Chunky_Moose

Has-Big-Axe watched the events at the bar out of the corner of his eyes (OOC: Argonians have perfectly clear peripheral vision because their eyes are on the sides of their head). He watched the Bosmer acrobat run out of the door and the the other Bosmer lay his head on the table and fall asleep. (OOC: Now, in the interests of good RP and character development...*drum roll*) Has-Big-Axe got up from his table and walked to the table where the Bosmer was snoring lightly. He sat down opposite the Bosmer and slammed his sujamma down onto the wood right next to the Bosmer's head. The Bosmer stirred but did not wake. Has-Big-Axe, smiled to himself at the Bosmer and then shook him by the shoulders until he woke. He woke with a start but his shout was muffled by the Argonian's hand. Has-Big-Axe released his hand and leaned in close to the Bosmer and spoke. "I recognise you, Bosmer. Do you remember me? I haven't seen you for..what?...at least twenty years. I'd almost forgotten about you, Bosmer. Have you forgotten who I am?" (OOC: Sorry i controlled ur character a bit there. It wasn't much and i won't do it again, i just wanted to wake you up) edit: read the rules about deciding other PCs reactions. -Peregrine

OOC: I don't want this thread to fade into nothingness so an NPC will have to suffice. IC: Has-Big-Axe applauded the performance and cheered. He had not seen an acrobat of such skill and grace for a long time. The acrobat called for a lute player and at first there was silence. Then there was some whispering and nudging from a part of the crowd that had gathered to watch. Then there was loud encouragement and a balding breton was pushed into onto a stool next to the acrobat and a lute given to him. He reluctantly took up the lute and played a chord checking it was in tune. He then turned and spoke to the acrobat.

Has-Big-Axe turns around on his stool and indicates to the Bosmer that she should begin. His daedric battleaxe, glowing a dull orange slung across his back facing Elsuch. As he turns, his daedric greaves accidentally touch against the shining blade of Eiade's weapon hung at her side without a sheath and the unpleasant ring of steel on daedra scales resonates through the tavern. There's visibly a moment when all the patrons grimace at the sound and then tavern life continues as usual. (OOC: No, i'm not the magical mind-reading Argonian, but my very first ever character was an acrobat so THERE!)

Time and Space are strange things indeed and Has-Big-Axe the Argonian finds himself suddenly floating in Space, completely ignorant of the history of the Universe he had just been dumped in by these strange and unfathomable forces. Somehow able to survive in Space, he watches as a perfectly formed snowball appears infront of his eyes, another experienced inter-dimensional traveller no doubt. Well, he will soon end that. He picks up the snowball and looks around him for a target to throw it at. He begins to realise that he seems to be in the middle of some huge space battle between fleets of cool futuristic battleships...and some banana-shaped ones... He hurls the snowball at the nearest battleship and he watches as its huge point defences destroy the snowball before it hits the battleship. 'Gosh' thinks he thinks, 'Aren't these people humourless? Nowhere near as great as that other Universe with the....' but before he can finish his ramblings, the unpredictable forces of Time and Space bring to him a snowball so large that he feels himself pulled to it by its gravity. It also brings to him a machine from the distant future, used to throw gigantic snowballs. He seats himself on the machine and picks up the snowball. Aiming again at the battleship nearest to him. This time, the battleship's point defences merely melt tiny pocks onto the surface of the collossal snowball. It hits the battleship and the battleship explodes in a shower of ice and snow-covered escape pods. "Whoops" says the argonian...his thought processes move a bit further on and "*censored*" says the argonian...another few seconds of pondering bring him to the conclusion of "OH S***!!!!" as several battleships' turrets turn towards him and open fire. But somehow Time and Space are always kind to him and he suddenly finds himself sitting in a metal corridor, probably on board one of the battleships. 'I hope i'm not on one of those stupid banana-shaped things..."

OOC: Good idea, ignore the silly sniper and their silly victims. IC: Has-Big-Axe stretched himself, an interesting action with an axe slung to his back and wearing his daedric plates, but one he was used to. He turned around to see an insanely smiling Bosmer, boasting of her singing and dancing skills. "Well then Bosmer, if you're such an entertainer, sing us a song and dance us a merry jig. I haven't seen a Bosmer dance since...well...um...you don't want to know about that. Please, go on."

