The Wobbly Goblet Playground Options

[Elisabeth Hollow]

"You'd be right." She got on her hands and knees and helped him clean up. "I was born and raised in Cyrodiil. Chorrol is the closest I've ever been to Hammerfell. Seven generations my family has lived here. My sister, Ionna, went to the Arcane University, just like my mother. I followed in their footsteps. They're not very happy at my area of skill, but it is what it is."

(Edited to fix mistakes and add a smidgen of detail)

This post has been edited by Elisabeth Hollow: Feb 23 2014, 07:00 PM

[King Coin]

Aravi pushed the door open to the now familiar inn. She could have pressed on a little longer and made it to Chorrol, but why not stay here for a bit? Her limbs were tired from the road and her belly empty. She wasn’t in any hurry anyways.

The hot baths may have crossed her minds as well. Grime from the road accumulated after her hard wash in the springs.

Inside, she was prepared to see the gleaming bar, the Khajiit bouncer in the corner quietly watching, and a smattering of patrons scattered in small groups.

She wasn’t prepared to see Lycus and a Redguard woman standing amidst a mess of food on the floor.

Lycus towered over both of them.

“What happened here?” she asked either of them.

[Darkness Eternal]

Lycus didn't look surprised, though he was. The girl might have been in her early twenties by the looks of it and yet she hasn't so much as touched her the lands her people were native of. It was common, more so when he was in slavery than he was a free man.

A redguard mage was not common. Their people valued might and arms and honor. Magic and such had no place in their culture but that did not stop a selected few to stray from their people's customs in pursuit of their own agendas and livelihoods.

"Many will not support what you are and what you do for a living," Lycus told her as he rose up at last, and set the plates on the counter. "All you can do is focus on yourself, and forget about the others that can anchor you. The world is bad enough as it is. You don't need others forcing their bile on you."

It was then that a familiar face had came in, asking what had happened. Lycus appraised the newcomer to the unfortunate event. It was Aravi.

The khajiit woman was dirty and much of the grime from the roads had gathered in her fur. He could smell it a mile off. But while he wasn't displeased to see her, he did expect to see another individual who shared his blood.

Vera.

Aravi came back alive, and alone. No sign of Kayla, no sign of that Breton mage and no sign of his woman. Lycus didn't draw too many conclusions from her absence, but he did fear that the worst was possible. As gifted in killing and a talented huntress, she wasn't immortal. And neither was he.

He knows was death felt like. He didn't think it would happen to Vera anytime soon. But he had to know for sure. He was confident that neither of them would face fate quietly in a death bed.

We've killed too many to be granted a peaceful, painless death.

"Accident," he said abruptly, and then turned fully to face Aravi, bit of concern written in his expression. "You've returned, alive and well. But my woman, what has become of her?"

[King Coin]

Aravi looked confused. “She isn’t here? We separated for the return trip and she started back much earlier than I.”

[Darkness Eternal]

Lycus devoted most of his attention to Aravi. The Redguard woman took a little too long to reply to his answer. She must have been still gawking at his size and frightening looks. He did expect Aravi to explain a little bit more on the subject, in longer words. But she was mum.

The Imperial looked visibly bothered by his woman's absence that his brow had folded and his jaws had tensed up a bit. He made a sound of consideration as he pondered on the reason why Vera hadn't shown yet when she left before Aravi did.

Lycus set his gaze down on Aravi. "I would like you to explain what happened in your journey."

He wasn't asking for specifics, but he wanted to know details on what occurred when they were out there. He could assume they were all alive. Aravi wasn't in mourning nor did she look distraught saves for the exhaustion and grime painted in her face.

Did Vera really return?

While he felt the suspicions creeping in, he knew he shouldn't have Aravi as a suspect. But yet couldn't trust anyone. Vera wasn't the kindest person in the world, and she was brutally truthful when she had to be. That never sat too well with anyone. Hells, her condition never sat well with anything either.

"Come," Lycus said, gesturing for her to follow him upstairs.

[King Coin]

Aravi frowned, and followed Lycus up the stairs.

She could sense tension from him. She decided to offer more of an explanation as they walked.

“Kayla and I went to Winterhold, the bard went off on her own. Darnand and Vera went immediately back to Cyrodiil. Everyone made it through the cave,” she hesitated. She almost said fine, but Kayla did almost die…

“Well, everyone made it.”

