Skyrim Prequel RP

"Adventurers, sellswords, and brave souls take note!

The Jarl Balgruuf the Greater of Whiterun, of the Imperial Province of Skyrim, is calling for a few good men and women to protect the innocent and keep the peace during this time of unrest.

If you seek adventure, honor, glory, and gold, look no further than Whiterun Hold!"

Fox read the flyer one last time, then crumpled it up and tossed it into the fire.
She smiled as it burned, marveling at the dance of the flames as they devoured the paper.

When the last bit of the flyer was reduced to ash, she sighed contentedly and looked around the tavern.
The Bannered Mare was particularly busy tonight, full of adventurers who had come to answer the same call as she had.
A few of them even looked competent.

She knew that the same scene was playing out in taverns and inns all over the province. Similar flyers had been sent out from every jarl of every hold in Skyrim, carried to every major city in the Empire.

She yawned and called to the Redguard barmaid.
"Hey, Saadia, can I get a refill? When you get a chance, dear. I know you're busy."

 

Niza was around the fire in The Bannered Mare, along with a group of adventurers in the like. She was silent as the jawed on about their exploits, compared scars, or mumbled drunk and incoherently. She'd occasionally laugh or smile nervelessly when she caught someone's glance. The prospect of being surrounded by many people who had the ability to kill her didn't concern her the most, it was the thought one of them might have seen a bounty with her name on it in southern Tamerial. And the thought that maybe one of them by try to cash in on it.

She waved the thought away. This was a hold. Holds are safe, they have guards that keep people dragging other people away to murdering bandits. So she hoped...

 

Mir was walking around Whiterun, mostly just seeing around. He usually just walked around Skyrim sleeping out in the wild or in small Inns or towns. He felt better like that.
He went into the Bannered Mare and looked around, completely sure that they were also there because of the flier. He just sat in a chair in a corner and looked at everyone there.

 

As Q'discraan sat in his darkened corner of the Bannered Mare his eye was naturally drawn to the group at the bar, draining their tankards with great regularity. He sighed, wishing he could join them, but given the hostility towards his kind in Whiterun he thought it unwise; he had already elected to sneak over the city wall, rather than face harassment from the gate guards, and was determined to maintain as low a profile as possible.

So he sat in his corner, kept his hood low, nursed his drink and made sure to avoid the eye of any particularly patriotic-looking Nords. No good upsetting the situation while there was gold in the balance.

 

Fox received her drink quickly, and the barmaid walked away with an extra two septims for her trouble.
The mead was Honningbrew, overpriced and barely palatable, but it did the trick.

Mikael was just about to launch into yet another rendition of Ragnar the Red... his seventh in less than two hours... when Fox, emboldened by her recent tankard of liquid courage, picked up her lute and pushed him aside.

"That's enough of that one, I think. What kind of bard only knows two songs?"
Several patrons laughed, and Mikael slunk away to the corner to sulk.

Fox strummed her lute and began to sing.

"An outlander came to old Vvardenfell,
Blessed and cursed by destiny,
And the old men of the wastelands are happy to tell,
How he ended the Blight and made the land free.

Hail to the Nerevarine!
Outlander Incarnate, and hero to all!
A great battle raged in caverns unseen,
A legend did rise and the false gods did fall!

Old Dagoth the villainous devil of Blight,
The power of the Heart he had taken,
But he was no match for the Hortator's might,
The Devil lies dead, and false faiths are shaken!

Hail to the Nerevarine!
Outlander Incarnate, and hero to all!
A great battle raged in caverns unseen,
A legend did rise and the false gods did fall!"

Fox finished her song to polite applause and returned to her seat by the fire.
Several Dunmer looked at her curiously, no doubt wondering why the Nord woman was singing a song of their homeland.

 

Hanard sat in the corner of the The Bannered Mare, away from the fireplace and inside the darkest corner that he could find. He had a book to himself, sitting peacefully with a mask on his head covered by a robe as white as snow. The rest of the hold was dark and mysterious at this time of night, so he found refuge in keeping to himself. He was surprised that the tables were so crowded for what should have been a slow night....

 

The door opened, allowing the frigid night air into the tavern.
Several patrons huddled closer to fire as a balding Imperial man of about fifty entered the room.

He took a look around at the crowd, frowned slightly, and cleared his throat.
"Ahem. Good evening, everyone. My name is Proventus Avenicci. I am the steward of Jarl Balgruuf the Greater.
As you are no doubt aware, the recent... political situation... is making it difficult to keep this great city as safe as it should be.
I am pleased to see that so many strong warriors are willing to answer the call of..."