Has-Big-Axe ignores the splatter of blood on his face and waits for the mysterious L96 to open fire once more.

OOC: lol, first ever wood-elf killed by a NATO round... :D IC: Has-Big-Axe turns and suspiciously eyes the wood elf walking into the tavern. For a breif moment, he experiences some sort of deja-vu as he can almost feel his axe ripping through that wood elf's flesh but the moment passes and Has-Big-Axe relaxes his grip on his axe and his clenched teeth. He takes a sip from his sujamma and turns to face the wood elf.

Argonians are not known for their beautiful singing voices, for that we need a Breton maiden...

*Releasing his grip on his axe and turning his bloodshot eyes to Ken, laughing uneasily* I have no intention of killing anyone in this tavern. I consider all of you my friends (under his breath: at this moment). It is also good to know that you would be willing to help me if there was really an assassin in our midst. *Forcing out some more laughter before continuing to speak rather loudly* I hope for their sake that there is not for i have counted that twenty-six of them have already fallen at my axe-blade. I have kept their heads as a small reminder to keep on myself on guard...

Benrii you say... Most often, our fears come and go and appear at unfortunate times but follow us. However, i have had a fear for too many years now that has come, and has followed me, but never goes. Yes, that name is familiar to me, we were once both part of the same mercenary army that defeated and looted the warlords of the East. We were both lieutenants of an infamously cruel and heartless general. At his orders, we pillaged and rampaged and burned and raped and hundreds if not thousands fell to our blades. But we went too far... We led men to raid a village but knew not that a mighty wizard had built his tower there. After the raid, we had killed no less than a hundred innocent men, women and children. Among those innocent dead was the daughter of this powerful warlock. As we counted the dead of the village and looted their houses, the warlock descended from his tower, bereaved by the loss of his daughter. With his mighty enchanted staff, he killed all of our men and he smote me with fire. As i lay on the ground, barely alive, he placed a wicked curse on Benrii and myself. A curse that daedra and monsters, cut-throats and assassins, men and beasts would follow us wherever we went. That we would never have peace, before death and after. He marked Benrii as the first to die and marked me as the second... Perhaps for too long i have lived, and too many men i have slain... Perhaps my time has come at last... Or perhaps not. *Takes a BIG drink from his sujamma and grips his axe tight* I'M READY FOR WHOEVER COMES!!

The assassin and his masters sound like dangerous foes indeed. These people are not weak-minded or sick-hearted like the fools that we endure every day but are cunning and deceitful, strong and skilled, intelligent and willful. Yet they slay a war hero, beloved by all who meet him - there are few people that behave in such a manner. However, one organisation stands out in my mind. An organisation that i once encountered and hoped never to again. I killed their leaders yet i knew that they were not destroyed. Often, i wake from my rest at the edge of an assassin's blade and my axe has tasted the blood of many of their hirelings. Tell me, what was the name of your noble companion? Perhaps i knew him better than i previously believed...

Check your temper fool! Do not make an enemy of me, Warrior-Of-Shadow! His kind have enslaved our people but unless he himself owns an argonian slave, i see no reason to shed his blood. I have depended on his kind many times before and were it not for their inherent honesty and loyalty, i would already be dead many times over. Do not presume to be prejudiced against the Cyrodil, not all of them are cruel slavers who would sooner let an argonian die than a sick guar. I know that you have suffered much at their hands but please, calm yourself. I was also once a slave to their people. *Turning to Thrin* I do not know that my natural parents even gave me a name, or at least i never knew it. I lived the first years of my life in an Imperial orphanage, addressed as 'No. 14226' or 'Argonian'. When i was sent off to become a slave, i stole the battleaxe of one of the ship's captain and killed every non-slave on the ship. The other argonians being sent off as slaves saw my deeds and named me Has-Big-Axe. Now, after all these years, i have been long rid of that captain's iron axe and now i carry a glowing daedric, however, i have retained this name for it reminds me of how i freed myself - and others - from slavery. Call it vanity if you will, but i consider it a small badge of honour. Anyway, enough about me, share with us the glorious deeds of your companion and yourself.

