Macman253

Felix listened to Grimskar's words, his acute hearing picking up the steady beating of his heart. This man meant them no harm or lie, he was genuine in his words, he smiled and nodded. 'He tells the truth Okuras, he means us no harm and he is honest about his oaths.' He said to Okuras as he tapped his staff once again on the cobblestone street, his minds eye lit up once again and gave him a decent view of what their new companion looked like. He smelled of ice and war and his accent was most certainly different then other nords, one he had heard on the isle of Solstheim many years ago. 'And if I know much about the Skaal... they are fine warriors and honest folk.' He said to hopefully alleviate Okuras anger towards the Companions, she seemed to have been wronged by them at some point and he didn't think it would be wise to leave this man behind if they were to fight the Thalmor.

Felix nodded, he knew of the Concordat being dissolved but he was talking of rallying the people to fight them, Skyrim's Jarls were too devastated by the civil war to fight the Thalmor now, that is why they marched across Skyrim sacking and looting with abandon because noone could stand up to them. 'You are right... the time for full scale battles is over Okuras but an invasion of Summerset Isles would require a liberated and unified Skyrim.' He said as he leaned on his staff. While he agreed with Sienna on the idea of invading Summerset Isles but he highly doubted they would be lucky enough to have someone assassinate the leader of the Aldmeri Dominion. 'Infiltrating a fortress isn't hard, it's getting out alive that is the tricky part.' He said with a slight smile as he spoke from many years of experience. 'All I know of the Thalmor here in Skyrim is based on rumors, I did hear of a Thalmor fort near Solitude... but that is all I know.' He said honestly, he never had much of a reason to track the movements of the Thalmor until recently.

Tripp smiled, he had to give it to Aria. She was a tough woman but she had to manage a whole cartel of murderers and rogues which in his comparison would be like herding cats so he could see why. He tapped the communication channel on his Omni-Tool to examine the data-feed that Jeeves had given him, spliced bits of information from the info-stash he had placed there some years before, enough information to make the Shadow-Broker horny. He stepped off the shuttle and into the shuttle bay where Kex and Dax waited for him still dressed in their tactical gear. They escorted him wordlessly to Operations. Operations was busy with movement from the crew and chatter as they monitored the situation, voices across numerous channels that were intercepted between Eagles and Arias forces and the mercenary companies employed on both sides. To the left was a large console that held the communications and tactical stations while on the wall behind them was engineering and weapons, on the right was navigation and logistics. All of these stations were manned by expert men and women from numerous races all with extensive military backgrounds, despite its ruined exterior the interior of the ship held more advanced equipment then most Alliance and Turian vessels. In the center of the operations room facing the large multiscreened view port and the helmsmans station was the captains chair, Reyes stood from the captains chair and saluted as Tripp walked onto the deck. 'Welcome back Captain... coordinates locked in and ready to jump.' She said as he took his seat. It was widely known aboard the ship the Captains chair was the most comfortable and it was tied into every system aboard the vessel so he could monitor and control, even the helm. He tapped the Navigation screen and it gave him a holographic view of the battle, with friendly ships marked in blue and enemy ships in red, the station itself dominated the small holographic map. 'Alright... take us out.' The helmsman, a particularly young human acknowledged and guided the Lady out of the battle and made the jump to FTL. Tripp could not help but feel as if he was abandoning Aria in her time of need but he knew better then that, she could handle this and she had spent the better part of the last few years on taking back Omega, she wouldn't jump into this without knowing she would win.

Felix listened to his companion speak, the voice of anger and retribution coming from their lips as if Talos himself was speaking through them. He knew where this would be going but he had never been a warrior like his fellows. Felix knew little of war but he knew quite a lot about sneaking and was quite good at it. 'I don't mean to speak out of place but are we talking of declaring a war on the Thalmor? Because if we are... count me in.' He said after Sienna had spoken. He looked to where the Bannered Mare once was and smiled, Ysolda had either cleared out of the city or was at the keep but he pushed aside his personal business. The Thalmor pressed a much larger concern, he had been a self-serving rogue for his entire life but now he felt like he had to do something.

Felix nodded, the woman was apparantly uncomfortable with his procedure so he decided it would be best not to. 'I assure you it is not malevolent in its intent, but if you prefer I do not then I wont...' He said with a slight smile. The Nord Battle-Mage was very distant. His destination was Whiterun so he agreed to follow. It was not long before the acrid stench of death drifted into his nose, the city smelled of rot and decay and he felt his heart sink. Such is the devastation wrought on the land. Felix tapped his metal staff on the cobblestone street, the vibration echoed through the immediate buildings to give him a clear view. The siege had destroyed much of the shops and houses and the now burning pile of corpses filled the air with the scent of cooking pork and human hair. He felt a sickness come across him and decided it would be best if he went up to Dragonsreach.

I have been wondering...

Felix smiled and bowed his head, he swept back his hood to reveal his blindfolded eyes. 'I am Felix, a pleasure.' He said with a bright smile, he raised his hand up near her face. 'May I? I shall like to know your face...' He asked. Being blind made it hard to get to know someone and despite his unique skills the details of the world are still blank to him. He never conquered the blindness that Nocturnal gave to him but he can atleast make the best of it.

Felix bowed his head, he understood her reservation. His own history is very similar to hers so he withdrew his response. Nevertheless she interested him quite a lot. The Knights Of The Nine were practically extinct, most thought they were. His mind went back to his youth in the bedtime stories of Pelinal Whitestrake and his Knights Of The Nine. He respected the holy order and out of that respect he kept his silence while they said a prayer over the grave of the woman who died. He remained far enough away to not intrude but bowed his head and spoke a few silent words of prayer. When the prayers were over he thought it best to stay, something told him he would be needed and until then he would make it his goal to earn his place. With Whiterun sacked and Thalmor forces scouring the countryside they would need every bit of help they could get.

