Aravi went back downstairs, intent on finding the musician again. Salyan made it easy by waving and calling her over.

The bar was still crowded and it took some time for her to weave her way over to the other woman. Over at the original table she sat at, Sethyas and his wife remained. I should introduce myself better to her, Aravi thought as she remembered the quick introduction they exchanged outside. Kayla was there yet, talking to the very tall Bosmer. I need to let her know Vera is coming along as well. They all had trouble working with Vera when they cleared the vampires out of a cave. Aravi hoped that this one would go more smoothly.

Aravi sat at the bar and hopped up on a barstool. She curled her tail around one of the legs so that she wouldn’t be stepped on again. Her feet didn’t quite reach the ground.

“Hello Salyan, I’m glad you saved me a spot,” she said with a small smile.

Ylenno sat at the same time Kayla did and helped clean aside the mess of the earlier occupants. Their forearms brushed slightly, but very much unintenional. Ylenno pursed his lips in amusement. Then his ears perked up at the mention of Buffy. Just the mere mention of her name sent a mixture of anceint sorrow through the Bosmer's core. His fellow Bravillian and he didn't even went to her birthday. That's the problem with me, I suppose. Always running. He was staring at nothing when Kayla reached across the table, squeezed his hand, and mentioned Lycus's...

"Champ has a wife?! What in kinky Aetherius?! I didn't peg him for a tied-up guy!"

He was amazed. The hulking Imperial was... many things, evidenced by the events that transpired below Sutch, but never in all his wildest imagination did Ylenno saw Lycus with a ring on his finger. Just goes to show the wonders of the world still to be discovered.

He then caught Kayla staring at him, looking over his war-scars with concern, raking over his countenance.... but even a mindless beast could detect the wild urgency of the moment between them, and the clouds of longing fogging up behind her eyes. Ylenno held that stare, his eyes melting with the golden orbs of Kayla, and he was lost there, seeking through the lust for .... something. They were at the height of debauchery now, and Ylenno, veteran of falling from there, wondered if Kayla was prepared for the dive. With him, of all people. He was used to rapid trysts of no consequence, where there would be no .. complications later on. His partners were usually random people who took a fancy to him, or he to they.

But Kayla was a friend. They went through fire and butchery below the light of the sun, and faced the ancient darkness that gathered beneath the Fort Sutch. When they emerged unscathed and intact, but still really shaken of the momentous events, something was forged between all of them. It went beyond companionship, went beyond the scope of love, went beyond simple lusts. It was something divine, unexplainable by mere words, and Ylenno was hesitant to possibly ruin it.

"That's quite fine," he said, after a moment of glittering thoughts. "Let's just sit here and enjoy each other's company."

Kayla nodded. "Yeah, let's just enjoy the moment while it lasts. Before I get my rear pinched again." She gave him a grin to let him know the moment had passed. At least on the surface. She felt a bit closer to him as they gazed at each other, but not much. There was a wall there, and before she could give herself, it would have to be broken. She'd never known a woman to break that wall, and she was slowly realizing that maybe none ever would.

She slid her chair next to him and leaned back, crossing one leg over the other and putting one arm behind his shoulders, resting it atop his chair. She gave him a wink and a grin. "I wouldnt complain if you did, though." She patted his cheek and leaned her head back in laughter. She took a long drink of her mead and immediately wished for a stronger drink. She motioned Stefania over and ordered a strong red wine and offered to pay for Ylenno's drink.

"My treat. I owe you from the expedition anyways."

“You don’t have to pretend to like me!” Aravi said with a laugh before she departed.

Vera closed the door behind her, wondering what that was all about. She harbored no ill-will toward Aravi. Though she had been called an idiot by the khajiit, she didn't allow petty things like that to bother her. Hell, even if someone wanted to kill her for coin she wouldn't have a personal issue with them.

Aravi was a client, she had coin. Simple. Emotions and feelings should've even exist in an equation like that. She felt absolutely neutral about Aravi. She didn't hate or dislike her, nor did she adore her.

She turned back to the bed.

Time to make a few adjustments.

Westley


Westley walked down the dusty trail, occasionally stopping to adjust the strap to his sword or take a sip of water from the canteen strapped to his side. He let out an exhausted sigh

I hope I'm not much farther...

He listened to the rhythmic jingling of the coins in his satchel as he traveled down the trail. Dust was visible on his face from the past few days he had spent in the wilderness and exploring caves. A light sheen of sweat glistened off his forehead in the heat of the sun. He reached up and wiped the moisture from his forehead with the back of his hand. He coughed briefly and nodded at a passing by Legionnaire on horseback before continuing his path down the trail.

After a little while the tall imperial stopped and scanned his surroundings. He sighed in relief when he saw an inn up ahead

Thank the gods, a place to rest!

He broke out into an excited jog at the thought of a warm bed and a delicious meal. Perhaps even a refreshing shower. He needed some time to kick back and relax. Adventuring could take a lot out of a man, and though Westley thoroughly enjoyed it, he found himself ready to collapse into the ground at the end of every day. He slowed to down as he approached the entrance to the inn, and stopped to read the sign out front

"The Wobbly Goblet Inn..." He mumbled quietly to himself. His stomach growled and he sniffed the air. He instantly perked up

Food!

He excitedly opened the door and sat down at a table.

"It wasn't a problem," Salyan said as Aravi sat. She noted that the diminuitive Khajiit's feet didn't even touch the floor from the stool. "So, what did you want to ask me about? The magic I used in the performance, right?"

Aravi nodded. “I’ve seen nothing like it before. How did you cast the spells? Were they illusions, existing only within our minds, or did you somehow conjure the images?”

Kayla turned her head to see who had thrown the door open with such force. Her lips parted in an "O' of surprise, her brow furrowed.

Is that...

"Wes?!" She pulled her arm from around Ylenno and leaned forward, springing up lightly on her feet. "Westley!" She embraced him with less fervor than she had Ylenno, but still held him tight and close. Even though she was bent over, he still embraced her back, a bewildered look on his face. She let go and stood up, her hands over her mouth in excitement.

"I'm so glad to see you! Where have you been?!" She suddenly scolded. She cast a look at Ylenno, still grinning.

