Tales of Skyrim IC

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Two hundred septims? Loïc thought that's insane. In truth he had little use for gold; the dawnguard provided food, shelter, weapons and everything else he needed for free so if he had to he could spend all the money he looted off of vampires and their thralls without any consequences. That said, he couldn't afford to pay two hundred septims because of the simple fact that he didn't have that much on him at the time. Though he did pull something from the skin of a gargoyle that could be considered decent payment.

He reached into a pouch on his belt and took out a single, little gem; an uncut amethyst of a deep, purple colour and tossed it to the bandit leader. "I trust this will satiate your greed for the time being..."
 
Raven said:
Rura had sat down and listened to a group and learned that Dancon Melitrose was sharing a conversation with a group of old friends. Finally they had left and Melitrose was basically alone he had also rented a room in The Wrinkling Skeever. He headed to his room and slowly Rura followed. She quietly closed the door behind the two and waited to see if he would sit down or sleep. He seemed to feel uneasy but didn't seem to look for anyone. Finally about an hour latter he had lied down. Slowly Rura took out her sword and walked closer to his bed. She made sure he was not awake and quietly but quickly slit Dancon Melitrose throat. She then took any gold he had to add to her pay and slowly walked out. She then stood out of sneak and walked to her room and made sure her blade was clean and that she looked as a normal adventure not an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood so no one should question her. She then lied down for sleep before she then she would decide what tomorrow she would do she would either decided on waiting to return or return to see if there was a contract or if the Nightmother had arrived.
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Si'Basha placed the book on the stand next to him and stood up from his armchair. He looked through the window, and observed the busy streets of the city of Solitude. It was midday, and the sky was filled with big, gray clouds. "It's going to snow soon" he thought, slightly shaking his head. A Stormcloak patrol was passing below his window. "Those bastards..." he muttered, with his eyes filled with hate. Before the Great Civil War, that happened around a decade ago, Si'Basha was a successful Khajiit that managed to attain the title of Thaneship throughout the nine Holds of Skyrim for the first time in the written history. He was respected, he was rich, he had power... And then the stupid Stormcloaks had to ruin it all. When these racist nordic hogs took over Skyrim, he has lost most of his hard earned titles and was forced to live in his cottage in Solitude, where Ulfric's influence wasn't that high.

Si'Basha stopped looking through the window and grabbed his winter coat from the wardrobe. Then he opened the front door and headed outside, to the cold streets of the once-Empire-Controlled city of Solitude. He slowly walked towards the Winking Skeever inn, with his tail hidden and wearing a hood to conceal his Khajiit origins from the nordic extremists in the area. When he was at the door to the tavern, he entered inside and approached the counter, where Corpulus Vinius was cleaning an iron mug with a white rag. Upon seeing Si'basha he placed the mug and rag on the table and asked:

"Welcome back, thane Si'Basha. The usual glass, right?"

"Yes, Corpulus, the usual glass." Si'Basha had a really good accent for a Khajiit. "What is the word around this place?"

"Not much, really." the innkeeper said while pouring a bottle of firebrand ale into the mug. "There are tensions building up in the Ulfric's court about who will take charge of Skyrim after their leader's death. Hmph, they didn't have enough spilled Imperial blood to satisfy their needs and now they are cutting each other's throats to take control over their leader's territory. What a bunch of mindless idiots, claiming that they care about their "homelands" and "traditions"... Ha, traditions my ass!" he spit on the ground and handed the mug to the Khajiit. "In the other news, there are also travelers talking about an ever-increasing bandit activity in the southern holds, so you should be careful if you travel around that area. Also, there are rumours that the Empire is considering to retake Skyrim under their lead again; I hope that it's true."

"Retaking Skyrim, you say?" Si'Basha said in a curious voice while taking a drink from his mug. "Interesting... Anything else?"

"No, that's all. Oh, and also I forgot to mention that your cousin's trading caravan will arrive to the borders of Solitude next week. Maybe you can visit him when you have some time."