Felix chuckled, the thick crunching sound of a ripe apple revealed his presence to them, he sat on a rock above the path that the battle had begun in. In one hand he had a thick metal rod with intricate carvings all along it and a bright glowing crystal in the center and the other held a red apple. His hood was drawn over his face and his mouth. He stood to his feet and put his weight on the metal rod like a cane. The Nord man was downwind of him, he reeked of destruction magic and grief 'Odd...' He thought, 'I believe most Nords distrusted magic.' He smelled the slight fishy smell of an Argonian and the grinding sound of metal on metal told him the woman that claimed to be a Knight Of The Nine was indeed wearing armor and she also smelled of oil and hate. 'Knight Of The Nine... I do so love a woman in full plate armor.' He joked as he stood at the very tip of the rock above them. It was well over ten feet above their heads. He placed the baton in the sheath tied to his leg and effortlessly flipped off the rock and landed on his feet with a soft thud not far from the Knight. During his descent his hood had swept back and before he turned he drew it back over his face. He drew the rod again and tapped the stone path with it, the vibrations revealed the bodies around her. He clapped his hands in a very courtly fashion. 'Congratulations to the Knight for her excellent performance... wish I could have seen it in person. Out of curiosity why is such a crusader in these forbidden lands?' He asked honestly, it was not her sour demeanor that intrigued him but it was her cold hard stare and precision, she dispatched five Thalmor agents nearly effortlessly. One was even surrendering, a very un-knightly thing in his opinion but if it were anything other then Thalmor he would have thought her a lesser woman. Felix tapped the road again and the darkness brought on his eyes vanished as for a few moments he saw the world in a clear state, the vibrations felt in the bottoms of his feet translating the world around him into pictures in his mind that allowed him to see, but for only a few seconds.

I made some changes to my character, I hope you don't mind but I just couldn't come up with a comfortable background I liked. I made this character for a RP that never happend and just changed it, figured the last part would be the nice little bit of twist to make the character different, that and I am a huge Daredevil fan. So take a gander lol

Name: Felix Race: Imperial Gender: Male Age: 22 Appearance: Muscular but thin with jet black hair. Wears a short grey cape and hood, under his hood he wears a blindfold to hide his glossy white eyes. Emblazoned on the chest of his armor is the symbol of his family's house that he wears in honor of his mother. Skills: Sneaking, Acrobatics, Combat Staff. Equipment: Carries a small metal rod that can shift from a baton to a bo staff at the press of a button. Throwing stars and bolas. He also wears a set of cured leather hide that gives him some good measure of protection. Homeland: Cyrodiil Personality: Young and brash, he has a reputation for being cocky but it is well earned. He despises Thalmor above all others and seeks to end them. Background: Felix was born into the merchant class of the Imperial City. His father being a prominent seller of wine, dyes and numerous other items. Felix was the second son, his brother Marcus inherited his fathers skill for trade and Felix inherited his mothers talent for trouble. He would often sneak out of his room late at night to wander the city and slip back in just before sunrise to avoid suspicion. This went on for some years and as it continued he got braver, he met up with a girl whom he had been seeing and fallen in love with, on her request he joined the Thieves Guild as a Footpad. When he father eventually found out he was disowned and kicked from the family. Felix left his last name behind and continued on. He worked within the ranks of the Thieves Guild for many years but after he and their leader fell out he left their ranks to go freelance. With the war in full swing his talents for infiltration and information gathering have become invaluable to those that are willing to pay, but Felix serves another master. One hidden in darkness. He sought out the temple of Nocturnal to pray for greater skill in the thieving arts. Nocturnal heard his prayers and took his eyesight as recompense for her favor. Now unable to see he was however gifted with an acute sense of touch and hearing that gave him a echo location sense of sight. Felix took this blessing as a mixed sign originally but in time he learned to accept it and often found he saw better without seeing.

This one kinda flew into my head... Name: Knight Vitaly Vanko Gender: Male Age: 28 Race: Human Karmic Alignment: Good Appearance: Missing left eye and arm, replaced by cybernetics. Clothing/armor: T-45 Power Armor (Optional) Pet: Starting Weapon: Laser Rifle with custom Tri-Beam Setting Optional. Skills/Occupation: Former Brotherhood Knight. Energy Weapons Unarmed Sneak Personality: Fairly kind, smiles alot and friendly. Hates the Brotherhood in the West and The Outcasts. Actively hunts Super Mutants. History/Background: Vitaly was born in the Commonwealth, an area around Boston. When Elder Lyons was making his march East they found a young Vitaly hiding in a closet in the burned out home that was once his parents, a dead supermutant in the living room. Lyons took him in and trained him as a Squire. When they finally settled in D.C. he had grown into a strong soldier and became one of the youngest and most promising Knights, well on his way to joining Lyons Pride. Paladin Karl lead the squad he was attached to as Specialist units, they conducted night-time raids on Supermutants and freed many wastelanders from slaver patrols, when the Chapter split the leader of the Outcasts killed Paladin Karl when he attempted to stop them from attacking a caravan of wastelanders for their food and supplies, after the battle Vitaly was put in command and to honor their fallen leader the squad painted their armor a jet black. After some years of the infighting Lyons Pride accepted him and his squad on a non-official basis, they were instructed to turn their attentions to raiding Outcast patrols in hopes of putting them down as the infighting got to be too much and they had to put an end to it. During one such raid he lost his squad, Vanko was upset with Elder Lyons and joined the 'Nomads' Nomads are brotherhood knights that decide to wander the wasteland instead of supporting the Brotherhood. While still a member of the Chapter he no longer participates in their objectives, he instead supports himself in a one-man war against the Outcasts and the Supermutants.

yeah, ill start working character ideas through my head.

I have actually been thinking of returning, problem is I have no idea where the RP is atm so I might just create a new character.

Whichever you choose, yeah I had these characters in mind for sometime. I once played a pair of dwarf brothers I had originally based off Merle and Daryl Dixon from The Walking Dead. I took that concept and remelded the characters into a pair of dwarves. Spent alot of time reading up on the various dwarves from DnD lore and learned quite alot about their culture so to anyone else that wants to join you don't have to be so thorough. Start it when you wish and I will join in.