It's Westley! She mouthed to him. She was excited enough to bounce but held it in.

Westley


Westley grinned at Kayla

"Long time no see! I've been hanging around the city and exploring caves most of the time.I helped a friend with a bit of a vampire problem as well." He stood up "It's great to see you again!!" He playfully punched her shoulder and grinned again "What've you been up to?! You haven't come to visit me in the city!" He looked over at Ylenno

"And you. Get over here!" He laughed

OOC: THE TRUE TRINITY HAS ARRIVED.

Ylenno leaned against the shoulders of Kayla as she sat by him, and muttered thanks to the freebies offered. His body was going through that process again, reminding him of the damage he took earlier. He grimaced as he soldiered through the pain.

Just as he was about to drink the wine she bought, Kayla suddenly sprang up and Ylenno, still leaning against her shoulder, fell flat on his side.

"Ow," he said.

When he composed himself, he found that...

"ITS BROODING BOY-TOY! WESTLEY HIMSELF!"

There was a grin plastered on his face as he rushed off to the two of them. He gave Westley a friendly noogie.

"Westleyyyyyyyyyyy."

"I conjured the images," Salyan explained. She gestured to the crowd around her. "I'm good at what I do, but there are far too many people here for me to affect all of their minds with hallucinations all at the same time."

She tapped her lyre case.

"It's a type of magic I practise called Audiomancy," she said. "It a way of casting spells that uses sound to help the channelling of magicka, and most of the time that sound takes the form of music. In this case, I used the sound from when I was singing the Song of the Jerrall Mountains to help me conjure the images as I played. It's a very useful skill for making performances memorable and exciting, let me tell you."

Kayla grinned at the two men playing around. She made a sound as Westley tried to pick up Ylenno.

"Ah-ah-ah! He's hurt! Be gentle. Speaking of," She patted Ylenno's shoulder gently. "Let me go get that potion. Westley's rough enough when you're NOT injured." She gave Westley a smile and shot Ylenno a look before sprinting up the stairs, leaving the two to converse.

Westley


Westley gave Ylenno a playful grin

"Long time no see, buddy. What've you been up to lately?" He sat down and leaned back in his chair "Have a seat, friend." He smiled. He sniffed the air and licked his lips at the aroma of food being cooked. He looked around the tavern before returning his gaze to Ylenno

This place is packed

He thought to himself. He gave Ylenno another friendly smile

Ylenno sat in front of Westley, apprasing the Imperial with approving eyes.

"So here we are," the bosmer said, voice thick with nostalgia. "In a tavern. Remember that time you threw cutlery at us? Best way to meet ever!"

He then sat languidly, happy to see yet another familiar face. Who's next, he wondered. Lycus? Buffy? Tarrick? Festival such as these were always the nets that catched all sorts of fishes.

"So how are you? Been a while, old friend!"

Westley


Westley laughed "I've been doing alright. Being an adventurer can take a lot outta a person though, but I enjoy what I do." He yawned "I'm exhausted though. You won't believe what I went through on my way here. Minotaurs, wolves, mountain lions. You'd think the trail is safe, but apparently not." He gave Ylenno another friendly smile "But like I said. I enjoy the thrill of a fight. I've even thought about possibly joining the arena. I'm good with a blade, and my fist, and if all else fails, I can just dangle my opponent in the air by their leg." He laughed and sat up "Anything interesting go on around here. It's only a matter of time before I grow restless." He chuckled

Aravi listened as Salyan described her unique magic. She was briefly distracted by Kayla and her friends. Someone new? she wondered. She returned her attention to Salyan before she missed anything.

“I certainly won’t be forgetting your performance any time soon! I almost feel bad for those Altmer, trying to follow up after you!”

She paused to order some mead when the bartender passed. Her drink was delivered quickly. She had some more questions about this fascinating form of magic.

“I’m not very skilled with magic, but I don’t think I’ve even heard of audiomancy before.” It certainly wasn’t something she saw at her brief stay in Winterhold. “I’m surprised you haven’t been to Skyrim, because the images you conjured were so beautiful. I felt like I was looking through a window. Anyways, can you cast any sort of spell with audiomancy?”

"You're too kind, Aravi," Salyan said, smiling at the khajiit's compliment. "Though I've always hoped that I might visit Skyrim one day; it's a beautiful country, from what I've heard of it, and they have some amazing songs. As for audiomancy, you can cast most schools of spells audiomantically and they'll be largely unchanged, if more effective; soothing tones are used for healing spells, and you can use songs and magicka energy to conjure daedra or spirits, and audiomantic techniques work well with mysticism and alteration spells.

"The biggest difference between normal spellcasting and audiomancy techniques is with destruction, spells," she said. "Calling elemental energies and directing them as precise bolts or streams just doesn't work well; sound doesn't work in that manner, after all, so usually a destruction spell cast with audiomancy manifests itself as a wave. Less powerful, but more effective against a group."

She stopped herself as she realised she sounded like one of her professors from the College of Audiomancy.

"Sorry," she said. "You probably didn't want a lecture, did you?"

Serene

She listened to the conversation between the Khajiit and the bard, and found it very interesting, since she, herself was skilled in magic

But what she did was amazing, I can learn a lot from her

"Excuse me for interrupting, but I'm so impressed of those spells you cast" she addressed the young Bard

"I'm somewhat familiar with spellcasting myself, but this I never seen before. could you teach me to do this please"

Darnand wanted no part in her plan, and refused as soon as the words escaped her lips. Abiene, on the other hand, full-heartedly agreed to it. She voted to remain behind, and Darnand left Irvana’s timing in her hands. It would make sense for them to remain behind for just a tad longer.

“Be safe, my friend.” She said to Abiene.

Irvana nodded to him, and left the room.

It was possible the mind-reading would not attempt such an act again anytime soon with the damaging effects it had on Abiene. The question is if he or she would try so again to get a read on her or Darnand’s mind because it was unreadable?

Only time will tell.

Abiene waited a few minutes in her room alone. Darnand’s response did not surprise her. While his overconfidence in himself sometimes led to mishaps, he exerted too much caution when it came to her safety.

