Kayla, Chorrol City Chapel

Warmth spread through the limbs of the unconscious Altmer as the healers worked on her extensive injuries. Numbness and chill gave way to tingling sensations in her gut as the flesh mended itself with the help of magick. Her system was cleaned out, all infections cleared with the help of potions they gently poured down her throat.

She sat up and looked at her garments. A thin gown was given to he to wear, her own sleeping garments most likely tossed or burned, given their ruined, shredded state. A quick peek in her bag revealed that the potions that had spilled on her spare clothes had dried. She silently told herself to make use of the laundering services at the Goblet once she returned.

She suddenly frowned. How long was I out? She asked herself. She packed up her things, thanking the healers and giving them as many septims as she could spare for their services and walked out of the chapel in her potion-stained clothing. Her baggy tan pants, several pockets sewn on had green spots down at the hem, giving her the appearance of wading through sludge.

She sighed. Those were damn good poisons. Her brown shirt had dark pink stains on the back from her healing potions. She shifted her pack on her shoulder and kept Dawnbreaker close by. She was surprised she hadn't been kicked out of the temple, or refused service and allowed to languish in pain for having a daedric artifact in her possession. She hoped the healers were ignorant as to what weapon she possessed.

She pushed open the gates and began to make her way southward, towards the inn. Keeping an eye out for anyone else on the road, the Nordic Altmer's stomach rumbled. Eventually, the inn came into view and as she passed the stables, she heard the whinny of a horse.

That's...Drathen's horse. Is he here? Was he rescued?

She eagerly opened the door, hoping to see the prim nobleman's face.

Draken ran his fingers along the cold, metal contours of his rings. He had already feasted on the bloodied meat and had his fill of fine wine, but even pounds of flesh or an entire bottle was not enough to hold off his preternatural hunger.

He had to admit that the bit of blood was enough to nearly heal the sun-scarred tissue on his cheek, giving it the look of a dried cut. As hidden in shadow, most would not notice the very slight change in skin tone. He was still pale and would easily be confused for a man with a common cold. Right now, however, a bit of rest was in order.

A few pints of red nectar would change that.

Draken glanced around the inn with a more pragmatic eye and was on his way to a room when he caught glimpse of the Orc by her side.

By the Daedra, is that even a woman? Or a walking plank?

The noble headed over to the stairs when the entrance door of the inn opened and a most unwanted guest entered. At first he didn't think much of the thin-gowned, pink-stained clothed woman. But as a second passed he soon recognized Kayla in all of her unglorious form.

So, Draken thought coldly. You survived your wounds afterall. Why does the grave refuse to take you in?

He didn't let his gaze linger for too long. He turned his head, bowed it and took a few steps toward the stairs. With this multitude of cattle grazing about the tavern, he'd hoped he could at least blend in enough to retreat to his room. If she so much as saw those burns he would have to conjure some sad, sob tale about being attacked and right now he wasn't in a particular mood for storytelling.

Hjalbir politely laughed with him and then nodded seriously.

"A fine price to pay. There is a coming festival, after all."

Hjalbir then considered Khan's next question. He pondered it for a while, then answered.

"The big ones, definitely. Minotaurs, ogres,boars. With them, I'll most likely land an arrow. I'll leave the small ones to you or the others

Kayla headed to the bar, leaning forward against it with her open palms pressed on the edge. She glanced briefly at the Nord and Khajiit, then did a double take at the Nord. She opened her mouth to say something, then decided against it and spoke to the one dealing with the rooms. She found, to her relief, that her room was still reserved. She sighed and thanked the man, then headed upstairs.

She planned on heading upstairs, cleaning up, then coming back down for breakfast, lunch, or whatever it was nearly time for. Maybe sleeping, since she hadn't had time for that.

She inwardly nodded.

Sleep it is.

She brushed passed the hooded and cloaked man, absently patting his shoulder.

"Excuse me." She passed him and went up the stairs, the clicking of her key in the lock music to her ears. She arrived to see the place as she left it, just about. Laegon had been gracious to not take anything, though she could have sworn her urn was a different color when she left. She locked the door and stripped, stretching her cleaned and toned body before diving into the bed. She let out a salacious groan as her tense muscles relaxed as she touched the welcoming bed.

I may never leave this inn.

She fell asleep just like that, nude on top of the covers, with her sword at the foot of the bed.

Khan nodded. "M-hmm. That makes sense. Your arrows would have to be four, four and a half feet long to nock in that bow of yours. I figure we'll use Bran and Lycus' wolves to flush the smaller game, and I doubt we'll have any trouble but in the scenting of the monsters. How I imagine it is Lycus and I will ride around the monster, carrying nets to trap it, and you can just loose away at it." Khan paused.

"Do you ever get the feeling that there's a naked woman in close proximity?" Khan shook his head vigorously. "Must be the mead. Hmm. Stefania! A cup of orange-arrowroot tea, please. Well, honestly, now that we're on the subject of killing, what spoils do you want from each beast? I figure I'll want a side of deer and boar, and at least two quail; maybe of of the Minotaur horns, and I guess an ogre skull, or a head until I get around to cleaning it."

It was a sound plan to Hjalbir's ears. He was quietly thankful for the part he was given, if that was indeed the hunting plan. Hjalbir, while surprisingly adroit for his size, wasn't exactly the greatest in sneaking. Safe to say that he would be in his element if they did that way. Of course, Hjalbir knew enough to know that anything could happen in hunt. And that's not including other events that might happen.