Name: Korvan Stouthand GENERAL INFORMATION: Gender: Male Race: Shield Dwarf Age: 75 Class: Ranger Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Deity: None APPEARANCE: Height: 4' 6" Weight: 220 pounds Hair: Red (styled into a mohawk as a clan symbol) Eyes: Dark Skin: Fairly light Handedness: Scars/Tattoos: Scar over right eye, clan tattoo on cheek under left eye. General physical description: http://24.media.tumblr.com/bd1448822ed5348893c3b3e469e71fcb/tumblr_mipjcsluFk1qimwd3o1_500.png Voice: Gruff, a northern dwarf accent Clothing/armor:Metal Chestplate over studded leather jerkin. Weapons/Equipment: Illana, his Urgosh and a spike shield with a backup sword and dagger. PERSONALITY General Personality Traits: Surly but likeable. Fears: Illithids Attitudes towards friends/strangers: Despises Duergar and distates Orcs, has little trust for magicians and half-orcs. Opinion of the world: Cares little for anything but his brother and returning to his ancestral home. HISTORY Past: Born in Stouthand Keep in the Earthspur Mountains, his ancestral home and mine. After the Year Of The Bloody Crown his family moved there and settled in the mountainside, building Stouthand Keep next to the Silver Mine. He and his younger brother were the heirs to the Keep and its lands but their sense of adventure took them deep into the mining tunnels, they became 'Cavers'. Often found fighting in the front lines against Duergar and Drow that resided in the mountains, despite these threats their largest came from the Orcs that plagued the mountains. He and his brother often lead raiding parties against their camps and defended their villages against them. After their Keep was captured and the majority of their clan wiped out he lead his brother south in hopes of one day returning and liberating their home. Birthplace: Stouthand Keep Family/Relationships: Grandfather (Vorni)- Deceased, Father (Garni)- Deceased, Mother (Klara)- Deceased, Brother- Alive Friends: A Half-Ogre Mercenary named Rollo, a merchant dwarf named Raznik. Enemies: Grimtooth, the Orc Chieftan responsible for the attack on his home and Tzarik the Duergar commander that killed his father. OTHER INFORMATION Skills and feats: Survival Knowledge Nature Knowledge Stoneworking Knowledge Dungeoneering Hide Move Silently Disable Device Track Martial Weapon Proficiency Light Armor Proficiency Cleave Two Weapon Fighting Improved Trip Improved Unarmed Strike Magic Items: Illana, Dwarven Urgosh with Keen and Thundering. Pets/Animal Companions: Other: Name: Drexel Stouthand GENERAL INFORMATION: Gender: Male Race: Shield Dward Age 73 Class: Ranger Alignment: Chaotic Good Deity: None APPEARANCE: Height 4' 4" Weight: 200 Pounds Hair: Gold Eyes: Hazel Skin: Slightly Brown Handedness: Scars/Tattoos: Clan tattoo on left cheek under left eye. Dwarven protection runes on his hands and forearms. General physical description: http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-le3RCXAG4QY/TlrMOH4CGqI/AAAAAAAABuQ/C1GxdGKYLdw/s1600/Harsk-DwarfIconic.jpg Voice: Deep but not rough, speaks with a human accent due to his many years amongst humans. Clothing/armor: Wears a studded leather jerkin. Weapons/Equipment: Dwarven Handaxe and Dagger. His custom-built heavy repeating crossbow Luvisa. PERSONALITY General Personality Traits: Friendly, likes to drink and tell stories. Charismatic and adventurous. Unlike his brother he is friendly to most people he meets that don't seem overly hostile. Fears: Drow and Heights. Attitudes towards friends/strangers: Friendly towards people he has met and more open to strangers then most of his kind. Opinion of the world: Despite his quest to liberate his ancestral home he is eager to learn the stories and legends of other cultures, he views the world as a source of infinite adventures. HISTORY Past: The second son of Garni Stouthand, his brother being the true heir he spent more time finding trouble then learning how to be a leader. Was known for frequenting taverns and brothels aswell as his many unapproved raids on Orc camps with his 'Cavewardens' His father was often infuriated with him and they rarely got along but his brother was always there for him and saved his life numerous times despite his less then warm acceptance of the way Drexel lived his life. Birthplace: Stouthand Keep Family/Relationships: See above Friends: Almost anyone he likes. Enemies: Everyone he doesn't like OTHER INFORMATION Skills and feats: Survival Knowledge Local Knowledge Nature Knowledge Dungeoneering Hide Move Silently Disable Device Tracking Crossbow Proficiency Double Shot Precision Shot Many Shot Shot On The Run Rapid Shot Improvised Weapon Proficiency Two Weapon Fighting Mobility Magic Items: Amulet Of Protection, His mothers signet amulet that grants him good luck and wards off incoming ranged weapons. Pets/Animal Companions: Other:

Yes, comes in powders that you mix with water, whip it up and it becomes a spreadable paste. or so the history books say lol, you might want to ask mythic

Helgrim Stout-Heart stood at the gates to Solitude while the guards searched a caravan, the first part of the job he was hired for lead him to this rat-hole city. He might have been a Legionary but he had little love for their commanders. The guards were busy tearing apart a Khajiiti caravan while a few other guards held off the angered Khajiit's with their pikes, Helgrim rolled his eyes at this display of racism. Had his people really became so low that they would destroy someone's home and livelihood because they are simply different? He couldn't help but think he returned to Skyrim at the worst possible time, In his youth he remembered that the Khajiit were respected traders not considered criminals on sight but then Skyrim wasn't so full of others, the Dark Elves hadn't immigrated yet and the Argonians were only beginning to trickle in but with the Civil War and the Dragons roaming the sky's he could see why people were frustrated. Helgrim sat his pack down and rummaged through it to retrieve his old Legate's badge and approached just as the Decanus slapped a khajiiti woman with the back of his plated gauntlet and she fell hard to the icy earth. "Tell me where the moon sugar is cat-s!@£!" He yelled, the woman clutched her cheek and a male Khajiit stepped forward to shield her from continued wrath. "We do not trade in moon sugar, we trade in pelts and furs..." He said as he pointed to the cart, it was piled with pelts and furs of various Skyrim animals. The guard raised his hand once again and Helgrim shouted "Halt!" as he stepped out of line and approached, sword in one hand and the badge in the other. The nord stepped forward with an angry look in his one eye, he was burly and scarred from many years on a battlefield but Helgrim knew him to be a bully and a coward but he would rather avoid bloodshed. "Who are you Milk Drinker?" He asked threateningly, Helgrim held up his badge, the Decanus looked at it then saluted. "What can we do Legate?" He said sharply, Helgrim smiled and placed the badge into a pocket on his belt. "You will return the items to these Khajiit's cart and pay for any damage to their wares out of your pocket." He said coldly, the Nord Decanus looked at him angrily but he would never defy a Legate. "Then you will take the woman to a surgeon and see that she is uninjured and you will pay for her medical treatment... and maybe I won't report yours and your men's harassment of honest tradesmen." He added as he walked past the man to the Khajiit leader, the Khajiit took his hand and shook it thankfully. "This one's name is Ma'dran... we thank you for helping us." Helgrim shook his head and nodded, "No thank you necessary, these men were out of line and if it happens again report it directly to Legate Rikke, she will sort it out." He said with a quick smile, he knew her policy on harassing foreigners and these men would be punished severely for it. When all was said and done Helgrim grabbed his pack and walked through the gate with one hand on the reigns of the horse that drew the Khajiit's carriage into the city gates. He waved goodbye to Ma'dran and his family as he entered the Winking Skeever. The place seemed fairly lively for the afternoon and he suddenly remembered it was Sundas which meant most of these folk were coming back from morning prayers, the young imperial lad that worked the bar sat behind the counter polishing a steel mug. Helgrim approached and flipped a septim onto the counter. "I am looking for someone..." He said as he set his pack down, the young lad scooped up the Septim and tucked it into his apron's pouch. "Aren't we all stranger, who in particular?" He asked, Helgrim leaned in. "A sorceress... wields many books and carries an odd staff." He said quietly, the imperial lad nodded and gestured upstairs and signaled the room number with his hands. Helgrim nodded in thanks and walked up to her room and gently knocked on the door.