She had to admit that this was a poor time to stomp a foot and insist that she was capable. Perhaps there would someday be an opportunity when she had not recently keeled over, thrown up, or otherwise acted in a manner that would support Darnand’s argument.

When the moment seemed right she made her way to Vera and Lycus’ chamber. Abiene held a secret that would put their lives in danger if it was exposed. The presence of a mind-reader put Abiene at risk at their hands. There was no telling how Vera might react to the news. Some might decide to eliminate the risk by killing Abiene before leaving the premises. She trusted in what they had told her when she had last stood in this chamber, barefoot and shaking in the middle of the night. Still, werewolves were not known for moderation and self-restraint.

That’s just what folk say about them, Abiene chided herself. In the aftermath of a frenzied slaughter. If Vera was completely reckless she would have been killed by now.

Thinking about what she had seen of victims’ remains was not helping. Instead she remembered what Lycus had said. “You have my word that you will not be harmed.” In her own way Vera had seconded his promise. The next moments would tell.

Knock already. She can probably smell you standing out here.

Abiene tapped on the door.

Vera was inspecting the different points on the arrowheads when once more something interrupted her.

Again. A knock on the door, but much more gentle this time.

Vera grabbed her knife, concealed it, and headed over quietly over to the door. It could’ve been Aravi again, here to share forgotten details of the trip. A pessimistic part of Vera whispered that she might have reconsidered her agreement and came back to alter the deal and cancel it.

As Vera came closer to the door, she knew it wasn’t Aravi. It was that same smell as before. A distinct scent she registered on that Breton woman from a few nights ago.

The huntress reached out for the door, but held her hand there. Curiosity swept through her mind in countless what-ifs. Why was she here? Was there an issue?

Abiene had precious information hidden away in her head. She had discovered secrets of Vera and Lycus, things that no man should ever find out about. Precautions had to be made and yet Lycus was unwilling to silence the possible squeaker out of some sense of honor.

She had to admit that if it wasn’t for her, Lycus’ body would’ve been cold by now. She couldn’t fault the woman for trying to save his life and unwillingly uncovering the dark secret he kept. It wasn’t the first scenario. Many people had been in their presence in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

In Skyrim one child happened to see Lycus, in his prime, wrestling against a sabre cat with his bare hands in the forests of Falkreath. The boy reported the sight to his elders, who instead of laughing it off as a boy’s foolish imagination, began to suspect that the young hermit of the region was a werewolf. Similar reportings of a young bedraggled recluse living in a cabin in the woods who held off a falling log that would crush any normal man, and heal wounds and tissues that no ordinary healer could fare to do. Sometimes the very act of saving his own life doomed him to the hunt, and just was the same with the woman for saving his life and coming across his secret.

The question remained was if he and her were exposed.

Vera wouldn’t stand there with further questions rampaging through her head. She twisted the knob, and pulled the door back.

At the door was the Breton healer.

Vera narrowed her eyes just a bit in suspicion, and opened the door wide to allow the woman in.

Kayla reached the top the the stairs in time to see Abiene walk into a room. When she passed, she saw the familiar face of Vera, her blonde hair and fit body cleaner than when they had last seen each other.

How long ago was that? I thought the pair had left.

She'd really only told Ylenno about them to be gossipy. She knew he'd get a kick out of the giant Imperial man being tied down. She held no warm feelings for either. Least of all, Vera.

"Hello, Abiene." she said to the shorter Breton woman as she passed, and nodded at Vera, her expression neutral. She continued to walk to her room, a bit further down the hall. She opened it, and saw that Laegon hadn't bothered to make up the bed.

Neither do I. No point in getting upset.

She leaned momentarily on her door frame, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. It passed, and she took a calming breath and set her bag on her bed and began rummaging through the contents. Red splashed onto her hand, smaller droplets playing out on her golden skin as the impact. Another fell, then another. The dizzy feeling returned, and Kayla's eyes drooped. She sat on the bed and held a spare rag under it as she waited for it to pass.

Abiene murmured a reply to Kayla as she passed in the corridor. Then she walked to the middle of the room and turned to face Vera. She waited until the door was closed before she spoke.

Years of breaking bad news to relatives had taught her when to speak plainly and when to ease up to a subject. She knew Vera would prefer a direct approach.

Abiene kept her voice too soft to carry beyond the lycanthrope’s acute hearing. “Less than a quarter hour ago someone in the tavern attempted to read my mind as well as those of at least a few others,” she said. “I was not thinking of your situation when it started, and my thoughts throughout the event were only along the lines of ‘oh gods it hurts.’ But even though I doubt you were exposed through me, I wanted to warn you of the presence of a telepath. And… also I wanted to tell you what had happened to me in case you heard about it later. I left the tavern in some distress, and others noticed.”

She twisted her fingers together, watching Vera’s response.

Aravi twisted to look over her shoulder. An Imperial woman was there. Sethyas’ wife, she remembered. What was her name? I’m sure someone said it before. She was drawing a blank.

“Hello,” Aravi greeted the woman. She was also interested in Salyan’s magic and had addressed her. Aravi decided to wait another time to introduce herself rather than interrupt the flow now. She scooted her stool over as much as she could to make a little room for the other woman.

Ylenno played his wine glass as he listened intently to Westley's tales. There was one thing that linked them together, and that was the passion in the fight. Ylenno wasn't surprised to know that the Imperial considered a spotlight in the Blood Jewel; Ylenno, himself an experienced underground pit-fighter, knew that Westley would fare well in the Arena, seeing his skill of arms firsthand below Sutch.

Ylenno hummed to himself, chuckling at Westley's monstrous strength.

"If you want action, follow me!"

Then he stood up and smashed his wine glass on the table, creating a bladed weapon and a ruckus, and swaggered over a group of six large brutes and pointed the sharpened edge at the leader, a well-muscled jock of a Redguard. He had a brawl with particular group once, and while he did marginally well for a fight against six opponents at once, in the end he got himself a jumping and a promise from the brutes to 'kiss him again later,'

They were eyeballing him and cracking their knuckles at him the moment he stepped in the Inn, making good on their earlier promise, but he pointedly ignored them since Kayla was there.