[Darkness Eternal]

Lycus climbed the stairs up to the corridor and then followed it to his own room. He stopped, and then opened the door and admitted Aravi inside as she explained what happened.

Within the room Vera's daggers and weapons left behind were kept in a secluded corner. Lycus' obsidian-colored armor of steel was sitting beside a dresser along with the greaves, boots and gauntlets. The snarling wolf helmet was there, as well, polished to shining.

The lycanthropic Imperial scratched his thick black beard as Aravi finished telling the story. Part of it, anyway.

They parted ways. The mage and Vera came together while her and the high elf woman went further north in Skyrim. When she spoke at the end, however, there was just the slightest hesitation in her voice. This prompted him to investigate further.

"Please," Lycus gestured toward the chair. "Take a seat. I'm sure whatever you need done can wait."

"I will be honest," Lycus said after a moment of thinking. "It is dangerous when one werewolf is in the company of men. More so when two werewolves are locked in combat with a group of non-lycanthropes."

He made no secret here to tell Aravi that he knew. He's always known since he first saw her. He didn't know if she was aware of his own condition or not, but he would soon find out. Whether by his words or by Vera's actions who's details are unknown to him.

"I know my wife well. She is a solitary woman. She hides her intentions and knows how to conceal what she is. This isn't something I like to admit, but I know she has fallen from her comfort zone when she agreed to leave with you and your . . ." he had to find the right words for this. "Friends . . . I suspect she may have been holding back on what she could do, and she was never a woman to temper her emotions much when they're swirling within her like clouds of flame. I want to know: has Vera jeopardized her secret?"

[King Coin]

Lycus brought her into his room and offered her a seat. She sat, her aches and pains from travel not forgotten but ignored.

She would be first to admit that she didn’t like Vera, but she was concerned that she never returned. She should have been here long before I.

Lycus reminded her of Red Mountain. Huge and calm at the moment, but capable of exploding into violence that would destroy this very inn and everyone in it. She was much more capable now than when they first met, but she was sure he was as well.

Aravi fought because she didn’t want to be under anyone’s power again. Lycus fought for that and more. He took to the warrior culture more than she did. He enjoys doing battle.

She admitted there was an inexplicable rush that was like nothing else.

He spoke, and Aravi listened. She couldn’t help but blink when he revealed he knew what she was. Why should that surprise me? Vera knew.

When he was done speaking, she remained silent a moment. Here we go…

“Her secret was revealed. Both of us were revealed. It was that or death.”

[Darkness Eternal]

Aravi spoke the words Lycus suspected would come but wish they didn't. Things went from bad to worse.

Lycus folded his lengthy arms across his broad chest and shifted uncomfortably in the position. His eyes stared into nothing in particular as he analyzed and studied the situation, forming possibilities of what might've happened in the moments Vera and the group were gone from the Wobbly Goblet.

Vera would never voluntarily skin-shift unless there was an absolute necessity to do so. Same as him. He recalled one time where he was poisoned with an arrow coated with Wolfsbane extract and the juice of ripened belladonna berries. Trapped in the form of a man, he had no choice but to shift to wolf to acquire the supernatural healing from the blood and flesh of his enemies. It was a necessity.

How strange- and perhaps fortunate- that everyone made it out alive. He's seen the aftermath of Vera's carnage when she turns. Sometimes, only bones remain . . .

Either they were lucky and intelligent to find a way to flee or the gods must have a tremendous sense of humor.

In any case, death was almost certain in many situations. "Hmm, you may have chosen death regardless," Lycus said with a heavy emphasis on the word may. "It is as I've feared. I have been exposed by Abiene. She saved my life here in the Inn. And in exchange for her good deed, I promised I shall not take her life in knowing the secret of what I am." He looked out the window. "I do not know much of your friends, and I have been wrong before in judgment but I hope that they aren't as fickle-minded and trapped by the outdated mores as the rest of society who wish to mount our heads on walls and use our coats for warmth and pelts as trophies."

He walked over to the door. "Though you've become a strong woman since the time I remembered you, I can see you are fatigued by your travels, Aravi. I do not wish to burden your conscious with worry. We wolves are not meant to be paranoid, but simply cautious and aware. Keep your eyes open, and on the prey, not the horizon. Get some rest. I would speak to you at another time."