I will post again tomorrow, hopefully we can reboot this rp.

A day later.... Jack smiled as they drove up to the gated community of Elma, the city was small but it was the strongest fortification this side of Tacoma. The locals were fairly paranoid but they took in outsiders quite often for trade, giving those with things to barter or skills to offer a days trading time or a weeks work period. If you didn't leave by that time you were forced out, often at gunpoint. The citizens of Elma were well known for having a strong militia, many of them from The Republic Of Seattle's private army. The city itself was a main road that branched off onto the highway with the city hall being the seat of government, the shops around it remained storefronts and the cities richest inhabited the homes within the walls, the militia used the old police station as a base and their cells as a temporary prison until the towns Mayor could determine what happened to the criminal in question. When they stopped at the gate ten rifles dialed in on them and the near simultaneous cocking sound drowned out the subtle hum of the jeeps engine. The men on the walls all wore brown peacoats and berets, most of them holding the old but reliable AK-47, the old Samson Lumber Yard had been repurposed years ago into a factory that stamped out ammunition and other materials so Elma had a constant source of ammunition. Jack looked to his left and saw the woman cradle her son and look to the walls, fear was stamped across her face. Jack drew his shotgun from his hip and grasped it by the barrel as he stepped out of the rig with his hands in the air. A voice came from the wall as a man appeared at the metal catwalk above the sheet metal gate. "State your business?" Asked the man, he wore a black duster and an old police chiefs uniform that had been painted to match the leather-brown of the Militia uniform. He had slightly greying hair and appeared to be in his late thirties, his striking blue eyes locked on Wade and occasionally darting to his passengers. He stood with his hands behind his back and his chest out, Jack could tell he was a man that was used to command. Jack set his shotgun on the roof of his rig and walked to the front of the car with his hands still in the air, "I come to ply my skills, I rescued this woman and her child from Gallagher's the night before last." He explained, the Officer idly caressed his chin and he took in the strangers words. When he noticed the bandage around his shoulder and the worn look on their faces he nodded. "You have five days, see yourself to the Doctor and meet me in the Police Station." He commanded, Jack sighed as the militiamen's rifles lowered and the Officer departed. He could breathe easy now as the gates swung open, Jack collected his weapon and drove through. The town seemed to be in the middle of a festival of sorts, the women wore bright colors and the streets were full of farmers selling their fruit and vegetables along with bakers and candy-makers. The Farmers Festival had started and it lasted a few days, Elma had held this festival every June since the cities founding. Jack parked his rig next to a tavern called The Pine Tree and stepped out onto the sidewalk, the locals eyed him suspiciously. Some of the men's hands drifted to weapons hidden in coats, since it was town law that every man be a member of the militia and wield a firearm this was the safest if not most dangerous place to be. The woman stepped out of the car and approached Jack, she smiled and locked her eyes with his. Her deep amber eyes seemed to glisten as she took in the Waster. "My name is Carla, this is my son Benjamin." She said as Benjamin offered his hand to Jack. Jack shook it and nodded, "Jack Wade..." He said as he let the young boys hand free. He looked over his shoulder at the tavern, the place seemed like a dive but its seats were full of patrons and the staff looked very busy filling orders and going about their daily lives. "I am sure you can find a job here... stay out of the Wastes, next time there won't be anyone to save you." He said coldly as he popped the twin-barreled shotgun open to check and see if the shells were still good. 150 years of exposure can wear through most ammunition fast and made them prone to misfire. He flicked his wrist and the gun snapped shut and locked into place and quickly holstered it. Carla smiled and moved in to kiss him, Jack took a step back out of reflex but smiled awkwardly when he realized she only meant to thank him for his efforts. He ran a fingerless-gloved hand through his shaggy brown hair and waved goodbye to them. He felt somewhat guilty for leaving them on their own but he had no way of caring for them and could not carry them in the wastes so he took what little satisfaction he could from giving them a home, even if it was such a place as Elma. After he went to the doctor to get his shoulder stitched properly he made his way to the police station, the place had once been a small station but the locals had expanded it to great lengths, turning the police cruisers into gun strapped vehicles and painted them in a pre-event jungle camo pattern. The place was busy with soldiers marching about and going through the training process's. The recruits were as young as thirteen and they wore sweat suits while they did exercises and shuttle-sprints from lines painted onto the pavement. The faint sounds of gunfire in the distance told Jack that they were also on the rifle range aswell. He approached the open doors and walked inside, the place was fairly clean and busy with women wearing female uniforms like that of the soldiers outside as they did the paperwork and handled all the logistics of the militia. A woman sat behind a desk facing the front door and was casually going over some paperwork as Jack approached, he put a cigarette to his lips and popped open his zippo when he heard the distinct sound of someone clearing their voice, he looked up to see the woman staring at him disapprovingly, she nodded to the No Smoking sign across the room and he tucked away the cigarette. "Can I help you...sir?" She said with a slight pause as she took him in and then painfully regarded him with some respect. Jack was used to that, most Commuter's saw Wasters as trash, useful trash in some occasions but trash. Jack nodded and approached the desk, "Yeah the Chief or Colonel asked to see me at the gate?" Jack replied as he pulled the entry documents he received from the Doctor from inside his jacket and held them out to her. The woman snatched them from his hand as soon as she could and quickly read them. She pulled a drawer open and slid her hand inside, Jack guessed to grasp the grip of a pistol tucked in their, after a few moments she removed the hand and grabbed a stamp then stamped them and handed them back. "Down the hall to my left, third door on the right." She said as she handed them back to Jack and went back to her work. Jack followed her instructions and knocked on the door, the Officer's voice said enter and Jack strode in. The room was decored fairly well, the walls decorated with various hunting trophies and weapons and the desk was made of a amber-colored wood. The plate at the end of the desk read "Captain Tom Wilks" and it was decorated with gold embossing and silver letters. Jack approached and sat down, The Captain opened a teak box and offered Jack a cigar. Jack took two and slid one into his leather jacket and lit the other with his zippo. He watched as the Captain did aswell and sat in the leather office chair across from him, for a long moment the militiamen said nothing and when he broke the awkward silence it was in a official and strict tone. He set the cigar in the ashtray next to him and placed his elbows on the desk and smirked. "I remember you from my time in The Republican Guard, you are Major Jackson Wade..." He said, Jack smiled and nodded. Many years ago he fought for the Council in their private army called The Republican Guard, he lead a light infantry squad that acted as scouts and skirmishers. When the Dead War ended and the government collapsed various bandit-kings and survivors formed communities that flourished and formed new City-States in the remaining Capitals, Seattle was one of them that didn't get nuked in the Dead War so it flourished. The Council formed and walled it off from the rest of the world, its citizens work for food and lodging while its soldiers spend more time watching the citizens for troublemakers then the tree-line for enemies. The reason he left was because of the things he was asked to do in the name of The Council and The Republic disgusted him and he went AWOL. Jack shrugged and drew on his cigar, "What do you want with me? You have a job to offer me offer it or let me be..." He said coldly, his smile faded and turned into a unpleased sneer. He had no stomach for games and no sense of nostalgia. The Captain nodded and pulled a file folder from his desk and tossed it into Jack's lap. "That is the file on a fugitive, he was our local gunsmith but he went nuts and killed his wife when he found out she was sleeping with his apprentice. We want you to track him down and bring him back..." He said as Jack flipped through the files. Before he could say anything the Captain raised his hand and