Now, she wasn't. And this time, Ylenno thought, I have backup in the form of Westley. I hope.

"Listen here, runts," Ylenno smiled at the Redguard, but didn't get to finish his sentence when a Khajiit pistoned a fist at his jaw. Ylenno saw it coming, dodged, and impaled the feline under the exposed armpit. He then kicked the leader in the groin, collapsing him in the ground, and jumped a few feet back.

"Get 'em," a Nord screeched and at once, the brutes surged at him.

Darnand walked down to the tavern, exchanging greetings with Kayla as he passed her on the stairs. He spotted Aravi in conversation with Salyan and Serene.

A scuffle erupted on one side of the tavern.

“Get ‘em,” someone screeched. There was a sound of breaking glass.

“Outside!” bellowed the proprietor. The brawlers surged for the door. Darnand didn’t bother to look for stragglers. The minstrels hadn’t even paused in their song.

He joined the group gathered around Salyan.

“So that’s how I acquired my father’s castle and all the inheritance.” Draken finished saying to a very curious and impressed Stefania. She was intrigued, even more so than before when he first arrived at the Goblet. He was trying to keep focused in the conversation but he couldn’t help but try to fight away the suspicion that someone had cast a spell on him. He felt the effects . . . deep within his mind.

The bug musk wasn’t responsible. Though rumors said it changed the mood of the individual, he never experienced side effects of it. Something odd was at work here.

“It’s still strange that a man like yourself has never married! What woman would want to refuse marrying you?”

Draken lied about never being married. In all his centuries he’s been married with mortal women to seize a foothold in the political field or to forge lasting allegiances with influential marriage. It was a risky thing, the bonding of a vampire and a mortal. Very dangerous. The vampire could succumb to his bloodlust and kill the woman or the woman could discover his identity, creating a catastrophe.

Draken might have an occasion or two when something of that nature occurred. But past memories of passed away mortals was as vague as the memory of early childhood. He never remembered the names, let alone the faces. Most of the noblewomen he’d married with were in it for the coin and to have a name. The feeling was mutual.

He offered her a courteous smile. “I have yet to find the woman of worth. The women of my station have their heads too far to the clouds. They care about wealth and never for true love. An everlasting bond.”

Truth was, he didn’t care about it either. Not to that degree.

“A princess,” Draken said softly, eyes set on Stefania with a hint of passion. She blushed, just as she did before when he told her the meaning of her name.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll find her.”

“I have a feeling she’s closer than I realize.”

She bit her lip. She darted her eyes around the room upon realizing she had spoken to him rather than serve the many patrons.

Draken grabbed her hand. “You are free from work later this evening, yes?”

She nodded.

“Come to my quarters upstairs. I do not wish to have you burdened by your superiors. We can continue our conversation when there is less noise.”

She smiled, thanked him, and turned around only to bump into the table. The slippery floor nearly made her fall over, but Draken was quick enough to grab her by the waist, hand firmly pressing her against his own body. Her hand held on his shoulder for support and their eyes met.

The bug musk did its work. She was charmed by his words, seduced even more by the telvanni liquid. She was leaning in, closer . . . closer . . . until he pulled back.

“Oh my, that would’ve been a terrible fall.”

“Yeah,” she said with a pout, rearranging her hair.

“Well, we must not keep the others waiting. I bet they are famished. I shall see you this evening over a cup of wine?”

“Yes,”

Draken bowed slightly, and she only smiled her charmed smile and worked her way through the thick crowd.

She was one of the finest specimens here. Young and fresh, without any visible scars. Her breasts were perfectly rounded and soft and her body just the right size. But it wasn’t that was he was craving. It was the precious red fluid running beneath her skin, rushing like a red torrent through her veins. It took him some effort from licking his dry, grey lips at the thought.

“She fancies you.” A voice said from behind. “Keep this one safe, will you, sir Draken? Women have a bad habit of being broken in your presence.”

Draken did not turn around, for he knew that voice. Soothing, dripping with honey but at times with the subtle touch of bitterness. This was Irvana’s voice.

The Imperial resumed his natural cold look, though he didn’t reply to the Imperial woman’s comment.

She walked up beside him and rocked her head. “I assume you are interested in the knowledge that you’re mind may be at risk here.”

Draken turned the noblewoman. Strange words, those. His mind would never be at risk or affected by some mortal woman, but that he did not say to Irvana.

“What is your meaning?”

Irvana brought him a cup of wine to replace the one he had drained. Her whisper was faint, far too faint for anyone to hear. “Retreat to your chambers, lord Draken. The lower-levels of this place aren’t safe for a man with the secrets of trade and business within his mind. Dark powers are at work.”

There was a sparkle in her eyes, a glow. Her expression went rigid, as opposed to her softer and subdued features. This only took a fracture of a second before it resumed its mellow appearance.

Draken’s shoulders squared. Noblemen were in danger from many things; thieves, rivals, assassins and a great many things. Secrets of wealth, private meetings and negotiations were often sought to be unraveled. But this wasn’t his worry.

As a vampire lord he has the ability to scramble the minds of ordinary people, and cloak himself from mages. But what if by chance he had accidentally allowed that illusion- that veil- to suddenly slip? His plans, his existence and his well-being were endangered. Someone might have caught his scent. That is what explained the spell-like effects, the unwanted intrusion.

“You look ill, lord Draken,” Irvana asked. “Are you feeling alright? Too much wine?”

He hasn't fed. His skin was slightly pale, but not the point of exposure.

"I believe I must retire to my chambers and seek rest. Please, accompany me,” he replied to her. "I'm not feeling to well all of the sudden."

There was a sudden ruckus. Voices grew louder, shouts sprung from all corners of the tavern and blood . . . blood was spilled. Draken turned quickly to the source, Irvana followed his motion.

A familiar looking wood elf had stabbed a heavy-muscles redguard with what looked to be like a piece of broken glass. The Nordic men all surged and lunged at the bosmer.

Draken would tarry to see the bloodshed unfold but was guided by conscious rather than pleasant scents. The entire tavern spread apart to stay clear of the brawl.

Violence, even in this small scenario, was the perfect distraction.