With that, Lycus bade her a farewell with a gratuitous half-smile.

[King Coin]

Aravi saw that her news was less than welcome. Obviously it would be. Everyone would have been happier if it had never happened.

His next words made her think that the bloodshed may not be over. She narrowed her eyes and her ears shifted back in the slightest.

He walked her to the door and bade her farewell. Before leaving she said, “I do not know why Vera has not yet returned. I can assure you it has nothing to do with my friends. You will not harm them.”

[Darkness Eternal]

Before Aravi left his quarters, her last words to him was a bit of a mystery. Lycus implied it as a subtle threat. The kitten has gone bold . . . a bit too bold. He had no reason to harm her friends. They weren't his enemies. But if they gave him or his woman any threats or if they were a danger to his survival and Vera's, he would have to do the worst imaginable.

Simple.

He hoped, deep down, it wouldn't come to that.

Nevertheless he was grateful for Aravi coming to him and telling him what had happened. It meant he could count on her for something. Still, he did feel her loyalty was to her friends and not so much herself. To what she is.

But that is her burden alone.

The big Imperial closed the door as she left and walked to the window to gaze out into the world of white beyond the Wobbly Goblet Inn. The landscape was covered in snow and the green trees were blanketed with white.

[King Coin]

Despite how tired she was, she was now on edge. Did Lycus think her friends were involved in Vera’s disappearance? If he did, they would be in grave danger. And she wouldn’t let him harm them.

She blew air out of her mouth.

I would try.

She arrived at the foot of the stairs and looked around the tavern. Simpler problems came to mind. Food or bed?

This post has been edited by King Coin: Mar 9 2014, 06:51 AM

[Darkness Eternal]

Vera Castius trekked through the thick snowy terrain, leaving her footprints dotting the path. Her body was covered from her head to her toe yet she couldn't feel any warmth despite walking in her heavy ebony gear.

The trip from Skyrim to Cyrodiil during winter was a long, arduous trip but still worth it and productive. A few coins richer was never something to complain about. At least not for me, Vera thought.

Lycus, on the other hand, wasn't enamored with the idea of living off gold as she was. The land offered sustenance. Currency was something invented by men and used throughout civilization. It didn't surprise her a man like him who has actually met the first hunters in history in Oblivion, and who has hunted with them as a pack throughout the Hunting Grounds, would set aside shape and societies' advancement in exchange for a time similar to that of the Dawn Era. A time before recorded history.

It wouldn't be long before he made her make a decision on how to live. To raise their child in the forests of Valenwood or Skyrim. Or even Cyrodiil where the majority of her family lived in through the centuries. Her son or daughter would be a Castius after all.

Hells, he'd even go as far as to try and raise our offspring in Hircine's Hunting Grounds.

Vera sighed.

A baby was long overdue. She's not getting any younger.

She walked through the snow, and into the Wobbly Goblet. She didn't know who she would find here but she deeply hoped she wouldn't see Aravi or any of the members of the group. It wouldn't feel right being around regular people knowing exactly what she can turn into. The prejudice and fanatical crusades against her kind had made her extremely distrustful.

Vera went through the door, walked past the patrons, and hurried up the stairs.

I hope my husband is here.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Ushak gra-shub walked.

She walked through the early morning and grumbled to herself.

She trekked over hills, dipping high and low, ignoring the beauty of the snow and ignoring the warmth her armor provided her and complained silently to herself The path was too gravely, the sun too hot, her armor too heavy. She sorely needed a bath and someone to warm her bed. She laughed at the thought.

You couldn't get Sanguine himself to warm your bed. She thought bitterly. She didn't see anything wrong with her appearance. Her tusks were short and out of the way, her body was strong and lean. BUt for Orcs, her face was too soft and human-like, and for man and other mer, too Orc-like.

She wasn't concerned about it at the moment. She had plenty of experience warming her own bed.

She passed the Priory, waving to the monks that lived there. She asked if they needed any assistance with anything, as her savings wasn't running dry, but it was lower than she would like it to be. They shook their heads and pointed her to the inn up ahead, and she kept moving. She walked in, nodding to the barman and ordering food while a tall Altmer got her room and bath ready.

She couldn't wait to get her armor off. She sat at the table and drank her water.