continued, "We will pay you three full cans of Gasoline and as much ammunition as you want for any weapon you have plus a months worth of MRE's and clean water..." He said with a distinct pause, letting the offer soak into Jack's mind. "...If you bring him back alive..." He added. Jack could feel his heart sink, bringing him back alive would be nearly impossible since he has had a large amount of time to escape and his location is not known to anyone. "First off, he's been gone for nearly a month and I don't know where to find him..." Jack replied, it was a good offer but it was impossible to find him and Jack knew this. The Captain smiled and nodded, "It would be but we know where he is... or atleast a general idea." He said calmly, "Our scouts last saw him in the Redmond Barrens about seventy miles from here... There is a Free-City out there that is run by a bunch of bandits. There he makes weapons for them in exchange for food and lodging.." He explained as Jack looked over the pictures of the fortified city in the desert-like glass flats. The Barrens were called that due to the missile that was intended for Seattle striking there instead, the heavily salted earth was turned into crystals creating the unique Glass Flats, driving on conventional tires is impossible there so they use Snowmobiles to get around instead. The Razor-Sharp glass eviscerates flesh and cuts through bone like a knife through butter, the dead don't walk there but some of the more insane Mutants like the thrill of riding there so its thick with warring tribals. Jack nodded, he took the file under his arm and left with the cigar clutched in his teeth. "I'll bring him back to you..." He said as he departed, The Captain smiled and leaned back into his chair. A few seconds later a much older man wearing a suit walked in with the secretary at the door and sat in the chair across from the Captain. "Did he take the job?" The older man asked, Captain Wilks nodded as he leaned forward. "He did, by this time tomorrow... We will have our best Gunsmith in custody and Jackson Wade hanging by a rope..." He said with a sinister sneer. That night Jack slept in a room above The Pine Tree. He had a bath and a warm meal, the first bath he had in near a month. Stepping out of the bathroom feeling clean and maintained he found his clothing had been washed and cleaned for him and waited on his bed along with a duffle-bag with a note pinned to it. Jack unwrapped the towel from around his waist and stood naked next to his bed as he read the note, his body was covered in countless scars and at the base of his neck was a large R branded, the symbol of The Republican Guard and the way they marked their soldiers. Jack opened the pack to reveal it was a AK-47 with a folding stock, a colt .45 and lots of ammunition along with a compass and a rare Smart-Map system. Developed long before the war it was a map that was made out of Smart-Paper, it connected with satellites in orbit above the planet and kept a constantly updated map of the globe that gave the user his location down to a few feet. Jack took the rifle in his hand and gave it an appreciating eye, it was well made. Not some two hundred year old relic it was new and it hadn't been fired so it must have been recently stamped out at the factory. He filled the five thirty round magazines and slapped one in and chambered it, the loud and distinct clacking noise of the slide filled his heart with joy. He heard a soft rustle behind him and quickly turned, his eyes peering down the barrel at the source. Carla emerged from the shadows with a soft smile, she was wearing a new salmon colored dress and had a soft glint in her eye. "I come with compliments of the house and The Captain." She said, Jack lowered his rifle and nodded. He didn't much take to bedding with doxies so he tossed the loaded rifle onto the bed and re-wrapped his towel around him. He grabbed his zippo and cigarettes from the table and lit one for himself. "Let me guess, he told you to spend the night with me because I may die tomorrow?" He said coldly, he knew that there was something more to this then just a free meal and a warm bed with a easy of virtue woman. Carla sat down on the bed and began to disrobe herself and slide into the well made bedsheets. Jack walked over and stopped at the head of the bed next to her and stuck his lit cigarette in the ashtray on the endtable and stared into her amber eyes. She looked very nervous and her eyes darted from him to the door, He grabbed his shotgun from the holster laying on the endtable and slid it under the pillow as he climbed into the bed next to her. She jumped at his soft hands, she was very nervous and she was new to this. Carla pushed away the fear and reached out the touch his face. The skin was rough and callous from many years exposed to the winds of the Wastes and scarred from the countless battles. His rough appearance put many women off but what attracted her to him was not that she was told to sleep with him but his soft eyes, they betrayed the tough-guy act he put on. She slid her long fingers into his hair and pulled him in close for a deep kiss, she felt him pull her into the seclusion of his arms and body. Her handed explored his body, gently tracing every scar and muscle. He was fit and lithe, the slight grey in his hair did not match the young body he possessed. She could feel all the tension vanish as they kissed and writhed on the bed. By morning the sun peeked over the Cascades in the distance and peered into the windows of the room, they struck Jack and he bolted upright. His hand grasping his sawed-off as he stretched and yawned. Carla laid next to him, undisturbed and sleeping soundly. The night they spent together was memorable but he knew he had to be gone by noon, for a few minutes he sat upright and smoked the cigar he had received from The Captain as he watched the sunrise. It wasn't long before Carla turned over and rubbed the sleepiness from her eyes, a warm smile on her face as she saw Jack had remained with her. "Can I ask you something?" She said as she ran a hand down his stomach, feeling the hardened muscles underneath the skin. Jack nodded as he exhaled a cloud of smoke and flicked the bud of his cigar into the ashtray. "Where are you from?" She asked. Jack smiled and placed the cigar in the ashtray. It had been sometime since he had laid with a woman and an even greater amount of time since he had spoken of his history. "I grew up in The Wenatchee Valley, my parents came west to avoid the bandits and settled in Seattle. I was volunteered into the Republican Guard when I was twelve.." He said, his mind flashing with memories of the Seattle-Everett War the sparked off when he was fifteen, his ears rang with the sound of ghostly gunfire and screams of men crying for their mothers as they passed away. Carla looked into his eyes and she could sense that they had seen countless deaths, "A child soldier... I had heard that the Republic did that.." She said. Jack nodded and drew on his cigar once more. "Why do you wander the Wastes? Why not settle down and have children?" She asked him, he shrugged again. He never saw himself having children, he figured it would be a horrible thing to do to them, bringing them up in this circle of hell that the world became. "I dunno really, I find that walking a lonesome road is the only place I feel like I belong I guess." He replied as he folded his arms behind his head. Carla smiled at the poetic words he used, despite his rough appearance he was well read and spoke well. Jack stuck his middle finger under one of her bangs and flicked it over her head as she laid face down on the bed with her head turned towards him. Her arm covered the lower half of her face but the edge of her mouth was curled into a smile and her amber eyes were fixed on him. "What of you and Benjamin?" He asked, Carla turned over and sat next to him and took the cigar from his lips and drew on it herself as she cuddled up to him and placed her head on his shoulder. "I grew up in Idaho, I came to Washington with my husband Ben. We had a farm and some livestock, then we had Benjamin." She said, she continued after puffing on the cigar once more and handing it back to him. " After awhile a group of bandits came and threatened us, they took our food and water and as long as we let them they didn't kill us but every time they came they took more and more and my husband turned to drinking. He got drunk one night and they showed up, he pulled a gun and they shot him... took our food and left us to starve. So I packed up our car and Benjamin and left the farm after burying my husband in the backyard." Carla smiled through the rough memory and closed her eyes as he wrapped an arm around her. They remained quiet for a great deal of time and she had fallen asleep, Jack gently slid out from the bed and got dressed. He collected his things and made for the door, he pulled a bag of silver coins from his pack and placed it on the table with a small .38 pistol and a full-magazine. He knew they may never meet again but the money would help feed them for sometime and the gun may help protect them and that was the best he could give her and Benjamin. He stopped at the door once more and looked over his shoulder at the sleeping woman and then departed.