He headed up the stairs, rushed into the corridor, with Irvana right behind him.

Westley

Westley shot up off his seat as the brawl started, and attempted to rush to Ylenno's aid, but the brawl had ended just as fast as it started. He let out an exasperated sigh as the men surged out the door of the tavern. He glanced over at the door briefly and hesitantly sat back down.

Should I go after them?

He let out an irritated 'hrmph', and sat down in his chair.

The loud explosion of the she-orc bellowing made Ylenno cringe. That one nano-second of distraction was enough for a Nord. He smashed a large fist in Ylenno's gut, and the elf doubled over, breath taken from him.

He fell on his knees, griimacing. The Khajiit he stabbed gave him a powerful kick in the face and he was on his back, dazed and dizzy. Where the hell was Westley, he thought.

He quickly got up, saw the Imperial sitting and gave him an incredulous look.

"Let's go get 'em outside," he said to Westley as he picked up a nearby stool and ran after the brutes. Their leader, the Redguard who Ylenno kicked in the balls, was still on the ground, moaning and clutching his offended manhood.

When Ylenno reached the outdoors, he smashed the stool on the face of one Nord and threw it towards a man charging at him at the sides. The Khajiit he stabbed, now wheezing and his stabbed limb now useless, directed a kick on his gut.

Ylenno caught it and smashed him down with a sweep of his own.

Then he was grabbed tightly about his waist and was smashed on the ground by a suplex.

"Ow," he said.

Westley

Westley stood back up. He got outsid in time to see Ylenno take out the Nord and Khajiit. He watched for a moment as Ylenno was smashed into the ground by a large man. He bolted forward and had the man on flat on his face on the ground in the blink of an eye. He dug his knee into the man's back and twisted his arm behind his back. He looked over at the large Bosmer

"You alright?" He drove his elbow down onto the back of the man's head, rendering him unconscious.

Serene

Serene smiled and nodded at the Khajiiti woman sitting next to her, also listening to the Bard.

"this is interesting, really" Serene thought, wondering where Sethyas had gone, a while ago he was right beside her and now he had left the table.

I need to learn some spells to create beauty, for a change

. . .

Vera had no immediete reply to what Abiene had just said.

There was nothing but rage at first, pure and fiery. The revelation of a present telepath was unnerving. She never had to worry about mages before- people who were capable of having such power. Only the Glenmoril witches were able to discern if a person was a lycanthrope. But they were an exception, as they were directly tied to the father of manbeasts. It was their duty to cure those who sought a cure, and give power to those who craved it.

Now a telepath could randomely scan away at her mind and find all of the information within. Abiene did the right thing. She was brave enough to tell her of what happened. If she indeed wasn't thinking about her or Lycus when she was being mind-probed, then there was no great danger. The threat was still there, though.

She would've packed her things and left to another tavern, but Lycus was away on the hunt and she wouldn't reject the coin she was offered. The deal was done. She would do as she promised.

The safest bet would be to remain in the room, but not much could be done with that. She wouldn't want to be trapped in her own quarters due to a curious mind-reader. There was one way to fix this problem.

"There's a solution to this," Vera said, her hand caressing the cold edge of her dagger. "Since you didn't tell me the identity of the telepath, you're likely to be just as clueless as I am right now."

Vera held her breath for a second. "I appreciate you coming to tell me this. I don't know what you contain in that mind of yours that anyone would want to read it besides curiosity, but I see you're not lying to me. I can tell."

Sending Abiene downstairs would only conjure problems she did not want. With her being in the company of a lycanthrope, the mage or wizard could read her mind and gain access to revealed facts about her. She'd be given a lifetime of prison for the lives she's taken, and sure execution for being what she is. There was no way she was going to allow Abiene to leave this instant.

"You'll stay here until this problem gets better. I don't recommend you going out there soon after talking to me. I won't make an attempt on your life; doing so would provoke the mage to possibly read each and everyone of us here to find out who's responsible. Can't have that."

She stepped away from the door, and toward the bed. "I hope you have people investigating. I would be hell of a pity for you not to have told anyone else."

Kayla

The dizziness soon passed, but her nose continued to bleed. now all that remained was a throbbing migraine.

This isn't normal. She thought, taking a swig of her potion before corking it back up. She felt the injury in her head mending itself. She wiped her blood on her pants, then cleaned herself up in the washroom. She avoided her reflection.

She saw Dawnbreaker emanating a small glow from its sheath. She ignored it, and closed the door behind her as it ebbed an angry light. She saw Irvana and Drathen approaching, rushing down the corridor. She shot them a friendly smile, her face pale from the migraine she'd briefly suffered. She let them pass without comment, seeing they were in a rush.

She must like grouchy cowards. She thought dully. She frowned. Great, now I'm in a bad mood. She went downstairs to see the table empty, her wine there and Ylenno's drink untouched. She sighed. They must want some time to catch up.

Still holding the potion, she gulped her wine down quickly.

"Did you see that wood elf stab that cat?!" She heard someone shriek excitedly.

No...

"Yeah, then he grabbed at barstool and-"

She stood up, not needing to hear anymore. She walked outside, a calm expression on her face when she saw Westley using the takedown maneuver she'd shown him. Four men laid on the ground. Four very large men.

Impressive. But two more were still there, and they had an evil look in their eyes as they marched up towards the grounded Ylenno. She dropped the bottle , letting it land on the soft grass with a dull thud, They easily outweighed her, much like the man she'd taken down earlier, but were much, much more muscular.

Oh hells.

She drove herself forward and smashed the nose of one with her elbow, making him reel back. The other tackled her to the ground and knocked the breath from her. He raised his fist, and she saw it coming. He hesitated when he realized she was a woman, his fist coiled high in the air before he threw out his inhibitions and landed a punch square in her jaw.

First came the force, then the pain. In between the first and second punch, she lit fire in her pinned down hand and allowed it to be released onto his thigh, scorching herself in the process. Her cry of pain was silenced as his second punch landed, knocking her out cold. The man felt the searing pain and realized his pants were in fire. He shrieked like a girl and ran to the small pond nearby and dove in, dousing the fire.

