Smashy

Melekar stares at Kahenraz out of the corner of his eye in a suspicious maner, "So, Kahenraz, where dose one aquire such a name? it sounds almost Dwemer, ah never mind that, so what brings you to the barfly?", Melekar then turns to his ale and peers at the copper peice in his ale, hesitant to drink.

Melekar's tune slows to a halt at the sight of this strange man reciteing such a bizare dream, he stares for a moment, then turns back to his lute, quickly checks the tuning and mutters, "bloody lunatic", and returns to playing his sorowful backround music.

Melekar suddenly snaps to attention, he looks around puzzled for a moment, then says, "my apologies, I just drifted-off there for a moment", Melekar turns and to the new face in the bar, he stares for a moment, suspicious of his presence, and suddenly very confused, then he shrugs, gets up and proceeds over to the bar to order a drink and to preform a sorrowful tune on his lute, a some what suitible backround "music" for the patrons.

"Bravo my freind, bravo... that large nord i saw on my way here must have been this Fode, looked like a very capeable fellow." Melekar sits up, and sets his lute down, "and Seran, you coldnt be more right, we are no better than the monsters and abominations that haunt our darkest nightmares and the darkest of nights, and one thing is for certain, we bolth take life to survive." Melekar leans back in his chair again, dowing the last of his flin.

Melekar, sits up and most heartily says, "well my freind, that is quite an amazeing story, but you must finish!", Melekar then signals to the bar-tender to bring a round of drinks over, Melekar then begins to pluck at his lute to add to the mood of the story.

Melekar drifts to attention at the mention of lycanthrope, "now i had heard of some trouble with a lycanthrope up here from a very large nord fellow, he seemed in a hurry to get out of the area, now im always up for a good tale, i would be more than happy to hear what had transpired here before my arival", Melekar leans back in his chair, takeing a swig of his flin.

Melekar quickly rises from his chair, and swiftly walks over to Seran, and offers his had as a show of good will, and as to help him to his feet, "there ya go, now why dont you take a seat here", Melekar pulls a chair over to the table with Armiena, "now have a sit and go easy on the booze".

Melekar strides back in to the bar, inspecting his reacently repaired rapeir, he stops abruptly and sheaths the blade, then notices Armiena sitting at the bar with her cure poison potion, he decides to go take a seat next to her. After takeing his seat at the bar next to Armiena, he orders himself a flin, then turns to Armiena, "ello there, had a lil too much to drink eh?".

A crash of glass is heard upatairs followed, followed by Melekar landing square on his back directly infront of the enterence of the tavern, then proceeded by a hollow thud as his boot lands directly on his head a few moments after his fall, he gets up curseing, "bloody hell, man cant get his bloody boot on with out fallin through a window around here, whole reason why i left that blasted ebonheart....", Melekar gets up and pulls on his boot, and proceeds tward the smithe so as to get his wepons repaired, and check out the wepons in stock.

Melekar looks at his reflection in the now gleaming surface of his sliver dagger, satisfied, he sheaths the blade, and turns to gaze out at the setting sun and corpses of imperial soldiers strewn about from the reacent battle. Melekar just shakes his head and walks over to the bar, and gets a room, proceeds upstairs and dozes off.

Melekar places his lute on the table after his maticulous tuneing. He then picks up his brandy and shifts in to a more comfortable position in his chair, and just stares in to the fire, muttering to himself in between sips of his brandy. After a good ten minutes of stareing in to the fire and savoring his brandy, Melekar pulls a dagger from a sheath at his chest and begins to polish its tarnished silver surface, whilst humming in a sorrowful tone.

Loq-Gar, senseing such civilizeation is not his place takes this opportunity to make his way back home to Blackmarsh, swifly he makes for a thick forest to the south west, and then on his way. Fode also has grown tired of life in the more urban places of Tamriel, and casualy walks out of town, seeking adventure, and riches. Finaly during the din of battle, and amongst the screams of dieing imperials, a young, male half elf bard makes his way around the battle trying his best to avoid falling arrows, as well as falling imperials on his way to the bar. After an ordeal with a templar knight thinking he was enemy assasin, and nearly loseing his lute he finaly makes it to the tavern, out of breath and shaken from the intense carnage so close to such a comfortable tavern. The young half elf finaly reaches the bar, and orders his drink,"Ello there bar-keep, how dose the day greet you?, well Ill have your finest brandy, oh and before I forget my names Melekar", he than takes his brandy and takes a seat at a table near the fire place, and begins to tune his lute.

Loq-Gar stares at Margoth, with and insaciable hunger in his eyes, "I thought you would be a more challengeing prey than your kin, Loq-Gar is insulted by this, you dont put up much more fight than his corpse, STUPID MANLING!! SUFFER!!!", Loq-Gar screams in Margoth's face, strings of viscus saliva flying about with every word spoken in his rage, Loq-Gar then picks up Margoth with one hand neerly able to encompass his arms and torso, "you know paind now...", Loq-Gar then stands up to his ful height, which seems to be around 9 and a half to a full 10 feet, he rasises his arm with Margoth in it high above his head, and hurls him at the ground. Margoth collides with the hard cobble stone road way with a very satifying crack of bone, and the sound of his steel armor colapseing in around him, "these manlings never learn", growles Loq-Gar as he plants his foot on the cripled body of Margoth, and ever so slowly continues to exhert more and more presseure on the foolish imperial's broken body.

Loq-Gar raises his gore-coverd head from the half eaten corpse of Morgoth, with a gleam of burning haterd in his eye he rises to his feet, clenching and unclenching his massive hands into fists, his rage becomes so horrible and great that the large iorn bracers on his wrists fracture and fall to the ground in two, a low rumbleing growel begins to eminate from deep with in Loq-Gar, strings of blood-filled saliva drip from his tooth filled jaw, finaly he yanks a massive club from a leather cord around his waist, he then begins to walk outside tward the over-confident imperial boasting his "athoraty" to everyone out side, Loq-Gar drowns out the foolish mans words with an utterly deafaning roar, folowed by a few obscure words,"foolish manling..... you dare speak of Fode like that.... he could kill you where you stand... but hes in enough trouble... you manlings good prey....", he then charges forth through the door way and leaps through the air at Margoth, knocking him from his mount, and pinning him to the ground, with his club across Margoth's torso and arms....... Margoth is now at Loq-Gars mearcy... OOC:ya know sludge, this has gone on far to long.... i dont think Peregrine will be to pleased to see more god-moding.... in the meanwhile, try to learn the finer points of RPing, try to put some feeling and action of meaning in your posts... and guess what, as you so aptly said before..." ", well guess what despite how childish that sounds....it describes your posts down to the finest detail, NO MORE GOD-MODING, i know this is meerly a forum, but you should at leats folow the posted rules, you are makeing your self look like an insolent fool.

Loq-Gar's eyes light up at the sight of a fresh kill, quickly he rushes tward the decapitated imperial's body, knocking over reacently righted tables and chairs in his wake, he then snatches up the body and returns to the spot he occupied before and continues his feasting, the bar tender and several other patrons eye Loq-Gar suspiciously, but he replies with, "you will have no worries from us, we know not to hurt you manlings while you still live, you let us eat now or Loq-Gar eat you!", he then quickly returned to his feasting, after his mediocure attempt at calming the locals.