Hjalbir then looked at Khan weirdly. A naked woman on close proximity, he says? The man was clearly getting drunk.

"Depends on the prey," Hjalbir replied to Khan's question. "Some of the meat from the smaller games for road supplies. And I'm thinking of selling Minotaur horns and Ogre teeth for some extra coin."

*

Maxical:


http://i434.photobucket.com/albums/qq67/Ma...zps21505eb7.png



Her ears and hair were covered well by the mob cap, her tail tucked tightly into the formerly white stockings of the maid costume. If anyone did complain to the management, they couldn't tell she was Khajiit by her facial structure. For once she was grateful for her odd appearance.

RAP RAP! "Maid service, we have an urn for your room."

The door opened. "What the hell is this? You bring me a dirty urn, used by someone else? What kind of a place are you running here?"

"I just work here, Sir. Answering questions is not part of my job description." Maxical dropped the urn in front of him and hurried off.

She breathed a sigh of relief. The last urn delivered, and only a few people caught her in the act of delivering them to complain that they were full.

She hurried back to her suite to change clothes and bathe.



*

Khan nodded. "Completely reasonable. I can only hope Lycus will be as generous." Khan yawned, baring his fangs like a lion as he did so. "Ugh. I'm rather tired, is there anything else you want to discuss before I head up to bed?"

Hjalbir stretched, and relaxed into his position. The milk he drank was making him sleepy, but he wasn't ready to go to sleep yet. The Giant shook his head at the Khajiit.

"Nothing of great import. You should rest, Tribune. I'll stay here for a while longer before I go to bed. Meet the other inn-stayers here, if any are still awake. Since I'm staying over for the festival, I might as well familiarize myself with my fellow revelers."

"Sound advice, friend. I'll see you tomorrow, I'm off to bed, after I just take one last pass for any other potential hunters." Khan stood up and made his way to the bar, where several people were standing.

Draken took a few minutes to wipe the blood and dirt from his face as he climbed the steps of the inn after having paid for a room. He was directed to the suite by a high elf that introduced himself as Hethilion, and was guided along the halls until he reached the door. The nobleman was given a key and privacy after the altmer opened the door for him and extended a hand to allow him access.

The room was great; equipped with a desk, a few cupboards and bookcases, a double-bed and a table with chairs for two. It was large and it was to his delight.

Satisfied with the room, especially after the altmer had filled a bathtub with water, Draken closed the door and locked it. With folded arms he glanced around the room and saw that there was only one problem.

The windows.

He searched around the room, digging inside crates and cabinets, looking for any dark covers that would work best against sunlight. Anything that could keep the harmful rays from coming in the appointed time. He found nothing. Nothing save for the furniture in the room.

Draken decided he would have to do things his way. He walked over toward the tall dresser and grabbed hold of the sides, and with brute force he dragged the heavy furniture toward the window and then started to push it until it touched the glass. He did the same with the other ones as well until he was content.

The chamber went dark, but not shadowy enough. And so for the few minutes he worked frantically to make this room more “vampire-friendly.”

After he was finished he discarded his shirt and his pants and undergarments and walked over to the bathtub, and climbed within, letting out a pained sigh that was due to his burns. His arms had blistered and were covered with small black spots mixed with blood. He winced at the ugly burns and scorch marks.

How badly he needed blood. If he'd go without if for another day, his supple appearance would be forfeit.

*Khan looks around the tavern for any patrons*

Irvana returned to the inn sometime after Kayla left, and was left wondering what transpired in Hackdirt. It has been many hours since then. Still she wouldn't burden herself worrying with the outcome. She had instead retreated to her chambers to refresh her mind and have a drink. Her leisure was short-lived when there were voices, loud music and clanking of cups on the floor below.

Irvana opened the door to her room after there was much commotion coming from downstairs. She poked her head out of the room to hear the noise crash from below into her ears like a titan wave that made her head spin. The inn seemed full now, with many patrons swarming the floor below. Small wonder she couldn't have a measure of rest and quiet reading.

There is solution for that, she told herself. One way to put an end to this noise.

Though she was a bit peeved, she realized how fortunate she was to see Kayla, wielder of the mighty Dawnbreaker, climb the steps and walk the hallway into her room. She looked tired, worn . . . spent. Something happened.

Was she succesful in her task?

Irvana licked her lips. I wonder what happened. Might have she discovered that the woman was false as I suspected?

She left the safety of her room, locked the door behind her, and headed over toward Kayla's door after waiting until she settled in. She's tired, fatigued and otherwise distracted.

"Kayla," Irvana said gently, knocking on the door. "Kayla. Can I come in?"

There were heavy stomps coming from below and she turned to look at two drunk men walk the stairs and stumble into the hallway. One drunk fool dragging the other by the hand until they came close to Irvana, looking at her from head to toe with a lecherous gaze.

"Fine rump, this one."

"Aye," the other Nord said. "These Cyrodiil lasses got some beautiful asses. Oi, mind if I have a bite?"

Irvana, quite disgusted, squeezed herself closer to the door, knocking a bit more rapidely. "Kayla! May I come in?"

The men, apparently having more sense than foolishness despite their drinks, tripped along the hall and into their rooms singing an age-old song. "Take heart, the mighty hero cried! He looked up at Dagon and cursed his foul name!"