I hashed it out at 4:30 lol so its rough, I am planning on turning this into an ongoing journal of sorts that starts off in Elma. I am a resident of Washington and I always thought this state would make for an excellent setting in a zombie apocalypse due to its dense forestry and sparse towns away from the coastline. So it makes for great story that in the wastes you not only have to contend with raiders, mutants and walkers but Bears, wolves and many other creatures. It is called the Dead Wastes not because of the Walkers but out there only death exists. Since the world is like that Commuter is a slang term for Community, most of them are highly xenophobic and will often chase off outsiders and some are so extreme they will kidnap them or kill them to protect their location from raiders and walkers. Elma in reality is a fairly small town but I spent a few years of my life there and I know its layout, if the Z-Apoc came that would be a viable place to hold up and fortify due to its small size and remoteness plus the countless other small towns around it that make for good food supply runs and its high gun owner population makes for a nice armory. That's why I set it in Washington since we have one of the highest amounts of small towns in the country and a strong population of registered gun owners.

The night was still and the fire was warm, Jack Wade sat next to it and gently puffed on his cigarette. The man was nearing his thirties but the scarring and greying hair from a hard life in the wastes made him look older then he was. Jack stared into the flames as he thought heavily on the events to come and the events that came before. His mind flashed to the bushes when he heard a subtle rustle, his hand instinctively went for the grip of his trusty sawed off Remington strapped to his hip, he drew it and put a bead on the location of the noise with almost super-human speed. He listened carefully, listening for the soft noise of someone breathing and he quietly sniffed the air for the distinct scent of decaying bodies. He could hear the breathing but smelled no corpses so he knew whoever it was in the bushes, they were alive. He gently thumbed the hammers back on his gun and scanned the shrubbery, his finger began to itch and his heart beat hard in his chest. It was these moments that frightened him, not the fight to come but the not knowing the numbers in which he faced. "Who are you? If you seek my possessions I recommend you turn away..." He said to the forestry, there was no reply. Jack had been a Waster, the common term for a Wastelander for many years. Often hiring himself out as a mercenary and Reclamator, a person that drives out into the wastes for food and supplies by raiding small abandoned towns so he knew full well the dangers that the wastes presented him with, despite these dangers he continued to wander them. His skills were in much demand and he felt no need to settle in a Commuter stronghold or a Capital like nearby Seattle. It was because of his eternal wandering and toughness that he earned some reputation as a capable man and was often sought out for his skills, albeit not entirely for business arrangements. More often then not it was some hotshot young gunslinger looking to prove himself that sought him out, it was because of this that Jack preferred to stay in the wilds. The bushes rattled as the Stranger departed, Jack sighed in relief and sat back down next to the fire and placed his shotgun next to him as he watched the squirrel slowly roast over the fire, the sense of peace was shortlived as he heard a rustling in the bushes next to his rig, He looked over his shoulder the second he heard the rustling and shot up to his feet to run to the source of the noise to see what he dreaded most, a rubber hose dangling from his now empty gas tank. In frustration he kicked dirt and cursed to himself as he holstered his shotgun. "Damn it all..." He said as he approached, he knew it was bone dry because that was what they were after and from the lack of fuel on the ground they used a pump so as not to spill a drop. The earth was disturbed and the footprints were small, like that of a child's. He dropped to a knee and looked at his closely and determined that it was a child's. He packed his gear in his car and locked it tight, the Jeep had steel slats with openings instead of windows and the front and rear windows had rebar bars welded over them to provide protection and security. The vehicle was custom built for off-road function and was at one time painted a matte green but years of rust and lack of paint turned it into a rusty eye soar, despite its lack of beauty it possessed a powerful engine and was capable of going places most vehicles could not due to its rally-truck style suspension. With his knife, shotgun and crossbow in hand he departed his campsite to pursue the precious fuel that he needed, intent on finding the culprit and punishing them or die trying, he knew that without fuel in the wastes he would die in a few days. The trek through the forestry took him nearly two hours but he finally found the end of the tracks, it was an old Pre-Event wrecking yard that was covered in the remains of vehicles and machinery. Jack drew the monocle from his satchel and scanned the fortress-like wrecking yard. The fencing around the property was covered in metal plating and the gate was made of large steel sheets welded onto a steel frame. The main building was brick and resting on top was a lookout, the lookout was a young man holding a rifle and watching the tree line. A dim glow came from behind the fence and a twenty foot tall smoke trail went into the sky from the fire blazing in the yard. He heard country music blasting from the building and hoots and hollers that told him one thing and one thing alone, Mutants. During the Event, the dead came to life and attacked the living. The Dead War began, humanity was nearly exterminated. As a last ditch effort to destroy the undead the remaining united states military launched nuclear warheads at the highest places of infection, completely obliterating them. The vast amounts of infected were killed off but the radiation left some people a psychopathic mess of rage, bloodlust and mutation. Mutants were born from this, driven mad by the radiation they took to banditry. These humans do not age and as time goes on they become more and more psychotic. Most Wasters learn to fear the Mutants as much as they would Walkers, Mutants always have guns, booze and vehicles with which they use to conduct lightning fast raids on unsuspecting caravans and Communities. These Mutants were well known in these parts. The Gallagher Clan, a particularly brutal clan of inbreds that prefer to capture and torture folk then just simply murdering and pillaging. The Gallagher clan are expansive and control much of the Redmond Wastes through force, despite their numbers they are all no more then second cousins to one another. Combined with nearly a centuries worth of radiation exposure and probably a century and a half of inbreeding these ugly deformed humans stand between him and survival. Jack placed a bolt into the housing of his crossbow and took aim at the lookout, he sighted in the scope and gently exhaled. His finger twitched on