Westley
"Then maybe all you need is a good fight. Sometimes knocking parts together doesn't do the trick. So...An albino Khajiit is pretty rare to see, I've heard. I wonder if she lives here?"
"A brawl sound pretty good. And I doubt that Khajiit lives here. You can tell when someone lives in Anvil. They have a certain look, and smell to them. I hope I don't end up in a brawl with that Khajiit though. I'm guessing she knows how to use her claws very well, and the last thing I need is to end up being gutted because I upset her." Westley kicked up some dust.
Full Version: The Shadow Under Fort Sutch
Kayla's face took upon a look of curiosity. "And how does one smell if they live in say, The Imperial City? Does everyone smell like you?" she teased.
Westley
"And how does one smell if they live in say, The Imperial City? Does everyone smell like you?"
Westley rolled his eyes. "Nope. I smell special. Everyone in the imperial city smells like scented soap. Except for the people on the waterfront district. They smell like me. Here in Anvil, everyone smells like sea-salt."
"And how does one smell if they live in say, The Imperial City? Does everyone smell like you?"
Westley rolled his eyes. "Nope. I smell special. Everyone in the imperial city smells like scented soap. Except for the people on the waterfront district. They smell like me. Here in Anvil, everyone smells like sea-salt."
"What is the Waterfront District? I've heard different things. all I can gather is that it's outside of the Imperial City walls."
Westley
"What is the Waterfront District? I've heard different things. all I can gather is that it's outside of the Imperial City walls."
Westley sighed "it's where the Imperial City dumps all of the poor people and criminals."
"What is the Waterfront District? I've heard different things. all I can gather is that it's outside of the Imperial City walls."
Westley sighed "it's where the Imperial City dumps all of the poor people and criminals."
Kayla looked away. "Oh." is all she could say.
Drakothemir smiled after Westley spoke. That is all he wanted to hear. In fact, he was more than glad the conversation was short and to the point. He knew he wouldn't have to kill the man right away or any of his friends.
He stood there alone and flashed a smile to everyone, and began starting conversations with people he did not know. One person out of all of them came to mind, however. Macalla. The Vigilante. She seemed to be a worthy opponent and a wonderful pawn. Drakothemir looked around him and came to the conclusion that he had to depart. There were other ways to pursue this adventure, and walking with a pack of jesters would not be the way to go.
Quietly, Drakothemir slipped out and left.
He stood there alone and flashed a smile to everyone, and began starting conversations with people he did not know. One person out of all of them came to mind, however. Macalla. The Vigilante. She seemed to be a worthy opponent and a wonderful pawn. Drakothemir looked around him and came to the conclusion that he had to depart. There were other ways to pursue this adventure, and walking with a pack of jesters would not be the way to go.
Quietly, Drakothemir slipped out and left.
Kayla shuffled her feet awkwardly. The conversation had taken an odd turn. She had run out of thing to say, and quite frankly, desired the familiarity of a group. She hooked her arm in Westley's and walked back to the rest.
Westley
Westley watched as Kayla shuffled her feet in an awkward way. He knew what had happened. She couldn't think of anything to say. He knew how that felt. Kayla hooked her arm with Westley's and they headed back to the group.
I hope that Ylenno is done with those jokes. In not in the mood to vomit...
Westley watched as Kayla shuffled her feet in an awkward way. He knew what had happened. She couldn't think of anything to say. He knew how that felt. Kayla hooked her arm with Westley's and they headed back to the group.
I hope that Ylenno is done with those jokes. In not in the mood to vomit...
Lycus Desselius.
The room of the Adventurer’s Guild was large and sparse, with rich tapestries on the magically polished walls, expensive rugs on the marble floor, and with the ceiling dressed with marvelous carvings of silver. Behind an wooden, gold-inlaid table sat a man named Lycus Desselius, whose broad shoulders, defined arms, hard pectorals, sculpted abdominals and sun-kissed skin(that hid under a simple brown shirt)seemed rather out of place among the luxurious hall. He seemed more a man that is part of the wilderness and the forests and hills and plains. His small movements bespoke of steel-bred muscled warrior to a sharp mind. His speech is that of a wise man. There was nothing deliberate or forced about his mannerisms.
His garments were of simple fabric. His roughspewn shirt was brown and almost tattered, his pants were of the same color and less extravagant. His black traveler's boots were new, however, and shiny. He wore no expensive rings or jewelry save for a necklace made of lupine teeth that hung around his neck. A black cascade of hair tumbled to his back above his shoulders and his face was heavily darkened by growing facial hair. Written in his arms were scars of past battles, which told to most this man had seen his share of fighting. More than most.
Set aside nearby was his spear, made of silver and adorned with Daedric lettering that seemed to have been burned alongside the sharp tip. Concealed in his boot was a sharp primeval-looking dagger, and sheathed on his sides is a jewel-encrusted scimitar and a wicked-looking Orsimer sword, both edges crafted to the sharpest of points.
He stood alone, partaking in the local dish that was on display and presented freely to thrill-seekers. He sampled the various foods. He popped grapes into his mouth, cut away the pieces of roasted boar and venison and broke an oven-baked loaf of bread in half and filled both with melted cheese. He wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings, for he already had scoped it out the moment he walked in. He heard different conversations come and go, and even cracked half a smirk at some of the crude jokes that were told. But he minded his own business for now.
That was, of course, to say that others didn’t respect his sense of privacy. A young High Elf girl, no more than the age of seventeen, approached his side to try out some of the succulent meats and fruits and sweets that were presented. She was undoubtedly a servant girl, but was willing to sneak in some mouthfuls. She glanced at Lycus indifferently and looked back to her plate, only to look back at him once more to stare. Lycus pretended he didn’t see her, and remained that way until her glaring was far too extreme for his own liking. Slowly, he turned to meet her gaze.
She squinted her eyes to try and discover something. As if she was trying to capture a memory that was lost to her. The woman suddenly widened her eyes and gasped lightly. “I know you! I’ve seen you before!”
“Woman. You are mistaken,” he told her. “I have been abroad for many years. It has been sometime since I returned to Cyrodiil.”
“Six years ago!”
Lycus remained silent. He knew where this was going.
“The arena! You are Kraven Desselius! Beast of Kvatch! Slayer of Beasts! The Undefeated Cyrodiil! Champion of the Imperial City Arena!”
There was no denying it. “I stand the man.”
“Yes! I knew it! Oh by Azura! I am such a fan! I was a girl back then but I still remember your face from the posters. I can’t believe your standing here! Next to me! Can I . . .join you?”
“If you could bestow upon me a simple favor.”
“Anything.”
“Do not make mention of my presence in this city to anyone. I would be pleased if I was given the privilege to walk unhindered.”
She looked disappointed. “Well, uh, that’s fine. My friends wouldn’t believe me anyways.”
“Gratitude.”
“Would you want anything else? For me to rub your back? Your feet? Carry your gear into battle? Shine your boots! Give you a kiss . .. “
“Woman.” Lycus said again, a bit more sternly this time but with a measure of gentleness. “I require no servants. Especially not from a fellow admirer.”
“Oh.”
“I must leave now,” he said to her. “For I am in a hurry. I wish you good fortune in your life. May fate smile upon you one day and you to it. Farewell” With those words, he gave her a loaf of his bread and smiled without showing any teeth.
The star-struck fan was left with her mouth gaped open. “But . . .one kiss!”
The room of the Adventurer’s Guild was large and sparse, with rich tapestries on the magically polished walls, expensive rugs on the marble floor, and with the ceiling dressed with marvelous carvings of silver. Behind an wooden, gold-inlaid table sat a man named Lycus Desselius, whose broad shoulders, defined arms, hard pectorals, sculpted abdominals and sun-kissed skin(that hid under a simple brown shirt)seemed rather out of place among the luxurious hall. He seemed more a man that is part of the wilderness and the forests and hills and plains. His small movements bespoke of steel-bred muscled warrior to a sharp mind. His speech is that of a wise man. There was nothing deliberate or forced about his mannerisms.
His garments were of simple fabric. His roughspewn shirt was brown and almost tattered, his pants were of the same color and less extravagant. His black traveler's boots were new, however, and shiny. He wore no expensive rings or jewelry save for a necklace made of lupine teeth that hung around his neck. A black cascade of hair tumbled to his back above his shoulders and his face was heavily darkened by growing facial hair. Written in his arms were scars of past battles, which told to most this man had seen his share of fighting. More than most.
Set aside nearby was his spear, made of silver and adorned with Daedric lettering that seemed to have been burned alongside the sharp tip. Concealed in his boot was a sharp primeval-looking dagger, and sheathed on his sides is a jewel-encrusted scimitar and a wicked-looking Orsimer sword, both edges crafted to the sharpest of points.