"Heh. Poor sod didn't like what he saw under Dagon's skirts."

Both men giggled obnoxiously before retreating further into their chambers.

Irvana knocked once more. "Kayla. Please, let me in."

"Huh. Only passing drunkards seem to be awake now. 'Scuse me, Yetta, is it? I'll have to pay you for dinner after breakfast, that alright? Thanks." Stefania scowled at Khan and made a gesture that conveyed her disapproval. Khan rolled his eyes at her. "Oh, stuff it you lazy wench, you'll get your tips in good time." Khan walked up the stairway towards his room, still looking for a familiar face.

He was all the way to his room after a moment or two."Well then, guess Hjalbir and I are the only ones awake now. Oof. I'd better sleep off all this mead. Ugh." Khan removed all his clothes, stripping down to his loincloth. He stretched his arms one last time, then lay down and fell asleep.

Khan was awoken during the night by a knocking at his door. He opened the door to find a rather impatient large Breton, who spoke to him irately. "Oi! About time you got up, sunshine! I've been poundin' on this door for near half an hour!" Khan stared at him incredulously. "Now look you bastard, you'd best give a good reason for taking me out of a dream involving several copies of my wife, and waking me up in the middle of the godsdamned night!" The Breton was unfazed. "Stonehills Shipping. Gotta sign for your package." The man gestured toward a huge mahoghany chest in the hall. Grumbling, Khan signed the parchment the man gave him, pulled the chest inside, and promptly punched the man in the face, knocking him flat. He then slammed the door as the man's companions pulled him up. Khan sat on the bed, looked at the chest and grinned. "And so the hunt is soon to be underway." He then proceeded to fall asleep, in hopes of reentering that dream.

Abiene stepped into the chamber after Hethilion, leaving the door open to the corridor. She’d moved back into the guest room on the inn’s second floor, not wanting to intrude on her friends’ privacy.

“I’d like a bath, please,” she told him. “And a cheese and tomato salad, a slice of apple pie, and a bottle of Tamika’s white. One goblet.”

“As you wish.”

Abiene arranged her things while Hethilion prepared the tub.

“And a double Colovian brandy,” she called as he left.

She opened the windows to let the cool evening in. This side of the inn overlooked the stable and fish pond. She could see the blue glimmer of Welkynd stone lanterns, bobbing torches carried by travelers out on the Black Road, and over the pond a multitude of glittering fireflies.

And a mostly naked Argonian hauling himself out of the pond carrying a net full of fish.

“Oh my,” said Abiene. She cast her Nighteye spell.

Hethilion returned, served, poured, and departed. Abiene dragged a small stand over to the tub to use as her dining table. She slipped out of her clothes and into the steaming bath, her meal, wine, book, and brandy all at hand.

She tucked a rolled-up towel under her neck and leaned back, closing her eyes against the candlelight.

Now all I need is some soft music, she thought. But perhaps first a little nap.

Bograk

Riad tapped the first barrel as the last stars faded from the sky.

“Harvest’s End,” said Bograk, handing him two tankards to fill.

Riad grunted his reply. Their mugs clunked together in an unspoken toast.

Bograk enjoyed a moment surveying her domain in the dawn’s pale light.

Lowren had established picket lines near the stables to accommodate the day travelers’ mounts. Most folk would arrive on foot from the surrounding farms and hamlets, but a festival like this one attracted revelers from all stations, not just agricultural workers. Lowren had recruited a bevy of Bosmeri to help out for the Festival. At the moment they were diverting water from the fish pond to make a mud pit for wrestling. Their light voices carried even this far, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Yetta walked up and handed Bograk the day’s Bill of Fare. The Nord woman had been up most of the night baking, and it would be full night again before she could rest. Bograk passed her a bag of fennel seeds to chew with her morning beer. “Keep you awake,” she said.

~Bill of Fare~


Breakfast will be Served All Day inside the Tavern


The Plowman: Ham and cheese in a roll with chutney, served with boiled eggs and pickled onions.

From the Pig-Shed: Bacon, ham, and sausage served with fried potatoes, toasted bread, and eggs.

The Cattleman: Grilled steak and scrambled eggs served with baked beans, mushrooms, and tomatoes.

The Reaper: Stack of griddle cakes with choice of maple syrup, beaten cream, sliced apples, or fresh berries. Eggs and bacon on the side.

From the Dairy: Cheese pie with figs.

The Gleaner: Sweet roll and berries for the lighter appetite.


Beer is served on the lawn for free from dawn to midnight. Tavern drinks will still cost you.

“I’ve pasties for the hunters as well,” said Yetta. “We’ll sell what they don’t take out in the food tents.”

Bograk handed the parchment back with a nod of approval.

“Here come the Odiil boys,” Riad said. Bograk turned to look.

Antus and Rallus were striding up the road. They looked thirsty.

“First ones here get to carry out the tankards,” Bograk called to them.

Antus grinned and Rallus threw up his hand in acknowledgement. They changed course and headed toward the open doors to the Goblet’s cellar.

Riad leaned his hip against the serving table. “Those lads are nothing like their father,” he observed. “They’ll have the tents up and the tables ready by the time the bells ring eight.”

Bograk grinned, watching a peddler turn his hand cart toward the inn. “I’ll take that wager.”

