Buffy:

As the group filed into the briefing room, Buffy was drawn to the crackling fire that called her to a seat near it. An imposing caped figure swept into the room. His graying hair and wizened face bespoke of a hard life, with more of his short human lifespan behind than ahead of him. Everything about the man understatedly declared he was in charge. No introduction of Oedipus Nebraska, Master of the Adventurers Guild was necessary.

After briefly outlining what was largely known from the reports Buffy had read, Oedipus asked for questions.

The elf was instantly on her feet. “I thank you for the hospitality that you and your guild have provided this morning. My name’s Buffy and I have some experience dispelling magical wardings that I hope can prove useful in proceeding deeper into the ruins. My inquiry is for any additional information you can provide regarding the pale goblin-like foes you encountered. Their favored tactics, resistances and such.” She sat back down.

Kayla knew what her question was.

"Have you found what these pale beasts are, and what their weakness are yet? Poison? Fire? A sword to the gut?" She gripped Dawnbreaker's hilt for comfort with her left hand. All sense of joking was gone from her face, replaced with a steely expression. This was her life, and others' lives at stake.

"Are they alive or undead? That is my main question."

Westley

Westley followed the group as they entered the room for Oedipus' announcement. The room was filling quite rapidly, and it wouldn't be long before there were no more seats available. He was forced to wrestle his way to a seat, and when he did get one, it was quite close to the group.

He listened to Oedipus' announcement while he slumped back in his chair.

"Greetings, my friends, 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. 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, 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! 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. Do any of you have any questions?"



Westley sighed as Oedipus gave his speech, and watched as a few people rose from their seats and asked as many questions as they could before the next person forced their way into the conversation.

Good gods, this is boring! But it's important, so I have to pay attention. This information could save my life...

A group of people assembled along the main hall of the building, crowding the halls and filling the empty seats a man, presumably Oedepius Nebraska, announced himself with his presence. He was an older man with unmistakable signs of age, and although he bore those gray facial and head hairs, he still was well-built for a man of his apparent age. There was a warrior sense about him that could be attributed to his possible Nordic heritage.

Lycus seated himself in the nearest corner, away from the eyes of those who's back were facing him. There were many people of all cultures and sizes and skills. It was no mystery, however, that many of those faces he saw now would not make it back to Anvil. His instincts also told him perhaps there was more to Oedepius than he first imagined. He must know something the rest do not. Lycus might be paranoid, but something as big as a guild and a funded expediton meant there were secrets known to some and hidden for most.

But the Imperial warrior was not interested in the glories or the coin or fame that would come if he should survive the journey. No, he was here for an entirely different reason altogether. This expedition would be an additional step to his task.

He leaned forward and held his elbow over his knee, listening to the man's words on the information regarding the fort and the lost city and then about pale creatures guarding the passage that could very well lead to it.

Not once did Lycus any questions. He would wait and let others ask, and then wait to see what the answers would be. Buffy asked on the general weaknesses and strategic battle habits of the creatures whereas Kayla inquired about their weaknesses and their nature. He wondered these things as well, but not to a great degree as he did other things.

GM Post

A blonde-haired Bosmer stood and said; “I thank you for the hospitality that you and your guild have provided this morning. My name’s Buffy and I have some experience dispelling magical wardings that I hope can prove useful in proceeding deeper into the ruins. My inquiry is for any additional information you can provide regarding the pale goblin-like foes you encountered. Their favored tactics, resistances and such.”

"A wise question, Miss Buffy," Oedipus said. "After all, as the old saying goes; know your enemy. When we fought them, our enemies favoured stealth and ambushes in battle; they used nooks and crannies in the cave walls and ceilings to take us by surprise. They favour poisons and weapons carved from chitin and have tamed some species of giant subterranian insects to fight for them. As well as this, we found that weapons and spells that attack with frost did little damage, but they hate and fear fire; even waving a torch at them was enough to frighten and subude them."

"Are they alive or undead? That is my main question." That was from an Altmer near Buffy.

"They are very much alive," Oedipus replied. "In fact, I'd recommend to you all that you take potions and scrolls of detect life if you don't already have that spell to cast; it will be of great use in seeing any ambushes they shall try and spring before they hit us."

Buffy:

Buffy listened carefully as Oedipus spoke about the pale foes he had encountered beneath Sutch. She had little skill with fire (nor ice and lightning for that matter), but her illusionist’s mind immediately turned to commanding the insect slaves of these creatures against their masters.

Although Oedipus projected an imposing presence, she was equally impressed by his gracious manner and display of wisdom - particularly as he urged the use of detect life. Buffy was grateful for her pair of enchanted rings that combined to display pink glowing threats out to great range. Hopefully they would not only help protect the fragile elf, but her prospective expedition mates as well.

The Guild Master then went on to clarify for Kayla that the pale ones were not a form of undead.

Ylenno was quite busy glaring eyes with an uppity, arrogant runt to even catch the questions that fired from every direction towards the radiating figure of the master of the Adventurers. When the elf gave his newly found enemy a rude gesture, he turned his attention to the stage and gave a sniff. Nebraska was old and had the look of a seasoned warrior about him, his scars were his own trophies, yadda yadda yadda, but one thing that striked Ylenno was that this person was undoubtedly a blue-blood. There was no pussyfooting about it, really.

He had that kind of face. He and Drakothemir would find each other kindred souls. Ylenno briefly wondered where Monk-boy went, since those dark robes weren't to be found in the meeting place.

Buffy and Kayla asked theirs, and Ylenno decided it was his turn. He stood up. It was when every eyes were upon him that he realized that he didn't know what to ask. He gave a sheepish smile and rubbed his neck.

"So, uhh, we're just going to explore these caves below the Fort, eh? Everyone around here can take care of themselves, sure, but if we meet an unfortunate accident along the way, do we get paid still? We'll never know what'll happen when go under, you know."

He rubbed his hands.

"And when do we begin?"

Lycus didn't need to think twice to know that these subterannean pale creatures were goblins. Or known by some scholars as the Falmer. He knew because he lived in Skyrim after exiling himself from Cyrodiil years ago. He came across these creatures and their insectoid menace in his travels deep under the earth. There were stories about these creatures coming out at night to prey on lonely men and women, slaughter cattle and snatch infants from their cribs. They are pale, sharp-toothed and monstrous. Gangrel creatures who wandered off as vagabonds in the coldest of nights.