He stood alone, partaking in the local dish that was on display and presented freely to thrill-seekers. He sampled the various foods. He popped grapes into his mouth, cut away the pieces of roasted boar and venison and broke an oven-baked loaf of bread in half and filled both with melted cheese. He wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings, for he already had scoped it out the moment he walked in. He heard different conversations come and go, and even cracked half a smirk at some of the crude jokes that were told. But he minded his own business for now.
That was, of course, to say that others didn’t respect his sense of privacy. A young High Elf girl, no more than the age of seventeen, approached his side to try out some of the succulent meats and fruits and sweets that were presented. She was undoubtedly a servant girl, but was willing to sneak in some mouthfuls. She glanced at Lycus indifferently and looked back to her plate, only to look back at him once more to stare. Lycus pretended he didn’t see her, and remained that way until her glaring was far too extreme for his own liking. Slowly, he turned to meet her gaze.
She squinted her eyes to try and discover something. As if she was trying to capture a memory that was lost to her. The woman suddenly widened her eyes and gasped lightly. “I know you! I’ve seen you before!”
“Woman. You are mistaken,” he told her. “I have been abroad for many years. It has been sometime since I returned to Cyrodiil.”
“Six years ago!”
Lycus remained silent. He knew where this was going.
“The arena! You are Kraven Desselius! Beast of Kvatch! Slayer of Beasts! The Undefeated Cyrodiil! Champion of the Imperial City Arena!”
There was no denying it. “I stand the man.”
“Yes! I knew it! Oh by Azura! I am such a fan! I was a girl back then but I still remember your face from the posters. I can’t believe your standing here! Next to me! Can I . . .join you?”
“If you could bestow upon me a simple favor.”
“Anything.”
“Do not make mention of my presence in this city to anyone. I would be pleased if I was given the privilege to walk unhindered.”
She looked disappointed. “Well, uh, that’s fine. My friends wouldn’t believe me anyways.”
“Gratitude.”
“Would you want anything else? For me to rub your back? Your feet? Carry your gear into battle? Shine your boots! Give you a kiss . .. “
“Woman.” Lycus said again, a bit more sternly this time but with a measure of gentleness. “I require no servants. Especially not from a fellow admirer.”
“Oh.”
“I must leave now,” he said to her. “For I am in a hurry. I wish you good fortune in your life. May fate smile upon you one day and you to it. Farewell” With those words, he gave her a loaf of his bread and smiled without showing any teeth.
The star-struck fan was left with her mouth gaped open. “But . . .one kiss!”
Kayla led Westley to the group, then announced that she hadn't had anything to eat.
"I think we all know how ravenous I can get," she joked. "I'm going to see if I can get a small plate."
She picked her way through the crowd and heard a young elven girl pestering a man about a kiss.
"But... just one kiss!" she pleaded.
Kayla rolled her eyes and snorted, pushing the elven girl aside.
"Young lady, do not throw yourself at men. You let them come to you." She chastised. "Now please, step aside, before my appetite makes me less choosy about my meat."
The girl slunk away before shooting Kayla a cold look. Kayla turned to the man.
"I apologize. Not all elves are like that."
And with that, she began filling her plate. Various fruits and meats were piled on as she silently stood next to the man. She stepped aside so others could fill theirs, and began to snack.
"I think we all know how ravenous I can get," she joked. "I'm going to see if I can get a small plate."
She picked her way through the crowd and heard a young elven girl pestering a man about a kiss.
"But... just one kiss!" she pleaded.
Kayla rolled her eyes and snorted, pushing the elven girl aside.
"Young lady, do not throw yourself at men. You let them come to you." She chastised. "Now please, step aside, before my appetite makes me less choosy about my meat."
The girl slunk away before shooting Kayla a cold look. Kayla turned to the man.
"I apologize. Not all elves are like that."
And with that, she began filling her plate. Various fruits and meats were piled on as she silently stood next to the man. She stepped aside so others could fill theirs, and began to snack.
Ylenno stared at the claw that was being brandished about by a white-furred Khajiit with red hair the color of pure magma. His knees became water and his stomach liquified as his eyes followed the claw here and there.
When the Khajiit left, he breathed an immenslely relieved sigh.
"Dear gods, that cat was crazy! Threatening to proctologize the mighty Bush Tickler! Hagh! I think not, love! He still has many more... ehh, you know what, no, I won't continue that sentence."
He pointed at Westley, coming back from somehere with Kayla.
"Virgin-boy here doesn't approve. Yeah, I saw you kick that pebble at that lamp-post. You shouldn't really kick things at lamp-posts y'know; instead, why don't you lick 'em? Particulary in winter. Yes, winter. Licking lamp-posts in winter is always a good way to relieve yourself of that ever-heavy tension you got there."
He gave the lad another smile as he turned towards Buffy. He had a serious and grim look etched at his face.
"Oh, yes. In all seriousness, things like that did happen and WILL happen. I once stabbed a guy in the eye with Tickler here, and the eyeball got stuck. Nasty business, that."
He suddenly clapped his hands, and he had that omnipresent smile that was quick to be followed with his laughter. He gestured at Kayla who already entered ahead of the rest.
"Kayla the Insatiable Hunger has led the way! We must follow!"
Truth be told.
When Ylenno trailed after the nordic Altmer inside, his jaw almost fell from his face. All around him was beauty that belonged in a very rich castle rather than a Guildhall for mercenaries. It was large, it was wide, and it was classy beyond reason. Ylenno once visited the gilded halls of Cheydinhal's castle. He is willing to admit that the richness flounted over there utterly pales in comparison to here.
There were mercenaries strewn about, minding their businesses or signing up forms in rich mahogany tables inlaid with gold. Here and there were people with green bands around there shoulders; Adventurer Guildsmen, no doubt, acting as security. There were even a few Fighters Guild men smudged here and there.
He walked along the smooth, black marble floor, and followed the scent of free food while admiring the glories of the Guildhall. He stopped once and examined a butterfly-looking jug on a pedestal with a soft, velvet pillow underneath it. A single description says that this jug was recovered by one Celdryn Minan'Kherus, in the ruins of a dangerous Ayleid ruin near the Valenwood border. A wretched and hateful dagger of Daedric metals was caged in a display case, and a glass container above the case held a humming orb of pure darkness. Both were the loot of another Adventurer as he dared the bowels of Oblivion.
Trophies of the Adventurers, both unseeming and epic, were placed here in the Spot of Fame, a ten-feet large shelf with all of their accomplishments in view for those who wished to see. Needless to say, all of them were glorious.
He resumed following the scent and spotted Kayla picking from an abundant table with... with... with....
Kraven Desselius. There was no denying it. Ylenno has got to say that the posters didn't do him any justice. The stones on this guy impressed even him, but the streak he enjoyed in the Arena and the euphoria of Cyrodiil moaning his name six years ago impressed him more. Some would even go far as to say that he was an equal of Shinji.
He approached Kayla, and sat between her and Kraven. He took a silver goblet and filled it with honeyed wine.
"This Oedipus Nebraska must be a stinking rich noble-rat! Look at all this stuff! Its practically a thief's wet dream!"
When the Khajiit left, he breathed an immenslely relieved sigh.
"Dear gods, that cat was crazy! Threatening to proctologize the mighty Bush Tickler! Hagh! I think not, love! He still has many more... ehh, you know what, no, I won't continue that sentence."
He pointed at Westley, coming back from somehere with Kayla.
"Virgin-boy here doesn't approve. Yeah, I saw you kick that pebble at that lamp-post. You shouldn't really kick things at lamp-posts y'know; instead, why don't you lick 'em? Particulary in winter. Yes, winter. Licking lamp-posts in winter is always a good way to relieve yourself of that ever-heavy tension you got there."
He gave the lad another smile as he turned towards Buffy. He had a serious and grim look etched at his face.
"Oh, yes. In all seriousness, things like that did happen and WILL happen. I once stabbed a guy in the eye with Tickler here, and the eyeball got stuck. Nasty business, that."
He suddenly clapped his hands, and he had that omnipresent smile that was quick to be followed with his laughter. He gestured at Kayla who already entered ahead of the rest.
"Kayla the Insatiable Hunger has led the way! We must follow!"
Truth be told.
When Ylenno trailed after the nordic Altmer inside, his jaw almost fell from his face. All around him was beauty that belonged in a very rich castle rather than a Guildhall for mercenaries. It was large, it was wide, and it was classy beyond reason. Ylenno once visited the gilded halls of Cheydinhal's castle. He is willing to admit that the richness flounted over there utterly pales in comparison to here.
There were mercenaries strewn about, minding their businesses or signing up forms in rich mahogany tables inlaid with gold. Here and there were people with green bands around there shoulders; Adventurer Guildsmen, no doubt, acting as security. There were even a few Fighters Guild men smudged here and there.
He walked along the smooth, black marble floor, and followed the scent of free food while admiring the glories of the Guildhall. He stopped once and examined a butterfly-looking jug on a pedestal with a soft, velvet pillow underneath it. A single description says that this jug was recovered by one Celdryn Minan'Kherus, in the ruins of a dangerous Ayleid ruin near the Valenwood border. A wretched and hateful dagger of Daedric metals was caged in a display case, and a glass container above the case held a humming orb of pure darkness. Both were the loot of another Adventurer as he dared the bowels of Oblivion.