[Darkness Eternal]

Lycus argued with his woman. No blows were exchanged save for the insults. Insane she-wolf, he says. Hypocritical bastard, she barks. The room is nothing but a prison where two inmates bicker.

It doesn't bother him. She'll be kissing his feet, and him showering her with love later on.

But as of right now, he needed to clear his mind. Meditation wouldn't do. Nor would cooking.

Hunting is the only true pastime to hunter.

Lycus stormed from the room. Vera did not bother asking where he was going. This happened occasionally.

Out of the inn and into the open, Lycus was in a black mood, and not just because he dropped his plate full of food. His marriage was in agony. The two were at odds, and a few others seemed to know it. Their argument was loud, but the most precious of secrets kept under harsh whispers. When Lycus passed the stable, he’d heard two young newcomers sniggering behind his back. He could almost imagine that the horses were sniggering, too.

Lycus took nothing with him but heavy layers of fur coats to cover his body, and boots for his feet. A bow was slung over his back to join his quiver of steel arrows. He prayed to the Huntsman that tonight would be favorable. When a lad, hunting during Evening Star was more challenging than other seasons. The streams in the Great Forest were small and icy, and the game scarcer. Long ago, Lycus hunted and fished when he could, but it was harder, and some nights even in his true form he found no suitable prey. At times he went to sleep with an empty belly.

Traveling the area, Lycus was determined to stay well away from roads. Where one find roads, one finds travelers, and travelers have eyes to see and mouths to spread word of a tall Imperial with a wolfish grin and fur growing out of his ears. That, and traveling highwaymen stubbornly eager to make some coin. Lycus wanted to avoid them like a plague.

Highwaymen learned to group up. And in a unit, they're more dangerous. Lycus had just a bow and his arrows. It wasn't enough. Using his bare hands would inspire the beast to unleash itself. He simply couldn't have that. He was already angry. Any spark would set everything to flame.

Perhaps the wilderness could keep him calmer. People had the tendency to do the opposite.

Moonlight painted the wet forest in shades of silver and turned the grey peaks white. Owls hooted through the dark and flew silently between the oaks, while a fox scampered about to hide away in its den. Lycus closed his eyes and attuned himself to the forest.

Waiting. Listening.

[Darkness Eternal]

Lycus couldn't control it. His mind gave in. His emotions raw and unrestrained, everything else was lost in the throes of the shift.

The Imperial dropped the two rabbits in his hand and fell to his knees with his hand reaching to his chest.
Everything went wild. The effect was instantaneous.

His copper skin changed color, turning a light shade of gray. His unruly scalp birthed a mane of silver fur that sprouted from his head and shoulders, and then all across his body and limbs, which themselves grew much larger in the space of a painful heartbeat. His blood-splattered fur coat and breeches came apart at the seams as he assumed the proportions of an enormous canine. His fist curled into monstrous hands. Clawed feet replaced his human ones, and a tale grew from his backside.

The effects of the transformation pulled on his flesh and bone, so that it flowed like a wild tide. His very skull underwent a grotesque metamorphosis. A canine muzzle protruded from his face. His brow sloped backward over fierce yellow eyes. Tufted ears tapered to a point. Flattened nostrils flared above a maw full of sharp incisors. He was tall and ferocious and beyond belief. Like the giant beasts of ancient Nordic myth. The beast exulted in his newfound power. An overwhelming sense of exhilaration accompanied his transformation. He flexed his great limbs, feeling the inhuman strength and vitality in them.

Feeling so free.

Or so deadly.

There were always things to see and things to smell, and an entire wilderness to hunt. And he could run! There was nothing better than running, unless it was running on the heels of prey.

The seven-foot tall lycanthrope shook the cloth from his hide, and explored the wilderness in search for prey. Sliding in and amongst oaks and trees in search for food, he startled four white-tailed deer and sent them bounding away through the forest. The beast saw the flash of motion and was after them at an instant, falling to all four to gain speed. He panted, with jaws slavering, practically tasting the meal to come already.

The deer leapt and spread, and the wolf chased a single one target into the open road and across it. The snowy terrain was no tough ground. He was able to traverse it with ease with his powerful legs.

The omnivorous mammal ran, but not too fast. The beast gained speed, and tackled it with brute force. He aimed for the throat while his claws raked the deer to open the belly where the meat would be found right beside the spine. The beast dug its head deep inside the open stomach, swallowing the contents within until he was able to reach it. He ate over a hundred pounds of flesh, and still wasn't sated.