Abiene

Abiene woke to the strains of relentlessly energetic music. She pushed herself up and put her feet on the floor, groaning. Stendarr’s mercy, what awful dreams!

A peek out the window piqued her interest. She opened it all the way and stuck her head out to look around.

The Goblet’s lawns had been transformed as she slept. Rows of tables and benches stood around a clear central square. Abiene guessed it would be used for dancing. Beer kegs lined one end and musicians the other. Spits were being set up over piles of wood near the road. Tents and awnings had sprung up in clusters. Bright banners were everywhere, fluttering from lines through the trees, atop stakes along the road, and above tents advertising their wares.

Abiene ducked back inside and closed the window. Harvest’s End festival. She hadn’t remembered the date.

She washed and dressed with little ceremony. Downstairs the tavern was busy with folk dining at tables and at the bar. Abiene glanced at the bill of fare.

Auguste was at the bar pouring drinks and shuffling plates.

“I’ll have a splash of brandy in mine,” she said, nodding at the kahve pitcher. “And the Gleaner’s breakfast but substitute toast for the sweetroll and please add a boiled egg.”

Auguste’s eyes bugged out a little. “That wouldn’t be the Gleaner, then. That would be berries, toast, and an egg.”

He’s a bit touchy this morning. Or whatever time it is. The giant steak on the plate of a man seated next to her made her wonder if she’d missed a meal.

Abiene gave Auguste a smile. “Yes, thanks. I’ll have it over at that table.” She took her kahve and went to sit near the fire.

Khan awoke to music that could only mean one thing: The Harvest's End Festival was underway. "Yes!" He cried, pulling on his pants and coat, and shoving his foot into his boot as he hopped down the stairs. He ran up to the bar, and jumped on to a stool, bumping another patron as he did so. He looked at the bill of fare Yetta had prepared for the festival. It was all he could do to stop him self from kissing the woman then and there. "Oh, my, you've truly outdone yourself! You could feed all those fat-guts in the Blue Palace for a week on one of these plates! Hmm...the Cattleman, I think, with a side of fried potatoes, if you could. Oh, could you? You, my lady, are simply remarkable. And to drink I'll have a pint of ale, thanks. Oh, here's what I owe you from last night."

As he handed Yetta the sack of gold, Stefania made a coughing noise, rolling her eyes as she did so. Khan scoffed right back at her, throwing a few coins past her. She sniffed at him, then ran to get them. Khan grinned, in spite of himself. He turned back to Yetta. "So, I hope to bring back a lot of meat. Oh, yes, certainly you can ask for a specific cut. Haunch and steak of venison, you say? Absolutely." Khan's breakfast arrived from the kitchen, piping hot and piled high with mushrooms, potatoes, and beans. He licked his lips in anticipation. "Well, Yetta, nice talking to you, but I've got to get my belly full for the ride out." At these words, Khan fell to eating, tiger-like in his ferocity.

Kayla opened her eyes and cringed at the light streaming through the window. Somehow, through the nightmares of what had transpired in Hackdirt, she had found her way under the soft covers. She sighed in relief that she hadn't been disturbed all night.

Though if anyone had tried, I wouldn't have known it.

She had been exhausted. Her subconscious had picked its way through nightmare after nightmare, trying to make sense of the events that had transpired the day before. She dressed after a quick rinse, dabbing a bit of her vanilla oil on her neck and wrists.

She checked her reflection in the mirror and sighed. Only a small bit of puffiness that could easily be taken care of with some kahve, or tea. The scar on her scalp was still there. her heart sank a bit at the sight, but she supposed she might have to live with it, like she did the other scars. She walked down the stairs, weaponless, and blinked at the sight of the busy inn.

She wondered how late she had risen, but shook off the feeling that she was later than she had intended to rise and approached the bar. She smiled at the barman, and looked at the Bill of Fare.

"Oh...wow. All of this sounds delicious." She said. "I'd get 'The Reaper,' but I might get sick from all that sweetness."

"Don't fear The Reaper." Auguste said. Kayla had an odd feeling, like she should recognize that phrase. she shook it off and smiled at him.

"I'll have the 'From the Pig Shed,' please." She placed the paper down and looked around for a moment before turning back. "With kahve, please."

"Do you want alcohol, too?" he asked, his eyes wandering to her new scar on her scalp, the mark trailing nearly to her eyebrow.

"Uh...no?"

She shrugged off the man's attitude and spotted Abiene by the fire, sipping her kahve. Kayla quietly approached, a sheepish smile on her face.

"Abiene? Mind if I join you?" She gripped her own mug tightly and waited for an answer.

Abiene looked up to find Kayla at her side.

“Good morning!” she said, standing up to give her a quick hug. “Oh, please do join me! Mmm, you smell wonderful. I love vanilla.”

She sat back down, trying not to stare but failing completely.

Abiene leaned in to speak softly. “Kayla, please forgive what I am about to say. I can’t help getting in your business, it’s what I do. That looks like a fresh scar. Do you need healing?” She bit her lip but then continued. “I’m sure that’s not what you wanted to hear as soon as you sat down this morning. Oh Mara, I’m being so awkward.” She pressed Kayla’s hand with her own. “But I can help if you like.”

Stefania slid their plates onto the table. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked, then walked away without waiting for an answer.

Abiene’s eyebrows went up. “I think the staff is anticipating a long day,” she said.