He remembered when living in Falkreath that some of the Nord travelers often referred to them as the old Volkihar vampire clan of legend, who came out of their icy lairs into the world of men to feed. Who's breath could congeal the blood of their victims. But that was popular folklore. The truth was far different and more complex than it appeared. What Lycus didn't understand was why they were in Cyrodiil in the first place. What relation did they have with the Ayleids? For he knew they were ancient beings and could live longer than men.

The man spoke to the Altmer and Bosmer women and advised that potions and scrolls of detect life would be a good idea, for the enemy were notorious to launch surprise attacks through crevices and cracks. Lycus required no potions or scrolls or any arcane skill to detect them. His natural instinct, combined with superior sense of smell and sight, could detect the creatures alone. They smelled, and their poisons did too. The scent would be easily recognizable. He registered it well.

They could be overwhelming in numbers and they had magically abilities that their ancestors were gifted at during the Metheric Era. Lycus felt fortunate that there was at least a magic caster in the room. The mystic archer. He wasn't sure what to make of the others, however. His kin of blood could prove to be a valuable ally, but Lycus already could sense their differences.

Kayla could be a great ally, since many Altmer's had a wide range of magical abilities. Though her Nordic heritage might have changed that.

Lycus felt confident that his enemies wouldn't pose too much of a challenge. At least these pale goblin-like creatures. A scimitar could seperate the head from the body, a spear could keep them at range and still strike them down. His Orcish sword was strong enough to penetrate armor. But what if there was something more sinister than these? What if the pyramid of nefarious creatures grew considerably worse as the depths increased?

"They favour poisons and weapons carved from chitin and have tamed some species of giant subterranian insects to fight for them. As well as this, we found that weapons and spells that attack with frost did little damage, but they hate and fear fire; even waving a torch at them was enough to frighten and subdue them."

Kayla bared her teeth.

"Falmer." The word came out as a whisper.

Though her specialty was vampires, she had come across them in Skyrim. She hadn't fought many, but enough to recognize the description. Pale, noseless, smelly creatures with a penchant for crude, painful weapons and surprise attacks.

No matter, she thought to herself. They die just as well with a sword in their gut.

Elaninde:

As she entered the guild hall, she was amazed by the work that had been put into this. This Oedipus Nebraska was certanly a rich fellow, or was it the different guilds that had paid for this? As she filled up her plate she heard an Altmer wich sounded like Kayla hushed another elf away and said:

"Young lady, do not throw yourself at men. You let them come to you."

"Now please, step aside, before my appetite makes me less choosy about my meat."

As the elf hurried away she also said:

"I apologize. Not all elves are like that."

After a while Oedipus Nebraska came in and held his speech. When he was done almost everybody started asking a dozen questions. The answers Elaninde found the most worth was that these creatures were pale and fovored poison and ambush, as well as that it was recommended to be able to cast detect life and fire spells.

Buffy:

Buffy’s long ears picked up the unmistakable clicking and sliding of heavy armor plates behind her. Turning her head, the wood elf’s eyes fell upon the steel clad figure of Elaninde. The Altmer listened quietly while shifting from one foot to the other in her armor.

The one time Buffy had tried on a heavy steel breastplate, she had been quite unable to move. She later learned that some of the women battlemages, like Arielle Jurard wore armor enchanted to ease its weight. A bitter memory briefly swept over her as she recalled that the plate armor had not protected Arielle from the deadly burning oil that scamps and Dremora had unleashed upon them as Savlian’s army breached Castle Kvatch’s gatehouse. So much fiery death. . . .

Elaninde had skin, hair and eyes of gold. Buffy recalled that golden eyes were rare beyond the Isle of Summerset. The assemblage of steel plating obscured any clue as to the elf’s figure, but her face was somewhat gaunt. That armor had to be heavy though. Buffy tried to catch Elaninde’s eye as she patted the empty chair next to her in invitation.

Elaninde:

After she had filled her plate she saw Kayla, Westley and the dark-skinned imperial that Kayla had brushed another elf away from. Elaninde was smiling a little as she understood they were discussing hunting. She managed to pick up that Westley was fast enough to catch a deer and that the dark-skinned imperial's favored the spear as his main hunting weapon as well as that he held knowledge of all the daedric princes but put Hircine at the top of his list. Elaninde was glad that she didn't have anything against daedric worshipers since just before she saw Buffy patting the empty chair beside her in invitation, she also heard Kayla say:

"Like you hold Hircine on a pedestal, I hold Meridia. I suppose you could say she gave me a second chance at life."

There was a little pause then she said:

"So when I slit a vampire's throat, I also whisper her name."

By that time she had gotten over to Buffy. She sat down and asked:

"So, what do you think?" "Do you have any idea what these pale creatures under fort Sutch might be?"

Buffy:

After catching the Altmer’s eye, Buffy was pleased for the familiar face as Elaninde lowered herself onto the next seat. Buffy was impressed how well the taller elf moved inside her heavy armor.

"So, what do you think?" asked Elaninde. "Do you have any idea what these pale creatures under fort Sutch might be?"

“I’ve traveled Cyrodiil, Elsweyr and Valenwood rather extensively and have never encountered such foes.” Buffy scratched one of her ears and added, “Having read most of the tomes contained in the Mystic Archives of the Arcane University while a student there, I believe these creatures to be unfamiliar to my guild.” Based on the Altmer’s golden eyes and slight accent, Buffy was now more certain of her origin. The little elf concluded that, based on Elaninde’s question, the creatures were not native to the Summerset Isles either.

Buffy pointed a small, bowstring-callused finger discretely across the room. “I thought perhaps I saw a flash of recognition of some sort on Kayla’s face as Oedipus described these mysterious foes. She’s not from around these parts and has, no doubt, encountered differing creatures from the northern provinces. I hope to ask her about them when the briefing is over.”

As Elaninde glanced toward Kayla, Buffy added, “Forgive my nosiness, but you seem to move very well in that plate armor. Is it enchanted or do you otherwise use any assistance to compensate for its weight?”

Elaninde:

“I’ve traveled Cyrodiil, Elsweyr and Valenwood rather extensively and have never encountered such foes.” Buffy scratched one of her ears and added, “Having read most of the tomes contained in the Mystic Archives of the Arcane University while a student there, I believe these creatures to be unfamiliar to my guild.” Based on the Altmer’s golden eyes and slight accent, Buffy was now more certain of her origin. The little elf concluded that, based on Elaninde’s question, the creatures were not native to the Summerset Isles either." Buffy answered.