A drunken Orc looked up from his bowl of venison stew long enough to shout, "For Malacath's sake, get on with it!"

Avenicci looked at the Orc indignantly, and continued.
"Hmph. Very well, I shall make this quick. Those of you who are here for work are to report to Dragonsreach at dawn tomorrow.
Hrongar and Irileth will give you your assignments.
While there is more than enough work for everyone, some of the more difficult jobs may require you to work with others.
I suggest that everyone get a good night's sleep. You will need it.
Are there any questions?"

 

Hanard watched the Imperials speak about work, and smirked underneath his mask. With the prospect of a new job coming underway, any normal man would have gotten some sleep to prepare himself for the day ahead.

Hanard didn't need it...

 

Mir looked at all the people that were in there, what they had to be more specific. Some of them looked like the usual mercenaries, but other ones looked quite... interesting.
He heard everything that Avenicci said, he didn't mind working with soneone else, yet he sometimes prefeared to be alone. At leaste if he was to get a group, he hoped to be in am interesting one.

 

Avenicci answered several questions about the jobs, and one very crass inquiry about the availability of his daughter, before leaving the tavern.
Not long after he left, the crowd began to disperse as the sellswords began making their way to the tent city that had sprung up just outside the city walls.

Fox looked around at those who remained, and wondered if she would be working with any of them in the days to come.
She'd done a few jobs with the Redoran Guard back home, but she was used to working alone, and usually preferred it.

She yawned again, tired, but not ready to go to bed.
"Can I get an ale over here? I find that I'm not yet sufficiently drunk to make the kinds of decisions that I'll regret in the morning."

 

Niza listened to the steward's speech before exited, along with the most of the others. She stayed back near the fire, rather willing to push through the night awake than in a camp with mercenaries and such. She silently looked around and took stock of everyone who remained before looking back to fire, realsing most people doing the same. The long night continued...

 

The steward's speech had been a heartening on for Q'discraan; he was not so prideful as to deny the advantages of working in a group, and the Nords were obviously so desperate for help that they were willing to employ the beastfolk, whom they usually shunned. Realising that the inhabitants of the freshly erected mercenary camp outside the gates might not be so open minded however, he elected to stay in the tavern, and now that it had emptied somewhat, he thought he spied a likely drinking buddy in the form of the curious Red-headed Nord who had been singing of Morrowind earlier in the night.
"Prehaps this one can help with that," he offered as he approached her, in response to her last request to the barmaid, and set down a full flagon of ale. "We have the honor of being Q'discraan, what is it they call you?"

 

Fox took the drink gratefully, and grinned at the Khajiit.
"M' name's Fox. Fox Fire-Mane."

She downed half the tankard, and laughed.
"And you, muthsera, are my new best friend."

 

Q'discraan smiled as he sat down and signalled the barmaid for more drink; clearly his character judgement of this Nord, Fox, had been an accurate one.
"An apt name indeed," he said "And Khajiit is glad to be considered a friend; so many in this land have nothing but unkind words, and fighting can become tiresome."

He grinned all the more broadly as Saadia brought over another round, and picked up his tankard.
"To friendship then," he declared, as he raised his beverage, and then commenced in downing the amber liquid, keeping his eyes fixed on Fox, and hoping the implied challenge would be met.

 

"To friendship!"
Fox knew a challenge when she saw one, and she had no intention of losing.
She might have grow up in Morrowind, but she was still a Nord, after all.

"So, what brings you to Skyrim... I mean, other than the money and booze?"

 

Q'discraan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled crookedly, "What else is there in life?"

As he signalled for Saadia, he considered telling Fox of his true quest in this cold and strange land, but he hadn't gotten where he had in his line of work by trusting everyone he drank with.

"Can I get you something?" It was Saadia; as Q'discraan looked up at her, he felt as something were off about her, as if she was hiding some dark secret, but he knew he had much more important matters at hand, so he put it out of his mind.
"Yes good lady," he purred, "this one and his companion require a steady supply of drink, to be provided by you, until one of us can no longer lift our tankard. That one will be paying; providing my new friend here is willing?" he looked over to Fox, with a sly look on his feline features.

 

"I'll pay." Niza said, standing up and heading over the counter. She really didn't have the intention to pay but she felt that if these two drank themselves into a stupor, it could put them out of commission tomorrow, leaving more better job opportunities for her. She leaned on the counter, putting on a smile. "May the tankards of mead and ale make us more merry."

 

Mir just looked at them, seeing how they were starting that little game of theirs. He didn't want to participate, yet it would be interesting to aee the outcome of it. He just remained there, looking at them.