He raised his blood-stained muzzle to the air and sniffed it. The wind carried a scent.

He followed it, but not before stopping to pick at the berries growing in a bush.

The werewolf explored the country-side looking for food and came upon a enclosure of sorts. A flock of sheep and cow were huddled inside a wooden lair. To the werewolf, it was just a matter of getting there.

With careful eyes that searched for a weakness, the massive beast took the front path and invaded the front door, crashing through. The sheep huddled together, bleating loudly. The werewolf's jaws bared a row of long, sharp fangs, and his lips pulled back into what could be considered a smile. The sheep had nowhere to go.

It attacked.

****

Vera approached the counter with a bag of coins in her hand, courtesy of Aravi. It was too cold to hunt outside, and she'd rather rest her body after that trip. Though able to travel great distances, she preferred to spend the some of her coin on food. She remembered when she had lost her home all those years ago. It felt like it happened in a span of a few years rather than many. Thirst; hunger; despair. They were her constant companions, with her every hour of every day, and in time she had come to think of them as her allies. They motivated her to hunt. Now she had the luxury to buy food when the mood didn't strike.

She admitted being side-tracked before returning to the Goblet, but she sincerely thought Lycus would understand. And so wolfman and she-wolf bit at each other's throats. Mostly about [censored] that wasn't necessary.

He's sleeping in the snow tonight for being stubborn.

She made a large order of food to the Orsimer woman at the front, and sat and waited. As she did she saw another Orc sitting just beside her with heavy armor. Vera glanced at her direction twice. Once to sum up her size, and the other to capture her face.

Two things were certain: she was too pale for an Orc. too soft-skinned, it would seem. Then again, she was big enough to crush a woman not able in battle.

Vera's peripheral vision saw a mace at her side. Orcs . . . they do have a love for blunt weaponry. Maybe because it matched their personality?

Orcs were hardened warriors, and more disciplined than other cultures in some ways; no doubt under the guidance and protection of a higher power. Much like her and Lycus and other packs of men-beast.

Aside from her looks, Vera also took notice of the amulet around her neck. Every little boy, girl, hatchling or cub in the Empire learned about Mara and the faith of the Nine Divines. Most of them, anyway.

Vera was no stranger in growing up in a household that valued the Nine, long before tragedy struck. She recognized that those who wore the amulet either served Mara faithfully, or were looking to be betrothed.

For some reason the woman didn't strike her as too religious.

Pity a human man who marries an Orc, Vera thought the words Lycus told her once. Poor bastards can't handle such a woman. She recalled a tale her husband said of a Redguard lad who shared his heart with an older Orc woman from Orsinium. They didn't last two weeks before she ate his horse and nearly bashed his skull in with a club for him eating too much. Vera knew better; it was probably that time of month again.

No matter how savage Orcs were to people, Vera had to admire their fortitude. No matter how many times their lands were sacked and pillaged, they came stronger and tougher than before. If they behave like beasts, it's because half the humans in Tamriel talk to them like they're big dumb beasts.

Vera had a different mind. As a wise hunter once said: Not every beast is a brute. Even a large monster can outsmart a man.

As Vera anticipated the arrival of her food, she saw the green woman take a sip of her water. Not too fulfilling in a time like this, Vera mused.

"You should try the Spiced Honey Boar or the Hunter`s Stew," Vera said to the woman, turning only gently in her chair. "They make the meat just the way you'd want it."

This post has been edited by Darkness Eternal: Apr 8 2014, 10:57 PM

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Ushak idly sipped her water, still contemplating her meal choice. She had caught a glimpse of the woman behind the mouth-watering smell; a Nord, no less, and that was good enough for her to trust the food would be filling, if not too salty or bland. It was hard to tell which was which.

She heard someone speaking next to her, the woman who had come in earlier. Ushak didn't feel like socializing, nor did she feel up to being around too many people. But once the night came, once she had had her rest, she'd outdrink all of them.

She took off her helmet, her thick black locks spilling over her shoulders. She slid her fingers though her hair and blinked her pale blue eyes at the blonde woman. She was vaguely aware that there was a chance her hair was sticking up in odd places, but still mostly shaped as her helmet on the top. She sorely needed a bath.