Kayla laughed quietly, the sound almost a giggle. "I can't imagine waiting on people hand and foot, day in and day out. Must be tiring." She sat at the chair next to Abiene's and set her mug on the table.

"I wouldn't mind the healing, actually." She rubbed her eyes momentarily, wiping the rest of the sleep out of them. "I got into some trouble in Hackdirt, and thought the knife wound is healed by the chapel healers, I guess they didn't see fit to fix my scar, since it was already there." She gave Abiene a half smile. "Gods know I've got enough scars on me to last three lifetimes." She laughed a little louder. She sipped her kahve, then nearly spit it out.

"Oh gods! This needs sugar!"

Things had gone fine with Kharjo, after a day of bitter arguing. There were risks that he didn’t want her to take, but even that wasn’t really the issue Aravi later realized. I had made this decision without talking to him about it. Part of her wanted to inform him that it wasn’t his decision to make. But she knew in some way that was wrong. He was a part of her life now. Though they were never formally married, she considered him her husband, and he considered her his wife. I need to remember that it isn’t just me anymore, she smiled faintly.

Later, when the argument was over, she could tell he was pleased that they may yet have children. He also declared with a grin that they would enjoy their time before she submitted to any treatment.

Now she was back on the road, in Cyrodiil, making her way to an inn, and maybe a chapel beyond. It was morning and she had broken camp several hours before the sun rose. The sun was well over the horizon now, only small wisps of clouds were in the air. It promised to be a beautiful day. She walked in the soft grass that flanked either side of the road. Dew that had yet to evaporate in the morning light wet her bare feet as she walked. She wore simple leather armor and her ever present swords.

When the inn came into view, Aravi was surprised by what she saw. Instead of a quiet inn by the side of the road, there were tables, tents, and spits for roasting meat. Music was playing. What is going on?

Aravi went inside and saw that it was crowded with people. She spotted a couple of familiar people at a table near the fire.

"Hello Abiene, Kayla," she said. "May I join you?"

Abiene smiled her relief that Kayla wasn’t offended.

She tapped her mug with a fingertip. “I got a little brandy in mine. It wasn’t a restful night. I should probably heal you before I drink it, though it’s not enough to make me tipsy.”

She looked around. “This place is getting busy, but it’s easy to be overlooked in a crowd. I can cast the spell with hardly any light. Do you want to have breakfast first? Or I can just go ahead and take care of it for you. We’d just be sitting here looking normal, no need to lie down or anything. I’m not surprised that they left the scar at the chapel. There are usually more patients than healers, and we need the magicka.”

Abiene looked around for a sugar bowl. “There’s some sugar, I’ll be right back.”

She hopped up and retrieved the sugar bowl for Kayla.

She can cast the spell without attracting attention? How neat!

Kayla was about to take another sip of her kahve before she remembered why she had nearly spit it out. She gladly took the sugar cubes from Abiene and dropped them into her cup and stirred.

"I don't mind doing the healing right now. We're both here. Might as well do it. I'd hate to keep you from your drink." She smiled a genuine smile at the shorter woman. "What happened while I was away? Everything okay?"

Is everything OK? Abiene lifted her eyebrows slightly. “Oh, yes,” she lied.

She placed her hand lightly over Kayla’s, admiring the Altmer’s strong grace. Abiene had many reasons to resent high elves, but Kayla didn’t provoke that response in her at all. Perhaps it was her straightforward manner, or her Nordic way of speaking. Whatever it was Abiene simply enjoyed her company.

Her eyes unfocused as she cast the healing spell without making any tell-tale gestures. Practice and tight control kept the magicka passing between the two of them instead of sparkling through the air. The chapel healers had done an excellent job, only leaving the scar. It was a simple matter to continue the healing until the scar had faded to a thin, pale line.

Abiene took a moment and let her spell slip over Kayla’s skin, testing the scars on her chest. She stopped herself before she did anything to them. You don’t have permission.

She broke the spell and opened her mouth to ask.

Arvai appeared out of the crowd. “Hello Abiene, Kayla,” she said. “May I join you?”

“Of course! Aravi, it’s so good to see you!” Abiene stood up to hug her friend.

Aravi hugged the Breton and said, “I wasn’t gone for very long!” Not like I thought I would be.

She let Abiene go. “He’s as excited as I am by the way.”

Kayla felt the spell linger for a minute second too long in an odd area.

She knows about the scar on my chest. But she didn't heal it without my permission.

Kayla smiled at Abiene, and before she could thank her, Aravi appeared, curling her tail instinctively away from the boots and feet of the other patrons. She hugged the khajiit after Abiene, a big smile on her face.

"Aravi! Sorry I've missed you these past few days. I should've left a note or something."

Abiene gave Aravi a quick nod and a big smile, not wanting to draw too much attention. She hadn’t met Aravi’s mate, but to attract Aravi he must be quite special.

She turned her attention to her breakfast, suddenly hungry.

“I saw merchants’ tents outside,” she said, dipping the toast into her egg. “Shopping!”

Abiene tucked into her meal, giving the other women a chance to catch up on events.

Khan licked his lips and sat back on his stool. Yetta had done an outstanding job on the festival food. He let the tantalizing taste of meat and potatoes sit on his tongue for a few moments, then stood up. "Yetta, I cannot begin to tell you how good that was. I can only imagine what you and I can do with the meat we bring back from the hunt. Say, any idea of the wares I can buy on the lawn? Pottery? All the way from Vardenfell? I say, my wife would like that. A smith as well? Very good, I could use some new equipment. See you, Yetta, I'm off to browse the tents. Thanks for the food."