“I thought perhaps I saw a flash of recognition of some sort on Kayla’s face as Oedipus described these mysterious foes. She’s not from around these parts and has, no doubt, encountered differing creatures from the northern provinces. I hope to ask her about them when the briefing is over.” As Elaninde glanced towards Kayla she heard Buffy add:

“Forgive my nosiness, but you seem to move very well in that plate armor. Is it enchanted or do you otherwise use any assistance to compensate for its weight?” Elaninde smiled a little at this question that she had gotten so many times before and said:

"I was born in Skywatch in the Summerset Isles but spent most of my life on the run. I needed to have something that could protect me so I started with light armour but found out it didn't offer much protection against the people hunting my family. Therefore I started trying out heavy armour and found out it was much more effective. Since then I have certainly thought about enchanting it but never got around to do it. After a while I just started wearing it as a habit and just got more and more nimble in it with the time."

Kayla had to poke her nose in.

"Summerset Isle?" A wistful look entered her eyes. "What is that like? I've never seen it. I've only just stepped out of Skyrim."

Lycus Desselius:

Lycus overheard the Altmer woman exchange words with Buffy, the Bosmer. He tall stature was indeed very noticeable compared to the small Wood Elf. The two began a friendly conversation with one another, and Lycus simply at by and listened. He was intrigued as Buffy revealed to the other woman that she had been to a number of locations, just as he had.

The Imperial recalled the days of slavery in Morrowind, gladiatorial tours for a few months in foreign places such as Elsweyr and Hammerfell. His exile in Skyrim and the greatest adventure of his life in Solshteim. He had encountered this creatures before and even heard a rather inspiring tale they they too, like him, were once slaves. He didn't know if it was true or not but it was plausible. Being in the company of the Circle of Companions in Whiterun for quite some time, he aquainted himself with Nordic history. The Snow Prince came to mind. There were wild theories that these ancient creatures were all that remained of the Snow Elves.

"A well traveled woman. I am as well. I have been to Vvardenfell, Elsweyr, Hammerfell, Skyim and Solstheim." Lycus told Buffy as he rose from his seat nearby, taking the chair with him so that he could sit close to them. "But these creatures are native to Skyrim. I have come across them before."

He motioned his head toward Buffy's ears. "They have ears as tall as yours. They are kin like the three of you. Mer. We crossed paths in an old Dwemer ruin in the Nordic province. I can tell you that they are incapable of sight. They favor the arcane as well as other methods of attack. What they lack in vision, they make up for in senses. You must be light on your feet if you wish to kill them individually, lest they group in numbers and overwhelm you."

His hand ran across the body of his scimitar which was resting within the sheathe. There was a wild glow in his eyes as he did it. "The quickest way to dispose of one is by seperating the head from the throat. It is no easy task. It is just as severing a man's head. You must find the right angle."

OOC: I had to go after the memory I have from the first TES game so my comments might not be entirely correct.

Elaninde:

Suddenly Kayla asked:

"Summerset Isle?" A wistful look entered her eyes.

"What is that like? I've never seen it. I've only just stepped out of Skyrim." Elaninde had to think a little bit, then she said:

"I don't know if it has changed since I last saw it but what I remember is that even though what everyone says about trees of diamonds and shores of gold is not true. The closest you get to any of that is the Crystal Tower that the eternal champion uncovered during the imperial simalcrum. Other than that its basically the same as everywhere else besides it being a little bit hotter."

Kayla was a tad bit disappointed in Elinande's answer. She had dreamt up a wonderful world where she was not scorned in her desire to learn magick, nor the tallest one in the entire village.

Lycus cut in with advice on how to kill the Falmer. Her eyes glinted with disgust.

"A race of Mer. Ja. Snow Elves, they were once called. Now the name Falmer strikes fear into the hearts of barbarians and milkmaids alike. Mothers tell their children to behave, or the Falmer will snatch them from their beds and keep them as slaves." She shook her head and pointed to a long, pink scar along her cheek, slanting downwards. "One caught me with their blade here. The poison numbs the muscles it touches. I'm not skilled in detect life potions, but I can make weak ones. I can also make a few cure poison and disease potions. Anyone who wants one will have to put up the coin for the ingredients, though."

She turned to Lycus. "Skyrim, eh?" She gave him a half smile, and said in Nordic, "Can you understand me?"

Lycus Desselius:

Lycus studied Kayla thoroughly, then nodded in agreement. A woman knows what she is talking about. For once. He sat back in his chair and locked eyes with those around them. "In my time with the Companions of Whiterun I learned that the Snow Elves were an ancient race of Mer who's very civilization rivaled that of the Altmer. They were talented spearmen and archers, gifted in the use of combat. The best in the Metheric Era."

He narrowed his eyes into nothing specific and stared. He did not speak for a moment, but when he did, his voice was louder. "They shared the lands with Man and grew weary of them. It is said that the first human city of Saarthal. It was attacked by the Elves and a massive genocide ensued. With blood, sweat and tears the battle was fought and the massacre made certain. The event was named the Night of Tears throughout the eons. One man, a famous warrior of the Nordic tribes named Ysgramor, survived. He returned to his ancestral home of Atmora and formed the Five Hundred Companions. The elite warriors. He said 'Go forth into the belly of this new land. Drive the wretched from their palaces of idleness. Oblige them to squalor and toil, that they would see their betrayals as the all-sin against our kind. Give no quarter. Show no kindness. For they would not give nor show you the same.'"

A cryptic smile crept on Lycus face. "They took Skyrim from the Elves and drove them into a retreat to the island of Solstheim. The remaning elves, led by the Snow Prince, met their fate at the hands of the Nords. The survivors were slain and burned. The others were never heard from since."

He cleared his throat. "Rumors persist from the mouth of the scholars that the surviving Snow Elves retreated to the earth and sought allegiance with the Dwemer. The elves were then betrayed and made into slaves, and generations hence their offspring would suffer the same fate. I cannot say if this is true or not but the Dwemer are extinct, as the Ayleid. Dead as all slave masters should be. What is left of them is their old ruins and their infernal contraptions."

He looked at the women and then at Oedepious and lowered his voice. "And these mysterious pale elven creatures. I believe it is no coinscedence. Perhaps the ones here in Cyrodiil sought solace with the Ayleid and suffered the same fate."

