The Wobbly Goblet Playground Options

[Grits]

Abiene blinked up at the Altmer woman with the northern accent. “You know Jerric and Darnand, too?” Her first reaction was astonishment, followed immediately by an irrational surge of jealousy. He’s unlikely to have slept with every woman in the province, she scolded herself. “Did you meet them when they were in Skyrim?” Her face heated with sudden embarrassment. “Forgive me, where are my manners? I’m Abiene Metonne.” She extended a hand. “I met our mutual friends through the Mages Guild when we all lived in Anvil.”

[Saquira]

Fedura had closed her eyes in the warmth of the fire, not opening them when the door was once again pushed open and lightning struck outside. She stood in the warmth for a while, ignoring the gazes she could feel upon her body, listening to the conversations that had begun to spring up around the room. For a moment, she almost let her guard down.

Opening her eyes again at the sound of a lute being played, the Dunmer woman folded her cloak together and tied it to the top of her pack, finally turning away from the fire to move up to the bar where several people where already sitting. Two women, a Breton and a Khajiit, were talking to each other. Something she only noted because the female Breton was newly arrived, and her clothing was still dry.

She put the pack against the legs of the chair that she sat down on, making sure it wouldn't be in the way for anyone else. The Orsimer woman came over and introduced herself before handing Fedura a Bill of Fare, which the Dunmer regarded with a puzzled expression.

“I'm sorry, but I cannot see what's written here,” Fedura said with an apologetic smile, and the orc blinked in surprise before telling her what food and drink they sold. “Thank you. I'll have a glass of firebrand wine, a plate with roast mutton and cheese with grapes. I would also like to rent a room for the night if that's possible,” she said after thinking for a moment.

“Of course. Firebrand wine is quite expensive though, are you certain that you can afford it?” Though she could definitely understand the proprietor's concerns, Fedura was still annoyed by her question. The simple armor she wore was very rarely the chosen outfit of someone wealthy, and she had never been all that concerned about her appearance. However, her former occupation had paid well, and a hunter had very few expenses. So she'd taken to allow herself a few luxuries on the rare occasion that she stayed the night at a tavern.

“I'm certain,” she said and smiled, but couldn't quite hide the annoyed tone in her voice. To emphasize her statement, Fedura took the coin-pouch of her belt and held it up before the other woman's eyes, before once again tying it to her waist and looking back at Bograk. “Now, how about that meal?” she queried, and the Orsimer nodded before walking away. Fedura, weary from spending such a long time in the saddle, slumped forward in her seat and used her arms to support herself against the counter of the bar.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla took Abiene's hand and gave it a firm but gentle squeeze. "I'm Kayla. Just Kayla." She gave her a friendly half-smile. "I met Jerric and Darnand at a birthday party for Buffy. I'm not much for girl stuff, but it was a fun party." She let go of Abiene's hand. "I only know them by sight and name, though. We didn't converse much. They left us girls alone while we tried on clothes." She sipped the wine brought to her and smiled at Aravi. "And you're Aravi?"

[King Coin]

Aravi was a little surprised by Abiene’s answer. I suppose it was a house call, in a way. She was careful with her expression, she didn’t want Abiene to get the wrong idea. Aravi saw no harm in what Abiene was doing, nor was it really her business to judge.

“Did you really come all the way from Skyrim to see me?” Abiene asked.

Aravi was about to answer when one of the other patrons, the Altmer that drug in all the mud, recognized Jerric and Darnand’s names and spoke up. Aravi listened as Kayla and Abiene introduced themselves.

"And you're Aravi?"

“Yes, nice meeting you Kayla.” She made sure she said the name so that it sticks in her memory. “It seems Jerric and Darnand have made a lot of friends. And did I hear Buffy’s name?"

[Darkness Eternal]

For the next ten minutes the armored man battled the pelting storm. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the storm was gone, the dark cloud passed on in the breeze.

The Imperial a fearsome sight to behold, but no more so than any mercenary, bounty hunter, or warrior. Clad in a modified armor, he was remarkable more for his height and weight than anything else, but hardly unique in these parts of Cyrodiil.

