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

[Callidus Thorn]

Edril was surprised that the Bosmer had replied in place of the mercenary. He turned an unhurried, appraising gaze upon her, unconscious Telvanni habits seeking to gauge how dangerous she might be. "A dabbler in the arcane as well as an archer? Impressive for one so young. Your kind tend to have no great talent for magic, so I assume your father was not a Bosmer? A Breton would be my guess, if he were an Altmer you'd be taller." Edril paused a moment stroking his goatee in an unconscious gesture as he pondered. "Or perhaps you were simply born at an exceptionally fortuitous time."

Edril shook his head fractionally.

"The boy's name is craven, you say? Hardly a recommendation on his part, even without him being pickpocketed on his way here." Edril turned to face the mercenary. "If neither of you know him, I would say that the boy needs to answer for his skills before you can consider his inclusion."