The Wobbly Goblet Playground Options

[King Coin]

The other woman walked past her and to the bar after she expressed her disappointment with her husband. Aravi continued up the stairs where she quickly found her room. She closed the door and quickly disrobed. She crawled under the blankets on her bed and closed her eyes. The sounds of merriment from below didn't bother her, and she drifted to sleep.

[mALX]

*

Eyja:

It was late at night when they reached the foothill below the cliff. Eyja didn't even know what instinct caused her to look up and see the object falling toward them. Her first reaction was to jump out of the way, but something held her there; to this day she couldn't say what.

The second she realized what it was, she knew instinctively who it was. She shoved her robe into Maxical's hands. "Don't let go, no matter what!"

In the spilt-second the drunk man's limp body landed with a jerk of her robe that tore at her shoulders and armpits. His fall was broken, but ... would it be enough?

Eyja lay down, her ear to his heart. "It's very faint." She began healing her friend, but knew she didn't have enough knowledge of healing to save him. Not after a fall like that.

"We have to get him to help, fast."

The panic showed in Maxical's eyes. "Dear gods, it's Seth! Listen, if we bring him to Clavicus Vile, I'll promise him my soul when I die if he'll save Seth. It is the quickest place to reach!"

Eyja shook her head. "I think he'd want us to bring him to Mephala to save him."

Maxical stood her ground. "I don't have anything Mephala wants, and I already have dealings with Clavicus Vile. I have access to his realm with this ring. Let us save him first, then bring him to Mephala."

Eyja agreed. Maxical and Eyja clutched Seth between them, and clutched each other as Maxical slid the ring that would bring them to Clavicus Vile's realm.




***


Eyja didn't know what to expect, Maxical had never let her know about her dealings with Clavicus Vile before; though she'd suspected it for a long time. It felt like the ground dropped out from beneath her. She clung to both Seth and Maxical as they fell into a black void.

The sound of rushing wind echoed around her, but the air was perfectly still; a blackness that knew no end. She couldn’t tell if they were falling or even moving, it felt like they were suspended there for an interminable time before Maxical spoke.

“Clavicus Vile, I need your help.”

When Eyja opened her eyes she was sitting on a sandy shore, a beautiful expanse of crystal clear blue water stretching out from the glistening white sand. Behind her the beach ended in lush green grass and a thick forest of trees still full of their blossoms in spite of it feeling like Frostfall. She'd never breathed air so pure before.

Eyja leaned over and crawled toward the water, wondering if water that pure would help Seth if she cupped some into his mouth. When she tried to scoop the water in her hands they didn’t even get wet. It was an illusion. She lay her head on Seth's chest.

"We need to hurry." She stood up and carefully lifted Seth's limp frame with Maxical's help. He was surprisingly heavy, so muscular.

In the distance through the lush grass was a small cottage, the path leading to it was bordered in beautiful flowering shrubs and a split rail fence. As they neared she noticed two large ornate gates.

The gates opened as they approached and a booming voice of a man seemed to come from the void itself, echoing around them as if it was everywhere…everything.

“Who comes seeking my help? To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit today? Have the three of you just decided to come visit me? I hope you have brought me a gift, as is the custom here for uninvited guests." The voice enveloped them as they approached the cottage.

Outside the cottage the trunk of an enormous tree had been cut into the shape of a chair, and sitting in the seat of it was a giant of a man.

His skin was flesh colored but his ears were a small cut Elven ear. His eyes slanted oddly, but in a good way that gave him a pleasing appearance. What looked like goat horns grew out from his forehead, arching up and back over each eyebrow like those of a fighting ram.

His chest was a mass of solid muscles, built for fighting; but his eyes danced in mischief and his mouth looked like it perpetually smiled. Eyja hoped that was a good sign, and that Maxical knew what she was doing.

For just a moment Eyja suffocated a feeling of panic, standing by his side was the hugest dog she'd ever seen. A line of drool hung from the oversized mouth, and the dog licked it’s chops as it eyed her.

“Er…beautiful dog, what does he eat? Not...people, right?”

The giant boomed out a laugh. "His name is Barbas. He seems to have taken a liking to you."

“Just as long as it’s not for his dinner…or mating.” Eyja eyed the dog nervously. Barbas lumbered over and began sniffing her butt.