"Do they?" She said in a slightly amused tone without turning towards the woman. "It was my understanding that most inns do, unless you're closer to the border of Skyrim. Then you get what you get."

She realized her words might have sounded sarcastic, but she wasn't in the mood to feel any remorse to possibly hurting someone's feelings. She was hungry, tired, and dirty. Back home, she'd be re-reading one of her favorite tomes or opening a new classic without her father's knowledge. Though not fond of magick himself, Urab gro-Shub valued knowledge and history. He'd entertain himself and her with stories of ancient monsters, magickal tales, and the history of anything you could think of.

But he wasn't a soft man. He was, after all, an Orc. He expected her to know the basics of weaponry, and the history of their people, though what he knew had been passed by word of mouth and dusty tomes. News traveled slowly in Skyrim, and most of all, in Winterhold.

In the end, it was he who encouraged her to make her own niche in history. "I know my place in history," he had said to her in his rough, low voice. "Go find your place. It's not here, behind these walls with dusty books. You have three days to prepare."

Without the rules of a Stronghold to tie her down, Ushak did just that. Though unskilled with a weapon himself, he knew many books to give her to teach her what she needed to learn. But it was all technicality and to experience at first. She had the knowledge, she just needed the practice.

Venturing through Skyrim to Cyrodiil have given her just that. The armor that had weighed her down like the world was on her shoulders made those same shoulders strong. Her mace was like an extension of her arm, and her shield had many dents that saved her life.

She finally turned to the woman.

"Ushak gra-Shub." She said simply.

This post has been edited by Elisabeth Hollow: Apr 9 2014, 01:10 AM

[Darkness Eternal]

Vera scratched the wood of the counter with her long nail, carving into it out of habit as the Orc woman replied. Her lips curled at the Orsimer's words, though it wasn't due to the tonality of her voice or the way she spoke.

"You haven't been to many inn's here if you believe that," Vera responded. "They don't serve food the way they use to. You'll have better service down by Anvil or in Skingrad."

It was true. She's been to plenty of inns, and the Goblet was the best so far in quality of service. Vera thought back on a day her and Lycus spent two days at an inn a few miles south. The barmaid was a terrible, envious and disrespecting wench that secretly soiled her food. She wench was a wanted woman, and she became a barmaid to hide herself and perhaps start anew after attempted murder and unfaithfulness to her lover. Unbeknown to her, Vera and Lycus had been watching her for quite some time. It made hunting her through the thick of the Great Forest enjoyable, quite sporting. They had bows, she had nothing but a dress.

The Orc that introduced herself as Ushak gra-Shub removed her helmet to show her black hair that tumbled to her shoulders. Vera wondered why she looked different than the average Orc, and then saw that her eyes were a clear blue. It made Vera wonder of the woman's parentage.

She looked like a traveler. Most Orcs were one way or another a warrior or an adventurer, taking refuge in their strongholds across certain lands. Their culture was brutal, tough and unforgiving. She's met many of them and fought very few of them. What is said about their martial prowess is true. They're fearsome combatants when giving into their berserker rage. Ushak looked young, but was she competent with that mace?

Vera's food arrived, and she removed her hand from the making her markings on the counter. When Ushak looked at her, Vera returned a glance. "Luka," Vera said, giving her nickname.

She shifted in her seat with her tight-laced leather pants and shirt of roughspun brown wool. Her arms extended beside her plate, she looked down at it so the smoke could lift to her nose. It was good.

And what was Lycus doing at a moment like this? Eating snow.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

"Perhaps the inns serve the food the way I want because they believe I'll rip their leg off and kick their own rears with them." Ushak chuckled. "Perhaps I might use that threat again one day." Her helmet thunked on the wooden bar stool as she set it down. Her legs ached, begging for hot water, and she itched in places she couldn't mention aloud.

She didn't find herself particularly fearsome, but she noticed people flinched easier here. In Skyrim, some thick-headed Nords would sooner bow up to her rather than slink away, like most people do here. Luka did not, she saw. That was a welcome change.

"Luka," Ushak repeated after the woman, putting it to memory, though it didn't matter. The woman's face would soon blend with others, and join the other hundreds of faces she had seen through her travels. As the woman savored the tantalizing aroma the was lifted to her nose, Ushak 's stomach growled. She turned to the barman.