the trigger and the string released with a silent twang as it hurled the bolt at incredible speeds and it sunk to the fletching's into the sleeping lookout's forehead, causing his skull to snap back and the body to hit the roof with a soft thud. Jack pulled back the string and loaded in another bolt as he dashed to the edge of the fence and peered through a crack in the metal plating to see what laid in store for him. The air was thick with the scent of oil and blood, Gallagher's relished in murder and rape, they often attacked towns and caravans to acquire food and women. There was no law in the dead wastes so right of might became the law. Most communities formed in out of the way places to avoid attacks by mutants and the great many herds of walkers. The fire was blazing hot and three Gallagher's stood around it drinking a heavy moonshine, the tallest was a burly man with a large fat belly sticking out over his waist and a stained shirt. His pants were covered in grease stains and he wore a red truckers hat. Stuck in his waistband was a .45 pistol and nearby was a pump action shotgun. Standing next to him was a slimmer man with boils on his face and a large overbite, he wore a NASCAR jacket and large combat boots with ratty jeans and no shirt. They watched and hollered as the third wrestled with a woman, the woman fought him hard as he ripped at her clothing and tried to kiss her, not far away was a young boy handcuffed to a radiator and next to him was the gas drums filled with his gasoline. Jack aimed his crossbow at the would-be rapist and fired, the bolt struck him in the side of the head and he dropped like a stone. His buddies drew their weapons and ran for the gate, Jack dropped his crossbow and drew his knife and shotgun as he moved to meet them. The metal plating on the fence provided a barrier and he crouched down next to the gate, the two mutants unlocked the gate and stepped through. They scanned the distant tree line for any signs of movement. "Where did that come from Pete?" Spoke the slim Mutant, Pete shushed him and tossed him his pistol. "Go that way Jerry, I'll stay here and watch the gate." Said Pete, Jerry caught the pistol and began walking towards Jack who was hiding in the darkness. Jack leveled his sawed-off at Jerry and fired, yanking back both triggers. A crack like a lightning bolt filled the air and Jerry's head exploded as two 12 gauge shells tore through his brain. Pete whipped around and racked in a shell and fired into the darkness, Jack dropped his sawed off and charged Pete, the mutant was stunned to see him emerging from the darkness and sticking the combat knife hilt deep into his chest. The pot-bellied mutant folded over like an accordion as the life vanished from him, Jack could feel a strong burning sensation in his shoulder and looked down to see blood pouring from a buckshot wound. He pushed the pain to the back of his mind and collected his things and then entered their camp. The woman cradled her son and held out a lead pipe to protect her from Jack, fear was white in her eyes and her son covered his head, expecting Jack to kill them. Jack was no murderer and he tolerated no man that would ravish a woman but they stole from him and that was as good as murder in these parts. He popped the spent shells from his shotgun and loaded in two more. "We needed the gasoline, I thought I could trade it for food over in Elma but we got caught by them before we could make it there." The woman said as she saw the blank look on Jack's face, he watched her plead with him to spare her, she offered herself and everything she owned for him not to kill her but he holstered his gun and grabbed the gas can, he turned from her and began walking towards his vehicle when a jolt of conscience hit him and he stopped. He turned his head to her and beckoned for her to follow, "I'll take you as far as Elma but you will not take anything of mine and I expect to never see you again..." He said coldly, the woman nodded and collected her son and their belongings. Jack took the mutants weapons and gave the Gas Can to the woman to carry, his arm was useless from the buckshot and he felt it was suitable punishment for stealing it in the first place. Their conversation-less trek through the woods ended at daybreak when they arrived at Jack's jeep. He opened her up and refueled her. Elma was fifty miles from where they were but it was the closest place that took in outsiders for trade. As he climbed into the drivers seat he noticed the woman and the boy had fallen asleep in the passengers seat already, with a slight smirk he turned over the key and drove off.

Tripp smiled, Aria never much liked Reyes and the feeling was mutual. He sat back in the co-pilots chair and placed a nano-cig to his lips and lit it with a nickel-plated and mother of pearl lighter. The distinct clicking noise proved that it was a real lighter and it was extremely rare, Tripp had received it from a collector a few years back as a gift for him helping recover his kidnapped wife and the retrieval of a few million credits worth of art. Tripp lulled the strawberry tasting smoke around his mouth and exhaled slowly, letting his nerves relax from his harrowing experience in space. "I hate getting spaced... Always makes me nervous." He said with a slight chuckle as he tapped the console and brought up the hologramatic schematics of the shuttle. The old smuggler had a keen eye for vessels and enjoyed space itself. As they approached the Lucky Lady he smiled wide, despite her ragged appearance most would not suspect she had more firepower then an Alliance Frigate and just as strong. Her hull plating was painted to appear old and worn and her engines left a small Ion trail to simulate age but in reality they were strait from a Turian propulsion lab, he shuttered at the thought of the Turian Navy finding out what happened to a pair of their prototype engines missing mysteriously from a warehouse of theirs. Painted on her bow was an image of a scantily clad woman with long red hair and the words, "Lucky Lady" across the front dorsal bow of the ship. "Reyes?" He said when she asked him about her, "Yeah she's still alive... haven't lost a man since that scuffle on Novaria." He replied with a fake smile, the man in question was his shuttle pilot Jack Roberts. He laughed at her comment on the Citadel, "We take shore leave there since Omega isn't available anymore, most the crew don't mind it but I have to deal with the political fallout of being in occupied territory, most governments do not like having a freelance spy vessel in their space. To the majority of authorities he was a smuggler but to the right people he was a problem solver and that kept him out of prison, the fact that he knew where the bodies were buried came in great use. He looked at the Lady like a man would look at his lover, that ship was his and it was a symbol of freedom to him. A sign that a man can make something good for himself if he puts the time and effort into it. He turned his gaze back to Aria and chuckled, "Yeah, The Lady won't quit. About a year ago I stole some prototype engines and fitted them into her, she's faster then a Turian Frigate now." He added as they came into final approach for The Lady's docking port.