Clavicus Vile’s laugh boomed out again. “Let us get acquainted. You must know me as you have come to me for a favor, but I will introduce myself anyway. I am Clavicus Vile."

Eyja clasped Seth tightly to her, but Maxical kneeled down in front of him and looked up into his eyes.

“You may remember me, I am Maxical...or rather Ma'Thjizzrini Qa. Well, actually it’s S'Thjizzrini Qa now since I’ve mated. And this is my friend Eyja the Friendly. Our friend here is Seth, Sethyas Velas. He is the one we have come to ask the favor for. He is dying, we need to save him."

"My my, you are an entertaining lot. We have one with three names and just as many husbands; and two assassins. This one has mated more men than I have souls in my realm. The other has sent many souls to their reward, but none to me…and all of you decided to bring your act to my doorstep and entertain me with it. How kind of you. I can't imagine what I have done to deserve such pleasure. I certainly can't accuse you of boring me…yet."




***


Clavicus Vile leaned back against the tree stump with a sanguine expression. “If you wish to please me, I prefer gifts than explanations. Come now, you have not traveled all this way to walk away empty handed. What have you brought besides yourselves for my entertainment? For I am the one that can grant your wish. That is what I do." The hopeful expression flickered quickly. Clavicus Vile made a show of halfway covering a fake yawn with his hand. His voice was beginning to border on edgy.

Maxical answered, to Eyja's relief. “I apologize, Sire. And I have brought you a gift.” Before she could finish Clavicus leaned over and stared down at each of their pockets.

"Gold holds no interest for me. It is just metal up here. I prefer to deal in souls. I have an eternity on my hands, and see little in it to keep my mind occupied. What gift can you offer that will relieve the tedium of my existence in this plane? Do you have some bargaining in mind? I am always seeking company on this lonely plane.”

Maxical responded quickly. “I have brought you a gift, Sire. It is my soul..."

“Thank you!” He reached his hand toward Maxical, and a silvery film pulled from her chest toward his open palm. He closed his hand around it.

Eyja shrieked. "NOOOO! She meant after she died!"

Clavicus Vile boomed out a huge laugh that continued long after Eyja thought was seemly. Maxical turned toward Eyja and grinned.

"That is a joke he pulls, he uses illusion to scare new people to his realm."

Eyja clutched the tree next to her to keep from vomiting. Clavicus finally stopped his laughter. "And what do you seek in return?"

Maxical answered him. "The life of my friend here. He seems to have imbibed too heavily and fell from a cliff. We couldn't heal him, not in time to save him. Please, will you save his life in exchange for my soul?"




*



Clavicus Vile's Realm:








Clavicus Vile:






Barbas:






*





This post has been edited by mALX: Sep 22 2013, 06:40 AM

[minque]

Serene

Or I could just sleep on the matter

She noticed a khajiiti woman step in loudly asking where her husband was....Serene smiled, more missing husbands she thought

She finished her drink, Aravi had already gone to bed so why not follow her example

With heavy steps she went up the stairs to their room....

[mALX]

*

Maxical:

Bograk's smile when she saw Eyja changed to a look of tusky concern when she saw Seth's inert form being carried in.

"You always seem to come with one laid out, Miss. I take it you'll be needing the suite again?"

Eyja nodded. "Yes please. And how is your Lleris doing?"

Bograk's smile widened. "Back as good as ever, Miss." She signaled for Riad. "Help them get this man to the suite."

Riad scowled when he saw Eyja, but with a roll of his eyes he hefted Seth into his arms and made his way up the stairs.

Maxical grabbed Eyja's cheque book from her pack and handed a blank cheque to Bograk. "She'll come back and sign it as soon as we get settled. I am looking for his wife...never mind, she'd probably be in her husband's room. I'll go look."

Bograk shook her head, then brightened suddenly. "He's the one from the room next to the suite! She is in his room, Miss. I saw her go to bed last night."

"Thank you, Bograk. He is being taken to our suite, can you please give his wife a key to access him? And Eyja has hired a wonderful physician for his care, Gureryne Selvilo from the Chorrol Chapel. if you can direct him to the suite when he comes?"

Bograk nodded her response. Maxical hurried up the stairs to Seth's room and knocked on the door. After several knocks got no response, Maxical grabbed a parchment and quill from the stand at the end of the hall and scribbled a note.


