonian pestering the Khajiit in the corner but he was getting there, he didn't let it show, he briskly accepted the next mug, raised it to his lips and found this one went down much smoother.