He turned to Kayla and returned her reply in Nordic. "Time among your people has taught me well. I share some words in the tongue of the North."

Kayla smiled warmly at Lycus. "It is good to hear that my homeland has taught you something. I hope you do not find my assumption abrasive. I feel alien in these lands. You've brought a small joy to my heart."

She turned away from Lycus. "What he says is true. The twisted monstrosities we will face are cruel, as their former masters were. They will not hesitate to kill you." She absentmindedly touched the scar on her cheek. "Even though they are blind, they use arrows. Their sense of smell is keen. And they stink," she spat. "But so do their tunnels. Enough to singe the hairs in your nose.''

GM Post

"So, uhh, we're just going to explore these caves below the Fort, eh?" an elf with a distinctive haircut asked. "Everyone around here can take care of themselves, sure, but if we meet an unfortunate accident along the way, do we get paid still? We'll never know what'll happen when go under, you know. And when do we begin?"

"In answer to your first question, we shall attempt an exploration of the city which I believe lies beyond the gates," Oedipus said. "We will be searching for libraries, archives and any other repositories of knowledge that we might be able to find, and, of course, I'm sure that there will be plenty of you here who might be searching for repositories of other goods whilst we're there." He accompanied the comment with a wink. "As for pay, you'll get your fair share even if you're injured, and we'll have teams ready to carry any wounded, of whom there hopefully won't be many, up to the surface should the need arise. And while you're down there, any loot you find is yours to keep, though I'd be grateful if any documents and historical records you find might be handed over to myself; there's a little extra in it for you if you do."

"As for when we begin, we set out for the old Sutch watchtower in an hour's time, my friends; prepare your equipment, get ready to pack your bags and say your farewells swiftly, for we won't be waiting for latecomers!"

Westley

Westley slouched in his chair while he silently listened to the conversation of his companions. According to Kayla and Lycus, the pale creatures that Oedipus encountered, the falmer, were once known as snow elves, are find if using magick, are blind but their other senses were amazing, and they smelled horrible.

"As for when we begin, we set out for the old Sutch watchtower in an hour's time, my friends; prepare your equipment, get ready to pack your bags and say your farewells swiftly, for we won't be waiting for latecomers!"

By the gods! I don't have enough potions. Wait, did he just say we have a hour until we leave?! Gods be praised, I have enough time to hunt down some potions. Maybe they sell them at the chapel, or at a general goods store. I hope I don't need to go to the mage's guild for some potions. Maybe Azzan has some.I hope so....


Westley waited for everyone else to rise up out if those seats and begin exiting the room before he did, in hopes of night garnering too much attention, though his height made that a bit hard. He was considerably taller than most if the people in the room, or at least mist of the non-elf races. Most if the Altmer stood a few inches over 6'4", but Westley didn't look like an elf.


Go away, go away, maybe if I walk very slowly, nobody will notice me. I need potions.....what if there aren't potions left to buy! Good gods, I need a better healing spell. Maybe I should head to the chapel. Yeah, that's a good start.

Kayla went to Westley's side, knowing he didn't want any attention. The elf couldn't help but tease him in a way she knew would irritate him.

"Westley!" She put her hand on his shoulder. "Know anywhere that I could get a few alchemy ingredients? Besides the Mages' Guild." She rolled her eyes.

Westley


Westley jumped a bit when Kayla walked straight up to him, and started asking him alchemy questions.

"Westley! Know anywhere that I could get a few alchemy ingredients? Besides the Mages' Guild."

"I'm not sure. I'm actually looking for some potions, and I don't really want to visit the mage's guild either. It's not that I don't like them, I just don't want to ask them for favors. Maybe a general store or somethin' has some alchemy ingredients, thigh that depends on what you're looking for." Westley scowled, then continued. "Do you think the chapel sells potions?"

Westley glanced around the room while he a awaited an answer. There were so many people, how could they handle being around each-other. As much as he hated it, Westley had to face the truth. He was very anti-social, and it wasn't good for him. He could only hope he didn't go feral. Feral werewolves are bad company.

Kayla noticed Westley's nervous glance.

"Come on," she said, pulling at his arm. "Let's get out of here. It's too crowded."

Once they were outside, Kayla said, "You don't know of any alchemy shops? We only have an hour until we leave. I want to be as prepared as possible." She held up her finger as she listed the ingredients she'd need.

"Of course I'd need another Cure Disease potion, then I'd need some ginseng and strawberries for the cure poison potion... They also have a nasty habit of using ingredients that slow you down as well. But if that time comes, I've got a fix." She patted Westley's back and grinned.

Westley

Westley stared while Kayla pulled at his arm and said, "Come on, Let's get out of here. It's too crowded."

Westley happily followed her outside, longing to be away from the massive hoard of people. How they could all stand the scent if each-other in one room was a mystery to him, and oddly enough, he was once capable of doing that. Westley's thoughts were interrupted by Kayla

"You don't know of any alchemy shops? We only have an hour until we leave. I want to be as prepared as possible. Of course I'd need another Cure Disease potion, then I'd need some ginseng and strawberries for the cure poison potion... They also have a nasty habit of using ingredients that slow you down as well. But if that time comes, I've got a fix."


Westley tried to grin back at Kayla, but failed miserably. He couldn't hide the fact he was very stressed out over a few potions, and was ashamed of his inability to control his temper.

"The general stores might sell that stuff. I need some potions though. I'm not sure of the general store sells potions. If I can't get potions, I need a stringer healing spell, and I'm not sure if the chapel sells those."

Westley tried not to stare at any strangers that wandered by.

Kayla's eyebrows went up. Westley was awfully distracted. She put his hand on his shoulder for a moment.

"Hey, it's alright. Where can we find a general goods store? I'm certain they'll have some." She wasn't sure, but usually general goods meant they had a bit of everything.

"If all else fails, then we can ask Buffy to run in to the Mages Guild for us with some of our coin and get what we need." She looked into his eyes. "Did I do something wrong?"

Westley

"Hey, it's alright. Where can we find a general goods store? I'm certain they'll have some."

Westley didn't answer for a moment, and Ksyla looked him in the eye and asked of she had fine something wrong.

"No Kayla, you didn't do anything. I'm just a bit nervous about the expedition. C'mon, let's go down To Lelle's quality Merchandise, he might have something."

Westley tried his best to not look anxious. He knew what was going in. His frustration about potions had excited the inner wolf, and it urged to sate its terrible bloodlust, but the ring of Hircine along with Westley's resistance stood in its way, so it was doing everything in its power to break free.