Tripp carefully guided himself towards the waiting shuttle, giving quick but short thrusts to gently glide into the waiting airlock. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the airlock depressurized and opened. Tripp smiled wide and tapped the release button and stepped into the shuttle. The interior was far more upscale then he had expected but knowing Aria's expensive tastes he shouldn't be surprised. He drew Bianca and checked her heat sink, the readout read she was at twenty four percent capacity in bright red letters along the barrel. With a slight shrug he slid the pistol into its holster and opened the door to the cockpit and stepped through, "Thanks for the rescue, think you could take me to The Lady? We need to get out of this battle before things get worse for us." He said calmly as he sat in the co-pilots seat next to Aria. He watched her with an appreciating eye, it had been half a decade and she had not changed one bit but he knew that Asari aged slower then humans and had longer lifespans. His Omni-Tool awoke with a hologram of Reyes. Tripp tapped the receive button and the hologram appeared in full, he smiled to see Reyes was aboard The Lady and in good condition. "Good to see you alive sir..." She said calmly, Tripp chuckled and ran a gloved hand through his hair. "As am I. What's the status update?" He asked. Their mission was to sabotage the station to make it easy to assault it but Reyes knew he was asking about the secret objective. "We received the data and transmitted it but to get paid we need to meet the Ambassador himself." She replied, Tripp sighed. He hated dealing with Udina and unfortunately had to on many occasions, his work as a deniable asset often placed him with undesirable people with a lot of power so he had to play nice. "Tell the Ambassador we will be at the Citadel tomorrow morning.." He instructed and terminated the call, it was well known that it was a weeks travel from The Terminus Systems to The Citadel but The Lucky Lady was one of the few ships that could do it in a day.

The night was busy in The Bannered Mare, Whiterun had settled for the night but the patrons of The Mare were loud and raucous. The night had gone on and all night the patrons had wondered whom was the man that sat with his back to the wall and watching the crowd. A black and white hound at his feet and a strange curved blade near him at all times. The only one brave enough to approach his table was Saadia and that was only when he ordered food and drink. He wore the armor of a mercenary and his hair was a striking fiery red, his skin was pale and scarred from countless years at war. His plate of bacon, eggs, toasted bread and vegetables sat clean next to him. He had one hand wrapped around a mug of mead and another resting on the grip of his sword. The Innkeeper Hulda knew the mercenary well, his name was Helgrim Stout-Heart and she was raised with the man. At one time in their youth they were sweethearts but the distant drums of war took him away from her. She caught his eye and smiled, her cheeks turning red. She quickly turned so the remaining patrons would not notice and busied herself with the cleaning. Little did anyone know what he was here for but Helgrim was waiting on a employer with decreasing degree of patience. In his nervousness he thumbed the blade from its scabbard and let it drop back into the wooden scabbard with a soft metallic clink. It had been late in the night that most of the patrons had staggered out and went home, even the resident Bard Mikael had left. Helgrim moved his eyes to the letter on the table next to him and read it once more. After he had read the letter three times he stood and walked to the counter, Hulda poured him another mug of mead. A burly nord approached and placed a hand on his shoulder, Helgrim turned his eyes to the stranger to see him and two other nords standing behind him. The man with his hand on his shoulder spoke, "You took my seat Milk Drinker..." Helgrim smiled and returned to his mug of mead, the Nord seethed with anger and knocked the mug from his hand and drew his dagger. "Move or be removed.." He threatened. Helgrim looked to Hulda and tossed a few septims on the table. "Sorry for the damage..." He said to her, she looked at him oddly. Helgrim smiled and grasped the back of the Nords head and forced it with incredible strength into the bar counter. The nords thick skull and teeth took a large chunk from the oaken table and he fell to the floor like a sack of leets. Helgrim stood quickly and grasped his curved sword just in time to deflect the sword-strike of one of his attackers. The blow connected to the Elder-Wood scabbard and reflected off, the vibration of the strike made his arm fall numb. Helgrim lashed out with a deft kick that struck the attacking Nord in the chest and sent him into the firepit in the middle of the room, the nord screamed loudly and thrashed around trying to extinguish himself. His partner drew an axe and raised it high, Helgrim drew his curved blade and cleaved the wooden haft of the axe in two, the nord peered at the broken blade in amazement as the axe head rested on the floor beside his foot. He returned his eyes to Helgrim and ran for the door. Helgrim grasped the burning man and hauled him from the flames and knocked he jug of water on the bar counter off with the tip of his blade. The jar fell to the floor and shattered on his iron armor, the water extinguishing the flames. The nord breathed a sigh of relief, his skin a bright red but not bloody from the flames. Luckily they were just embers, his period of relief did not last as he felt the subtle prick of Helgrims blade at his throat. Helgrim peered at him with a dark grimace, the light showing his face. His left eye was clouded white and scarred, the studded band around his forehead bore sigils of snakes and onyx stones. "The Bannered Mare is off limits to you and your kin, if I see you three again... you will not leave this city alive." He threatened coldly, with that he pulled his blade free from the nords neck and flicked it, the blade sang as it cut the air and slid into the scabbard. Helgrim wrapped the strap across his chest, placing the blade on his back. He turned away from the Nord as he got to his feet and picked up his unconscious friend and left the tavern. It was then that the tavern was filled with clapping, Helgrim turned to its source and a Dark Elf emerged from the darkness. "You are hired..." He said, the Dunmer was fairly young but his stance and movement carried much weight and wisdom about them. The man himself was a warrior, Helgrim nodded in respects and offered him a chair, the dunmer politely shook his head and approached. "I represent a party interested in hiring you Helgrim Stout-Heart, my name is Odryn and we have a contract available for you.." He said as he tossed Helgrim a large pouch of coin, "Are you interested?" He added, a wicked smile across his face.