General Chat

[Arkayan]

That should do the trick now!

 

Said Seran as he re-concealed his tanto.

 

Now that his wits are almost broken give him some of that truth potion & he will tell you that which you wish to know.

[ObsidianKnight]

Right Armiena uncorks the flask on her belt. She swirls it around a bit, then tries to get Grandis to drink it. Drink it she says, unsheathing her dagger. The assassin reluctantly swallows a mouthful of it.

[Arkayan]

Seran observes the Assassin as he falls into a trance & his eyes glaze over.

 

Tell us that which we need to know!

 

Says Seran.

 

The Assasin hesitates for a moment before he begins to reveal his horrendous secret......

[Smashy]

The tavern door flies open as Fode stumbles in from his adventures at Ald Sotha, he proceeds to take a seat at the bar, he drops 4 large sacks of loot on the floor next to him and waves the bar tender over to order. " bar keep... bring me six flagons of mead so as i can drink to my once great bear companion, who fell to a cursed dremora lord deep with in the bowels of Ald Sotha." At this Fode reached in his sack and drew a dremora skull, various rare alchemical ingredients, as well as a mortar and pestal, after pouring the mix of rare ingreediants in to his mortar he added a strange sulphuric liquid to the mix, then poured it all in to the cranial cavity of the dremora skull, and with great haste he sealed all openings in the skull with resin and placed a kesh fiber wick in the last opening and sealed off the area around the wick. Fode quickly put all his suplys back in his sack, and muttered, "Ill be ready for that male without a father dremora when he comes back....there will be no more second chances for him........". then fode proceeded to get compleatly wasted on mead.

[Arkayan]

The bodies are in barrels out the back of this tavern....

 

The Assassin sobs.

 

Well, my friend, pleasure doing buisness with you!

 

Seran says with a satisfied smile,

 

My work here is done friend,

 

Seran says to Armiena,

 

I shall leave turning this scum over to the proper authoritories to you, I dislike talking to guards at the best of times. By the Gods I need a drink!

 

Seran says as he walks back into the tavern to see a gigantic nord sobbing at the counter. he looks to the side of him & observes treasure! Seran's eyes light up as he walks over to the bar, orders a wiskey & says to the Nord,

 

Why are you so glum my friend?

[ObsidianKnight]

In... the used drink barrels? Armiena looks somewhat nauseous. She refits the bracers on his arms, and strides out of the room, looking like she's fighting an urge to strike him and her sudden nausea.

Im not sure if I want to check the bodies out.... but I have to.

[Smashy]

Fode turns on his bar stool to face Seran and begins to speak, "Aye glum I am... I was plundering the deadric shrine of Ald'Sotha, with my bear companion... greatest bear I ever knew.... had em since he was a cub, and now hes gone, I steped up to the shrine to plunder the last of the tresure, when as I pocketed a large ruby I heard my bear cyr out in pain behind me, I quickly turned to meet what had hurt him when I saw a Dremora standing over his dieing body, I had heard stories of Deadra apearing from no where in these srines but never thought them to be true, now I knew they where. I prepared for a tough fight with this male without a father of a Deadra, raiseing my claymore in anticipation. The Dremora lunged at me with a small Dwemer wepon, I just slid to the right of his assult, and brought my claymore down in to his torso and in that mighty wound his mortal frame was destroyed and his esence sent back to Oblivion. After the skirmish I took the Demora's skull as trophy, and vengence form my bear's fate, and here I am now back in my useual spot, drinking away my troubles, and by the way my names Fode.....Fode the Gory". Fode then turns back to his drink, keeping a watchful eye on everyone and anyone who might be a potential theif, or swindeler.

[Arkayan]

A truely wondeful tale of adventure Skyrim & also so very tradgic,

 

Says Seran as he pulls out his lute.

 

You look as if you need cheering up my friend so i will sing you a rather humourous tale that i first heard of on the travels...

 

eeeerrrhhheeeemmm!!!

 

Seran clears his throat & begins to sing,

 

The Tale of Meed Daric

 

On the Molag Amur where the temples are far,

And men of religion are scanty,

On a road never cross'd 'cept by folk that are lost,

One Vanne Daric had a shanty.

 

Now this Vannee was the dad of a young Breton lad,

Plump, healthy, and stoutly conditioned;

He was strong as the best, but poor Vanne had no rest

For the youngster had never been christened.

 

And his wife used to cry, "If the darlin' should die

Saint Deyln would not recognise him."

But by luck he survived till a preacher arrived,

Who agreed straightaway to baptise him.

 

Now the artful young rogue, while they held their collogue,

With his ear to the keyhole was listenin',

And he muttered in fright while his features turned white,

"By the Gods! What is all this christenin'?"

 

He would have to run far! He had seen them brand Guar!,

And it seemed to his small understanding,

If the man in the frock made him one of his flocks,

It must mean something very like branding.

 

So away with a rush he set off for the rocks,

While the tears in his eyelids they glistened

"Tis outrageous," says he, "To brand youngsters like me,

I'll be dashed if I'll stop to be christened!"

 

Like a young native dog he ran into a log,

And his father with language uncivil,

Never heeding the "priest" cried aloud in his haste,

"Come out and be christened, you divil!"

 

But he lay there as snug as a bug in a rug,

And his parents in vain might reprove him,

Till his reverence spoke (he was fond of a joke)

"I've a notion," says he, "that'll move him.

 

"Poke a stick up the log; give the fetcher a prod;

Poke him easy - don't hurt him or maim him,

'Tis not long that he'll stand, I've the water at hand,

As he rushes out this end I'll name him.

 

"Here he comes, and for shame! Ye’ve forgotten the name -

Is it Daric or Feno or Geed?"

Here the youngster ran out, and the priest gave a shout -

"Take your chance, anyhow, with some Mead!

 

 

As the howling young cub ran away to the scrub

Where he knew that pursuit would need speed,

The priest, as he fled, flung a flask at his head

That was labelled "Falconius’ Mead"

Now Mead Daric, in the temple is an upstanding bloke.,

And the one thing he hates more than sin is,

To be asked by the folk who have heard of the joke,

How he came to be christened "Mead Daric"!

 

 

OOC: Please not that I did not write this poem in its entirity. "The tale of Meed Daric" is a Morrowind paraody of a famous bush poem by the famous poet Banjo Paterson.

[Smashy]

By the end of this bardic diversion Fode had passed out drunk, clutching his claymore.

[ObsidianKnight]

Armiena goes to the back of the tavern, and forces herself to check the barrels. True to the assassins word, his victims lie in the barrels in their own blood.

Except.... Armiena swears she hears a knocking coming from one of the barrels. She opens it, and sees.... Titanius, lying in a pool of old blood, with a healing scar on his throat.

"A little help, please?" Titanius remarks.

 

"What!? You're ALIVE!??"

"I'm a werewolf, remember? We regenerate."

 

Armiena helps Titanius climb out of his barrel.