I just need a walk, I'll calm down. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts.

Westley's expression told of unpleasant feelings. Not wanting to walk the distance in silence, she decided to fill the space between them with chatter.

"Remember when you asked about werewolves, and if I was afraid of them?" She hooked her arm in his as they walked, not wanting to get separated from him in the crowd. she matched his stride easily, but the sites and sounds were distracting. She would end up staring at a strange sign or person.

"When I was younger, there was a boy in my town. A young Redguard boy. Anyways, he made fun of my ears until I punched him in the mouth for it." Her mouth twitched in a smile at the memory. "After that, he never teased me again. Eventually we became friends. He told me when we grew up, he wanted to marry me." She sighed.

"When we were teenagers, we wanted very different things. He had moved when we were younger, but I found him later on after-" she cleared her throat, "Moving away myself. He wanted to get married, still, after 8 years. I told him no, I couldn't do that, because time had changed me. He told me he didn't want anyone else, and left my house.

Later that night, he came knocking at my door, all bloodied up. A monstrous creature with large fangs that slashed at him, and bit him. He had become skilled with a sword, much like I had, but was barely able to get away." She cleared her throat.

"We were able to get him to the healer, but had no idea he had been attacked by a werewolf. He acted strange after that. Angry. Distant. But I was still determined to be his friend. Then, one evening, as the moon rose, he attacked his family. I heard the call to arms and rushed at him, and he gave me a nasty scar." She touched her chest with her free hand.

"I was the one who put him down. But not before I looked into his eyes and saw HIM in there, begging me to do so." She took a deep breath.

"So, to answer your question, no, I don't fear werewolves. I feel sympathy for them."

Westley


Westley listened to Kayla's story as they walked to the docks. He couldn't help but to feel bad, and feared he would suffer the same fate if he didn't control his temper. He took a deep breath and forced himself to stay calm. He didn't want Kayla to have to relive that experience.

"You shouldn't pity all werewolves. Some enjoy what they are. I don't know how, but if I was a werewolf, is hate myself ten times more than I already do. It must be horrible living like that. I don't even know why I'm so bitter and distant from everyone else. If I knew, I'd stop, but I don't know why I'm so cold. I can't bring myself to enjoy anything. Maybe I'm just depressed, I don't know."

Westley looked down at the ground, and pretended to pay close attention to all of the details in the floor. He couldn't bare to look at Kayla, knowing that she may have to relive killing someone she didn't want to because of Hircine's curse. Even worse, the thought crossed Westley's mind that he'd succeed in killing Kayla if he lost control.


Gods, if that happened, I'd never be able to live with myself. I need to calm down.

Well that topic fell flat.

Obviously Westley wasn't in the mood for talking. He did need to loosen up. She grinned at him mischievously.

"After we get the potions, maybe I could drop you off at a brothel and you could loosen up! Maybe then you wouldn't be so grumpy!" She laughed at her own joke.

Westley

"After we get the potions, maybe I could drop you off at a brothel and you could loosen up! Maybe then you wouldn't be so grumpy!"

Westley smirked "Here we go with that again....that's the last thing I need. You look a tad stressed too. I thought I saw a beggar in need of some attention...."

The docks were quite crowded, and Westley had trouble seeng the way to Lelle's quality goods. He had to push through a few people to finally manage to spot the entrance. Even the small store was crowded. People were making demands for items, and screaming at the shopkeeper to lower the prices. Westley turned to Kayla.

"This place is crowded! Do you think they have anything left?"

Kayla punched Westley in the arm and laughed, calling him a dirty name in Nordic. She glanced around the place, shaking her head.

"I can buy the ginseng and strawberries at the inn. I'm sure the owner won't mind. We need to get our things anyways."

Westley

"I can buy the ginseng and strawberries at the inn. I'm sure the owner won't mind. We need to get our things anyways."

Westley started to get tense again, "I need potions though! Pah! Let's just try the chapel. They might have a healing spell. Besides. I'm the tallest human in this room. It awkward for me."

Westley secretly grabbed a healing scroll from a nearby table, and shoved it down his curiass. Lucky for him, nobody noticed, and he went and stood by the door to wait for Kayla.

"The chapel sells potions right? Do you know if the chapel of dibella specializes in restoration Kayla? I don't remember." Westley glanced at the nord man standing next to him

Good gods, I'm way too tall.

Kayla shook her head. "Have you not listened to anything I've said?" She pointed at herself. "I make potions. But if you're insisting on a spell, we can go to the chapel, but you can do all of the talking."

Hmmph. Priests. Kayla wasn't looking forward to this.

"I don't worship Dibella, so I don't know if they do healing spells or not. I'd expect that any chapel will sell healing spells, though."

Westley

Have you not listened to anything I've said? I make potions. But if you're insisting on a spell, we can go to the chapel, but you can do all of the talking."

Westley tried not to raise his voice too much "How many potions can you make? I need about five or six."

Westley tried to move closer, but nearly trampled a Bosmer man in front of him.

"Sorry sir!" Westley stepped back a bit.

"WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING YOU OVERSIZED APE!" The Bosmer scowled, and forced his way past Westley and out of the shop.

The people here are more rude than me....

Kayla made a rude hand gesture at the irate Bosmer's back before answering Westley.

"If we leave right now and head back to The Count's Arms, I can get started right away. But I'd only be able to make about 4. I can get the ingredients from the kitchen."

Westley


"If we leave right now and head back to The Count's Arms, I can get started right away. But I'd only be able to make about 4. I can get the ingredients from the kitchen."

Westley smiled "Four is good enough. I'll help you in any way I can so we can get this done quickly. C'mon, let's go so we can get started"

Westley pretty much pushed Kayla out of the store, and fought through the crowd of people to get to the gates. Time was of the essence, and now was no time for lolligagging, or arguin with strangers. The Count's Arms was fairly empty, most likely everyone was rushing to prepare for the expedition.

"So, what ingredients do ya need for the potion Kayla?" Westley raised an eyebrow and glanced around the room.

"I'm going to need some wheat, 4 cloves of garlic, and juniper berries. Though I don't think there are any juniper berries in Cyrodiil. Oh! And some ginseng and strawberries." Kayla pressed some coins into Westley's hands. "If the kitchen wenches give you trouble, throaw this at them" She grinned.

"I'm going to go to my room to prepare."

