Probably not a Witty Title

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by HeliumJack, Feb 7, 2015.

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  1. Estella sat dourly at an upstairs table in Candlehearth Hall, her green eyes flirting around the beer in front of her, but never settling directly on the dark green bottle. Instead, her eyes gazed ceaselessly around her, from the brown-black archway of the entrance, to each table, scanning the patrons and their food, and each corner, making sure there were no newcomers, or anyone looking in her direction, to the large fireplace of the room, making trips to her beer at various times. Shifting uncomfortably in her chair, her hand betrayed her eyes and went for her beer. Her pale Nord fingers drummed on the glass neck for a moment, making dull thunks on the still-full bottle before the cool drink made it to her mouth a moment later, her eyes finally taking a break from their hopeful searching.

    The town had failed to offer her any work for a week now, and she was getting tired of lounging in the Hall all day, waiting for someone to approach her with coin. The following morning she'd probably be off, heading to Markarth. They usually had caravans that needed guards, so Estella hoped maybe she'd at least be able to escort someone shipping silver, be doing something for a good week or so before she had to wait around to be hired again.

    The woman shifted in her seat again as she brushed back some gray hair that had escaped from her similarly thick gray-haired ponytail, unable to get herself comfortable. If she had been wearing her armor she would have been able to lean against the wall behind her instead, but she had left it in her room. The wall's wood was ratty and split, and her clothes were already getting dirty along with being her only set, and she loathed looking raggedy for any potential employers, so the mercenary had to deal with hunching over her drink on the rough wooden bench. Her eyes resumed their touch-and-go game while she waited, hopelessly, for someone to ask if they could hire her.
    #1 HeliumJack, Feb 7, 2015
    Last edited: Feb 8, 2015
  2. Cold wind was the least of the dunmer's worries as the gates of Windhelm loomed. Rumor of the nord's treatment of the races of mer was quick to travel all across Skyrim, more so when it came to the ears of those heading particularly to this city. It did nothing to deter this mer as thin sheets of ice cracked beneath his boots upon the ancient cobblestones streets, formed by the wet winds of the Sea of Ghosts blowing their southerly breath upon the walls. Soon it had even begun to collect upon his travel cloak while his papers were draw from a sleeve and presented to the guard who's breath came in long and slow mists of vapor.

    It was hard to judge what he was looking at with the standard issue helmet covering much of his face. Just from stature alone he knew him to be nord. "What business have you in the city, dark elf?" Not the most pleasant greeting one might show to visitors.

    "I'm looking for a hired sword or two for help on an expedition." The gravelly voice of the dunmer replied, lifting back the dark stained fur travelling hood to reveal his face. The lines of age hadn't even come close to touching his gray skin. Eyes like crimson ablaze held steady and unwavering gaze as the blustery winds blew his short cropped mohawk to the side before it slowly snapped back once it subsided.

    More leery looks from the guard were given before his hand whipped to his sword hilt. "No funny busine--!" His voice cut short as the hand that rose from behind the cloak held a few pieces of glinting coin, Septims.

    "Buy yourself a warm meal. My business is private." A smile was shown with it as the money dropped into the guards hands. The look of any gratitude or thanks was hidden behind his helm, but the way he instantly relaxed that he'd not need eating gruel from the barracks was evident.

    "Stay outta' trouble, Dunmer." The nameless guard stated as he edged closer to the fire that crackled beside the gate with a bit more straight posture than before. Seemed his night had been made.

    The next few minutes passed quickly. His entrance into Candlehearth Hall wasn't taken well, a few glowers once the hood came down at the gray skinned face beneath. Only dismissed when he set a small pouch of coins upon the counter along with a separate pack. "I need a room, these bottles filled with water, a few hot meals, and word of any swords for hire." Elda Early-Dawn seemed all too fine with accepting his request and the coin, it was heavier than most of her usual patrons.

    "Down the hall and on the left. Will have yer' things ready in their. As for blades; there been a woman asking for work. Try her." The voice was quick and kind, common to her profession. Even the dunmer's thanks was brief, a dip of his head as he made way to drop his pack upon the bed. The furs upon it were soft and warm from the freshly lit fire. Brief respite, it felt wonderful when he dropped his cloak over the mantle to dry the wet snow from it.