"Thanks for the advice." Si'Basha said while finishing the ale. And then he noticed a strange figure entering a bedroom. By her movements, Si'Basha could tell that she was a woman that didn't want to get caught. A bit paranoid, the wealthy Khajiit thought about the worst; someone ordered the Brotherhood to kill him. He placed the mug on the counter, alongside with a bag of septims and approached the room where he saw the possible assassin. Without making a noise, he peeked inside the keyhole, and saw the woman standing with the back facing at him. Taking advantage of the situation, Si'Basha picked the lock and entered in the bedroom, with the ebony sword in his hand. When he was behind her, he has put the blade on her throat, and held her tightly so she couldn't do anything to attack him.

"Shh, quiet now." he whispered in a calm but creepy tone (considering the situation), while stopped her from struggling. "And now, you little Brotherhood rat, tell me who sent you to kill me, or you can forget seeing the light of day ever again. Or should I say, the darkness of your Nightmother?" Now his voice was threatening.
 
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In the Bannered Mare, as Kararq drank with other old Legionnaires, a man burst in. "Dancon Melitrose is dead! Murdered in his own bed, by the Dark Brotherhood, they say!" Kararq's mouth opened wide, like a fish out of water. He gaped at the bearer of ill-news. One of his buddies choked on his ale. "Dancon? The old legionnaire? That man would've killed any assassin, plus he had great senses! How is he dead?!" Then Kararq had a suspicion. What if the Stormcloaks were having the former Legionnaires remaining in Skyrim killed? Everyone knew a second civil war was coming, but the Stormcloaks were doing their best to fortify the borders to the south, but what about the legionnaires already inside Skyrim? Kararq shuddered, and mourned Dancon along with his friends.
 
"Satiate my greed!" Carwyn raised his voice to the man, as he caught the gem and observed it. He then glared at him and, taking a few steps so that he was just an arm's length away from him, flashed him a huge grin and outstretched his arms. "This will do more than that! We don't need to worry about that ruby anymore, it wasn't even said to be flawless."

"Huh?" grunted one of the men behind them.

Carwyn turned around to explain, "Amethysts are much harder to come across these days, what with the Imperials taking most of it back to Cyrodiil. I know a bloke in Morthal who's willing to pay more than that petty ruby was ever worth. It could fetch us up to four hundred, maybe five hundred septim if we can barter with him. Let's head back."

Ketty smiled at the man again, before turning around with Carwyn and one of the bandits to head back to Helgen. The other three men waited for the man to pass them before walking back, just to be safe. They weren't sure whether the man would betray them and kill them when their backs were turned. How sure could they be that this man was aware that they had more people in the ruined town? Well, he had known that they occupied Helgen for a start, but that could have simply been because he had watched them jogging in that direction. Ketty was also slightly unsettled to. This man claimed to have hunted vampires, had he not? That was a marvelous feat in itself. She turned her head to face him as she walked on.

"There's quite a lot of us hunters back at Helgen," she informed him, trying to use a soft and friendly tone to mask the fact that this was a warning in case he tried anything shady.

"You say hunters, they say bandits," Carwyn smirked.

"Well we only fight humans when threatened or desperate," Ketty rebutted. "We're nothing like those bastards at Halted Stream Camp. We don't just pick on anyone."

"Don't we?" he said, mockingly again, as he raised an eyebrow. "We nearly attacked this fellow."

"Because he pulled out an axe and a fireball!" she cried out, defending their actions. "It's not like we were really going to attack him otherwise."

"If you say so, princess," muttered one of the men behind her, as two of the others laughed quietly at his comment. Ketty shot them a stern look, before focusing her attention back onto the road ahead.

"What's your name, lad?" Carwyn asked, as he inspected the amethyst once more to verify if it was real or not.
 
Loïc found little pleasure in being surrounded by these cutthroats, but he had little choice at this point. If they were vampires he could simply cast Stendar's aura and it wouldn't matter where around them they were, but now... If they were planning on killing him and they jump him all at once he might take out three before getting a sword up his ass. The woman that was with them seemed less bloodthirsty than what appeared to be their leader, but that said very little.
"What's your name, lad?" The brute before him asked staring at the gem almost as though he was trying to replace his own eye with it.
"Loïc," the reply was short and stern and didn't include his last name since they didn't need to know where he was from. Besides, a breton from the Druadach mountains. He'd seen dumber people put two and two together and figure out he used to be Forsworn and that was attention he didn't need. "What's yours?"
 