Westley

"I'm going to need some wheat, 4 cloves of garlic, and juniper berries. Though I don't think there are any juniper berries in Cyrodiil. Oh! And some ginseng and strawberries. If the kitchen wenches give you trouble, throaw this at them"

Westley pocketed the gold coins Kayla gave him, and casually walked towards the kitchen. There was a cook, and a few wenches in there. One of the wenches looked at him

"YOU! You're the one who was throwing silverware! What do you want!"

"I just need four cloves of garlic, wheat, juniper berries, some ginseng, and strawberries. Enough for four healing potions please."

"Why should I give you those ingredients you...you...you utensil flinger!" The wench scowled at Westley, and he didn't hesitate to scowl back.

"I have gold. Here, you don't have to share it. Just take it and give me what I want. I'll leave you alone after that."

The wench snatched the gold from Westley's hand, and started counting it all up. She smirked with satisfaction before looking up at Westley and scowling again, but didn't answer before slapping him hard on the face. "Fine, take what you need and LEAVE THE KITCHEN!"

Westley scowled, rubbed his cheek, rushed to get what he needed, and hurried up the stairs to Kayla's room. He quietly entered, and plopped the ingredients on a table near Kayla.

"Here you go. Anything else you need?"

Kayla's eyes were narrowed with concentration.

"Nope. Just wait a moment."

She already had the apparatuses filled with boiling water. She quickly crushed the garlic with the flat of her knife, then made it into a almost paste-like texture into the mortar and pestle. She scraped the paste into the boiling apparatus before crushing the juniper berries and putting them in the apparatus as well. As the water traveled to the dropper, she stuck a stem of wheat into the empty bottles waiting under the dropper, and set it back under.

As the bottles filled, she wiped out the mortar and pestle and chopped up the strawberries and ginseng, stopping every so often to replace the almost-filled bottle with an empty one. She was using up all of her extra bottles, but that was fine. She crushed the strawberries up, making a red mush, and scraped it into empty bottles. As soon as the bottles for the health potion were filled, she corked them and gave them to Westley.

"Shake before drinking." she said simply, her attention still on her work. She dropped the chopped ginseng into the boiling water and let it steep for a moment. She cleaned up the mess while she waited. She popped a stray strawberry into her mouth and poured the hot liquid into the bottles with the strawberry-ginseng paste. She swirled the bottles around a bit, letting the hot water touched and extract each bit of the ingredients.

She had filled 4 bottles of cure poison, and 4 bottles of health, in under 30 minutes. She was impressed with herself. She corked the bottles and tossed them into her bag. She packed up her alchemy equipment and nodded to Westley.

"Let's go."

Westley

Westley quietly watched as Kayla created some prions. She handed him the healing potions, and packed her stuff.

"Let's go."

Westley tightened the straps of his backpack a bit. "Do you know where the rest of the group is? Never mind. I forgot where we're supposed to meet. Any idea?"

Westley scanned the large crowds of people for the other group members. He was a bit nervous about the expedition, yet he was excited. He stopped in front of the guildhall with Kayla, and waited for any signs of the group.

This expedition better be worth my while, and I better not die. If I die, I'm haunting whatever lives in those ruins for the rest of eternity.

Elaninde:

She listened coriously as the dark-skinned imperial and Kayla described these "Snow Elves". When they were done Oedipus Nebraska said that they only had one hour left to prepare for the expedtion. As Kayla and Westley hurried out the door, Elaninde thought she could go to the inn and get some food. As she entered the inn and was about to ask for some food that would last long, she heard a wench from inside the kitchen yell at what, by the sound of it, was Westley:

"YOU! You're the one who was throwing silverware! What do you want!" And sure enough, soon after she heard Westley answer:

"I just need four cloves of garlic, wheat, juniper berries, some ginseng, and strawberries. Enough for four healing potions please." Elaninde thought she should just try to ignore it for now and continued to ask the owner for some food and got more or less just some salted venison and some apples.

As she arrived back at the guildhall, she saw Kayla and Westley outside and walked over to them. She asked Westley:

"What was that yelling in the kitchen about Westley?"

Lycus was among the first to leave. He was not claustrophobic nor was he overwhelmed by the sense of smell. But he was in no mood to be intercepted by the Altmer fan-girl. He stepped outside and headed over to a place to restock. There were too many people there, and they were all well-armored. But even among them there were weaker ones. Children, even, who accompanied their parental figures. They made fine prey.

Every werewolf suffered from bloodlust. It was inescapable. It did not matter if they were born with the gift, bitten, ingested the blood of a werewolf or was turned by Hircine himself. Lycus knew well that the Beast within confused the mind, warped the Spirit. It blurred the lines between animal and man. The darker emotions, the raw contained desires of the flesh, are amplified beyond comprehension. For the Beast itself has no control.

He walked among the crowd, and spotted Kayla in the distance walking side to side with Westley. The two could be mistaken for a couple, for they were always together. He didn't think much of it until the word "werewolf" came to mind. His ears perked up, his interest caught as a rabbit in a hunter's snare. He quickened his pace and followed behind but remained a careful distande.

From afar he heard Kayla's sob story about a dear friend that she had to put down due to Lycanthropy. And how she pitied them. Lycus frowned. Werewolves do not deserve pity . . .for they would never give another pity when they are swallowing one's heart down their gullet.

"You shouldn't pity all werewolves. Some enjoy what they are. I don't know how, but if I was a werewolf, is hate myself ten times more than I already do. It must be horrible living like that. I don't even know why I'm so bitter and distant from everyone else. If I knew, I'd stop, but I don't know why I'm so cold. I can't bring myself to enjoy anything. Maybe I'm just depressed, I don't know."

There were many reluctant werewolves in the world. The majority of them become distant and moody. This is natural. But they soon hate themselves for their actions, for what they have become. They cannot cope with the death of others and suffer with dread that every fifteen days or even in a burst of anger they would shift and once again take an innocent life without control to thought.

But Lycus, who had seen many friends die, who had taken the lives of many people for a career, had been desensitised to death and suffering. It had been a part of his life since he first was sold as a slave in Morrowind all those years ago. He had experienced what most men would consider mind-altering. He was at the precipice of madness and where most men would take their own lives in such overwhelming states.