Trophies of the Adventurers, both unseeming and epic, were placed here in the Spot of Fame, a ten-feet large shelf with all of their accomplishments in view for those who wished to see. Needless to say, all of them were glorious.
He resumed following the scent and spotted Kayla picking from an abundant table with... with... with....
Kraven Desselius. There was no denying it. Ylenno has got to say that the posters didn't do him any justice. The stones on this guy impressed even him, but the streak he enjoyed in the Arena and the euphoria of Cyrodiil moaning his name six years ago impressed him more. Some would even go far as to say that he was an equal of Shinji.
He approached Kayla, and sat between her and Kraven. He took a silver goblet and filled it with honeyed wine.
"This Oedipus Nebraska must be a stinking rich noble-rat! Look at all this stuff! Its practically a thief's wet dream!"
"It IS beautiful," Kayla admitted. "But it seems like a lot of waste to me. I hope they give the leftovers to the workers and the poor on the streets," she said, casting a sideways glance at Westley. "The coin from one of these artifacts alone could shame a jarl into hiding."
She brought a cool glass of water to her lips. She leaned back slightly in her seat, stomach satisfied.
She brought a cool glass of water to her lips. She leaned back slightly in her seat, stomach satisfied.
Ylenno gave a shrug as he reached out for silverwares. He added to his plate several cuts of venison, a spoonful of vegetables, a large smoked fish and a bowl of steaming rice. He dipped the rice with some soy sauce and twinkled it with various herbs.
"I'm feeling Akaviri cuisine today," he remarked. "Its a good thing they serve some acceptable replacements here."
He then turned to Kraven.
"Generous people, these Adventurers, eh?"
"I'm feeling Akaviri cuisine today," he remarked. "Its a good thing they serve some acceptable replacements here."
He then turned to Kraven.
"Generous people, these Adventurers, eh?"
Lycus Desselius.
Lycus moved to the other side of the table and away from the young lady when she called out to him for a kiss. It was then that another High Elf woman, much older than her but looking the same with her auburn hair and yellow eyes, rebuked the young woman with womanly advice. One that Lycus was all too familiar with. She then apologized to him after the young lady vanished from sight.
"I apologize. Not all elves are like that." The stranger said to him.Lycus appraised her with his solemn bright hazel eyes and kept a neutral expression. The first thing he noticed about this woman was not good looks, for most Altmer women looked the same to him. But there was something that seperated this one from the others. Her hardened appearance and of course, that foreign Nordic accent.
Living in Skyrim for three years Lycus had integrated himself to their warrior culture. Those were hardened people. Honorable men and women, who grabbed life by the throat and made it sing with a combination of blood, sweat, tears and mead. Even the farmers themselves knew a thing or two about living by the sword or the axe. It wasn't everyday that a Elf, especially an Altmer, would adopt their culture. She was an obvious one.
Lycus added some extra food to his plate. "I would disagree. Most of the Dark Elves are. Certainly not the High Elves. I feared you were her sister when my eyes first set upon you. I am pressed to believe you are different from the other questionable Mer women that crossed paths with me."
He debated on the types of drink he could get. Most were alcoholic beverages to cool the tongue and wash down the food, but somewhere in there there was a jug of fresh water that Lycus felt tempted to get. Wine was good, indeed, but water was also good for the body. In quiet moments or when in the company of friends, he would drink wine. But it wasn't always good to drink it before battle. And he knew that Fort Sutch would be a challenge with all of the armed men that were eager to set foot upon its forgotten soil.
Looking for a place to seat himself, Lycus heard one of the loud Bosmer's enter his field of vision. It was the one with the roguish qualities, who sported a wicked axeblade and was garbed in padded jerkins. His exotic hairstyle, boasted to the extreme for tickling women's treasured parts, was one of the things that made him stand out. The rest was his jeweled necklace and other assortments. Lycus did not know this man but he could tell easily that he was thief. The Wood Elf's later comment about the place being a thief's paradise only reinforced the idea. He was a comical one, Lycus knew. He reminded him of a friend he once had back in his slave years, Daenlin, who once bragged about having a magic cöck.
He was already aquainted with the High Elf woman, who somewhat confirmed she was Nordic when she made a mention of jarls and not Altmeri rulers. And unlike most of her brethren, she was not impressed by the grand display of art by the fellow Nebraska. "But it seems like a lot of waste to me. I hope they give the leftovers to the workers and the poor on the streets."
"They'd sooner feed it to the hounds." Lycus mumbled, mostly to himself, in a gruff voice.
"Generous people, these Adventurers, eh?" The rogue said to him right after he said that. Lycus, already seated, raised his head to look at the man as he chewed down his food.
"The food does fill the belly. It is well received." Lycus remarked. He stared at the man for a long two seconds before turning elsewhere. He looked at all the mercenaries and soldiers, both fresh and seasoned, walk the building grounds. But he was far more concerned about the young men that walked in wearing rusty armor or gear stolen from their wealthy parents. Young boys seeking to brave the harsh world and to live a perilous life of adventure.
"This places promises much. Honey for the eyes, wine for the tongue and promise of future glories. The storied pleasures of life." he cracked a smile. "It brings in too many young ones though. Boys playing at being men."
This wasn't an insult to the Bosmer, though. Lycus could see that this man was street-smart and possible had a nose that had been broken at least two times. His scars told of a violent life, which Lycus understood completely. Though he could not truly judge the character of the man right away, he felt he would get along with him.
Lycus moved to the other side of the table and away from the young lady when she called out to him for a kiss. It was then that another High Elf woman, much older than her but looking the same with her auburn hair and yellow eyes, rebuked the young woman with womanly advice. One that Lycus was all too familiar with. She then apologized to him after the young lady vanished from sight.
"I apologize. Not all elves are like that." The stranger said to him.Lycus appraised her with his solemn bright hazel eyes and kept a neutral expression. The first thing he noticed about this woman was not good looks, for most Altmer women looked the same to him. But there was something that seperated this one from the others. Her hardened appearance and of course, that foreign Nordic accent.
Living in Skyrim for three years Lycus had integrated himself to their warrior culture. Those were hardened people. Honorable men and women, who grabbed life by the throat and made it sing with a combination of blood, sweat, tears and mead. Even the farmers themselves knew a thing or two about living by the sword or the axe. It wasn't everyday that a Elf, especially an Altmer, would adopt their culture. She was an obvious one.
Lycus added some extra food to his plate. "I would disagree. Most of the Dark Elves are. Certainly not the High Elves. I feared you were her sister when my eyes first set upon you. I am pressed to believe you are different from the other questionable Mer women that crossed paths with me."
He debated on the types of drink he could get. Most were alcoholic beverages to cool the tongue and wash down the food, but somewhere in there there was a jug of fresh water that Lycus felt tempted to get. Wine was good, indeed, but water was also good for the body. In quiet moments or when in the company of friends, he would drink wine. But it wasn't always good to drink it before battle. And he knew that Fort Sutch would be a challenge with all of the armed men that were eager to set foot upon its forgotten soil.
Looking for a place to seat himself, Lycus heard one of the loud Bosmer's enter his field of vision. It was the one with the roguish qualities, who sported a wicked axeblade and was garbed in padded jerkins. His exotic hairstyle, boasted to the extreme for tickling women's treasured parts, was one of the things that made him stand out. The rest was his jeweled necklace and other assortments. Lycus did not know this man but he could tell easily that he was thief. The Wood Elf's later comment about the place being a thief's paradise only reinforced the idea. He was a comical one, Lycus knew. He reminded him of a friend he once had back in his slave years, Daenlin, who once bragged about having a magic cöck.
He was already aquainted with the High Elf woman, who somewhat confirmed she was Nordic when she made a mention of jarls and not Altmeri rulers. And unlike most of her brethren, she was not impressed by the grand display of art by the fellow Nebraska. "But it seems like a lot of waste to me. I hope they give the leftovers to the workers and the poor on the streets."
"They'd sooner feed it to the hounds." Lycus mumbled, mostly to himself, in a gruff voice.
"Generous people, these Adventurers, eh?" The rogue said to him right after he said that. Lycus, already seated, raised his head to look at the man as he chewed down his food.
"The food does fill the belly. It is well received." Lycus remarked. He stared at the man for a long two seconds before turning elsewhere. He looked at all the mercenaries and soldiers, both fresh and seasoned, walk the building grounds. But he was far more concerned about the young men that walked in wearing rusty armor or gear stolen from their wealthy parents. Young boys seeking to brave the harsh world and to live a perilous life of adventure.
"This places promises much. Honey for the eyes, wine for the tongue and promise of future glories. The storied pleasures of life." he cracked a smile. "It brings in too many young ones though. Boys playing at being men."