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Carwyn listened to the man say his name, but his attention was with the gem and he failed to respond. A moment passed before Ketty decided to step in and speak in his place.

"I'm Ketty," she said, a little too eagerly. "His name is Carwyn."

"The Fierce, mind you," Carwyn grunted, as he put the gem away from his vision and pocketed it. "So you don't want to cross me or any of my friends here."

"A little unfriendly, don't you think?" Ketty raised a brow and then punched Carwyn in his arm. Carwyn scowled and held his arm, before walking at a faster pace. "But he's got a point."

"I've come across many a dragon, wanderer," Carwyn said, unwilling to attempt to remember the man's name. "I've killed just two but the others fled in fear at the sound of my roars. Can you say the same about your little vampires?"
 
"Just two dragons this time, Carwyn, I bet the last time you told this story there were five." Loïc wasn't afraid to admit that he didn't believe the brigand's story or that he didn't care for boasting. "I've seen braver and stronger men than you start their day going up against vampires and end their day licking the filth off of the nightspawn's boots right before they turn into their supper." He paused, but didn't wait for a reaction "A dragon might eat you whole or burn you alive, but if you face a vampire unprepared you'll silently wish for such a fate by the end of the day. Silently... because you can't do anything unless your new vampiric master wills it. I'd welcome death from a dragon anyday if it meant not being caged in your own body."
 
Aravhorn said:
Si'Basha placed the book on the stand next to him and stood up from his armchair. He looked through the window, and observed the busy streets of the city of Solitude. It was midday, and the sky was filled with big, gray clouds. "It's going to snow soon" he thought, slightly shaking his head. A Stormcloak patrol was passing below his window. "Those bastards..." he muttered, with his eyes filled with hate. Before the Great Civil War, that happened around a decade ago, Si'Basha was a successful Khajiit that managed to attain the title of Thaneship throughout the nine Holds of Skyrim for the first time in the written history. He was respected, he was rich, he had power... And then the stupid Stormcloaks had to ruin it all. When these racist nordic hogs took over Skyrim, he has lost most of his hard earned titles and was forced to live in his cottage in Solitude, where Ulfric's influence wasn't that high.

Si'Basha stopped looking through the window and grabbed his winter coat from the wardrobe. Then he opened the front door and headed outside, to the cold streets of the once-Empire-Controlled city of Solitude. He slowly walked towards the Winking Skeever inn, with his tail hidden and wearing a hood to conceal his Khajiit origins from the nordic extremists in the area. When he was at the door to the tavern, he entered inside and approached the counter, where Corpulus Vinius was cleaning an iron mug with a white rag. Upon seeing Si'basha he placed the mug and rag on the table and asked:

"Welcome back, thane Si'Basha. The usual glass, right?"

"Yes, Corpulus, the usual glass." Si'Basha had a really good accent for a Khajiit. "What is the word around this place?"

"Not much, really." the innkeeper said while pouring a bottle of firebrand ale into the mug. "There are tensions building up in the Ulfric's court about who will take charge of Skyrim after their leader's death. Hmph, they didn't have enough spilled Imperial blood to satisfy their needs and now they are cutting each other's throats to take control over their leader's territory. What a bunch of mindless idiots, claiming that they care about their "homelands" and "traditions"... Ha, traditions my ass!" he spit on the ground and handed the mug to the Khajiit. "In the other news, there are also travelers talking about an ever-increasing bandit activity in the southern holds, so you should be careful if you travel around that area. Also, there are rumours that the Empire is considering to retake Skyrim under their lead again; I hope that it's true."

"Retaking Skyrim, you say?" Si'Basha said in a curious voice while taking a drink from his mug. "Interesting... Anything else?"

"No, that's all. Oh, and also I forgot to mention that your cousin's trading caravan will arrive to the borders of Solitude next week. Maybe you can visit him when you have some time."

"Thanks for the advice." Si'Basha said while finishing the ale. And then he noticed a strange figure entering a bedroom. By her movements, Si'Basha could tell that she was a woman that didn't want to get caught. A bit paranoid, the wealthy Khajiit thought about the worst; someone ordered the Brotherhood to kill him. He placed the mug on the counter, alongside with a bag of septims and approached the room where he saw the possible assassin. Without making a noise, he peeked inside the keyhole, and saw the woman standing with the back facing at him. Taking advantage of the situation, Si'Basha picked the lock and entered in the bedroom, with the ebony sword in his hand. When he was behind her, he has put the blade on her throat, and held her tightly so she couldn't do anything to attack him.