Khan walked out of the Goblet, stepping onto the lawn, where there were minstrels singing and playing instruments, jugglers and acrobats, even Argonian Dragonbards doing unbelievable things with fire. He looked around, taking in the scene. The smell of cooking meat and aromatic cheeses, the hoarse calling of the vendors hawking their goods, the gentle breeze floating over the lawn mixed with the hot smoke of cook fires and the smithy. The parade of humanity, meritude, and beastiality beastfolken, was astounding. He looked around the lawn, looking for anything of interest, walking at a leisurely pace.

Hjalbir spent the wee hours of midnight carefully planning what he would do after the festival was over. He would be here for a couple of days, he estimated, to rest his weary haunches and socialize with the other patrons. Perhaps some of them would be in need of a sellsword? A lair in need of clearing? That train of thought had merits of its own, but he knew he couldn't dawdle in one place. He was lagging a couple of months for his sister's tuition fee, and one more would probably mean her expulsion. In that monetary regard, the Bretons were as tight-fisted as the scroogiest of Imperials. He briefly entertained the notion of being a gladiator in the Arena, but discarded it as soon as it came. A path to glory and fame, but also a path to an early grave and not to richness. The same could be said for the Fighters Guild. What he needed was something immediate...

He stayed in the Inn's hall and searched for someone who looked he had more gold than he had use for it, but Khan already went upstairs to sleep, and those that remained were early revelers for the festival tomorrow. Most of them were drunk already, and none of them were what he was looking for. He decided to call it day. He paid for his meal and a room for the night, and was guided by a runty little dark elf who looked up at him with awe. The room wasn't anything fancy, but it was clean and large and homely, and while the bed wasn't exactly his size, it did the job well enough. He washed himself with the provided bowl and towel, and settled in for a fitful sleep.

He had nightmares, surprisingly. In that nightmare he was choking amidst dancing fire and flickering shadows, and vaporous creatures with terrible eyes besieging him from all fronts. There was creature there, too, a wondrous creature with a radiant countenance, elf-like in its crystalline beauty, staring at him with eyes that could fuel the fires of armageddon. The choking and tthe rending from the vapours were a distant memory, a shadow in the far fog of the subconsious, but he could recall that creature clearly and its frightening beauty. What terrible eyes, Hjalbir thought.

He woke to the thundernacks of revelry. There was a steady ambient from a dozen or so instruments playing the tune of festivals, and even from here, the tantalizing scent of a feast wafted through and tempted Hjalbir's early hunger. First things first, he thought. He got up and prepared his gear for the hunt that Khan proposed. The arrows were fletched and sharpened, the bow checked for any weaknesses, and the strings examined. His broadsword and punching dagger had nicks and dents, but they were still sharp and lethal, and Hjalbi reckoned he could still use for another couple of days or so before needing serious repair. The white fur cloak seemed a poor idea for camouflage, and rather heavy besides, so he temporarily discarded it, in favor the lighter padded vest and chainmail shirt. He checked and double-checked, and he was good to go.

The hall room was, as was expected, crowded with people all gathered up in the spirit of the ceremony. There were free drinks, Hjalbir saw in the counter, and a new Bill of Fare commemorating the Festival too. He simply had bread and cheese and a flagon of milk for breakfast, and went out in search for familiar faces, particularly Khan. On the way outside, he passed by a trio of women in a table, and one of them -a High Elf of all people!- spoke with the manner and accent of his kinsmen! He was briefly amused by that, and gave her a Nordic salute.

Outside the Inn, it was like stepping out into a realm of Sheogorath. There were tents, with all manner of merchants therein adverstising their goods, and there were large fires. over which there roasted all sorts of meat. Minstrels sang their songs, bards their lutes, and acrobats their tricks. Even a magician or two entertained the masses with displays of con magick and placebo mysticism. It was like one of those fares from High Rock. He even saw natives representing their homelands' culture; A redguard snake charmer making a serpent dance, two Breton twins jousting in a plain and even-footed field slightly away from the Inn, and even some elves doing what they do best; cultural posturing. It was a ridiculously merry affair, this. Mayhaps he could find a venerable contractor among these revelers.

He spotted what he was looking for.

Khan was strolling along, taking in the sights at a relaxed pace. Even with a massive crowd celebrating, it wasn't that hard to catch up with him.

"Hail, Tribune! Certainly a fine day for lollygagging, is it not?"

Khan turned to look at the owner of the familiar voice and grinned. "Hjalbir! A fine day indeed! I assume you're ready to head out today? I'll have the stableboy bring you anything you need from the armor and weapons I have, and Yetta, the cook, has generously given us a brace of pasties, in return for some of the meat. I've polished my old armor from my guard days, and my surcoat is freshly dyed. Only problem is, all my carefully laid plans involve Lycus, and he doesn't seem to be around."

Khan took a bite of the charred pork kabob he had bought at a nearby stall. "But enough about that, how are you enjoying the festival? I haven't seen this much variety in merchandise since the market stalls back home in Whiterun. Look," he said, pointing vaguely, "off in that direction there's a stand selling artisanal organic straw loincloths. As if that's supposed to do the trick, am I right? But, there's also that smith, who happens to have a fairly good selection of sword parts, and I bought one of those gold filigreed crossguards for my greatsword. So yes, should be an exciting day indeed. But enough about me. What are you looking to buy here?"