Ebony plates guarded his shoulders and knees. A menacing helmet, made in the likeness of a snarling black wolf, concealed his entire skull. His eyes hidden behind the wolf’s. A shafron and crinet served as shields for his horse’s head and neck. Steam jetted from the mount’s flaring nostrils. The man pulled back the reins and the horse came to a halt.

Trees lined the sides of the road like columnsof some ancient temple. The air was scented with damn wood and moist dirt. Ever sense alert to both danger and prey, he looked in every direction. He listened closely to the nightly murmurs of the Great Forest in which he hunted ever since he was a young man. Unseen creatures ran through the bush and foliage. Bats flapped around in the skies above and an owl hooted nearby. The wind shuffled away rogue leaves around the legs of the muscular steed. He held his breath, every muscle in his body primed and ready for action.

No obvious threat presented itself, and yet . . .

In the distance he could hear a howl tear through the night. More of a shrieking sound that went forever still. The wind carried over the smell of cold, dead blood and ash. The horse whined.

“Easy,” the man whispered with a smile. “The night spawns the undead. But they aren’t the only terror here.”

Ahead of him was a dimly lit torch and voices. Though he could see far, he strained his vision a bit more to see two Imperial Legionnaires riding horses toward his direction. There was no way they could see him, for it was dark. Unless a lightning strike illuminated the path. The man wanted no contact with the law. Not after he had a bounty on his head. He set his path to the woods so he could go around.

With his sword in its scabbard, the man goaded the horse to spring forward into a gallop through the road. Trees grew out to the side and greedy branches reached out for him, making him grateful for the helm protecting his face. He ducked his head few seconds before an overhanging branch took his head off. A log blocked the path, but the horse vaulted over it with ease.

The horse thundered through the wilderness as he spotted a building in the distance. He could finder shelter there . . .

****

The armored man dismounted off his horse, grabbed his gear( his sword and his shield) and his sack, and marched over to a young Bosmer petting a mare. He was short, as many of the representatives of his kind, but he was nonetheless bold enough to look up to the towering helmeted giant that approached him. He dropped a coin in the hand of the little Bosmer.

“Take care of the steed, boy,” he said. He offered his back and headed to the entrance of the place called The Wobbling Goblet.

He opened the door, and set a foot inside. His heavy metal boot making a loud sound as he entered joined with the music of his armor. He turned toward a High Elf, who was mopping the floor with a soaking mop.

The High Elf was surprised at this man of stature, and glanced at the tall man from head to toe. “What can I do for you?”

“You can start by giving me a warm bed. Surille Brother’s wine, red as blood. All a man needs.” His eyes(concealed from behind the helm) turned from the High Elf to further in the tavern where he saw many faces. An Argonian, two Khajiit, Bretons, an Orc, a Redguard and others. They were mostly female. “And a woman.” He added with a low voice.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla nodded and smiled. "I believe you were absent at your own party." She flicked a still-damp lock of auburn hair from her nose and grinned, hoping the small Khajiit would see she was only teasing. She turned her attention back to the bard and shot him a flirtatious smile before looking back at the women. "It was nice to meet the three of them. What kept you away?"

[King Coin]

“…What kept you away?”

Aravi nodded. “I did miss my celebration. I’ll have to find Buffy while I’m down here.” She paused. “I was in Skyrim at the time. There were some vampire problems up there that I was involved in. You sound like you are from Skyrim unless I’m mistaken?” She asked.

Her attention was briefly taken away from Kayla when she heard a crash of armor at the door. She jumped at what she saw; her hand went to her blade. Then she recognized what it was. A man in elaborate armor, not a Wolf. Her face heated up in embarrassment and her ears remained somewhat flat in irritation. She hoped she didn’t make a big stir.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla opened her mouth to answer Aravi when the crash startled both her and Aravi.

'This is precisely why I face the door.' She thought to herself. she had seen the door swing open at the corner of her eye, but the ruckus was completely unexpected. She imagined her entrance was similar to that of the man in wolf armor, but less boisterous. She swung her head back around to make a snarky comment to Aravi about the man's armor, but noticed she was tensed up. She saw the warning signs of stress in Khajiit by way of the flattened ears and the irritated flick of the tail. Kayla shot Aravi another grin.

"Look at that guy, huh? What an entrance! Looks like he startled you too!" She let her eyes brush briefly over Aravi's hand on her blade hilt. She leaned her head on her hands while resting her elbows on the bar, looking at Aravi.