*

Dear Serena,

There has been an accident involving your husband, Sethyas Velas. His injuries are too great for him to be moved at this time.

You will find him resting as comfortably as possible in Eyja and my suite, it is the room next to your room. (Bograk can provide you with a key so you can enter at will).

Eyja has procurred a wonderful physician in Chorrol who will attend him if you have to continue the search for your and his daughter, Rianne. While conscious, Sethyas seemed quite concerned for her safety.

My most heartfelt sorrow for your situation with both your daughter and Seth. I have no doubt Seth will rise strong again, he is too ornary for the grave.

Maxical


*

Maxical slid the note under Serene's door, then brushed past it and into the room next door. She turned the key in the lock behind her and hurried across to the suite, locking that door behind her out of habit.

Eyja indicated a steaming mug of coffee and a plate with a sweetroll and strawberries on it. "I fixed your dinner, but I've already eaten."

""I had to leave a note for Serene, she didn't answer. How is Seth doing?"

"As well as can be expected. Gureryne Selvilo is in with him now. He shoed me out while he examines him."

"I just left instructions with Bograk! He couldn't have passed me, how did he get here?"

Eyja pointed to the back door. "I saw him coming and waved him in."

Maxical slumped down and gulped the coffee too quickly. She choked, spewing out half of what was in her mouth.

Eyja shook her head. "Now I've got to clean the kitchen. I'm bringing a cup of this up to Gureryne, do you think you can stop making messes long enough for me to do that?" She stomped out of the kitchen with the coffee, but then barely made a sound as she moved up the steps.

Maxical grinned, popping a strawberry in her mouth, but her expression got serious again as she thought of poor Serene. First her daughter, now this.




*





This post has been edited by mALX: Sep 25 2013, 11:10 PM

[Darkness Eternal]

Desselius climbed down the stairs of his room, his heavy steps singing throughout the room as he descended into the lower levels of the Goblet. Though his steps were loud, he wasn't wearing any armor. On the contrary, Lycus was quite comfortable in his sack cloth pants and coarse linen shirt. His feet were tucked away inside his huntsman moccasins.

The hunt was a success, as he predicted it would be. The hunters collected their fill of meat and trophies and the adventure was a great one. The rest of the morning now would be pure leisure.

The long-haired Imperial giant massaged his left shoulder with his right hand as he moved to the counter for a heavy and hearty breakfast. He heard a light gasp and turned to the direction of the source; a young human girl, no more than the age of seven, stared up at him with eyes wide and a mouth shaped into a gaping oh.

An all too familiar reaction he's got from women who shied away from his aggressive and ugly appearance, men who felt intimidated. Children were often startled.

Lycus looked at the child and managed to crack a faint, almost non-existent smile to her. It was the best he could do. The girl only backed away and retreated away and buried her face into the robes of her mother. Lycus knew he had the face that was as if it was a sculptor's first attempt at hacking away features at a lump piece of stone. More than scarred: crude, savage, brutal and even devoid of any apparent warmth. For all the revelry of the festival, he was sober now: black hair in a loose fashion, bright eyes that should have had a special drink-inspired shine in them but were predator-cold. The knuckles of his hands showed red from stress of fighting Ogres and boars.

As a man once joked about him; Lycus was born an Imperial, raised by wolves, adopted by Nords, trained by a Redguard, abandoned and thrown into the world.

His smile faded and he returned his attention to the idea of a meal to come. He sat on the chair that squeaked and protested at the weight set upon it and it even seemed to cringe when he situated his rump on the surface. He looked down on it and wondered if it would be strong enough to hold him. It should have. He didn't think he gained any muscle or weight, despite how much food he has eaten. He didn't feel no different either.

So he waited and listened to the still-sleepy early birds that were the patrons exchange gossip in whispers that were unheard by most, but loud and clear to him:

"Did you hear about the brawl we had at the festival?"

" . . . I heard a Dunmer man got drunk, fell of a cliff and died!"

"I've been having a lot of headaches lately . . ."

"I hope I don't pay extra if accidentally pissed myself on the sheets . . ."

"My neck hurts . . ."