Abiene

“You'll stay here until this problem gets better. I don't recommend you going out there soon after talking to me. I won't make an attempt on your life; doing so would provoke the mage to possibly read each and everyone of us here to find out who's responsible. Can't have that.”

Abiene had to smile. Vera’s candor was not at all comforting, but it was refreshing. She knew exactly where she stood with the werewolf. She nodded in silent agreement.

“I hope you have people investigating. I would be hell of a pity for you not to have told anyone else.”

“My friend Darnand has returned to the tavern,” Abiene said. “He and Irvana remain alert for a repeat of the experience. We both doubt that they will try him again, though. Or me for that matter. Our departure may have raised questions in the minds of others, making the task more difficult to complete without detection. It’s possible that their goal was simply to expose those who would notice the intrusion, or to cause us to leave. Who knows? But I agree it’s prudent for me to remain here for a time. Some others saw me in the corridor outside your chamber.”

Abiene glanced around the room. Vera had weapons arranged about the place. No doubt checking them in the way of every warrior Abiene had known.

“I wonder if Hethilion would bring us a meal,” Abiene said. “I never did get one downstairs. I’m sure I have a bottle of wine in my room. Shall I fetch it? We could share that drink, if not the roast of mutton.”

Abiene was surprised to find herself at ease in Vera’s presence despite the danger. I suppose it’s the knowledge that she could best so many foes.

The good news outweighted the bad ones. There were bait investigating the telepath, so everything was not loss. Additionally she was going to be a few coin purses heavier by the time she leaves the tavern.

"Good. He'll be the bait," Vera said, and with a hint of bitterness, she said. "Mages go too far with their spells at times. Sometimes what they believe is their luckiest day becomes their last."

She collected the arrows and bolts set upon the bed, placing them away in their quivers. She sheathed away her daggers and put them away on the side of the bed near the cupboard.

She was afraid she had no option but to remain in the room for a short while.

Abiene was thirsty, or hungry. Maybe both. She broached the subject of food, perhaps as a reminder to Vera that she owed her something. Vera didn't forget about the mutton.

Outside she could hear shouts and grunts. She didn't need to walk to the window to know it was a brawl going on. She's seen enough of these that it was entirely natural.

"Stay," Vera said calmly. It wasn't permissive, but almost rather like a command. "Help yourself to some drink in the cupboard to the left. There's unopened bottles in there."

She walked over to the door, unlocked it and opened it to glance outside. She saw no sign of Hethilion at first, but after a few passing minutes she saw the high elf head upstairs with a broom in his hand. Vera set a foot out to catch his attention.

"Hethilion," called out Vera. "Hethilion!"

He turned, and hurried over to her. "Hmm, yes?"

"I want two pieces of roasted mutton chop in a single plate," she said. "And a Cattleman."

The look on his face was expected. He might've been wondering why doesn't she get it herself? But his job was to do, not ask, so she didn't bother elaborating. She recovered a few pieces of coin and handed it to him. He thanked her.

As he turned to leave, there was one man who rushed out of his room in the hallway and out into the corridor. He spotted Hethilion and Vera.

"There are men fighting outside!"

"Yes," Hethilion said matter-of-factly. "We had them take their personal issues outside."

He turned to Vera. "This is an emergency! People can get hurt!"

Come back when its a catastrophe.

She thought before closing the door shut.

It didn't take long for Aravi to be joined by two others; an Imperial woman who Salyan had not yet learned the name of, and Darnand, who seemed interested in listening.

"I'm somewhat familiar with spellcasting myself, but this I never seen before. Could you teach me to do this please?"

"If I had a good deal of time, then theoretically I could," Salyan said. "The problem with casting a spell through audiomancy is that it's much harder to learn how to cast it than with a regular spell. You not only need to be able to channel the magical energy correctly, but also use the correct pitch for the spell and the right tones to control it."

She looked at this new arrival curiously.

"Are you able to sing, or play an instrument, madam, er...?"

She realised she hadn't the faintest idea what the woman's name was.

Darnand

Audiomancy? Salyan paused in her explanation. Darnand hoped that the women would stay on the topic of Salyan's impressive skills once they had finished their introductions.

Abiene

“Mages go too far with their spells at times,” Vera said. “Sometimes what they believe is their luckiest day becomes their last.”

“Too true,” said Abiene. “My own discoveries are often made under circumstances that have slipped a bit beyond my control. I expect many mages enter the Dreamsleeve wearing a look of complete surprise and demanding that someone take down their notations.”

Vera called for a meal. A commotion arose outside as she spoke to Hethilion.

“There are men fighting outside!” a man cried from the hallway. “This is an emergency! People can get hurt!”

Vera closed the door on him.

“A well-timed brawl often prevents a killing,” Abiene remarked. Hethilion and Kayla knew where to find her if someone needed a healer. No doubt there were others in the tavern who could lend a hand as well and perhaps earn a few coins in the process. Abiene did not demand payment when she rendered emergency services. It was a point of discussion whenever she and Darnand reviewed her finances. Growing up wealthy had not taught her how to manage her income.

Vera had offered her a drink but did not seem inclined to join her. Abiene recalled Vera’s manners at the bar the first time she had seen her. Inhaling her meal as if she felt starved. She does not concern herself with the usual customs. That did not bother Abiene. She simply adjusted her own manner to suit Vera’s.

“Are you leaving soon?” Abiene asked, nodding at Vera’s rearranged equipment. She helped herself to a bottle of mead and sat down in an empty chair. “I don’t suppose the hunters have returned yet or we would have heard an uproar. I planned to return to Chorrol in the morning, but I doubt this night will produce much rest. Perhaps they’ll camp and return tomorrow.”

Abiene had a number of questions bubbling in her mind, but all seemed too personal to ask. Vera seemed to merely be tolerating her presence. Abiene did not want to risk their tenuous relationship with what might feel like an interrogation.

Tooth-in-the-Grass

The last of the empty barrels rolled into place under Riad’s watchful eye. Porters filed back out of the cellar, taking their payments from the Redguard as they passed. Tooth locked the cellar door and passed the keys back to Riad. The two stood together for a moment in the trampled grass of the Goblet’s lawn, watching a brawl in the near-darkness.