"You know, my mentor, Ma'Dat, his tail and ears did the same thing when I scared him as a child." She laughed, her brown eyes twinkling.

[King Coin]

Aravi shook her head and forced herself to relax. She was only partially successful, she still felt energy coursing through her limbs. Her reaction didn’t go unnoticed. “Some Khajiit learn to control it better. Your mentor and I have not,” she said in reply to Kayla.

She turned back to Abiene. "Would you be willing to meet me sometime before you leave tomorrow? I would like to discuss something with you."

[Grits]

Abiene tore her eyes away from the enormous suit of armor in the doorway.

“Of course,” she murmured to Aravi. “I rise early, so check my room when you wake. I won’t leave the inn until we have a chance to speak.” She glanced over at the dark Khajiit in the shadows. He remained leaning against the wall, expression inscrutable. Abiene did not have the sense of danger shared by these warrior women, but Jerric had impressed upon her that she should always have a plan. If that Khajiit made a move toward any guest, she would simply disappear.

“It seems to have stopped raining,” she said, sounding inane to herself. She took a sip of wine.

Abiene couldn’t help glancing back at the Dunmer with the cloudy eyes. She seemed to have no vision, yet somehow she could see. Her healer’s curiosity needled her, but there was no polite way to bring up the subject.

Divines, she suddenly thought. Did Kayla just ask me something? She cast a glare into her goblet. Has Auguste been refilling my wine?

[Grits]

Hethilion

Hethilion stowed his mop and moved toward the bar. “Very good, m’lord,” he said over his shoulder to the wolf-armored man. “A room and a bottle of Surilie Brothers red.” Bograk and Auguste heard and quickly filled the order. Hethilion turned back to their latest guest. “Will you take your wine in your chamber? Shall I send up a meal? Would you care for a bath?” And good luck with the women, he thought to himself.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla raised her brows as Abiene ignored her question. In fact, she ignored her completely, looking into her glass. Kayla shrugged and sighed.

'Women.'

She turned her attention back to the bard who hadn't seemed to take notice of her. She was used to it. Her scars often set men away from her. Especially the long claw marks left by a werewolf on her breasts. She inwardly shrugged. The ones on her face seemed to intimidate men and women alike. She touched the scar extending from the top of her lip down to her chin absently.

[Darkness Eternal]

Vera sat there as the Orc counted and piled the coins and gestured for the High Elf to make a bath for her. He was still mopping the front when an armored fellow walked in with a heavy thud of his boots.

He was physically imposing, and his spiked shield and sheathed sword were intimidating when held casually. She couldn't imagine what they would do to someone in combat . . .or perhaps she could. She'd seen that shield bash a criminal in the side of the head once, and that sword cleave an outlaw almost in two.

He spoke in a deep, gruff voice and made a specific order for wine, a plate of food, a bed and a woman. Vera turned away from him, picked up the satchel and the key given to her. "I'll have two bottles of Cyrodiilic Brandy." She said without looking directly at the Orsimer.

Vera was heading toward the Altmer housekeeper so that he could lead the way to her room when she caught a whiff of something. A scent that was familiar to her, but faint and distant all the same. She recognized it. In the room there was a wolfen taint of the blood that called other Lycanthropes to others. It did not come from the man who entered, his was too strong. And she knew the scent well. No, this was another.

She disguised her sniffing as if she was catching a cold from the rain, and averted her eyes to the female Khajiit who introduced herself as Aravi. The smell, though faint, came directly from her.

There was confusion in Vera's expression, and she quickly controlled her face when realizing she stood there for too long. She headed toward the stairs to wait for the High Elf. Her hair still dripping wet from the rain, falling over the once-dry floor she stood over. This should surely bring the High Elf to her service soon enough.

As she stood there, she shot a glance at the tall man who entered and watched as he removed his wolfish helmet. The man's true face was worn, but strappingly so. It was full of soot and mud, but not enough to conceal his tanned skin. A short beard and scruffy mustache covered his face. Disorderly black hair fell to his broad shoulders, shielded by dark plates. His eyes were bright with a feverish fire, and his face marred with fresh scars and cuts.