This post has been edited by Darkness Eternal: Nov 15 2013, 04:52 AM

[Rohirrim]

Khan collapsed, exhausted, onto the bar. He slid the parcel containing the meat across to a surprisingly energetic Yetta, who carried the awkward meaty thing to the kitchen. He looked at the blisters on his hands from gripping his sword so tightly. Those ogres put up a damn good fight, make no mistake, and he had certainly enjoyed it. He sat back in the stool, thinking of what to have for breakfast, when he remembered something. Azurah's unmentionables, Sonita's here!

Ohhhhhh. This was going to be hard. On the one hand, she'd be happy to see him, on the other, he hadn't been here when she arrived. With her, if you were fashionably late, you'd become "the late". Probably best not to act guilty. At least he'd bought her that pot from Blacklight. Spotting Lycus, he gave a friendly wave and went back to the menu.

[Darkness Eternal]

Lycus scooped up a spoonful of porridge and drove it into his mouth after he finished his plate of scrambled eggs and roasted boar meat. Lleris scurried about with a cheery look on his face, but when he reached Lycus to collect his leftovers there was just the faintest hint of something opposite. The small trace of negativity was quickly subdued by his customary smile and polite excuses.

"Would you like anything else, sir?" Lleris inquired Lycus.

Lycus tilted his head, studying the boy closely before replying. "Blackberry Alkanet tea. I'll have some of that."

"Right away, sir." He said as he hurried off, missing a step or two before he stood up tall to regain his footing.

Lycus concealed the need to chuckle. The Nord cook, Yetta, made no effort to hide her true feelings. A smile spread thinly over her young face and she continued on her duties with a gingerly dance to her every move.

"The lad is a skittish today," Lycus said. "What's happened to him?"

"When isn't he skittish? It's the stamina drinks," Yetta said with a faint smile and a slight whisper. "Keeps him up and running around."

Lycus said nothing. When Yetta saw this, she added "Besides, its not every day a man threatens to break his hands."

The big Imperial managed a laugh. He leaned back and folded his large arms across his chest. Was it his hands or his arms that I threatened to break?

"Not use to Imperial hospitality, is he?"

"You mean a Nord's hospitality?" Yetta asked with a dose of playful challenge in her voice.

"For dark elves, a human's hospitality is one in the same," he said. "What is he? Hlaalu?"

Yetta placed more dough into the oven to be baked, keeping focused on her task at hand. Not once did she distract herself to making a mistake. She timed the cooking perfectly but she was still mindful enough to continue her conversation with the patron.

"Yes," she sounded surprised. "How did you know?"

"Spent some years in Morrowind. I know Imperialized dark elves when I see one. Seen em' a lot."

"Oh? What did you do for a living there? If you don't mind my curiosity."

There was just a quick glint in his eye. "Different trades; Blacksmith. Miner. Mostly a hunter."

She eyed some of the scars written over his arms, and she mustered the courage to look on the one in his cheek. "Mined any stones that fought back?"

"Quite a few."

Lleris returned just then with a cup of tea and set it gently and disappeared to take another's order. Lycus took a sip of the tea, set it down and then proceeded to take another. Yetta moved in front of him to collect the plates left behind.

"Are you a notherner of Cyrodiil-born?" He asked after a moment.

[Grits]

Yetta

Yetta moved about her tasks with practiced ease. Breakfast was not much of a challenge to prepare and serve, and chatting with the inn’s customers made the work light. The big Imperial had a tough and even frightening appearance, but Yetta was used to rough company. Besides, she appreciated a man who tucked into her food with a good appetite.

Lycus responded to her curiosity with a question of his own.

“I’m Skyrim born,” she replied. “Grew up on a farm in Whiterun Hold. A cow broke my leg when I was just eight winters old. Did you know that cows can kick? They can. So I learned how to help in the kitchens instead of the fields while I was laid up with the bad leg. When my Pa lost the farm I got work in a tavern. I’d rather cook than follow a plow, especially for those damned Battle-Borns who took our land. Anyway, I came south for personal reasons that didn’t work out.” She doubted that Lycus wanted to hear about her love life. “So here I am.”

She gave him a grin. “I’ll prepare the game you hunters brought back for tonight’s meal, but I cook beef as often as I can get it. Fetching cows.”

Lleris approached to trade an empty platter for a full one. He trotted off to deliver the meal.

“Did your hunting ever take you to Skyrim?” Yetta asked Lycus.