    Clad in a loose fitting tunic and matching breeches that showed no amount of garish adornment save for a few rings upon his fingers and an amulet of indeterminable origin tucked beneath his collar he began his way up the stairs.
  3. Estella heard the stairs creaking as someone walked up them, and although there had been several times it was just the keeper coming to refill people's drinks and serve food, Estella's eyes always followed the creaking eagerly, until whoever it was came to the top of the stairs and was revealed to be the innkeeper. Figuring it was just drinks, Estella didn't get too excited as the creaking got closer to the top, especially because it had gotten dark a couple of hours ago and most travelers had gotten settled in by then, so it wasn't likely to be someone she could work for. There was always a small bit of her that stubbornly hoped, of course. Traveling on someone else's coin was much better than traveling on her own.

    A Dunmer emerged at the top of the stairs instead of the usual innkeeper, and most of the other patrons spared him a glance, and returned to their drinks. Estella, brows furrowed, did the same with an exasperated exhale. The Dunmer's clothes were plain, and he seemed like any other run-of-the-mill traveler. The mercenary doubted he'd be hiring anyone for anything.

    Probably the last new drunk for the night, she thought wryly, taking another swig of her beer before grumpily retying her thick gray ponytail. It was probably time for her to head off. The next morning she would set out westward before the sun had a chance to greet the world, and she needed to make sure she had all of her equipment ready to go.

    ...But she did need to finish her beer. No use letting it go to waste.
  4. A quick survey of the room provided him just enough information gleaned to know who the innkeeper had spoken of. The coy smile that came to his face as he sauntered over to an empty table, conveniently next to the gray-haired woman of whom he sought. Not but a moment after he sat his boots went to the top of the table and he began leaning back ever so slightly, teetering on two of the chairs four legs.

    "Heard of any sell-swords in the city?" He asked. Straight forward and blunt to match the gravelly tone of his people. Red eyes had turned to appraise her from this different angle, flicking up, then down, in quick fashion that didn't let them linger upon any other specific part, lest he be called some rather unsavory names. "With war looming they usually flock to the capitals."

    Breaths later Elda approached and set his meal upon the table, giving his booted feet a smack off that he took in stride with a laugh. "I'll not have folks dirtyin' up the tables any worse than they 'ready are." She scolded, eyeing his boots for a moment before producing a dirty rag from her pocket, how sanitary, to wipe anything off the table. Not there was was much, mud and whatnot had been banged off at the door and a brush had gotten the rest off.
  5. Estella stiffened as the new patron in the room sat near her, fervently wishing he wouldn't speak to her. Her beer still had a good amount left in it, and she had to get to the bottom before she could leave. Speaking got in the way of her finishing up and heading to bed. As his chair wobbled, she quite hoped it would get sick of the tottering, and spill him out of it so she could excuse herself.

    Then he started to speak to her. For a second, she froze, deciding it was too late to flee and resigning herself to listening to what she assumed was going to be intoxicated drivel. Fortunately, it sounded more like a job offer. Pleasantly surprised, she turned her seemingly always unhappy gaze vaguely in his direction, listening quietly while she watched him.

    The merc was admittedly desperate for a job, but she hated coming off like that to possible employers. It wasn't that she relished holding power over them, but exposing the weakness made her seem pathetic, lowered her mercenary standing, and above all, made her feel too vulnerable. So, she kept her mouth closed, with the exception of taking small drinks while she pondered this new possible employer. He was quite rude, she thought first and foremost. Taking up space that he obviously felt he was entitled to, but then he had sat a good distance away from her, as a stranger, so he seemed he could be courteous.

    Very carefully, several minutes after the innkeeper had gone, Estella opened her mouth. "Yes. I just arrived in town and finished a job, myself." She paused, focusing on the fireplace in the middle of the room. "I was about to seek work escorting silver in Markarth, but I could be persuaded otherwise." She gave him the barest of glimpses before returning her eyes to her drink, thumbing where the neck melted into the body.
  6. It was amusing the quiet way this woman was. Most sell swords he met were often loud and boisterous, noisy and bold. Always the ones that didn't gloat or grow loud were either the most scarred or the most desperate. At least in his experiences working with them.

    Once his thoughts had settled and she finished he took a deep inhale before blowing it out. "Funny. The keep said a woman was in dire need of work. Guess I missed her then." It was all played off as nonchalantly as possible, perhaps truthfully, perhaps to make himself seem more important.