He held his helmet below his arm, and his shield in his other hand. His bad remained by his foot.

“Will you take your wine in your chamber? Shall I send up a meal? Would you care for a bath?”

The only room this man needs to be is in my room, Vera thought. And I've already paid for the damn bath . . .

"I'll take the wine now," the man said in a commanding voice. "I'll eat the meal here."

Vera climbed the steps, and left the man downstairs. It has been awhile since he's been in the company of so many women.

Lucky for the women . . . Vera murmured to herself in her mind. Considering how many he's put in the dirt in his life and beyond, though some uninentionally. It didn't matter though. Knowing him, there won't be bloodshed this night. Not after what happened days ago. If anything, they wisest choice would be shying away from violence. Especially with a Legion guard in the tavern. She wasn't exactly an unwanted woman, and the armored man was also being sought after in other regions of Cyrodiil.

Vera climbed the stairs further, and up into the halls.

This post has been edited by Darkness Eternal: May 20 2013, 12:16 AM

[King Coin]

“Thank you,” Aravi murmured to Abiene. Aravi appreciated her discretion and she felt relieved that she might finally have a cure.

She looked beside her and saw the Imperial woman had left. She turned her head and saw the woman’s back heading up the stairs.

Aravi looked back at Kayla, and saw her absently touching one of the many scars on her face. She didn’t get those scars living a peaceful life. Aravi couldn’t help but touch the one on her cheek briefly. The contrast of the fur and scar tissue always felt interesting to her. She put her hand down quickly.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is it that you and Ma’Dat do?”

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla almost didn't hear Arabi's question.

"Oh, what do we do? Vampire hunters. We''re sworn to the service of Meridia. He picked me up with the rest of the cult when my town was-" she stopped and cleared her throat.

"That is, he's a father figure to me after my own passed away. Left by my Altmer parents to be raised by Nords to be raised the rest of the way by Ma'Dat. It's actually S'Dat now, but to me, he's Ma'Dat." She gave Aravi a half grin. "I even got a fresh wound defeating a vampire right before I stepped into this inn. Little one." She pointed to the gash on her cheek that had finally clotted. "What about you, Aravi?"

[Darkness Eternal]

Lycus Desselius mentally thanked the tavern’s patrons for staying up this night. He needed a place to rest, and the rain wasn’t exactly good for his armor and quiver of arrows. As he entered further he was greeted by a rush of hot air. He basked in the sudden warmth as he looked about his surroundings with an inspective and intense focus. The interior of the tavern was luxurious. The patrons sat on wooden chairs and stools in front of the bar. Candles and lanterns glowed atop the tables, while a lamp glowed from the ceiling. Sawdust covered the floor. Old barrels were stacked in the corners. A High Elf bard played a soothing tune with his lute, the group of women talked amongst themselves at the bar, and others were on their way to prepare his order.

Lycus headed toward the bar, shield and helmet in hand, stepping with a measured pace that failed to hide the loud clanking of his metal boots. There were open seats left, and he took one to the far side of the room near an armored figure. Quite truthfully he wasn’t in the mood to speak too much, but he was given no choice. He was hungry, and he didn’t want to cast suspicion to him by hiding as a craven criminal.

He set down his shield and set his helmet on the bar just below his face. He removed a sack of coin and set it on the table as well. A man came and gave him a bill, and Lycus murmured his order to the bartender.

“Grilled ham and mushrooms, and extra potatoes.”

He leaned back and looked around him, slightly frowning. His frown grew only deeper when he saw that he was seated next to a white-eyed Dunmer woman. Lycus remembered living in the Dunmer lands for three and a half years as a slave to the cruel dark elves. He recalled the vivid memories of wandering the lifeless wastes of Vvardenfel. Most of the areas he's been to were nothing but dirt and rock. It was an ugly, ravaged terrain: by all rights it should have been without life. And yet the lands teemed with desperate creatures and people scratching and clawing to carve out a meaningful existence for themselves. And though Lycus despised his life as a slave, he learned to accept it. His brutal childhood in Cyrodiil and savage upbringing in the ebony mines and saltrice plantations in Morrowind made him fight to survive had helped forge his desire for victory. Molded him from a slave who had nothing into a warrior.