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Nov 23 2013, 05:50 PM

[Darkness Eternal]

"Aye," Lycus replied to her with a grin. "I know cows can kick. Seen it a lot."

He wasn't much different than Yetta. He grew up a low-class citizen of the empire. A peasant boy working the farm and tending to his sheep. He remembered once where his hound Tiber was kicked in the snout by one of his cows when he was just a lad.

Yetta too seemed to come from humble beginnings and still worked in a modest trade as a cook. Many women in Skyrim were hardened women who sought to leave the kitchens despite the regular demands of societies' norms. Many of them didn't make it. Like men, not all women are cut out to be fighters. Just as not all women are meant to be cooks.

Gods know how terrible Vera was at cooking . . .

And of course like many others, sometimes things never work out the way they want to. Sometimes moving to another province is the best idea. Cyrodiil surrendered many opportunities places like Skyrim or Morrowind could not. It wasn't the seat of the empire for nothing.

After she asked of his hunting, Lycus leaned a bit backwards from the table. "My hunting had taken me everywhere."

He's hunted in Cyrodiil for a better part of his life. The land was ripe with all sorts of game. Living as a hunter had its uses here.

"I've hunted in Morrowind and in Solstheim."

It wasn't for much long. The majority of the time he spent in the dark elf lands he was hauling stones, picking away at the mines and fighting other men in the arena. It was a few months of a free man that led him to hunt for nix-hounds, kagouti and kwama.

He had the privilege to be alive and breathing during the greatest hunt in the land, hosted by the Lord of the Hunt. Though it didn't last long, he and Vera had traveled there after her grandfather's notes spoken of a time where the young moon would be red, and Hircine and his hounds would stalk the land, preying on men. Many had died, and he was one of the lucky ones to survive the destruction of the glacier. The ice had preserved him and her for two centuries. Times had since changed.

Lycus didn't tell her of the most dangerous hunt he's experienced in Oblivion where he and other mortals were trapped in the Hunting Grounds for weeks, and were pitted against the denizens of the realm. Yetta would strike him as an insane drunk too into his cups or a madman spewing nonsense.

"I've lived in Skyrim soon after I retired when I became Grand Champion of the Arena," he explained. He left out the part where he departed for the safety of his mother and his father and those he held closest. "Hunted everything from elk to men, from giants to mammoths. I built a cottage in the Falkreath woods and stayed there for sometime."

[Darkness Eternal]

When Yetta was unresponsive, Lycus got up and left.

[Grits]

Abiene

Snowflakes drifted lazily in the light breeze as Abiene made the turn up to the Wobbly Goblet.

“A joyous Saturalia to you!” she called out to Lowren, giving him a cheery wave. The pasture held a fair number of horses, some wooly with their winter coats and others blanketed against the chill. Abiene hoped that there would be a room available at the inn.

The ostler raised a hand in reply to her greeting but didn’t give any indication that he wished to stop his work and chat. Abiene continued up the path, shaking the snow from her cloak and hood as she stepped into the tavern’s warmth.

Auguste stood behind the bar reviewing some document with Bograk. Hethilion put his broom aside and approached Abiene.

“Have they returned?” she asked before he could get a word out. “I sent a note this morning, but then I just couldn’t wait for a reply. So I came to see for myself. Skyrim isn’t that far away, don’t you think they should be back soon?”

Hethilion took her pack while she chattered. His face told her the answer.

Abiene bit the corner of her lip, trying to hide her disappointment. “Oh, well is there a room? Yes of course, I suppose that’s why you’ve taken my things for me. Hethilion, thank you.” She took in a deep breath. A rumble sounded from her stomach area.

“What is that wonderful smell? That’s not just steamed pudding and butter cakes. I confess, I’m nearly starved into an ill temper. I’ll just run into the kitchen, all right? Yetta won’t mind. I won’t touch a thing, I promise.”

Abiene gave the dour Altmer’s arm a quick squeeze and darted off down the corridor before he could object. She had arranged for her bills to be sent to Seed-Neeus in Chorrol for payment, so she would never again be caught with empty pockets when it was her turn to buy a round. An open tab gave her very few liberties, and she intended to make full use of them.

“Happy Saturalia!” she called over her shoulder to Hethilion. The savory aroma filled her mouth with anticipation as she approached the kitchen door. “Mara’s Mercy, I don’t think I’ve ever smelled anything quite so tempting!”