"Shh, quiet now." he whispered in a calm but creepy tone (considering the situation), while stopped her from struggling. "And now, you little Brotherhood rat, tell me who sent you to kill me, or you can forget seeing the light of day ever again. Or should I say, the darkness of your Nightmother?" Now his voice was threatening.
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Rura looked at the man knowing her deed was already done. She replied calmly in a monotone voice. "I was not sent here for you." 'Next time I must be less suspicious.' She knew she was in no situation to move but she began to think of what see might do to get out of such a situation. She wondered if she told more he might let her go. "Someone wanted the man there dead that is all."
 
"And you think that I will just let you go, just like that?" Si'Basha asked the asassin, still holding her still. "Do you have any proof of your deed?"
 
Rura looked at him coldness in her eyes. "Proof look at the bed for your proof. If you must have more let me get it out." She moved her head to motion at the bed with the body of the old imperial.
 
Raven said:
Rura looked at him coldness in her eyes. "Proof look at the bed for your proof. If you must have more let me get it out." She moved her head to motion at the bed with the body of the old imperial.
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Si'Basha looked at the bed, and indeed, there was a body lying there, hidden below the blanket and placed in way that made him look like he was sleeping. Slowly, the Khajiit moved away the blade from the assassin's neck and took a step back. "In that case, I'll leave you alone with your "job". But once you finish, I have a deal for you... I'll be waiting at the table next to the fireplace at this inn. I'll be awaiting your return" Then, Si'Basha headed outside as quietly as he entered.
 
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Finally with that done Rura checked her work once more. She also made sure she was still presentable for farther business. Finally she stood out of sneak. 'No point in hiding after someone else came in here I should be fine.' She walked out slowly and quietly just as she entered hoping to blend in the best she could as an adventure the symbol on her outfit never seemed to help but it also didn't seem to give much alert except to those few who know. She walked over to the man where he said to meet and sat down. "So what sort of deal?" She asked him in a hushed tone.
 
"Straight to business, eh? I like it. Anyway, as you might know, the folks of my kind are not exactly well met in Skyrim, and are not even allowed to enter the cities or assume high ranks in the society. Well, I managed to achieve both of these things during my life, and with that, I've got myself some... "enemies", that want to see my bloody head rolling on the floor. And that's where your "cult" comes in: I would like to arrange an immunity contract with you, the price of which you can decide by yourselves. In other words, I would appreciate it a lot if you didn't kill me when someone asked for it. Even better, I would reward you even more if you kill the contractors instead of me. So, any chance to make this deal to work?" Si'Basha asked with his hands on the table.
 
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"Well lass. This is it. Welcome to Whiterun Hold, home to Jarl Vignar Grey-Mane. Enjoy yourself."

They'd been travelling for days and Ylva was glad they were parting ways now. He'd been particularly chatty and prying and yet seemed to get confused over the simplest of answers she'd given him. She gave him a small wave and strode off with purpose towards the city gates, ignoring his cheerful farewell. If all drivers were like him, carriages were definitely overrated.

"Hold it stranger! What business do you have in Whiterun?"

Evidently the town guards took their job very seriously, although it might've had to do with her weapons strapped on her.
"A cure." Tight-lipped, Ylva hoped it'd be enough. Surprisingly they nodded their heads in acknowledgement.

"Ah, so you're here for Arcadia's Cauldron, are you? Come right in kinsman and stay out of trouble."

With a mighty heave the two shoved open the city gates letting Ylva see for herself for the first time, Skyrim's most famous city. It was nothing like the Skaal village, Raven Rock or Tel Mithryn. It felt warm and welcoming, like what a home would feel like. The weather was warmer, making Ylva unbutton her coat and the sunset gave the city the finishing touch.

Seeing how it'd be night soon, Ylva decided to properly begin her quest the next day and she headed for the inn.
The Bannered Mare was chock full of rowdy guests and weary travellers, giving it the feel of Thirsk Mead Hall. It made Ylva feel more at home - Candlehearth Hall had been entirely too somber for her taste, although their Jarl's sickness might've contributed to that. Like the Nords of Thirsk, Ylva could see that some of the inn's more lively customers were seasoned warriors.