Aravi hugged the taller woman back. “I should have left a note at the very least, I’m sorry.”

Aravi stepped back from the taller woman and looked both of them over. Abiene looked as pretty and neat as she always seemed to, but Kayla looked somewhat worn. The woman didn’t have any new scars that she could see, but something about her let Aravi know there was fighting recently. What did I miss while I was gone?

She heard Abiene mention shopping. “I still need to replace the earring I lost,” Aravi said. She took a seat at the table with the other women. Their food looked wonderful, but she had eaten recently and didn’t desire another meal.

She addressed both women. “I’m surprised the two of you are still here after I left for Skyrim. What has been happening?” Aravi has never been one to stay in one location for very long. She lived somewhat of a nomadic existence, always going one place or another.

"Uhhh..." Kayla sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck. "I suppose I should tell you two, since I consider you friends. If anyone has anything to do with Hackdirt, don't trust them. I was approached by a woman who said she had sent her children there, and ended up getting yanked underground and stabbed in the gut." She sipped her kahve and cleared her throat.

Abiene didn’t know how to explain the past week without reliving the horror. She focused on her friends.

“Aravi, it will be fun to look through the merchants’ tents with something specific in mind. I’m sure we can find you some new earrings. I hope I can tag along?”

Kayla’s announcement was more dramatic. Abiene tried not to embarrass her with a fuss. She found that warriors didn’t appreciate folks fluttering about the danger long after they had survived it.

“Has the woman been caught?” Abiene asked her.

Has she been caught?

No, she hadn't. Not by the proper authorities. Though I'm sure the fanatics in Hackdirt had already given her a burial.

Kayla wasn't one to dwell on her actions. The woman in Hackdirt had it coming, but at the same time, she had taken a mortal life. That didn't sit right with her, even if the soul of the woman was twisted like that of the undead.

Kayla lifted her cup to her lips. "She's taken care of." She said softly before taking a sip. She remembered the woman's last dying breath, her raspy laughter that came right before her death rattle.

"The Deep Ones will devour your heart." She had laughed before her soul left her body. Kayla shook off the feeling and took a calming breath and smiled at the two women.

"I wonder if there's a tattoo booth around. Surely so if there's a piercing booth. I'd love to come with you both, if that's fine."

Edited.

OOC: @mALX: This is shortly after our hullabaloo.


Sethyas strode back slowly from his personal affair, and his eyes opened a hair wider at all the tents and stands that were brought up in his absence. Some manner of fair or festival had arrived, and he'd been entirely to focused on his own matters to make note of it.

He grabbed a loose Bill of Fare from one of the tables and scanned it's contents.

Free Beer?! He read in a mild excitement.

He looked at his vest and dark clothes and realized they quite literally made him look like he had just attended a funeral. He quickly unbuttoned it and then turned it inside out to the the red padded inside that Serene had tailored for him.

I will take on 'The Reaper'! Could use a stiff drink right about now as well...

Indeed, there were plenty of booths that could cater to a warrior's needs. There were blacksmiths, arrow fletchers, and even some armor stands. Truly, this festival was drawing all sorts of people. Hjalbir looked at a general clothing stand. He considered getting a light cloak, a brown and unassuming one to replace his white fur cloak, but decided against it. He bought some shishkebab instead.

"So Lycus isn't around. I'm sure he'll pop up; its obvious he's an avid hunter."

It was. Even without his talk of transcendent wolves and hunters from the outer-realms, Hjalbir could plainly see that Lycus was a man who enjoyed the thrill and dangers during a hunt. And there was something bestial about his eyes, too...

Hjalbir shrugged at Khan's last question.

"The food probably. Its been a while since I last saw a gathering of cultures as big as this one."

Abiene finished her kahve and folded her napkin.

“If you get something pierced I hope you’ll let me sterilize it,” she said to Kayla, keeping her voice down. One shot of brandy was only enough to put a smile on her face, but she felt a little self-conscious just the same.

Aravi listened to Kayla and Abiene, her ears perked forward with surprise and interest when Kayla related what happened to her.

She was glad when Kayla said quietly that the one who stabbed her wouldn’t be a problem anymore. She could tell the woman wasn’t happy with the outcome, And who would be? There are times I wish I didn’t have to fight. She put a sympathetic hand on Kayla’s arm briefly.

“My journey to Skyrim and back was quiet except for a storm that forced me to abandon the road for a few hours. My husband was happy to see me again.” Despite living a solitary life for so long before she met him, it felt strange being away now.

“I would be happy for you both to join me at the tents.” To Kayla she said, “Abiene pierced my ear after she healed the tear with one of my other earrings. I just need to find an earring to go with my others.” I wonder what kind of a tattoo she’s thinking of?

"Aw, you're married?" Kayla squealed girlishly. She quickly turned red and pressed her lips together, making a thin line of embarrassment. "Sorry. You're so tiny, and male Khajiit can get very big..." She trailed off as she dug her hole deeper. She of course mean tall and wide in stature and body not...

She quickly sipped her kahve, looking around. "Well, I wonder where my food is." As if by command, Stefania brought her food by and, without asking if she needed anything else, left. Kayla shrugged it off and began eating, glad to have something in her mouth that wasn't her boot.