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Dec 26 2013, 06:54 PM

[Darkness Eternal]

Lycus stood tall over his handiwork and it was good. The smell practically had taken away all of the malevolent focus of the hunt that knocked periodically in his head or the worry that Vera might be in paradise right now.

The food was spread out on the table before him: venison and boar meat done over an open fire, wet with a sauce made with the drippings; a fresh capon cooked with honey and almonds; black olives and bread; and a handful of boiled eggs with diced onions.

To the side was a scrumptious sight of bear rib mixed with garlic-sprinkled mash potatoes, glazed carrots and moist buttered rolls. Among these were the spiced meat of boar with honey, green beans bathed in Funnel Cap Sauce. But it wasn't these that were the only specialties filling the air with a captivating aroma. Even the thrushes and bobolinks braised in a white wine sauce, with their flesh scented by the sweet taste of the figs used to fatten them, wasn't enough to make the air dance with the promise of a full-stomach.

Lycus turned over to his sweet masterpiece that would make a khajiit's want to devour its own rear; Saturalia Sweet Rolls, Jazbay-Apple Pie, Butter Stars and Pumkin Tarlets and the cornucopia of food filled the air with such an amazing scent that the occasional patron stopped by to inquire what was being made.

A silver tray with wine cups and a jug sat on the table near him as he poured himself a small cup and drank from it. He didn't do it alone. The other workers were involved in it as well. Yetta was a talented woman and Lleris had his uses, despite being a Dark Elf. But he knew he had to be involved and he knew Bograk wouldn't object. If she did, he'd might as well take the meat elsewhere.

I'll be damned if I let another person cook the meat I hunted.

It wasn't out of spite or mistrust. More of a customary obligation to cook one's own food. Nobles and high-lords had food cooked for them all the time, even if they once in a bloodmoon pushed their fat rumps out of bed to go hunting they never had the will to spend a few hours in the kitchen preparing that food. He learned to hunt and cook his own food ever since he was just a young man and it was soothing, just as fishing or sleeping in the wilderness or hiking in a deep forest. It took his mind off certain things. Things he couldn't afford to keep his mind on with others around. Soon he might even be done before the group returns from their journey.

Thank the Huntsman Vera isn't here yet. Her cooking might as well grow spider legs and scurry off out of the kitchen and damn everyone if they tell the truth. She's blessed with the skills of using a bow, a knife and her hands but cooking . . . Dagon's realm would sooner freeze over.

Lycus turned and saw an extra bit of cooking he reserved just to sample. The best, more enjoyable part of it was that he could taste his own work. And that he did.

A large round loaf was in the center of the table. Lycus twisted off a big hunk. The bread was thick and smelled of olive oil and onions in the dough. His strong teeth ripped into it, tearing off a sizeable chunk from the bread. He chewed and swallowed it and found satisfaction in the knowledge that it was perfect.

“Mara’s Mercy, I don’t think I’ve ever smelled anything quite so tempting!” a voice said.

Lycus turned to the door to see a cloaked Abiene standing there, obviously hungry and lured by the scent the food produced. The large Imperial moved from one side of the kitchen to the other, evidently bothered by the apron that was tight around his massive body. His hair, tied into a ponytail to prevent rogue strands from falling into the food, was also peeving him. It gave him a slight headache. But he didn't complain. He was use to discomfort.

"Pray to your gods to remove such temptation from your path," Lycus said over is shoulder as he poured a white cream over the sweetrolls. "Don't give in just yet. Food isn't done."

He stood back and inspected the dessert with a careful, analytical eye. He then turned to Abiene, and gestured with his head for her to enter. "You're free to come and see what your nose has lured you to. I won't bite, but I'm hoping you won't either."

[Grits]

Abiene

“Pray to your gods to remove such temptation from your path,” Lycus said over his shoulder as he poured a white cream over the sweetrolls. “Don’t give in just yet. Food isn’t done.”

Abiene felt her eyebrows shoot up at the delicious sight. Lycus wore an apron that was as tight as his skin. She quickly schooled her expression even as her cheeks heated. She blamed the kitchen fire.

He gestured for her to enter. “You’re free to come and see what your nose has lured you to. I won’t bite, but I’m hoping you won’t either.”