This wasn't an insult to the Bosmer, though. Lycus could see that this man was street-smart and possible had a nose that had been broken at least two times. His scars told of a violent life, which Lycus understood completely. Though he could not truly judge the character of the man right away, he felt he would get along with him.
"It brings in too many young ones though. Boys playing at being men."
Kayla nodded. "That's what the word 'adventure' does to young ones. You're only showed the glory, never the hardship." She turned in her seat towards the man and extended her hand.
"Kayla."
Kayla nodded. "That's what the word 'adventure' does to young ones. You're only showed the glory, never the hardship." She turned in her seat towards the man and extended her hand.
"Kayla."
Lycus Desselius.
"It is through hardships that glory can be attained. One day or another they will discover this. But what they do with such discover is the true test of character." Lycus replied to the woman who introduced herself as Kayla. Lycus brought the expensive cup to his lip and drank the water away before setting it down slightly. He turned to the Altmer and shook her hand with a slightly firm grip.
"Lycus," the former gladiator said as he released her hand. He turned back into his food and finished his last portion of vegetables and spices by shoving a forkful into his mouth.
"It is through hardships that glory can be attained. One day or another they will discover this. But what they do with such discover is the true test of character." Lycus replied to the woman who introduced herself as Kayla. Lycus brought the expensive cup to his lip and drank the water away before setting it down slightly. He turned to the Altmer and shook her hand with a slightly firm grip.
"Lycus," the former gladiator said as he released her hand. He turned back into his food and finished his last portion of vegetables and spices by shoving a forkful into his mouth.
Buffy:
The snow white Khajiit with flaming locks and brandishing a single extended claw, slipped away almost as suddenly as she had appeared. Her size – almost as small as Buffy – and exotic coloring perfectly matched the description given by Delphine Jend of a friend of hers. Had Buffy read the Khajiit’s name somewhere, she would have instantly been able to recall it, but she struggled sometimes to recall the words of distant conversations. Then it hit her: Maxical. But again, the Khajiit was gone before Buffy could react.
The group around her was sparse now, as most had wandered into the guild hall proper. Shouldering the bow she had been pretending to inspect, Buffy’s buckskin boots moved noiselessly from the fine stone front alcove onto the smooth black marble inside. She plucked several strawberries from the bountiful tables inside and nibbled while wandering among the exotic treasures on display upon shelves or protected inside opulent glass fronted cabinetry. Tapestries lined the walls and, as Buffy looked up, a massive chandelier of wrought iron hosted countless glowing stones – the kind found growing from the walls in some Ayleid ruins. Higher still, decoratively stamped copper panels were inlaid into the ceiling.
Turning her attention to those who populated the room, it was Kayla’s auburn locks that caught her eye. As Buffy approached, the Altmer shook hands with a muscular man dressed in a tattered shirt. His complexion had a swarthy tone that perhaps marked him as Nibenean, as did the long black hair that trailed down his back. The bladed weaponry he sported appeared to be of high quality, but such things were lost on the mystic archer. The only blades she knew how to use were small hunting knives that she summoned for cooking, field dressing game or cutting her own arrows from foes. The human’s pants matched his humble shirt, and even bore the patches of several repairs. They were tucked into surprisingly high quality black leather boots.
When Buffy got close enough, she heard the man say, “Lycus,” as his hand parted from Kayla’s.
The snow white Khajiit with flaming locks and brandishing a single extended claw, slipped away almost as suddenly as she had appeared. Her size – almost as small as Buffy – and exotic coloring perfectly matched the description given by Delphine Jend of a friend of hers. Had Buffy read the Khajiit’s name somewhere, she would have instantly been able to recall it, but she struggled sometimes to recall the words of distant conversations. Then it hit her: Maxical. But again, the Khajiit was gone before Buffy could react.
The group around her was sparse now, as most had wandered into the guild hall proper. Shouldering the bow she had been pretending to inspect, Buffy’s buckskin boots moved noiselessly from the fine stone front alcove onto the smooth black marble inside. She plucked several strawberries from the bountiful tables inside and nibbled while wandering among the exotic treasures on display upon shelves or protected inside opulent glass fronted cabinetry. Tapestries lined the walls and, as Buffy looked up, a massive chandelier of wrought iron hosted countless glowing stones – the kind found growing from the walls in some Ayleid ruins. Higher still, decoratively stamped copper panels were inlaid into the ceiling.
Turning her attention to those who populated the room, it was Kayla’s auburn locks that caught her eye. As Buffy approached, the Altmer shook hands with a muscular man dressed in a tattered shirt. His complexion had a swarthy tone that perhaps marked him as Nibenean, as did the long black hair that trailed down his back. The bladed weaponry he sported appeared to be of high quality, but such things were lost on the mystic archer. The only blades she knew how to use were small hunting knives that she summoned for cooking, field dressing game or cutting her own arrows from foes. The human’s pants matched his humble shirt, and even bore the patches of several repairs. They were tucked into surprisingly high quality black leather boots.
When Buffy got close enough, she heard the man say, “Lycus,” as his hand parted from Kayla’s.
Westley
Westley headed into the guild hall with Kayla and Ylenno for a bite to eat.
"Virgin-boy here doesn't approve. Yeah, I saw you kick that pebble at that lamp-post. You shouldn't really kick things at lamp-posts y'know; instead, why don't you lick 'em? Particulary in winter. Yes, winter. Licking lamp-posts in winter is always a good way to relieve yourself of that ever-heavy tension you got there."
Westley ignored Ylenno's joke. He was busy eyeing the food on a nearby table. He lurked in the background while Kayla had a conversation with tan-skinned, muscular Imperial man dressed in tattered clothing. He had lost interest in the conversation the moment it started. He started feeling claustrophibic. There were quite a few people in the guildhall, and it made him uncomfortable. He needed some fresh air before he ended up in anterrible mood and started snapping at people. Westley briefly interrupted the conversation.
"Kayla, if you need anything I'll be outside in front of the guildhall."
Westley exited the place and sat on a nearby crate while he watched Buffy enter the building.
Westley headed into the guild hall with Kayla and Ylenno for a bite to eat.
"Virgin-boy here doesn't approve. Yeah, I saw you kick that pebble at that lamp-post. You shouldn't really kick things at lamp-posts y'know; instead, why don't you lick 'em? Particulary in winter. Yes, winter. Licking lamp-posts in winter is always a good way to relieve yourself of that ever-heavy tension you got there."
Westley ignored Ylenno's joke. He was busy eyeing the food on a nearby table. He lurked in the background while Kayla had a conversation with tan-skinned, muscular Imperial man dressed in tattered clothing. He had lost interest in the conversation the moment it started. He started feeling claustrophibic. There were quite a few people in the guildhall, and it made him uncomfortable. He needed some fresh air before he ended up in anterrible mood and started snapping at people. Westley briefly interrupted the conversation.
"Kayla, if you need anything I'll be outside in front of the guildhall."
Westley exited the place and sat on a nearby crate while he watched Buffy enter the building.
Lycus Desselius.
Lycus tilted his head slightly, eyes widening quite brief that only those with the sharpest of vision would have noticed. He focused in on the Imperial man who he had seen before, but never bothered to speak to. His hazel eyes gazed upon unsavory-looking man making his way behind Kayla.
He noticed from quite a distance that he avoided any social conversations. His facial features sprinkled with anger and bitterness was evident to even those with the untrained eye. His mannerisms and gestures were hostile and aggressive and there was an animalistic touch to it.
When Lycus arrived in Anvil he had he had heard gossip of a werewolf sighting. A rumor that filled his ears last night. He didn't suspect it was false. In fact, he knew the rumors were true. There were many reasons he was aware there was a werewolf among the people. One of those reasons was the smell alone.
The Imperial knew what the other Imperial was by the following; the scent and the behavior. Even in human form, Lycus could tell when a man was also a beast. His present shape could not deceive him; he knew full well that the short-haired, blue-eyed man was not really a normal man at all but a Lycanthrope. A werewolf.
"Kayla, if you need anything I'll be outside in front of the guildhall." He spoke and headed out, vanishing from sight. Lycus did not remove his eyes from the man sometime.
They are aquainted. Friends, maybe . . . Lycus reflected.
He turned to Kayla and saw a woman of small stature approach. He immedietly figured her for a Bosmer. The big ears, azure eyes, and petite face was among the things Lycus noticed right away. Like him, she wore simple attire that came in shades of brown and olive. The way she stood behind the Altmer told Lycus that they also were somehow aquainted with each other.
Lycus was much taller than the Bosmeri woman, who to the average man was very short. To her he might have seemed like a brute giant. His eyes lowered toward hers and he took on a serious look. "You all are known to each other?"
Lycus tilted his head slightly, eyes widening quite brief that only those with the sharpest of vision would have noticed. He focused in on the Imperial man who he had seen before, but never bothered to speak to. His hazel eyes gazed upon unsavory-looking man making his way behind Kayla.