"Well, Hjalbir, seeing as we'll be going soon, would you like to see my little armory I've brought?" Khan turned and yelled. "Lowren! Bring it here, please!" He turned back to Hjalbir. "Nice kid, that stableboy. Better than Stefania at least. But yes, the chest with all the gear should be-ah, here we are. Thank you, Lowren." Khan gave the Bosmer a few coins and opened the chest to display all the gear he had shipped from Skyrim.

It contained:

A quiver of Hammerfell Steel Javelins
An Orcish Battleaxe
An Imperial Rapier, enchanted with fire
A set of slings, long and short
Several assorted swords
" " shields
A Nordic chainmail byrnie, enchanted with fortify agility
A leather cuirass, enchanted with fortify acrobatics
A pair of Steel boots, enchanted with waterwalking
A Bosmer Ironwood Great Helm, enchanted with enhanced tracking abilities
A pair of Argonian Bloodscale gauntlets, enchanted with enhanced riding and climbing abilities
Assorted misc armor pieces, (feel free to make up your own because I'm lazy)

News of the festivities did not escape the ears of Stefan LeRoi. The free beer the Goblet was advertising, plus the Nord woman's scrumptious food would surely bring all sorts from not only Chorrol, but anyone from nearby settlements seeking a full belly and warm company.

He set out with a pep in his step, not using the hammerhead cane for support, but for show. And protection. He had given Shiva the night off, as he was sure he would not enjoy being by so many people at one time. He made it clear if she wanted to show up in some fancy dress with no mask, she was welcome to do so. She was ever silent.

He had chosen to wear a light set of clothing today, leaving his green matching clothing at home. Instead, he donned a black set of trousers and a white shirt. His red cape fluttered in the breeze as he walked, seemingly dancing to the jaunty tune of the bards as he approached the tavern. He feasted his eyes on the beautiful women, and the men trying to get their attention as people began to gather. He swiped a free beer, thanking the maiden guarding them with a wink and sat down with a flourish. he brought the cooled beverage to his lips, sweeping the area with his eyes for a comely maiden to warm his lap.

Aravi smiled and bit her tongue to prevent herself from laughing when Kayla squealed.

She knew what Kayla was trying to spit out, or at least she thought she did…

“He is much bigger than I am. Not as tall as you are, but much heavier built. He’s very strong. His fur is black with white shot though. He looks great in his heavy plate armor.” She realized she was gushing.

Hjalbir stared at the Khajiit's cache with slightly wide eyes. Never had he seen such an impressive array of arms and weapons. He could feel the enchantment on some of them, too. For that, he slightly envied Khan, but it was to be expected. He was a Tribune of a Legion after all.

"You've enough arms to equip a small company with these," Hjalbir rumbled. "Are there any others you've found willing to join us in the hunt? Just the three of us wouldn't be enough, I'd wager."

I'm afraid....your time has come....I cannot show you mercy...not while my stomach trembles with hunger!! The Dunmer's intense stare down at the griddle-cakes and a slab of butter melted across it's surface, making long trails as it poured down the sides.

Shadow fell across his face as he brought the instruments of eating up, and they glinted in the morning sun. He expertly lodged the fork dead center into the stack, while simultaneously bring his knife down with surgical precision halving the once whole body of traditional breakfast pastries.

Over and over, the cuts came, and the breakfast disappeared.

Eggs. Bacon. Berries. All met the same fate, with no evidence left that their fate had been met there that day.

Aside from the Dunmer with his eyes bulging and trying to cover his belches.

Now...to make some free beer disappear.

Kayla grinned as Aravi gushed.

"He sounds handsome." She said, and sighed. "I bet you two would made adorable little kits together." She laughed loudly, then sighed. She would be lucky to be able to have a child of her own one day. Elves don't birth but one, maybe two children in their long lifetimes, compensating for their longevity with rare natural births. Even were she to have a child with a human, the fact would remain the same, her body was not meant to have maybe two children, and three were unheard of with elves.

With her lifestyle, a child would be disastrous. Given that she was the Champion of Meridia, what would happen with her child? Would they be offered up, the same as she as a child? Or would Meridia grant the leniency for the child to become whatever they wanted?

These thoughts were too heavy for Kayla at the moment, so she pushed them aside. Instead, she raised her arms above her head in a stretch, hearing joints pop before setting them down.

"I saw free beer." She said to the women. She raised her eyebrows twice, still grinning. "I feel like grabbing a mug. How about you two?"

The two women nodded and Kayla finished her food quickly before gulping down the rest of the kahve. They went outside and began perusing the various tents and booths.

"Good catch, Hjalbir. I think what I'll do is put a notice on the door of the inn, and have Loren and his friends spread the word by mouth. There's enough muscled farmhands here to accommodate this stuff three times over. I got most of it from my days as a mercenary, except for those enchanted armor pieces. Those are from slavers of House Dreth. Specifically enchanted to find and catch runaways. Nasty business, to be sure."

Hjalbir perked up at the mention of Khan's days as a mercenary.

"So you were a sellsword long ago, then? Huh. And now you're a Tribune of the Legion. You walk an interesting path, Khan. Anyway, yes, that should be a good plan. That'll take time and we'll have to wait for the volunteers to find us though. Come on, let's get that notice pinned on the door then."