Abiene hung her cloak on a peg and glanced at Yetta for permission. The Nord woman gave her a welcoming grin.

I see a lot I’d like to bite, thought Abiene. “I promise I’ll behave,” she said with a smile. Abiene picked up a clean kitchen towel and tied it like an apron over her skirt. Yetta’s aprons would likely go around her twice, since she wasn’t much bigger around than one of Lycus’ arms. Compared to the Nord and the big Imperial Abiene felt like a string bean beside a beef roast and a plump, soft roll.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Abiene asked, washing her hands in the basin. “I’m no cook but I can keep a spoon moving, and I have a steady hand with a pastry brush.” She was also very good with a surgical knife, but that was the kind of remark that might turns peoples’ stomachs.

She walked over and gazed at the spread in astonishment. “Lycus, did you make all of this? How did you learn to cook this way? Surely not at a hunters’ camp.”

Her stomach made a noisy grumble. Abiene held up her hands in embarrassment. “Don’t worry, I may be half-starved but I’ll behave. I’ll be sure I… Wait, are those butter stars? Butter stars are my favorite!”

[Rohirrim]

Khan stepped into the kitchen, his battle gear swapped for a quilted coat and linen trousers. He carried a haunch of the venison under his arm, and stopped when he saw Lycus and the woman. "Ah! He cooks as well, then! Hmm. Most impressive. You seem to be lacking a stew, so I hope you would not object to my making of one."

Khan turned to a long wooden counter and began cutting rough chunks of the venison off the bone, leaving a small layer of meat on the bone. He poured a pitcher of water into a blackened pot over the fire. He added herbs, the same ones his mother used to. This was her recipe, and Khan knew how good it was on a cold wintry day.

He added the hock of deer meat and turned to Lycus' bountiful spread. "Are those...Saturalia sweetrolls? I haven't had one in years! Used to buy them from a market stall in Bruma, ate 'em on the wall during watch duty. Takes me back that does."

"I'm rambling, though, aren't I? This looks like a feast fit for an Emperor, and I think several dozen marriage proposals will come your way when the guests taste it."

[Darkness Eternal]

Lycus maintained his unwavering focus on the task before him. Abiene was excited, almost too excited, to see the food around her. With enthusiasm she rushed inside, plucked an apron and began to inspect and ask how she could be of assistance. Lycus expected the northerner to answer, but she took too long, Lycus replied instead.

"You stir," he said. "We need a steady hand."

Abiene went over to the array of special dishes and gazed at them with wonder. Lycus thought for a second she would sooner eat the food than help make it. “Lycus, did you make all of this? How did you learn to cook this way? Surely not at a hunters’ camp.”

"Hunting isn't the only skill I have," Lycus confessed. And it was true. Those who looked at him saw an imposing, savage brute who could only use his muscle to fix a problem or deal with an issue. But he's learned many things during his long, grueling years. Call him what they will. Gladiator, Hircine's hound, warrior, farmer, hunter . . . most never imagined he was still a cook as well.

He didn't make this particular talent a secret. "Learned a thing or two from my mother when I was a lad," he said. The rest he had to figure out on his own when he left for Skyrim years before the Oblivion Crisis. Living alone, in Falkreath, in no position to be around non-lycanthropes, he had to make his own food and his own living. "The rest I learned alone."

Abiene squeaked in his ears about Butter Stars and Lycus was unable to resist giving Yetta a fleeting glance. No woman should stand in an empty-stomach. He saw fit to at least allow her the opportunity to sample something.

She did save my life, after all.

"Pick one." Lycus said, with a heavy emphasis on his last word.

It was then that someone else entered the kitchen and Lycus didn't need to turn to know it was the khajiit legionnaire from before. The khajiit was familiar with the sweetrolls, and even revealed to Lycus he ate them during his tours.

"I hope you were on break while eating those," Lycus noted. "Wouldn't trust a man with my life if he ate half the time."

Khan excused his own tongue, and explained that the quality of the food before him was fit for royalty. It was true. But Lycus was glad there was no royalty here that he was aware of. He's spent years working for the rich when he was given no choice. No way in Oblivion would he do anything for free. Especially cook.

"To their disappointment, then," Lycus turned to Khal with something almost like a smile on his face. "I'm a married man."