"Spiced Honey Boar, well done, three rolls, mead, mashed potatoes on the side." She set the appropriate amount of septims on the bar, and the man took it without so much as a sigh and disappeared in the back. Ushak turned to the woman named Luka, her expression neutral.

"Where can I find a minotaur?"

The question wasn't phrased with an inflection, she realized, but as a statement.

"Forgive my bluntness. My father is a scholar in the College of Winterhold, and I'd like to bring him back a souvenir when I return. There are no minotaur in Skyrim."

A large cup was slid in front of her, and Ushak saw it was her mead. She took a swig and set it down, wiping her mouth.

"Better than the horse piss they serve in Winterhold," she mumbled before taking another drink.

[Darkness Eternal]

Lycus.

The beast tugs at the flesh of the dead sheep, eating his fill with zeal. The throat and chest had been torn apart, and glistening innards and ribbons of ragged flesh dangled from where the belly had been opened. One leg had been ripped right off the socket; The werewolf bit at the bones, gnawed and cracked, picked clean of meat.

He ate everything undisturbed . . . until.

"What in Oblivion is making the sheep go wild?" a voice said.

"Shut it," another one said. A female one. "Bears be at it again, methinks."

"Could be Lucellius' boy again. Lil' bastard never learns."

"Whatever it is, we're dealing with it."

The wolf saw them from the distance coming his direction. He can smell the neglect and sweat from their bodies. It smelled like weakness, like a young or aged deer driven to the fringe of the herd, prime pickings for predators. There was absolutely nothing more savory that the meat of Man and Mer. The wolf knew this.

And he moved forward.

Despite his massive size and full stomach, he maneuvered over the carcasses of the various slain livestock in the barn without making much noise. He crouched low, hidden behind the wall of hay while in shadow. Watching and moistening his lips.

The humans came in with torches, and gasped. The wolf saw the beat of their hearts suddenly take speed, going faster and faster. Even in the cold, they produced perspiration. Unlike some, instead of walking further in to inspect the carnage, they turned upon heel and fled.

The wolf took action immediately, and burst from the barn and into the open. He found his target, and tackled her down.

****

"The advantage of being an Orc," Vera murmured. "Bet you don't even have to say a word to get them to do thing they normally wouldn't do. Perhaps you should."

I have to actually talk, and in most cases, do. But Vera didn't say that. Not everyone who looked at her would be quick to label her as dangerous. In fact, her simple low-class outfit was much like sheep's clothing. Folks would be fast to place her under the good-looking lass with no coin and no future. Big men saw her as something of a fresh picking. She had the lithe body and the toned physique, but that could be due to Nord parentage. Fact of it was that to the untrained eye, she was just another lowly girl that in no way possible had the strength of three grown men.

Vera could easily tell Ushak was treated like most of her people around the Empire. Orcs were the most vilified of the races, and the most hated and spurned. No coincidence here they're called Pariah Folk. Vera could relate somewhat. She knows what it means to be hated and persecuted by the world . . . but then again not all Orcs go around the countryside killing livestock and eating pregnant women.

Vera looked at the woman as casually as she did everyone else. Little things these days scared her. There was no way an Orc would. She knew this is how Ushak felt about her, too. Orcs fear little.

When she mentioned a minotaur, Vera shrugged. "You'll find them in warmer places. They don't tend to stick north, as you know." Vera guessed as much since she mentioned Skyrim. "During Midyear and Sun's Height they'll roam in plenty, usually twenty or more around the Great Forest and in the hills further east down the countryside."

"Right now," Vera said by digging a fork into her food like a shovel. "I'd wager they're in the caverns. With any luck, you'll find them asleep and laying low during winter. You'd fare better during mating season. It drains the males. Makes em' tired and easier to strike down. The rogues that lost the mating challenges are even easier. There's a better time for open season. You've come to Cyrodiil at the wrong time."

Vera justified her knowledge, not revealing that she knew things from her own experience. She thought it better to keep the appearance of a blond-haired peasant woman rather than anything else. The people in the tavern already knew different. "My grandfather told me all about them when I was lass. I know what I know from what he told me."

The woman took a swig of her mead that Vera could smell a mile away, and made a comment about the drink. Vera had a comment of her own, though it was more of a teasing jibe. "I thought horse-meat for Orcs was sufficient. Didn't think horse piss would be an addition."