She bought herself a jug of milk and a bottle of Honningbrew Mead, something she'd never seen before, then began looking for a place to sit. There was no other place than a recently vacated spot in a table of what seemed to mourning men so Ylva reluctantly made her way over to them.

"Okay if I sit?" She gestured towards the empty chair, milk in one hand and alcohol in the other.
 
Carwyn smirked, as he listened to Loïc speak of the dangers of fighting vampires and how it compared to facing dragons. He then raised his eyebrows and cackled, before saying, "Last time, it was six." Ketty shook her head. Carwyn spoke as if it was all a game to him, and his laughter at his own joke was magnificent. The other men were also laughing along, but Carwyn's chuckle notably stood out from theirs. Ketty refused to laugh, only bearing a forced smile on her face. She took a deep sigh, closing her eyes for a few seconds before reopening them once Carwyn had ceased laughing.

"All joking aside," the chief finally said with a beaming grin stretching across his face. "We have actually fought a few dragons head on but we don't have the sort of resources required to kill one on our own. Though some years back, I was lucky enough to witness the Dragonborn suck the soul out of one near Whiterun. I even gave the dragon a slash or two that day. My first ever dragon, you know."

"Talking of the Dragonborn," Ketty added in, taking this opportunity to shut Carwyn up. "I met him a while back. He was a decent man, besides his eventual affiliation to the Stormcloaks, of course."
 
"Stormcloaks," Loïc spat on the ground as though merely referencing them gave him a bad taste in his mouth and he was trying to remove it. "They're nothing more than a bunch of armed thugs who spent their entire life bashing steel together too loud for thought to penetrate. Their arrogance in their ignorance is insulting, claiming to stand for independence all the while refusing it to anyone who isn't a Nord."
As they aproached Helgen the destruction caused almost a decade ago was still visible with crumbling towers sticking out over its outer walls and broken buildings seen just behind the wooden palisade, though its main walls remained standing and strong as well as manned. When they said they had more men, they werent kidding, if they could afford to guard a single wall guarding a single road with two men while six were already out then just how big was this group?
 
Rura looked at him and thought his question over. She remembered how just a few minutes ago there was a knife to her throat by his hand. "Well I could see of such an...arrangement. For you see I am not the leader of my 'cult' as you call us." She moved her hands to were they were together intertwined covering her mouth. "Although when you mention making a price I'm sure my leader will put much thought into such a thing." She continued to think and thought of a problem that she did not say out loud for she knew there maybe more to his thought. 'The Nightmother may not appreciate such a deal.'
 
"Of course, of course! You can have all the time in the world to think over my offer. When you are ready to give me a solid answer, you can meet me here, at this table near the fireplace." Si'Basha said while leaning on the chair. "So, do you need something else before I leave?"
 
"Thank you." She thought for a moment if she needed something but nothings seemed to come to mind. "No I don't believe so. And I'll get back to you on the answer as soon as I'm aloud."
 
Ketty and Carwyn shared a brief glance once they heard Loïc state his hatred of the Stormcloaks, a small smile curling on both of their lips. They were pleased to know that they shared a common enemy, but that didn't change the fact that this man could attack them at any given time. Upon approaching the gates of Helgen, two men opened the gates and Ketty walked off into the ruined town. There was activity occuring in all directions, with the familiar sound of clashing steel ringing in the air as one of the men moulded a sword into shape. Three men were walking across the open space towards Helgen Keep, with two of them carrying a long wooden stick from which a fattened pig hung upside down, fastened by its ankles with wire, still gloating. Ketty looked around to see if she could find Lachlan, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Did you get the ruby already?"

Ketty turned to face a stocky woman who was holding a bloodied dagger in one of her hands. Ketty shook her head and explained to her what had happened in their twenty minute venture. Carwyn himself had wandered towards a tall, handsome young man who was kicking an ugly oval ball back and forth with two much younger boys, and joined in for a short while. The other four men who had accompanied Ketty and Carwyn before had disappeared into the keep too, leaving Loïc alone by the gates.
 
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