Killing was as natural as breathing. This was the fundamental truth to Lycus. And while he did not hate Westley for hating himself, he still knew that the boy would bring more harm to himself and others for that belief alone. The more the beast is supressed, the more it is contained, the more it wishes to be unleashed. As a man who is denied food or sex or a woman denied her desires, it will gnaw at them until they give in.

But Westley had much more to worry about than taking the life of an innocent person, or taking his own life and dooming himself into an eternity where he would be hunted for the rest of his infinite existence in another dimension. He had to worry about Hircine. Lycus sensed the ring on the man. Hircine's fabled artifact. That explained why he was in control even amidst his crazed state of mind. But what most Lycanthropes do not understand is that Hircine has no patience for the fickle. He holds no love for those who abuse the gift.

There were tales of men who, rather unsportingly, stole the ring and were cursed with it. Men who possessed the artifact but did not embrace their condition. These were marked men. Men who summoned the wrath of Hircine and were victims of a dark open season. Their souls were in danger and they would soon know what it is to be the hunted. Hircine would want them killed. And who better to deliver the deathblow than a loyal hound?

Lycus braced himself. Westley had to find a cure and recant his Lycanthropy forever or soon he would be Hircine's target. It was a dangerous game, and beyond under the Shadow of the Beast was no easy lifestyle. Lycus knew this.

He stared at the couple for one last moment before retreating into a store that sold armor and weapons.

Buffy:

Kayla and Lycus believed the pale foes were falmer – snow elves. Mer or not, Buffy would pierce their hearts or command them to tear each other apart as readily as she would do with humans who posed a threat to her or those assigned to travel with her.

Oedipus then announced the expedition was to depart within the hour. Although Buffy was ready, knowing the exact departure time would allow her to make a few final preparations. She left the guild hall and made her way toward Anvil’s main city gate.

After notifying the stable of Superian’s pending departure and settling her account there, Buffy briefly dipped the foliage of Willow, her bow, in the trough and ensured her own water skin was full. She had inspected each arrow in her full quiver hours ago, before the meeting, and there was no reason to repeat the task.

Bringing a glow to both hands, she passed them slowly over the rippling muscles of her leggy black mare. Superian's tack gradually materialized and fell perfectly into place. Buffy verified that her saddlebags contained adequate arrows and poisons for resupply if needed.

Blowing a kiss to her mare, she then stepped off for the city gates again, trailing words over her shoulder, “See you in less than an hour, girl.”

The small mystic archer then reentered the city and made her way to the Mages Guild. She mentally reviewed that her pack contained a full complement of poisons. Relying heavily on spells, the only potions or scrolls she carried were a good supply of each to dispel the only thing that could stem her flow of magic – the dreaded effect of curse magic that some erroneously called ‘silence’.

She knew that if her expedition mates could keep her alive, her touch spells could unpoison, cure, restore or heal them of anything they might run afoul of.

During her brief stop in the Mages Guild, she notified Guildmagister Carahil of what she had learned so far and the expedition’s departure time.

As she stepped from her guild, Buffy whispered, “I hope I know what we’re doing, Acadian.”

“Close your eyes and open your mind,” was quiet his reply.

She did so and felt his spirit absorb some of the apprehension. Her breathing was slower as she opened her eyes and resumed the short trek to the Adventurers Guild. “Thank you, my paladin.”

Buffy recognized several faces as she approached.

When Oedipus blew his whistle and the meeting place exploded with people's rushed exits, Ylenno stayed in his seat and stayed for a while. He felt no need to hurry; he already had what he'd need on his person, and there was no use in buying potions or anything like that, since he bought them already. The elf made sure to triple check his gear before going here after all. The elf lit up a roll of hackle-lo and burned his lungs out for a bit, stretching his legs, calming his nerves. This expedition.... Well, he wasn't worried about the expedition, truth be told. What he thought about deeply was what what'll he do afterwards. He'll duck and avoid the Orums, that was a given, but running won't last long. Those Orcs had long reaching distance, and longer memories. They wouldn't let an asset like the Floretntine Bleeder slip their grasp easily.

A breton Adventurer Guildsman, with short cropped blonde hair, and creepily enough, deep crimson eyes, gave him a royal-red stare and a plea to take out his death-smoke away. There was something ... off about the guy, Ylenno noted as he complied and went outside. Something feral and fay and a clear aura that one shouldn't ruffle his feathers.

As Ylenno greeted the outside with circles of smoke, he spotted a grouping of a colorful bunch, anxious like, looking like they waited for someone eagerly.

The elf kept his roll on and walked towards them with a sinister smirk on his face.

Among the group was the arrogant runt he locked eyes with earlier. When he spotted Ylenno, he gestured towards him. Almost immediately, the rest of the group's eyes were upon him, bloodthirsty like maddened dogs.

"Hey there," he saluted them. "Sorry to keep you jumpers waiting!"


****


The door to Morvayn's Peacemakers opened quietly and Ylenno shuffled in.

For all intents and purposes, he looked like he was lynched by a mob and sent rolling on a hill of trash. There were several forming bruises below his neck, some scratch marks too, and his lips were busted, a slow trickle of blood staining his gray scarf. One of his eyes looked like it received a brutal hammering, and there was an ugly gash on his right ear.

The little brawl happened outside the gates of Anvil, on a secluded place so no guards would be involved.

Yet he still had that smile, that everpresent braying laughter, and there was giddy hop on his steps when he walked. He stepped up on the counter and laid his damaged leather gloves on the countertop, wanting it to be repaired as soon as possible.

"Shouldn't take long," the dunmeri armorer said after getting over Ylenno's appearance. "10 septims would do it, and I'll even add some metal coverings on it."

Ylenno nodded, and fished for a suspiciously rich-looking coin pouch that didn't go well with his debonair look. He took the approriate amount and paid the coins to the armorer.

When the armorer was gone off to sew repairs, the elf took a vial from one of his pouches and drank a small amount. He took small drips to his fingers and rubbed it on damaged places. He felt the effects immediately and soon, he looked just as a roguish as he did before. The black eye would remain though, and the buzzing aftershock too.

It was then that Ylenno noticed that he wasn't alone in the shop. There he was, the former Grand Champion from six years ago. The elf didn't really had a chance to talk with him back at the Guildshall, and since they were on the same adventure, he figured it'd be nice to know him.

"Hey, Champion," he said to him. "Wha're you doing here? Buying weapons? With your sword, saber and spear, I don't think you need anymore, you'd be a walking arensal!"

Lycus Desselius, Morvayn's Peacemakers.

