Q'discraan turned to inspect the newcomer, then shrugged. "Q'discraan is not one to turn down free drink, but he wonders, do you mean to join our little game? If so it would seem only fair you catch up. The count is two flagons, if this one counts correctly." Q'discraan had learnt to be wary of seemingly over generous strangers, and held a special contempt in his heart for those who used drink as a weapon. "This one has also found it better to learn his drinking companion's names," he smirked, "it makes them easer to find on the morrow."
Niza nodded, seeming more than happy to join. Internally, she was screaming. Essentially caught in her trap, she knew that it would probably a be bad idea to decline a free drink. But also she remembered the last time she drank heavily and that resulted in a nice bounty... "Sure. Name's Niza." she said in a cheery tone. "Just be careful around me after some drinks. I tend to get a little... excessively violent."
Hanard looked about the room before continuing his book, before curiosity got the better of him as he stood up to leave the table
Five drinks in and Q'discraan was getting that warm fuzzy feeling; his new acquaintances seemed to be holding their own, and the tab was racking up nicely. As far as he was concerned, this had all the makings of a good night.
Niza had quickly knocked her drinks back and caught up to the khajiit's amount. Even at the speed that she drank, she didn't seem to show much on the outside. On the inside, she felt like she was on fire. Out of all the drinks she's had in her travels, nord drinks were her least favorite. "So, I'm guessing we're all here for the big rush of jobs that's opened up. Any predictions on what those may be?" She said through somewhat clinched teeth.
"Why, saving the local populace from their abundant ale supplies of course!" Jested Q'discraan. He honestly had no idea what the intricacies of their work may be, but assumed it would involve protecting the helpless citizens from undesirables; bandits and the like. "And what kind of work are you hoping for, hmm?" he inquired, glancing at the Redguard's hard used yet clearly well cared for blade.
"Perhaps a more aggressive stance to protecting the the populace?" she said after a moment of though. "I mean, the hold guards seem to do a good job as is, so leave a few groups behind, and send out the rest on the occasional bandit hunt." She said before downing a part of her tankard. "Just hope not to get some pathetic, menial work like courier or errand runner. Or boring caravan protection."
"Those are never fun..." Hanard overheard Niza. "Been through enough of those in my younger days, but at least it pays well sometimes."
Q'discraan frowned, "This one sees no shame in protecting caravans." His tone was somewhat defensive; some of his closest friends in Skyrim were the Khajiit that ran the caravans. And then there were his parents... But no. It never did any good to think of that, least of all now.
(So sorry for the delay, I was unable to post over the weekend, I had to attend a funeral in New York.) Jovur was was trotting along the country road from Riverwood to Whiterun on his steed. Every now and then a group of Nords would walk by and scoff at him. Presumably the, "Skyrim belongs to the Nords!" type. He made nothing of it though. He approached the gates of Whiterun, and hopped of his horse to barter with the Khajit caravans. Ever since the Dominion had "restored" Nirn's two moons which were sacred to the Khajit, he could often get a good deal with them. "Good evening. May I have a look at your wares?" "Of course! Khajit is happy to trade with you." The feline laid out his assorted goods, which included varying daggers, some enchanted armor and jewelry, and some Skooma. Jovur wasn't a big drinker, but he bought the Skooma off the Khajit for a reduced price. "I could probably sell this to someone in that dump of a hold... What was it? Riften!" Jovur thought to himself. As Jovur entered the city, he was eyed with vengeance by a man who was preaching the word of Talos. Jovur couldn't take him away, of course. That would draw too much attention to himself. He'd just have to keep an eye on him.
"I bet they're gonna have us huntin' bandits. With all the best fighters off to war, these namby pamby city guards can barely handle their blades. One of them told me that he gave up adventuring because he got shot in the knee. The knee! I'm not kiddin'! He said it like it was some kinda big deal!" Fox laughed. She was by that time quite intoxicated, and in high spirits. "I wouldn' mind the caravans, though. Khajiit are adorable! Like big fuzzy cats, but with weapons. And armor."
Q'discraan smiled at Fox's last remark. "If you think our kind adorable, you've clearly not spent enough time in our company," he purred, flexing flexing his claws pointedly. He was not as prideful as some, but even he had limits; big fuzzy cats indeed! "Hunting bandits would be fine by this one though, I can smell them a mile off!" he laughed as he drained his flagon, he had lost track of the number at this point, and was just pleased that he hadn't slipped back into his native tongue, Ta'agra. At least, he didn't think he had...
"I tend to have a sort of... natural attraction for bandits. Don't know how, but they make it a habit to come out of the wood work for me sometimes." She said before downing her seventh tankard. As she put it down, she noticed her start to twitch and ball up involuntarily. "I think I'm going to have call it a night..." she said flatly.
Q'discraan grinned crookedly at the Redguard, "Thash to bad," he slurred "Thish one will be shure to find you in the morning!" "Would you like me to find you a bucket?" he called after her as an afterthought, as she staggered off. Unfortunately, the effort of turning so suddenly from the bar cased him to tumble from his stool. He landed on all fours.
"And thus, the myth of the graceful Khajiit is shattered." Fox grinned and bent down to help Q'discraan to his feet. Unfortunately, the tremendous amount of alcohol that she had imbibed had had a detrimental effect on her own balance, and she ended up flat on her face beside the Khajiit. "As is my kidney. Ow."
Niza paid no attention to the Khajiit as she scrambled out into the night. She could feel a familiar urge growing inside, an urge to to run someone through. An urge to kill. No, she thought herself. Not now. She hobbled away from the tavern, looking for a place to sleep in town. She decided to sleep between a bush and one of the houses, curling tight and shaking, trying to control herself.
"Khajiit is no exshpert, but he believesh you only need the one." murmured Q'discraan, as he rolled onto his back. In truth, his balance and never been quite right since someone had taken it upon themselves to shorten his tail; sometimes when he drank too much, he forgot it was missing. He hauled himself back up to the bar, and tested his flagon; he sighed as he raised it from the bartop. "It would sheem our work is not *hic* yet done," he lamented. He turned, this time making sure to keep a firm grip on the bar, to pull his prone companion from the striped rug...
Jovur walked into the Bannered Mare, and sat on the bar seat, placing down five septims on the table. "Just a water please." He told Saadia. He got looks from the more alcoholic Nords, who were without a doubt thinking something along the lines of, "Look at this fancy Elf. Can't handle his mead like a true man!"
Hanard walked about the tavern before ultimately heading outside, standing out at the front and thinking what choice he should make when it came to jobs.
(Crap, it's dying already. I guess it's time to finish the intros and get to the action.) "I am tired, and I am drunk, and I am also tired." Fox yawned, tossed a bag of coins on the counter, and headed for the door. "I will be leaving now. If Azura wills it, I will see you all at Dragonsreach tomorrow." Fox left the tavern and stumbled out of the city gate, heading in the general direction of the mercenary camp.