He noticed from quite a distance that he avoided any social conversations. His facial features sprinkled with anger and bitterness was evident to even those with the untrained eye. His mannerisms and gestures were hostile and aggressive and there was an animalistic touch to it.
When Lycus arrived in Anvil he had he had heard gossip of a werewolf sighting. A rumor that filled his ears last night. He didn't suspect it was false. In fact, he knew the rumors were true. There were many reasons he was aware there was a werewolf among the people. One of those reasons was the smell alone.
The Imperial knew what the other Imperial was by the following; the scent and the behavior. Even in human form, Lycus could tell when a man was also a beast. His present shape could not deceive him; he knew full well that the short-haired, blue-eyed man was not really a normal man at all but a Lycanthrope. A werewolf.
"Kayla, if you need anything I'll be outside in front of the guildhall." He spoke and headed out, vanishing from sight. Lycus did not remove his eyes from the man sometime.
They are aquainted. Friends, maybe . . . Lycus reflected.
He turned to Kayla and saw a woman of small stature approach. He immedietly figured her for a Bosmer. The big ears, azure eyes, and petite face was among the things Lycus noticed right away. Like him, she wore simple attire that came in shades of brown and olive. The way she stood behind the Altmer told Lycus that they also were somehow aquainted with each other.
Lycus was much taller than the Bosmeri woman, who to the average man was very short. To her he might have seemed like a brute giant. His eyes lowered toward hers and he took on a serious look. "You all are known to each other?"
Buffy:
Lycus set his plate on the nearby table, looked at Buffy and said, “You are all known to each other?”
She looked up at the black haired human who was easily two and a half times her weight. His waist was trim and the simple shirt he wore did little to conceal the powerful looking muscles beneath it. “We met only yesterday, but yes. I gather you’ve met Kayla. The young armored Imperial who just stepped outside is Westley.” She smiled and tapped the side of her head. “I’m sorry, but with these ears I could not help but hear that your name is Lycus as you spoke it to Kayla. Oh, and I am called Buffy. I’m a mystic archer, here representing the Council of Mages.” She waved her hand to indicate the large room they stood in. “Are you a member of the Adventurers Guild?”
Lycus set his plate on the nearby table, looked at Buffy and said, “You are all known to each other?”
She looked up at the black haired human who was easily two and a half times her weight. His waist was trim and the simple shirt he wore did little to conceal the powerful looking muscles beneath it. “We met only yesterday, but yes. I gather you’ve met Kayla. The young armored Imperial who just stepped outside is Westley.” She smiled and tapped the side of her head. “I’m sorry, but with these ears I could not help but hear that your name is Lycus as you spoke it to Kayla. Oh, and I am called Buffy. I’m a mystic archer, here representing the Council of Mages.” She waved her hand to indicate the large room they stood in. “Are you a member of the Adventurers Guild?”
Kayla frowned slightly. Westley had, yet again, separated himself from the group for an unknown reason. She huffed into her glass, then drank the last of the now-warm water. She thought about following him, and mulled over it for a moment.
Maybe he found himself a woman and is playing hard-to-get now, she thought. She looked around the guildhall. There were plenty of beautiful women to suit any type of man's needs. Tall, elegant Altmer, gruff she-orcs, dainty Bosmers and Bretons, sleek Khajiit and Argonians. Even battle-hardened Imperial women. But when she looked back in the direction he had headed, she found he was gone.
Wonderful.
With Westley gone, she had no one to pick on besides teeny Buffy. She did not know the newcomer well enough, and the others were oddly silent.
She sighed and kept silent.
Maybe he found himself a woman and is playing hard-to-get now, she thought. She looked around the guildhall. There were plenty of beautiful women to suit any type of man's needs. Tall, elegant Altmer, gruff she-orcs, dainty Bosmers and Bretons, sleek Khajiit and Argonians. Even battle-hardened Imperial women. But when she looked back in the direction he had headed, she found he was gone.
Wonderful.
With Westley gone, she had no one to pick on besides teeny Buffy. She did not know the newcomer well enough, and the others were oddly silent.
She sighed and kept silent.
Westley
Westley sat on the crate for a few moments, and inhaled the fresh air. He found himself disliking sitting in the crate alone, and the smell of the food had made him hungry. He decided to go back into the guildhall. He picked at some of the meat dishes and had an apple before relocating the group. Kayla was standing there awkwardly, not speaking to anyone.
"And I thought I wasn't the most talkative person, but it seems you guys are awfully quiet."
Westley sat on the crate for a few moments, and inhaled the fresh air. He found himself disliking sitting in the crate alone, and the smell of the food had made him hungry. He decided to go back into the guildhall. He picked at some of the meat dishes and had an apple before relocating the group. Kayla was standing there awkwardly, not speaking to anyone.
"And I thought I wasn't the most talkative person, but it seems you guys are awfully quiet."
Kayla laughed. "Me? Quiet? Nope, just a tad cranky. My sword arm is turning to jelly." She grinned at Westley, gesturing to the room full of various women. "See anything you like? There's plenty to choose from, and I'm sure any of them would give you a run for your money!"
Westley
"See anything you like? There's plenty to choose from, and I'm sure any of them would give you a run for your money!"
Westley glanced around, and his eye twitched.
"No. I'm fine. I'd prefer to stay over here with you guys. I only left because I get claustrophobic sometimes. Besides, I like to save my money"
"See anything you like? There's plenty to choose from, and I'm sure any of them would give you a run for your money!"
Westley glanced around, and his eye twitched.
"No. I'm fine. I'd prefer to stay over here with you guys. I only left because I get claustrophobic sometimes. Besides, I like to save my money"
Had Kayla been eating or drinking anything, she would have choked. She covered her mouth and turned red, giggling into her hand. She leaned on Westley's shoulder, gasping for air through her laughter.
"Mara's teat, you're mean!" she laughed.
"Mara's teat, you're mean!" she laughed.
Westley
Westley watched as Kayla turned red and started giggling. He easily supported her weight when she leaned on his shoulder, taking desperate gasps if air.
"Mara's teat, you're mean!"
Westley grinned. "Not mean, just stubborn."
Westley watched as Kayla turned red and started giggling. He easily supported her weight when she leaned on his shoulder, taking desperate gasps if air.
"Mara's teat, you're mean!"
Westley grinned. "Not mean, just stubborn."
"Aye, stubborn you definitely are." She patted his shoulder and grinned. "Try to stay inside, in case Oedipus Nebraska decides to speak soon, okay?"
Westley
"Aye, stubborn you definitely are. Try to stay inside, in case Oedipus Nebraska decides to speak soon, okay?"
"I'll try, but if I get too claustrophobic I'll have to get fresh air or I'll garner unwanted attention. I'll most likely miss him speaking if I go after any women as well." Westley smirked at Kayla, and grabbed some mutton off if the table in front of him.
"Aye, stubborn you definitely are. Try to stay inside, in case Oedipus Nebraska decides to speak soon, okay?"
"I'll try, but if I get too claustrophobic I'll have to get fresh air or I'll garner unwanted attention. I'll most likely miss him speaking if I go after any women as well." Westley smirked at Kayla, and grabbed some mutton off if the table in front of him.
Kayla smirked right back. "Not if I come right up behind you and smack you upside the head and say 'BOY! Listen!' Though that might not work in your favor with the woman!" she laughed.
Westley
"Not if I come right up behind you and smack you upside the head and say 'BOY! Listen!' Though that might not work in your favor with the woman!"
"I'd probably have a heart-attack from not expecting to be hit in the head." Westley snickered.
"Not if I come right up behind you and smack you upside the head and say 'BOY! Listen!' Though that might not work in your favor with the woman!"
"I'd probably have a heart-attack from not expecting to be hit in the head." Westley snickered.
Kayla laughed and playfully slapped Westley on the arm.
Westley
Westley stood there while Kayla playfully slapped him on his arm. He was running out if things to say, so he just wolfed down his mutton.
"Are you excited about this expedition?"
Westley stood there while Kayla playfully slapped him on his arm. He was running out if things to say, so he just wolfed down his mutton.
"Are you excited about this expedition?"
Kayla nodded. "I'm eager to explore. Find things no one else has found. Then move on to the next." She shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe there's really nothing in there. Though I doubt it. What about you?" She raised her brows. "Calm down on the mutton, boy. You'll choke to death."
Westley
"I'm eager to explore. Find things no one else has found. Then move on to the next. Who knows? Maybe there's really nothing in there. Though I doubt it. What about you? Calm down on the mutton, boy. You'll choke to death."
Westley proceeded to quickly eat the mutton before speaking. "I came seeking fame and fortune. I'm getting sick of being treated like a beggar."
"I'm eager to explore. Find things no one else has found. Then move on to the next. Who knows? Maybe there's really nothing in there. Though I doubt it. What about you? Calm down on the mutton, boy. You'll choke to death."
Westley proceeded to quickly eat the mutton before speaking. "I came seeking fame and fortune. I'm getting sick of being treated like a beggar."