The weapon's store was dark and sparse, lit by the light that dimly filtered through the blue glass panels and the roaring fireplace

The Lycanthropic former Grand Champion explored the store with great interest. His exotic look attracted a few curious stares, but he was otherwise kept alone by some of the store's visitors. While the Dunmeri store owner attended one of his customers, Lycus headed straight for a set of Orcish armor resting on the counter.

It was one of the finest next to Daedric and Dwarven. He would choose this set only because the others were not available for purchase. Orcish armor was prized among the Orsimer brethren, but not exclusive to them. The armor is made with an ornate, light steel plate design which can be worn over cloth padding that results in a light and comfortable fit when put to comparison with other steel plate designs.

He removed his shirt and tossed it to the ground. Written in his bare-chest was many small cuts and bruises from recent toils but what stood out the most was a large scar that ran below his chest and over his stomach. A scar he wore with pride, for it marked the day that Lycus faced the greatest opponent a mortal man could ever face in his lifetime.

He placed on the armor over his head and shoulders, and began strapping it on when he heard a small noise.

"Hey! You can't do that!"

Lycus turned his head to see a small Wood Elf with blond hair and a short pony-tail. No doubt the apprentice to the owner of the store. The muscular Imperial turned away from the boy and continued to tie the belt of his armor around his body. "Stand down boy. I but seek to know the nature of this armor."

"But . .but . .you can't just put on armor and then-"

"You would tell me that I must first spend coin from my purse to make purchase? Then when I am faced with an opponent in proper contest I am to rely on something I am not entirely certain will save my life? I must check the craft, the size, the worth of it. I would consider buying this one. It fits me well. The craftmanship is superior and it shall not see me drained at journey's end."

The Bosmer blinked. The large Imperial placed his firm hand on the Bosmer's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "I can see that you are skilled in fashioning weapons. I want the boots, the gauntlets and the helmet to match the cuirass. Your finest in stock. In return you will see your purse weight heavier with coin."

"Right away!" he chirped.

Lycus set aside his weapons; his scimitar, his Orcish blade and his spear. He stood over them and gave his weapons a somber look. Debating whether or not they needed any repairs. But they were in legendary conditions, and extremely sharp. One swing cut easily decapitate a foe or sink through flesh as if melting a butter-knife through ash-hopper jelly.

It was then that Lycus head another voice come from behind, sounding different than the man he just spoke to. He smelled blood in the air, and turned around to face the man. It was Ylenno from the Guildhall. The rogue he spoke to briefly over the dining table.

"Hey, Champion. Wha're you doing here? Buying weapons? With your sword, saber and spear, I don't think you need anymore, you'd be a walking arensal!"

Lycus looked at the man and saw the black eye and the bloodied lip still red. He didn't remember seeing him like that when he first encountered him. It was obvious he had a fresh confrontation with a person . . .or a group of people. He turned back to his weapons and shook his head.

"A man needs but one sword to cleave his fate," he whispered gruffly. "But there is no shame in carrying more. I require no additional swords than I already have. I come here for armor."

His expression was a serious one. Not a smile nor grin was offered. But to soften his rather grim countenance, Lycus' tense face lessened. "I would not face my enemies stripped down to my bare shirt and dangling manhood. Those days are past."

He tightened the Orcish armor around his waist and turned to Ylenno. "Are you handy with the blade?"

"What was that yelling in the kitchen about Westley?"

Westley was a bit startled when he noticed Elaninde approach him, her steel armor brilliantly glowing when the sunlight hit it, and asked him a question. He stared at get for a minute before answering.

"The wench was mad at me for throwing utensils the other day. Wanted to kick me out, but I needed to get ingredients so Kayla could make a few healing potions."

Ylenno's eyebrows raised themselves outrageously as Lycus turned his game-face on and whispered his reply with a dramatic flair of a grim person burned out from social interactions.

The elf looked at the Imperial with deep-set-blue silverine eyes full of sinister merriness.

"What's so wrong about a full-frontal-assault? If you have ... that sizeable spear as those bards from six years ago says you do, then perhaps the opposition would be dumbstruck long enough for you to shank 'em good and proper, up-close and personal? Quick and dirty so you can finish them fast?"

For some reason or another, or perhaps none, he threw back his head and laughed his signature braying laughter. When his mirth died to small giggles, he drew his axe and phantomined a battle. He swished it there, chopped an invinsible foe here, struck them in a vital area there.

But beneath those playful swings, a hardened eye can see that the axe was made for Ylenno, and Ylenno for the axe. He handled those chops and swings with alarming accuracy and used economical energy, never wasting undue amounts of vigor than was necessary at all. The body danced well with the weapon, and the weapon graced the handler well. There was a poetry in motion every time there was a swing, swift and powerful, and Ylenno could be seen dreaming, glazed, a masterful thrall in the dance of death, a lethal puppet stringed on by the urge to simply decimate the opposition. He was a rush of tidal wave, raging serenely, a beautiful ugliness when he gets his momentum.

A cough from the armorer Varel Morvayn put a stop to Ylenno's demonstration, and the elf laughed an apology as he took his repaired gloves. He returned to Lycus and gave him a goofy grin.

"I'm not much of swordsman, really. Those pointy sticks kill well enough, I suppose, but they... heh, let's just say they aren't meant for the likes of me."

The goofy grin suddenly wore a mischievous feel to them as Ylenno continued on.

"But if you're asking me what I think you're asking me, then hell to the yes, I AM very handy with a 'blade'. Girls call my hair the Bush Tickler, but when things go bumpy in the night, they'll meet..... my Cavefish Shanker!"

The armorer behind the counter heard this, facepalmed, and muttered an agonized 'dear gods'.

Ylenno ignored him and continued.

"But hey, phallic sobriquets aside, if you've asked that for... a dance later on, then lemme say that I don't swing that way! I'm not that kind of 'elf', see? I don't put from the rough, or, or, Spart your Tacos, okay? Okay."

----



OOC: *evil laugh* I likey what I did here!

Elaninde:

"The wench was mad at me for throwing utensils the other day. Wanted to kick me out, but I needed to get ingredients so Kayla could make a few healing potions." Was Westley's response.

"Ah, that makes sense." "I was just in the inn to get some food, since I rarely go anywhere without everything else I need, although I almost wish I had stopped by the arcane university on my way here and gotten a resist poison enchantment." Elaninde replied back.

"Anyway, do you have everything you need?" She asked.