    "Can't say I'm usually picky in the company I keep. As long as they can at least laugh at my jokes, faking it even." His head craned sideways at her, hard to make out specifics in the dimly lit room. Young and totally unlike the profession she was in, he thought in silence.

    "Hundred septims up front. Three hundred on completion. Unless I need you longer, or I like you and your style. Repairs and living expenses are paid as we go, but gear is your responsibility. I'm no brute so I expect help with any manual labor, but don't expect the divines to give me much strength." Only a few of the terms, brows had grown knitted as he looked back at his plate. It looked like dwemer oil with a piece of stone on the side. Stew and bread, hearty for the cold.
  7. Estella inspected her bottle for several minutes, turning over the situation in her head. He didn't seem that bad, and with room and board being paid for? It sounded good to her. She could do manual labor with no problem. Laughing at his jokes would most likely be a problem, but he didn't need to know that.

    She finished off her beer before answering him. "Sounds good. I'll work for you. I'm Estella. What exactly are we going to be doing?" Hopefully something where more gold was going to be an option. 400 septims would already set her up nicely for a while, but she did have goals to reach.
  8. Unsure what to take the silence for the Dunmer began to eat his meal. The bread like soft stone and the stew was just as brine flavored as the sea. At least the apple was sweet and juicy, some of it dribbling to his chin before he caught it with a rag from his pocket.

    Finally her words made him clap his hands once. "Oh, lovely! That was far easier than I had hoped." His smile had returned as he nipped the last bits of white flesh from the apples core. "Mm, yes, details and such. M'name is Narivar, but you may shorten it if you like. Would prefer no slurs." Unsure if she was the type it was good to state that at least.

    "As for the task. A bit of spelunking." A pause as he mulled over his own words. "Cave digging." In case she wasn't familiar with the term.

    "Hopefully that will be something you are familiar with and capable of?" He mused in an almost mocking tone, daring to see if she was lying as he dipped a small leather pouch that jingled with coin upon the table over and over.
  9. "Of course." Estella nodded, standing. "And when shall we be leaving?" If she was honest with herself, she wasn't really sure she was going to enjoy this job. This Dunmer overstepped his bounds by just a toe, but it was enough to grate on her already. But, then again, she hadn't enjoyed most of her employers company. Gold was gold, and a paid room was a paid room. She would do the work happily, just interacting with this Dunmer seemed as if it would be a problem.
  10. A clap of his hands signaled the end of his meal. The thick sludge at the bottom of his stew proved too much for his palate so it remained. "Two days. I hope that will be enough time to prepare yourself? It's cold out there, so dress warm." Nord, imperial, Bretons, they all looked the same to him, he wasn't sure what she really was.

    "Here." The bag was gently tossed to get table. Landing with the familiar jingle of coins that had a few patrons turn their heads at the possibility. "Your up front. Don't spend it all in one place." His voice was cut as the sound of new logs were added to the dwindling hearth, fel winds blew outside as the door was opened and rapidly closed while a patron exited.
  11. Estella hesitated, and then grabbed the bag from the table. "I can leave tomorrow evening, if you wish. I don't need to get too many supplies."

    She did need some new clothes, and she would need some warm clothes if he was speaking truly. Otherwise, she had enough equipment to protect and defend herself and her employer. Truthfully, if he had asked her to leave that night, she would have seriously considered saying yes, despite her lack of clothing. She was sick of this town.
  12. Another quick opening and closing of the main doors heralded someone seeking respite from a growing snow storm outside, he was grateful he'd made it in with haste. Red eyes turned to appraise the woman's words as they caught the firelight, giving them an odd reflection.

    All of it quickly abolished by a broad smile and a clap of his palms together. "Tomorrow it is. There's no rush at all, Estella. I need to make a few stops here in town as well. Friends in the east side of the city. S'been a while since I've been to the cornerclub.. Hope Ambarys is still around. Could really go for some sujamma.." For a few moments his mind began to wander whether to brave the storm for a few minutes to run down to their and spend his evening before returning to Candlehearth. There would be time for that tomorrow.

    "If you're in need of a bit more spending coin don't fret to ask. Won't have folks saying I'm disagreeable when it comes to terms." It was quickly shut down as he felt himself running on. "Never mind me. You look seasoned like good iron. Do what you need to do."
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