Remembering her first few years on her own, Kayla could sympathize. For some reason, a dirty, poor Altmer was hilarious to others. She patted Westley's arm.
"I don't blame you one bit. Times are hard right now. Then again, when aren't they for the lower classes?"
"I don't blame you one bit. Times are hard right now. Then again, when aren't they for the lower classes?"
Westley
"I don't blame you one bit. Times are hard right now. Then again, when aren't they for the lower classes?"
"I'm poor to the point where I have to hunt for my food. A lot of people in the waterfront are like that, and nobody does anything to help. A few coins could feed a person for a day! Is it that hard to part with a few coins! Anyway, I do a lot of adventuring. That's where I get my money." Westley reached for another piece of mutton.
"I don't blame you one bit. Times are hard right now. Then again, when aren't they for the lower classes?"
"I'm poor to the point where I have to hunt for my food. A lot of people in the waterfront are like that, and nobody does anything to help. A few coins could feed a person for a day! Is it that hard to part with a few coins! Anyway, I do a lot of adventuring. That's where I get my money." Westley reached for another piece of mutton.
"Oh yeah? What do you hunt with? A bow? Or do you fall on top of the deer, crushing it to death?" she teased.
Westley
"Oh yeah? What do you hunt with? A bow? Or do you fall on top of the deer, crushing it to death?"
Westley chuckled at Kayla's joke. "I'm fast enough to catch up with a deer and kill it with a dagger, but I usually use a bow."
"Oh yeah? What do you hunt with? A bow? Or do you fall on top of the deer, crushing it to death?"
Westley chuckled at Kayla's joke. "I'm fast enough to catch up with a deer and kill it with a dagger, but I usually use a bow."
Kayla's eyebrows nearly went into her hairline. "You... catch the deer?!"
"You... catch the deer?!"
"Yea, I'm fast enough to catch the deer. Not sure why, I've always been a fast runner."
Westley started wolfing down another piece of mutton as he wondered while Kayla was so surprised he could catch a deer.
Are people not capable of catching deer or what?
"Yea, I'm fast enough to catch the deer. Not sure why, I've always been a fast runner."
Westley started wolfing down another piece of mutton as he wondered while Kayla was so surprised he could catch a deer.
Are people not capable of catching deer or what?
Lycus Desselius:
Lycus looked down upon the friendly Wood Elf who introduced herself as Buffy. It was a unique name for a Mer but he has heard stranger. The name itself suited her for some reason. She told him she heard him reveal his name to Kayla, pointing to her own large set of ears. She represented the Council of Mages, and with recurve bow, she was a mystic archer and represented the Council of Mages.
It was then that Lycus saw that this lithe and tiny Bosmer might have more to her than he first set eyes on her. Her voice betrayed no lies or deceit. Lycus was good at judging the character of a person and he could see that she was quite deadly with the bow. Especially after she raised her hand, Lycus saw the bumps she had at the edge of her fingers which were proof that she was good with the ranged weapon. He would have to see her in action first, but there was no doubt that she was a deadly archer when the time came to take a life.
To answer her question, Lycus shook his head and tried to put aside the fact that most people were now crowding the table and eating away some of the food that he wanted to sample. "A pleasure, Buffy. I am no member of the Guild. I come in response to invitation and a request for one other."
After a moment, the man called Westley returned to the group and sought out to kill his hunger by eating more food. From there he could see that he and Kayla had a sort of a bond. They were friends. The manner in which they teased one another signified a friendship. Lycus had to wonder though . . .would it last? He didn't know the man's intention but he did know that he was dangerous to those around him. As all werewolves are. They can be unpredictable when their bestial instincts take over and those closest to them can be harmed or even killed.
"I'm poor to the point where I have to hunt for my food. A lot of people in the waterfront are like that, and nobody does anything to help. A few coins could feed a person for a day! Is it that hard to part with a few coins! Anyway, I do a lot of adventuring. That's where I get my money." Westley said to Kayla.
Lycus held back a smile. This was a memory he had long ago. Living in poverty near the Great Forest at his parent's farm. Hunting for food to sustain his family who were deeply entrenched in debt. Lycus also remembered sneaking away at night to the Waterfront to earn extra coin by gambling. Part of him back then wished he had gone adventuring instead. But then he would have never become the man he is today. Fate has such a intricate way of dealing with a person that to this day it baffled him the point where he stopped trying to understand it. There are times that will always be difficult for the poor. But in those struggles, if fought and won, can yield the greatest of rewards. People become great by hardship and problems. And by learning from those shortcomings they become wiser and a far better person.
The conversation went from that to hunting deer. Something Lycus was good at since he was a young lad many years ago. He was a gifted hunter and it was one of his hobbies; he killed for both sport and nutrition. He turned to Westley, though the look on his face was serious but not hostile. "An arrow is swift and precise but it requires effort to make sure the destination of its course is true. The shafts must be straight and made of seasoned wood. It has to be feathered with delicate care otherwise it will prove unbalanced."
He paused and reached out for the large spear that stood against the wall beside him. "The bow is among my favorite of hunting tools next to snares. Though my love for the spear outweights my care for the bow. The spear is a marvelous weapon and the damage that can be inflicted upon prey is amazing. It is a tool used even by the Daedric Lord, Hircine. Those with a strong arm can throw it from a tree or even pursue deer on foot."
Lycus looked down upon the friendly Wood Elf who introduced herself as Buffy. It was a unique name for a Mer but he has heard stranger. The name itself suited her for some reason. She told him she heard him reveal his name to Kayla, pointing to her own large set of ears. She represented the Council of Mages, and with recurve bow, she was a mystic archer and represented the Council of Mages.
It was then that Lycus saw that this lithe and tiny Bosmer might have more to her than he first set eyes on her. Her voice betrayed no lies or deceit. Lycus was good at judging the character of a person and he could see that she was quite deadly with the bow. Especially after she raised her hand, Lycus saw the bumps she had at the edge of her fingers which were proof that she was good with the ranged weapon. He would have to see her in action first, but there was no doubt that she was a deadly archer when the time came to take a life.
To answer her question, Lycus shook his head and tried to put aside the fact that most people were now crowding the table and eating away some of the food that he wanted to sample. "A pleasure, Buffy. I am no member of the Guild. I come in response to invitation and a request for one other."
After a moment, the man called Westley returned to the group and sought out to kill his hunger by eating more food. From there he could see that he and Kayla had a sort of a bond. They were friends. The manner in which they teased one another signified a friendship. Lycus had to wonder though . . .would it last? He didn't know the man's intention but he did know that he was dangerous to those around him. As all werewolves are. They can be unpredictable when their bestial instincts take over and those closest to them can be harmed or even killed.
"I'm poor to the point where I have to hunt for my food. A lot of people in the waterfront are like that, and nobody does anything to help. A few coins could feed a person for a day! Is it that hard to part with a few coins! Anyway, I do a lot of adventuring. That's where I get my money." Westley said to Kayla.
Lycus held back a smile. This was a memory he had long ago. Living in poverty near the Great Forest at his parent's farm. Hunting for food to sustain his family who were deeply entrenched in debt. Lycus also remembered sneaking away at night to the Waterfront to earn extra coin by gambling. Part of him back then wished he had gone adventuring instead. But then he would have never become the man he is today. Fate has such a intricate way of dealing with a person that to this day it baffled him the point where he stopped trying to understand it. There are times that will always be difficult for the poor. But in those struggles, if fought and won, can yield the greatest of rewards. People become great by hardship and problems. And by learning from those shortcomings they become wiser and a far better person.
The conversation went from that to hunting deer. Something Lycus was good at since he was a young lad many years ago. He was a gifted hunter and it was one of his hobbies; he killed for both sport and nutrition. He turned to Westley, though the look on his face was serious but not hostile. "An arrow is swift and precise but it requires effort to make sure the destination of its course is true. The shafts must be straight and made of seasoned wood. It has to be feathered with delicate care otherwise it will prove unbalanced."
He paused and reached out for the large spear that stood against the wall beside him. "The bow is among my favorite of hunting tools next to snares. Though my love for the spear outweights my care for the bow. The spear is a marvelous weapon and the damage that can be inflicted upon prey is amazing. It is a tool used even by the Daedric Lord, Hircine. Those with a strong arm can throw it from a tree or even pursue deer on foot."
Westley
Westley was caught by surprise when the dark-skinned imperial in tattered clothing spoke to him.
An arrow is swift and precise but it requires effort to make sure the destination of its course is true. The shafts must be straight and made of seasoned wood. It has to be feathered with delicate care otherwise it will prove unbalanced. The bow is among my favorite of hunting tools next to snares. Though my love for the spear outweights my care for the bow. The spear is a marvelous weapon and the damage that can be inflicted upon prey is amazing. It is a tool used even by the Daedric Lord, Hircine. Those with a strong arm can throw it from a tree or even pursue deer on foot."