“Not a bad day,” Tooth remarked. There would be a fair amount of debris to drag out of the fish pond, but between the cleanup crew and the scavengers that always scoured festival grounds the Goblet had largely been returned to its usual condition. A good rain would wash away the piss and vomit, and Lowren would help him replace the sod they had removed in making the mud and cooking pits.

“Three barrels of my new Wobbly Stout got handed out with the free swill,” Riad said. He sounded as if he was mourning a brother.

Tooth gripped his shoulder in silent commiseration, careful not to pierce skin with his claws.

One of the brawlers let out a girlish shriek and ran to the fish pond. His pants were on fire.

Riad and Tooth exchanged a look, Riad’s smug and Tooth’s regretful. They had missed their opportunity to place wagers, and that Altmer woman would have just won Tooth some coin. The Redguard never bet on magic.

Tooth glanced along the Black Road, visible now only as a dotted line of torches. The Legion was out in force as was the county militia. Most of the locals had gone home before dark, but there were enough travelers and vendors making their way back to the city to make tempting targets for brigands.

And worse, thought Tooth. Their inn drew an array of guests, and not all of them were entirely mortal.

Riad crossed his arms over his chest, letting out a long sigh. No doubt he was still grieving over the unappreciated stout.

A few of the brawlers were still able to move. Tooth stood with Riad and continued to view the entertainment.

“My own discoveries are often made under circumstances that have slipped a bit beyond my control. I expect many mages enter the Dreamsleeve wearing a look of complete surprise and demanding that someone take down their notations.”

Vera made a sound that was nearly a chuckle. “We learn through mistakes. We fall down, and we pick ourselves up. We adapt to the circumstances, through trial and error. If one wakes up in the afterlife, it meant they didn’t make the cut."

She hoped she would at least discover who this telepath was, and her reasons for reading minds. Survival depended on finding out as much about the enemy as she could. That was one way to make sure she could go on unharmed.

“A well-timed brawl often prevents a killing.” Abiene said after Vera closed the door shut.

Not always, though.

“Aye, often, but not always,” Vera remarked as she walked over to the window once more to peek outside. “There’s always a man who wants to spill more blood than he should.”

She set her elbow above the window as she casually watched the people below. “I was at a tavern once in Bruma many years ago. Five men were too deep in their cups. Knowing the nords, I was anticipating a brawl to take place.” She scoffed at the memory. “The men got into a fight with each other. A friendly competition.”

She scanned the area below her. “There was one fellow who didn’t get the point. A wretch, that one. He pulls out a shortsword and drives it through the other man’s heart out of spite for a harmless jest the other made about his sister."

She shrugged. “Some people are just born with a knack for violence.”

And there were still others who tried to change how the world worked. Every time she came across one or another. She had done business with the worst of people, and it never seemed to matter either way who was running for leadership, whether some count or ambassador in a town or some reigning crime-lord in the slums of Bravil. Lesser lives went on in the social undergrowth, a dark quest for daily survival, and the stronger of them floated to the top and was misused and drained dry for advantage of others. She just took her cut and satisfied herself with living by her own code, because she was a practical woman and knew what she could and could not change about the world around her. Tamriel was a perilous place and one had to learn to adapt or die.

“We thrive off of it, you know. Without violence, you wouldn’t make as much coin as you would be now. Less people to heal.” She turned around and sat on the chair right next to a round table. “Most organizations and factions out there, and the men and women who work under the banner wouldn’t have a way to make decent coin either.”

“Are you leaving soon? I don’t suppose the hunters have returned yet or we would have heard an uproar. I planned to return to Chorrol in the morning, but I doubt this night will produce much rest. Perhaps they’ll camp and return tomorrow.”

“Lycus won’t come back empty-handed. With all those hunters out there I doubt they’ll return without spoils. They’ll camp out there if need be.” She rocked her head at Abiene. “I’m not leaving tonight. I make a habit of keeping my tools in check and organized. I never know when someone requires my services."

She didn’t mention anything about Aravi. Her private jobs are just that, private. She wouldn’t be surprised if Abiene was somehow involved, her and the mages. She was connected to Aravi the last time she remembered.

Serene
"Are you able to sing, or play an instrument, madam, er...?"

Serene blushed, she hadn't introduced herself to the young artist yet!

Damn, am I rude

" Oh sorry may I introduce myself, I'm Serene Catraso-Velas, healer and mage, also married to Sethyas Velas, that dunmer over there at the bar" Serene said

"And I'm familiar with conjuration- but most of all with destruction spells"

Gah how did that sound?

"So I'm very interested in learning how you did those magnificent spells during your performance....and well I do play the Lute...about singing..well I do sing but it doesn't sound so good so I normally just play"

So this is Serene, Aravi thought. Should I introduce myself? She exchanged a look with Darnand. He seemed to not know either. Heck with it.

“Pleased to meet you Serene, I’m Aravi. I think we saw each other outside at the market stalls, but I don’t think we actually got introduced.”

She learned a little from the other woman from what she spoke about with Salyan. She was a mage, and could play a lute. Aravi never learned to play an instrument, which would probably surprise anyone that knew her past. Other servants were taught that trade; it was seen as useless for her however. Aravi knew very little about magic as well. She never received a formal training in the use of the spells she knew. She had learned from shopkeepers, various court wizards, and a few books.

Westley

Westley stood up and brushed himself off. He helped Ylenno up, then went over to Kayla and knelt down by her

"She's gonna have a big bruise on her face. Nothing a little ice cant fix, I suppose." The large imperial dragged Kayla over to the pond and splashed a puddle of water on her face

"Wakey, wakey." He stood over her and grinned "You're gonna sleep in again." He said sarcastically. He laughed "You alright? You took a pretty heavy blow there. There's gonna be a pretty bad bruise on your face. You want me to get you some ice?"

Idiots.... Sethyas said to himself, exhaling a plume of smoke from his hackle-lo pipe.

Kayla, and two people he didn't recognize; a rebellious-looking Bosmer and a mountain of an Imperial had gotten into a barfight, and disturbed the peace he'd sought outside. The Festival began to move into the evening and the later crowd was more intent of the evening traditions of drinking and yammering.