[Grits]

“Thank you, Lycus!” Abiene carefully picked up a butter star and took a bite. A tall Khajiit walked into the kitchen as she rolled her eyes in delight over the pastry. She savored every crumb while she listened to the two men talk.

“I’m Abiene Metonne,” she said to the Khajiit when there was a pause in the conversation. “I saw you leaving for the hunt. I’m pleased to meet you.”

She wiped her fingers and got busy stirring sauce.

Abiene smiled at the banter over Lycus’ impending marriage proposals. “Vera is a lucky woman,” she said. “I wonder if they will return soon. Have you heard anything, Lycus? I’ve tried to reach Darnand through the crystal ball, but I’m afraid I’m not very good at it. The last time I accidentally made his eye bleed. Anyway I’m not even sure he brought it with him.”

She watched the sauce swirl around her spoon, trying to keep the concern out of her expression. There was no reason to worry. Lots of folk lived in Skyrim, and every day some of them survived to see the next one. Her friends could walk through the door at any moment.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Aelena walked from the Mages Guild to the gates of Chorrol with her carrying her brown, cloth bookbag slung over her chest. It bounced lightly against her hip as she walked outside the gate, heading towards the Wobbly Goblet inn. Ever since the festival, the older mages had been raving about the food and drink there, among other things. She had tuned out the rest of the conversation as it veered towards indecency and borderline voyeurism. Instead, she fixed her mind on gathering ingredients in the early morning, before the sun had begun climbing over the horizon.

She slung her long braids over her shoulder and tucked them into the hood of her heavy black cloak. Her bright hazel eyes scanned the darkened road before she lit a spell in her hand, lighting her body with a greenish light that lit up the area around her. She began walking the roads and off the beaten path for alchemy ingredients.

She found few, which wasn't surprising with the weather. Her breath blew out in warm puffs, the air expelling from her lungs in slow wisps as she walked towards the inn. The morning sun warmed her dark skin nicely, but there was still a chill on the tip of her nose. She swung the door open and tapped her heavy boots on the doorframe, knocking the snow off of the bottoms and onto the ground just outside the door. She took a deep breath, and realized she was starving. And sleepy.

She sat at the bar, her stomach growling as the different smelled caressed her nose. She left her hood up to hide her hair, but put her bag onto the ground. She began looking at the menu.

"Spiced cider, please?" She asked the barman. "I haven't decided on food yet, though."

[Grits]

Abiene tightened her hood and stepped out into the cold. Snow fell in thick, puffy clumps that stuck to tree branches and fence rails. Her Weatherward ring kept the chill from seeping through her boots.

She stood for a moment enjoying the quiet.

Hearts Day is in less than two weeks. I wonder if my friends will have returned by then.

The inn’s Welkynd stone lantern caught the snowflakes in its glow. She put the welcoming beacon to her back and started up the road, first through the village and then northwest toward Chorrol.

[Grits]

Auguste

Auguste filled a mug with steaming spiced cider and slid it across to the young Redguard woman. “Take your time,” he said to her. “The pastries will be out soon, or you can order something heartier.”

As if on cue young Lleris appeared at Auguste’s elbow. He placed a platter of sweetrolls and another of sausage-filled dumplings on the bar. “Happy Othroktide,” he said to Auguste.

Auguste’s brows went up. He doubted that Lleris grew up celebrating obscure south coast Breton holidays. “You’ve been dawdling in the library again?”

Lleris grinned. He nodded a quick greeting to the Redguard woman and trotted back to the kitchens.

Auguste wiped the spotless bar and awaited the lady’s order.

[minque]

Serene, early morning after the accident, which she doesn't know of!

Serene didn't know exactly what woke her up..one moment she was fast asleep, the next she was awake. She felt a growling in her stomach...

Gah, I'm hungry! And where the heck is that husband of mine? hasn't slept in this bed as it seems

She went up and washed her face in the bowl on the small cupboard. Refreshed she looked in the mirror hanging on the wall ..and jumped! She looked awful, her hair was in a mess, her eyes swollen and narrow...she looked like she had been drinking all night...

What happened last night really?

Well some food and hackle-lo tea would probably do the trick. She tried to straighten her hair with her fingers, couldn't remember where she had put her bags....and headed for the door

She didn't notice the note on the floor...