The Quest to Njaal's lost brewery. RP thread., The RP thread. Options

[Tellie]

Authors note: This first post will be an intro written by me for our 'NPC' Njaal, and will effectively be the start of our RP, read it well as all the information we need is right here (for the most part).

City of Anvil, Year 425 Third Era, The Flowing Bowl.

Njaal Mead-Brewer was a man on a mission, WAS being the keyword here as he was at this very moment quite unconsolable and perhaps more than intoxicated than your average drunkard in a Tavern. He had travelled all across Cyrodiil in search of a few lucky men or women to help him (and coincidentally earn a good bit of gold doing so) but none were willing "Payment up front" they all said.

You see Njaal was a (perhaps not famous yet) mead brewer. His mead so good that it would rival even the Black Briar's own mead, had the blasted Black Briars not hired mercenaries to raid his brewery and stolen the dwemer plates upon which he had carved the recipie in coded language.

He knew the sellswords were still in Cyrodiil as due to growing discontent in the province the borders were all tightly controlled and descriptions of the mercenaries had already been given to the guards. He only hoped that perhaps here in Anvil he might find someone to track down the plates, he had already given the innkeeper a handsome tip to 'refer' anyone who might be on the lookout for quick (and dangerous) credits, so now he just had to wait.

This post has been edited by Tellie: Mar 16 2016, 10:05 PM

[Acadian]

Kraven rose, confirmed his interest to the pair of Dunmer, smiled his thanks (for the meal, she assumed) to Buffy and excused himself. He and Tiber then stepped out of the tavern.

Athyn then proceeded to answer the other, still nameless, mer’s questions. Buffy learned that Athyn was indeed in charge, that he knew of numerous possible locations to search and that his party currently consisted of up to four.

The newcomer wisely concerned himself with the abilities of his prospective fellow questers.

“My name’s Buffy.” She hoped that advancing her own name again might prompt the discovery of this new Dunmer’s name, lest she begin thinking of him as ‘scarface’.

“The bow is indeed my primary asset. I use a summoned one that is backed up by supportive magicks and stealth.” She glanced briefly toward the tavern’s door. “The young Imperial who just stepped outside calls himself Kraven and I just met him this evening. I’ve learned that he is presently broke. Judging by the calluses on his hands he is no stranger to hard work – so I tend to believe his story that a cutpurse is responsible for his lack of coin. I bought him dinner and learned that his appetite rivals that of my mare.” Buffy didn’t really expect much reaction to her little attempt at humor from this pair of somber Dunmer.

“From his mannerisms and outwardly visible gear,” she continued, “I would guess that he is perhaps more at home hunting or farming than fighting. I know nothing of using a sword, so cannot opine regarding how he might fare with a blade in hand. I do know animals though, and would not discount the man’s companion, Tiber. I expect the wolf-dog has the lupine senses, cunning and physical abilities to locate, close with and effectively engage foes in close quarters combat. Particularly if backed up by those of us with ranged ability.”