Be careful with your words friend, too many times have i seen friends: men, orcs, argonians and khajiits; fall to an assassin's arrow. I feel your pain Thrin, as i myself have felt it many times before - for a brave warrior to die gloriously in battle is one thing - but to be killed by a snivelling thief is another. An orcish friend of mine was once killed by an assassin's ebony arrow, i hunted for the assassin or eight months before i found him wasting away his days in a brothel. I cleaved apart, drank his blood and ate his heart. I hold none of the sentiments that you seem to Hogosha, i enjoy very much killing my enemies or those who have caused me grief. Come my friend Thrin, tell stories of your friend's glorious victories in battle. Regale us with tales of his bravery and fortitude, honour his memory, and curse that of his assassin.

Warrior-Of-Shadow my friend, I have never had any memory of the the marshes. Many argonians have related to me of them yet I have never seen it fit for me to journey there. My earliest memory is of killing an orc-child who mocked my argonian feet. Maybe i shall journey to the marshes with you, friend, two warriors returning home.

Has-Big-Axe (OOC: Read about him in the other thread where i introduce him!)-back IC:- half stumbles and half struts up to Warrior-Of-Shadow. "Friend, Argonian, drop this quarrel. This is no way to settle things..." he says, pulling out his axe, "this is the way to settle matters but..." putting his axe away, "this orc and this breton have not made any trespass against you." Now pulling off his cuirass and pointing to his scarred back, "Too many times I have felt the lash of an Imperial whip, but I have killed long ago those who sought to enslave me. They sent their guards and their soldiers to kill me or bring me back and i killed them also. Occasionally i have killed someone in a barfight - something our orcish must know well - and occasionally i have killed somebody who made fun of me but NEVER have i killed anybody that has done me no harm" Putting his cuirass back on and thinking over his own words, "Well, not that many times at least...but you get my point, although we are the stronger race here, it is better for us not to butcher these defenceless mammals" Turning to Shadzon, "You and your kind are wicked i tell you! I speak not of the Bosmer but you necromancers and mystics. I have killed too many men, and argonians, and occasionally women, and spirits, to speak of but i let their souls pass into the next life. But you would kill and then trap his soul in crystal, is that not evil? You know this already and yet you still continue with your wicked work. What foul idol created your foul magic? Could i meet the mortal man, I would kill him in an instant" His rant over, he settles down at a table and orders a sujamma.

Introducing Has-Large-Axe Name: Has-Large-Axe Pronunciation: ...Has-Large-Axe..tis not hard Age: He doesn't know, he stopped counting his years a long time ago. Gender: Male Race: Argonian - although it is rumoured that Orcish blood also flows through his veins because of his very Orcish behaviour. Preferred weapon: A daedric battleaxe, it glows fiery orange because of the heavy enchantment on it. However, he has been known to use almost anything as a weapon in a fight if it means that he would win the fight. Armour: No armour covers his head and feet. However he wears a dull steel cuirass and pauldrons. His daedric gauntlets however, glow brightly with enchantment. Personality: He is arrogant and belligerent. At almost no provocation he will kill. Many livid scars cover his reptilian skin, he treats as medals of the many fights that he has been in. Place of Birth: He is not sure about this since he has no memory of ever having parents at all. Only a rough Imperial orphanage full of hot-tempered orcs. Magic: From many years of experience, he has learnt to fight without armour protecting his head and feet. He also wields his enchanted battleaxe with skill. Other than that, he is confused and sometimes angered by magic which is a completely alien world to him. The argonian struts into the tavern looking for trouble, because of his strange argonian strut, one of the patrons covers his mouth and sniggers to himself. Has-Big-Axe strides up to him and clenches his armoured fists. The patron quickly finishes his matze and scurries off. Has-Big-Axe decides not to hunt the man down and dismember with his axe after some thought and sits down at the newly vacated table. 'I'll kill somebody later' he thinks to himself 'but not now, not here, i'm in enough trouble with the guards already'. He orders a sujamma from the bartender, his favourite drink as its strength-enhancing properties have saved his life many times in the past. He orders several bottles and places a few in the pouch of various potions slung to his belt. Glancing around the tavern, he spots a few people he might want to start a fight with but for now, he puts up his large, scarred argonian feet and slowly sips his sujamma, enjoying every drop.