Westley paused for a moment, and noticed the familiar smell of this man. Them it hit him.
Good gods, first a vampire, now another werewolf! I hope he isn't aggressive.
Westley sighed "I've never used a spear. I stick with bows and pursuing the deer on foot. It's not that hard for me."
Westley was caught by surprise when the dark-skinned imperial in tattered clothing spoke to him.
An arrow is swift and precise but it requires effort to make sure the destination of its course is true. The shafts must be straight and made of seasoned wood. It has to be feathered with delicate care otherwise it will prove unbalanced. The bow is among my favorite of hunting tools next to snares. Though my love for the spear outweights my care for the bow. The spear is a marvelous weapon and the damage that can be inflicted upon prey is amazing. It is a tool used even by the Daedric Lord, Hircine. Those with a strong arm can throw it from a tree or even pursue deer on foot."
Westley paused for a moment, and noticed the familiar smell of this man. Them it hit him.
Good gods, first a vampire, now another werewolf! I hope he isn't aggressive.
Westley sighed "I've never used a spear. I stick with bows and pursuing the deer on foot. It's not that hard for me."
Kayla saw the pause in Westley. She slid her eyes from Lycus to Westley.
Hmmm.
She shrugged it off.
"Is Hircine the only daedric prince you're versed in, Lycus?" She asked casually.
Hmmm.
She shrugged it off.
"Is Hircine the only daedric prince you're versed in, Lycus?" She asked casually.
Lycus Desselius:
"Nor should it be. You strike me as a capable hunter. As long as you keep your eyes on the prey and not the horizon, you should fare quite well." Lycus told him, still never smiling nor grinning. He simply remained neutral as if afraid to show any emotion.
The Altmer woman turned her attention to him and asked him if Hircine was the only Daedric Lord he was an expert at. Lycus angled his spear to the side and locked eyes with the High Elf. "I hold knowledge about the Daedric Lords. Mora, Clavicus, Sanguine, Meridia and all the others," he explained. "I set Hircine above them all. He is a patron of hunters and many of us revere him, for he guides. I had always worshiped him as a deity when I was but a young lad in the Great Forest. I needed food for my family so I hunted in his name, whispering it each time I slit my quarrie's throat."
Lycus sat back in his seat and picked off a piece of roasted chicken with his finger. "He favored my hunting and was well-pleased by the sport and blessed me with a greater chance at a succesful hunt. Each week I was able to feed my family."
Lycus, of course, did not tell Kayla or Westley everything. He had an unfortunate history with Daedric Princes that even seasoned wizards would have deemed his experience an impossible occurence. Lycus had a vast knowledge of the princes but it was Hircine whom he understood the most of all.
The Imperial werewolf looked at Westley and allowed his gaze to linger. His eyes narrowed and remained there. He wasn't challenging the man nor was he seeking any quarrel . . .but there was something else there. Hidden. "Daedra are unpredicable deities. Sometimes they bless you in the morning and curse you in the afternoon. Hircine though . . .Hircine does not indulge in the fickle, and he certainly holds no love for those who spit upon his gifts. He can be a powerful foe and a force to be reckoned with."
I know . . .for I have seen him.
He turned to Kayla. "It is why I always seek to honor him in my hunts," he said, and then paused with an upraised brow. "Why do you ask such a thing?"
"Nor should it be. You strike me as a capable hunter. As long as you keep your eyes on the prey and not the horizon, you should fare quite well." Lycus told him, still never smiling nor grinning. He simply remained neutral as if afraid to show any emotion.
The Altmer woman turned her attention to him and asked him if Hircine was the only Daedric Lord he was an expert at. Lycus angled his spear to the side and locked eyes with the High Elf. "I hold knowledge about the Daedric Lords. Mora, Clavicus, Sanguine, Meridia and all the others," he explained. "I set Hircine above them all. He is a patron of hunters and many of us revere him, for he guides. I had always worshiped him as a deity when I was but a young lad in the Great Forest. I needed food for my family so I hunted in his name, whispering it each time I slit my quarrie's throat."
Lycus sat back in his seat and picked off a piece of roasted chicken with his finger. "He favored my hunting and was well-pleased by the sport and blessed me with a greater chance at a succesful hunt. Each week I was able to feed my family."
Lycus, of course, did not tell Kayla or Westley everything. He had an unfortunate history with Daedric Princes that even seasoned wizards would have deemed his experience an impossible occurence. Lycus had a vast knowledge of the princes but it was Hircine whom he understood the most of all.
The Imperial werewolf looked at Westley and allowed his gaze to linger. His eyes narrowed and remained there. He wasn't challenging the man nor was he seeking any quarrel . . .but there was something else there. Hidden. "Daedra are unpredicable deities. Sometimes they bless you in the morning and curse you in the afternoon. Hircine though . . .Hircine does not indulge in the fickle, and he certainly holds no love for those who spit upon his gifts. He can be a powerful foe and a force to be reckoned with."
I know . . .for I have seen him.
He turned to Kayla. "It is why I always seek to honor him in my hunts," he said, and then paused with an upraised brow. "Why do you ask such a thing?"
Kayla's mouth twitched in a smile.
"I wasn't aware daedra worship was alright to speak about freely. Like you hold Hircine on a pedestal, I hold Meridia. I suppose you could say she gave me a second chance at life." Kayla blinked away the reverie of her past, and gave Lycus a half-smile. "So when I slit a vampire's throat, I also whisper her name."
"I wasn't aware daedra worship was alright to speak about freely. Like you hold Hircine on a pedestal, I hold Meridia. I suppose you could say she gave me a second chance at life." Kayla blinked away the reverie of her past, and gave Lycus a half-smile. "So when I slit a vampire's throat, I also whisper her name."
OOC: Stop bloody posting when I'm asleep! 
Tarrick
Tarrick was about to follow the others into the Guildhall when he felt a hand tapping on his shoulder. He turned around to see a Khajiit standing behind him, Kharaz, another member of the Thieves' Guild.
"What is it, Kharaz?" he asked.
"There's a problem with the Guild," the Khajiit said. "You know Coin-Eye?"
"The Argonian who's lousy at gambling, yeah, I know him," Tarrick said. He glanced over at hall of the Adventurer's Guild. "Listen, is this that important? I've got things I need to do right now."
"Yes it is," Kharaz said. "That idiot lizard won a gambling stake which he was supposed to lose a couple of nights ago; Orrin wants to make an example of him but he escaped."
"If you want me to join a manhunt or something, don't bother," Tarrick said. "I'm going to be out of town for a week or so, maybe longer. Going on this expedition."
"I wasn't going to ask you that," Kharaz said. "But have you seen him?"
"Neither scale nor tale," Tarrick said, silently congratulating himself for the rhyme. "Probably won't have much luck finding him, if I'm honest; he'd have skipped town by now."
"Fine," the Khajiit shrugged. "You go have fun on your grand adventure, Tarrick."
He left, and Tarrick squeezed through the doors to find the rest of the group. They hadn't gone far, congregating around some tables where food was being served, and he hurried up to join them.
"Sorry about disappearing there," he said by way of greeting. "Friend of mine saw me and wanted a chat."
He noticed the tall, well-built Imperial with long hair and caramel skin, who had just finished saying something to Kayla.
"I don't think we've met, have we?" Tarrick said to him. He extended a hand. "Tarric Kathram, pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Tarrick
Tarrick was about to follow the others into the Guildhall when he felt a hand tapping on his shoulder. He turned around to see a Khajiit standing behind him, Kharaz, another member of the Thieves' Guild.
"What is it, Kharaz?" he asked.
"There's a problem with the Guild," the Khajiit said. "You know Coin-Eye?"
"The Argonian who's lousy at gambling, yeah, I know him," Tarrick said. He glanced over at hall of the Adventurer's Guild. "Listen, is this that important? I've got things I need to do right now."
"Yes it is," Kharaz said. "That idiot lizard won a gambling stake which he was supposed to lose a couple of nights ago; Orrin wants to make an example of him but he escaped."
"If you want me to join a manhunt or something, don't bother," Tarrick said. "I'm going to be out of town for a week or so, maybe longer. Going on this expedition."
"I wasn't going to ask you that," Kharaz said. "But have you seen him?"
"Neither scale nor tale," Tarrick said, silently congratulating himself for the rhyme. "Probably won't have much luck finding him, if I'm honest; he'd have skipped town by now."
"Fine," the Khajiit shrugged. "You go have fun on your grand adventure, Tarrick."
He left, and Tarrick squeezed through the doors to find the rest of the group. They hadn't gone far, congregating around some tables where food was being served, and he hurried up to join them.
"Sorry about disappearing there," he said by way of greeting. "Friend of mine saw me and wanted a chat."
He noticed the tall, well-built Imperial with long hair and caramel skin, who had just finished saying something to Kayla.