It hurt his head when he thought about it.

When the man knocked out Kayla and she burned his pants he'd considered intervening, but the three seemed to be friends and had gotten themselves into this. Despite the odds, they'd apparently come out the victor.

He'd ran low on his own rolled Hackle-Lo's and Thals had more, but the dried, crushed variety that worked best in his pipe. He'd smoke either way, and usually the pipe hackle-lo was a bit more fresh and aromatic than the rolled ones.

Serene had been talking to Aravi and that bard on his way out for the smoke, so decided to re-join with them and perhaps find out a little more about the magnificent display she'd made with her lyre and song that conjured such beautiful images of the mountains and snow.

Abiene

“Some people are just born with a knack for violence,” Vera said. “We thrive off of it, you know. Without violence, you wouldn’t make as much coin as you would be now. Less people to heal.” She sat down at the small table, explaining that her weapons check was a routine, and not a sign of imminent departure.

“I used to work in the Anvil Mages Guild as their Restoration trainer,” said Abiene. “The harbor provided an endless supply of injuries for my students to learn on. Accidents all day and then violence once the sun went down. I often wished I could use all of my magicka on the accidents, but I knew every night I’d be healing the same broken bones and lacerations from the same tavern fights. Leaving burn scars was the worst. There was this one little girl. If only…” Abiene broke off and took a sip of her mead.

“If I ever won big at the Arena I’d open my own practice and heal folks until the money ran out. I’m afraid I’ll never get rich off of harm that’s done to others.” She gave Vera a rueful smile. “Besides, that will never happen. I don’t go to the Arena.”

Abiene looked over at the other woman. Even seated Vera appeared ready to spring to her feet. She seemed… watchful. Abiene wondered how she ever slept.

Trying not to think about werewolves made it impossible not to. Abiene decided to just give in. Far better to be discussing the subject in an abstract manner than to have frightful secrets in the mind.

“Vera…” Abiene kept her voice quiet and took care with her words. Even if someone overheard they shouldn’t sound incriminating. She hoped that Vera would notice her caution. “I work at the chapel now, but I have a reputation for privately helping folks who aren’t welcome there. As you can imagine I see some strange things. I expect you’ve seen even stranger. I wonder if in your experience as a hunter you’ve learned much about, say, lycanthropes. The only thing I’ve read was a vile study of unfortunate captives. I didn’t learn much that would help any future patients. Unlike the author I’m not interested in ways to kill them, but in how to help.”

Abiene drummed her fingertips against the bottle for a moment. Vera hadn’t killed her yet, so she continued.

“I’m actually wondering the most about women. If there is special care that an expectant mother needs, or if a lycanthrope can even conceive. Does the condition pass to the child from the mother as a trait? What would happen if a transformation occurred during a pregnancy? There’s much I don’t know. I’m not even sure if any other healer has considered these questions. But somewhere, someone must know.”

Salyan was about to reply to what Serene had said when a small brawl thundered past them, an angry stampede of fighters all moving outdoors with a comical cohesion when their antagonism was considered. She stopped staring after a moment, and nodded.

"Right, sorry," she said. "As I was going to say, it's a pleasure to meet you, Serene, and you, Sethyas."

She returned to the topic at hand, specifically Serene's skill set.

"I'm afraid I only know one destruction spell," she admitted. "And even then it's not particularly powerful, and I know nothing of conjuration, so what I could teach wouldn't be playing to your greatest strengths. My own specialisation is in illusion spells, and if you're any good at them, and have your lute to hand, I suppose I could teach you some tomorrow or the day after, if you're still here."

She glanced over at Aravi, Sethyas and Darnand.

"Do any of you have any skill in magic?" she asked. "If you don't mind me saying, Darnand, you have the look of a mage about you."

“I know how to cast a few spells, but I’m far from skilled,” Aravi answered. “You are right about Darnand though,” she said, looking at the Breton.

The cold water on her face startled Kayla into waking up. The left side of her face throbbed in pain. She opened her eyes with a gasp and, to her surprise, Westley was standing over her.

"Wes? When did you get here?!" She asked thickly, her cheek swollen. She felt along her teeth with her tongue and was satisfied that all of her teeth were still intact.

What'd he say? Something about ice?

She lit a weak frost spell in her left hand and held it to her swollen cheek.

"I'm fine. Just...how long have you been here?!" She looked around and saw Ylenno.

"You're here too?!" She was genuinely confused. "I don't..."

Oh, her head throbbed in pain. "I need a potion. Or a healer. Preferablely a healer. I can't remember how I got here."

Westley

"I just got here today. Not sure about you an Ylenno." Westley sighed "You got hit pretty hard. We're not far from Chorrol. Should I take you to the chapel?" He grabbed her hand and helped her up. He looked around "That was a fight." He said. "Come on. I don't know what room you're staying in, but do you suppose you have a potion there? If not lets go to chorrol and get you to a healer."

Darnand

“You are right about Darnand though,” said Aravi.

Darnand nodded in acknowledgement.

“I must confess I do not have an Arcane University education,” he said. “I turn to practical applications to fund my work, but my interests are largely academic. Spellcrafting across schools, research into various mystic energies, the history of scrollmaking and enchantment. However most of my, er… field experience comes from the disciplines of Conjuration and Destruction.”

He gave Aravi a little smile. His friend could tell several tales of their mishaps together, though perhaps more time needed to pass before she enjoyed the humor in them. Aravi had been on the receiving end of some of Darnand’s most memorable miscalculations.

Darnand turned back to Salyan. “I have wondered if the bardic drums of Skyrim’s legends were not played along with spells. My inquiries at the Bards College met vigorous denial, as one might expect. So much that I was left with stronger suspicion. Which leads me to ask, what is the area of effect for your images? Does the strength wane as the volume diminishes with distance, or is there a point after which they simply do not appear? Though you use illusion magicks, I had thought that the bond with a summoning might be strengthened by…” You are at a party, Darnand reminded himself. Unfortunately. This might be what they call ‘too intense.’ Save the inquisition for later.

He felt that his attempt to smile might look more like a grimace. “Yes, I am a mage,” he finished.