But while the land and his brutal masters helped give him an advantage in life, the crimes and atrocities of the Dunmer could not go unpunished. Blood demanded blood. Those were the days were the oppressed took it upon themselves to become the oppressors. Where greed, vengeance and bloodlust triumphed over sympathy.

Those days, however, are long past, but the scars yet linger within the wounded. And Lycus was seated next to one of the Dunmer, a race who were one of his greatest problems time and time again. There were ashlanders, and native Dunmer and provincials. He could not tell who the woman beside him was, but couldn’t help but be darkly curious about it. He'd heard of the atrocities the Argonians commited against the Telvanni before the land itself was destroyed in due payment. While there were few Dunmers in the world, he knew some might belong to the Great Houses. And such, retribution would have to be swift.

“A long way from Ruhn(home), is it not?” Lycus said in an almost fluent Dunmeri. “Julan bal isra gah foyada. Va at mer kogo. Oegnithr, ven asta mora. Bete goris, nagrai ae anyai."(The land where ones rows life in the great fire river. The land where people are unbreakable. Bad change, coming to this forest. Strange creatures, dead and alive.”

[King Coin]

Aravi looked at the fresh cut. “A vampire near the inn?” she kept her voice down, she didn’t want other patrons overhearing, and deciding that they should leave. If there were vampires about, they would be safer here until morning arrived. “I’m a member of a relatively new organization in Skyrim. They call themselves the Dawnguard. Before that I worked with a small group based in the Imperial City. I’m a vampire hunter as well.” She looked at the gash again on Kayla’s face again. “Do you need a cure disease potion?”

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla followed Aravi's lead and kept her voice low. She adjusted herself on the bar to where she was still leaning on the bar, but also leaning towards Aravi. Her eyes glittered with interest.

"Dawnguard, huh?" She bit her lower lip in thought. "I've heard that name before. Never joined, as I've got...well, just Ma'Dat now, but we used to have about thirty of us in the cult before old age and, well, job hazards claimed them." She straightened up and casually looked around the room, pretending to comb some tangles from her hair as she leaned towards Aravi.

"I've got plenty of potions. I make my own. I've even learned to make a poison strong enough to paralyze a vampire. Comes in handy when you're lopping off their head." She let out a bark of laughter. "They're less grabby when they're on the ground. Thanks, though." She gave Aravi a genuine smile.

[Saquira]

When her meal arrived a while later, Fedura smiled and thanked the woman who'd set it down before her. A sip of the wine immediately sent warmth through her body, and she was just about to take her first bite of mutton when the door opened again and the heavy noise of metal armor reached her ears. Turning slightly in her seat, she quickly evaluated the newcomer, a man wearing steel armor and a helmet shaped like a dogs' head. He was a warrior, that much she could see at first glance, but whether he was a possible threat or not was another matter entirely.

She turned back to the bar, having only looked long enough to know the appearance of the one who entered, and continued to eat her meal. Savoring the well-cooked meal, she was surprised when a shield, the dog-shaped helmet and a sack of coin was set down on the counter next to her. When the man, after sitting next to her for a short while, addressed her in Dunmeri, Fedura was hard pressed not to gape at the man. Having barely heard the language for the last two centuries, she was silent for a moment as she tried to remember exactly what it meant, and how to answer him.

“That depends on where home is, and I have none at present,” she said in Dunmeri as she turned her head towards the man, seeing that he was an Imperial with black hair and beard, and many scars on his face. Her language was far from fluent, but she could salvage enough from her memory so as to get on pretty well in a conversation. “I have been so long away from Morrowind that I barely remember it. Meeting someone who speaks Dunmeri is rare, and you speak it much better than I. If I may ask, how did you come to learn the language?” she asked finally, and continued eating as she waited for him to answer.

[Grits]

Abiene stared at Kayla, astonished again. A poison that can paralyze vampires? She must be an alchemist of tremendous skill!

She waited for a pause in the conversation. “Do you suppose the one you killed was alone? I mean, this inn is possibly the safest place in Tamriel tonight with all of you warriors, but I fear for the farmers of Weynon Priory.”

Abiene twisted her fingers in her lap. The cut on Kayla’s face was bothering her. Some wear their scars as badges of honor, she reminded herself. And some have good reason to avoid a healer’s touch.