"I don't think we've met, have we?" Tarrick said to him. He extended a hand. "Tarric Kathram, pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Lycus Desselius:
Lycus shook his head to the side to Kayla. "It is not. Since the end of the Oblivion Crisis there are those who do not tread common ground with Daedra or those who worship them. Hunting order's have been formed and open season proclaimed on tracking down anyone affiliated with Daedra. The remnants of the Mythic Dawn are being hunted throughout Cyrodiil. I pass news of three sleeper agents who were executed in Skingrad."
"Understand that Hircine is the Spirit of the Hunt, and all who hunt are walking in his sway, whether it is realized or not. I advise you to hold your tongue on your personal devotion to Meridia, as I should Hircine. She is considered a benevolent Prince . . .but that is of little importance to those who fear the Lord of Oblivion. After Mehrune's attempt, the hate for them has risen as flames."
Before he spoke the group was approached by another man. A Redguard. Lycus saw that they were all part of a group that would take part in the expedition to Fort Sutch. They were people of different skills and combat ways.
"Sorry about disappearing there," the Redguard man. "Friend of mine saw me and wanted a chat."
He was the same as any other typical Redguard. Short wiry hair, dark skin and a goatee. He seemed more cheerful than some of the others that Lycus came across at the docks a day ago. He looked at Lycus, extended his hand and introduced himself.
The Imperial returned the gesture, clasping his hand with a tight and very firm handshake, quite stronger than he did with Kayla. "Lycus."
He didn't bother revealing his last name.
Lycus shook his head to the side to Kayla. "It is not. Since the end of the Oblivion Crisis there are those who do not tread common ground with Daedra or those who worship them. Hunting order's have been formed and open season proclaimed on tracking down anyone affiliated with Daedra. The remnants of the Mythic Dawn are being hunted throughout Cyrodiil. I pass news of three sleeper agents who were executed in Skingrad."
"Understand that Hircine is the Spirit of the Hunt, and all who hunt are walking in his sway, whether it is realized or not. I advise you to hold your tongue on your personal devotion to Meridia, as I should Hircine. She is considered a benevolent Prince . . .but that is of little importance to those who fear the Lord of Oblivion. After Mehrune's attempt, the hate for them has risen as flames."
Before he spoke the group was approached by another man. A Redguard. Lycus saw that they were all part of a group that would take part in the expedition to Fort Sutch. They were people of different skills and combat ways.
"Sorry about disappearing there," the Redguard man. "Friend of mine saw me and wanted a chat."
He was the same as any other typical Redguard. Short wiry hair, dark skin and a goatee. He seemed more cheerful than some of the others that Lycus came across at the docks a day ago. He looked at Lycus, extended his hand and introduced himself.
The Imperial returned the gesture, clasping his hand with a tight and very firm handshake, quite stronger than he did with Kayla. "Lycus."
He didn't bother revealing his last name.
Great, Ylenno thought as he gobbled up the last smidgen of the rice bowl. The Grand Champion's a godsdamned Daedra worshipper, and Kayla was one too. He reached for a baked apple and popped a slice in his mouth. THey talked about it rather casually too, and didn't gave a rat's @ss at the wary looks given their way. As their talk of supplication ended with Lycus being acquianted with the returned Tarrick. Ylenno chewed on a gummy cinnamon roll as they spoke a brief pleasantry. They shook hands, and the elf noticed that the handshake was firm in the part of Lycus. Guy was powerful ineed; he saw veins rippling in that muscled forearm of his.
He rose from his seat when all around them the other sign-ups began to file in another room. He looked at the others.
"Spank me from behind and call me Kimberly, but I think the announcement's starting."
He rose from his seat when all around them the other sign-ups began to file in another room. He looked at the others.
"Spank me from behind and call me Kimberly, but I think the announcement's starting."
OOC: DE, Tarrick doesn't actually have a goatee; he's clean-shaven, and his profile actually said that he once experimented with one but didn't think it suited him.
Tarrick
Lycus had one hell of a grip, Tarrick found, and the Redguard was thankful that the man didn't try and squeeze. He was about to make a few enquiries when Ylenno spoke.
"Spank me from behind and call me Kimberly, but I think the announcement's starting."
"That so, Kimberly?" Tarrick asked. He noticed the other people beginning to head out of the signing up area in the Atrium and into the main hall. "I think he's right, let's go."
He hurried through the doorway into a large hall, filled with benches and with a temporary stage erected at the far end; by the trophies and weapons mounted on the walls, and a generous hearth off to one side, Tarrick suspected that this was usually the main area that the Guild used for dining and socialising. He found a seat, and waited as the hall began to fill.
GM Post
A murmur ran along the hall as a man took the stage. He was an Imperial, tall, imposing, well built. A crimson, fur-lined cloak spanned his shoulders and whispered against the floor, and his weathered and hardened and regal features were framed with a mane of dark, shaggy hair, indiciating a little recent Nord blood in the family line, and a small, well-kept beard, both streaked with grey.
"Greetings, my friends," he said warmly, his voice deep and rich. "I trust that you have all found the hospitality of my guild to your satisfaction. No doubt you're all here, and all immensely curious, about this expedition that I have proposed to the caverns beneath Fort Sutch's ruins. Well, I shall endeavour now to provide you with as much information as possible."
He held up the Black Horse Courier, the edition which had announced the expedition.
"Now, some of you may remember this edition of the Courier, where a brief history of the city of Suchamel was mentioned along with the announcement of this venture," Oedipus said. "In ancient times, Suchamel was once a bustling metropolis before it was razed, but the only marker of it existing today in an old, ruined fortress, so fallen into disrepair that very little of it remains today. But beneath that, we of the Adventurer's Guild discovered tunnels!"
He paused for a moment, and a shadow flitted across his face.
"It was unfortunate for us that we also found that these tunnels were already occupied. Our expedition was attacked by pale creatures with strange weapons, but before our expedition was driven off, we discovered a pair of doors at the end of a tunnel, ones of iron and heavy oak and bound by spells. I wished to investigate further, and I am convinced that the ruins of Suchamel lie beyond them, and to this end, I have organised this very expedition you are all here for; as well as the fine men and women of my guild, I have need of strong arms to fend off these beasts, and of mages capable of dispelling the protection upon this door. For those of you who are here, I assure you that this expedition will be worth your time, whether you seek glory, hidden knowledge, riches and treasures or simply wish for a particularly exciting story with which to one day entertain your grandchildren, I assure you that you shall be provided for."
He took a moment and added; "Do any of you have any questions?"
Tarrick
Lycus had one hell of a grip, Tarrick found, and the Redguard was thankful that the man didn't try and squeeze. He was about to make a few enquiries when Ylenno spoke.
"Spank me from behind and call me Kimberly, but I think the announcement's starting."
"That so, Kimberly?" Tarrick asked. He noticed the other people beginning to head out of the signing up area in the Atrium and into the main hall. "I think he's right, let's go."
He hurried through the doorway into a large hall, filled with benches and with a temporary stage erected at the far end; by the trophies and weapons mounted on the walls, and a generous hearth off to one side, Tarrick suspected that this was usually the main area that the Guild used for dining and socialising. He found a seat, and waited as the hall began to fill.
GM Post
A murmur ran along the hall as a man took the stage. He was an Imperial, tall, imposing, well built. A crimson, fur-lined cloak spanned his shoulders and whispered against the floor, and his weathered and hardened and regal features were framed with a mane of dark, shaggy hair, indiciating a little recent Nord blood in the family line, and a small, well-kept beard, both streaked with grey.
"Greetings, my friends," he said warmly, his voice deep and rich. "I trust that you have all found the hospitality of my guild to your satisfaction. No doubt you're all here, and all immensely curious, about this expedition that I have proposed to the caverns beneath Fort Sutch's ruins. Well, I shall endeavour now to provide you with as much information as possible."
He held up the Black Horse Courier, the edition which had announced the expedition.
"Now, some of you may remember this edition of the Courier, where a brief history of the city of Suchamel was mentioned along with the announcement of this venture," Oedipus said. "In ancient times, Suchamel was once a bustling metropolis before it was razed, but the only marker of it existing today in an old, ruined fortress, so fallen into disrepair that very little of it remains today. But beneath that, we of the Adventurer's Guild discovered tunnels!"
He paused for a moment, and a shadow flitted across his face.
"It was unfortunate for us that we also found that these tunnels were already occupied. Our expedition was attacked by pale creatures with strange weapons, but before our expedition was driven off, we discovered a pair of doors at the end of a tunnel, ones of iron and heavy oak and bound by spells. I wished to investigate further, and I am convinced that the ruins of Suchamel lie beyond them, and to this end, I have organised this very expedition you are all here for; as well as the fine men and women of my guild, I have need of strong arms to fend off these beasts, and of mages capable of dispelling the protection upon this door. For those of you who are here, I assure you that this expedition will be worth your time, whether you seek glory, hidden knowledge, riches and treasures or simply wish for a particularly exciting story with which to one day entertain your grandchildren, I assure you that you shall be provided for."
He took a moment and added; "Do any of you have any questions?"
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