Disclaimer: I own only the characters who are in this story( or most of them anyway) and the rest is all the property of Bethesda softworks and their badassery
Chapter 1: 17th of Last seed, 420, 4E
It was a chilling night in Sentinel. The wind scattered shards of leaves. Somewhere off in the distance a stay dog howled. The pub, much like the city itself, was rundown and filthy. The sign outside gave it away. In faded blue paint the words "The Tipsy Sload" could be read, which may have been the name in some better days but the wind and time have taken its toll. However, unlike the city outside, the pub was alive.
The man by the fire was playing lute and singing. All the patrons around were either dancing in a half drunk frenzy, holing their flagons up high, if they were able but the older men and little girls about them merely listened with approval. In the back
The bartender, a Redguard woman, wiped down the barfront with a exasperated look on her face, that seemed to be set in stone.
"Ey, Rezlan" a Nord man said red in the face.
" Sing me that one from me home north" The man said as the dregs of his beer caught in his beard and glimmered in the firelight.
Rezlan knew the song well "Ragnar the Red"
Truth be told however, he had no idea where this Whiterun or ole Rorkistead were; he was Redguard through and through. Mother constantly told him he had a little Imperial and Breton blood in him but he didn't care. He was born where the Hammer fell. That's all that matters. That said, patrons had to be pleased and with a hand gliding across the lute's six strings, he began
" There once was a man by the name Ragnar the Red"
He knew the song by rote. He learnt the hard way, some folks don't take kindly to songs being rewritten by a skooma addled youth. The Tankard aimed at his face hurt but Rezlan thought it funny that a bloody tale of decapitation could be just as easily about a brutish orc berzerker being forced to disguise as a busty tavern wench.
" And the once boastful braggart was boastful no morrre,
When his ugly red head rolled around on the flooor"
He nailed the ending. The tavern broke into applause and the Nord man threw a gold septim at his feet. He picked it up and pocketed it as he bowed to the patrons. At the third hour after midnight, when the crowd dispersed and the pub grew quiet, the Bartender laid a small sack of gold on the counter. Rezlan counted it, looked into the woman's dark eyes with a wry smile and said
" This is five septims shy of my usual payment."
The woman's aura of maturity and age melted away like a desert mirage to show a childish demeanor.
Her lips pouted as she said exaggerating a sigh.
" The louts you brought in spilled too much beer; I'm gonna have to cut your pay to cover it. No hard feelings"
Rezlan leaped over the counter and clasped the woman's hand and said " Ah! But you see, that hurts my feelings, and I as Rezlan Ruptga Marcus Claude of house Nawalib will not stand for my pride being tarnished like this. He let go of her hand and gesticulated flamboyantly. " Surely, a fair maid as beautiful as yourself must be honorable enough to understand that you cannot let such transgressions stand and mus-" Rezan didn't get to finish and specify what she must do as recompense. The woman grabbed Rezan by his silk tunic and kissed him. Her breath smelt of beer. It was wet and hungry. She shoved him away a second later. "Happy?" She said as she smiled a mouth full of white straight teeth. " Oh You knew what I wanted, didn't you Im?" Iman turned away and grabbed the broom propped against the drink shelf. She replied " I have know you for a year now Rez and you love three things, singing, skooma and drink." Rezan laughed and said "you forgot you."
" Did I?" Iman said. She swept for a couple of minutes before saying "Father was cruel to leave me with this shop" Iman looked sad Rezlan noted. She always looked that way since her father died. This was shortly after the those thrice damned elves were driven out from Hammerfell. The Old man went to Stros M'Kai without a word and from there to Daggerfall, sending a letter explaining how an old friend called on him. It hurt so bad to see his frostbitten corpse turn up on the shore of the Illiac bay. Iman cried a river than night. It had been a year since then. These sorts of wounds don't heal. Not that it stopped Rezlan from trying. Iman tried to ask the city guards who the perpetrator was but apart from the fact he was a mage, they had no leads. No amount of gold could make them remember. Eventualy, like most things that get lost in the city that hugs the Alik'r desert, everyone forgot the bizarre incident and resumed with their lives. Iman's father was the proud owner of The Tipsy Sload and put little money elsewhere.
A neat pile of dust formed in the corner of the shop. "That should be good enough for now." Iman said a few minutes later.
"You always seem to do that!" Rezlan said as he pointed at the dust pile. He got off the table he perched himself on to get out of Im's way as she swept and said "The reason you don't get many customers is because your bar is filthy." Iman sighed. She had danced this dance before. Rezlan yanked the broom from her grip and swept the floor a second time. In a few minutes, the floor, though was a simple old rough cut stone, seemed to gleam like marble. Rezlan said as his a track of sweat formed on his brow " This will attract customers. People love to be in clean places."
Iman smiled and retorted " I was attracting customers just fine before Rez."
Rezlan smiled back as he strode up to her and said " You can thank me for that later"
He went and retrieved his lute from one of the tables and ran his hands across the strings. He plucked out a simple melody for the mood. Neither Iman nor he spoke, yet neither he nor iman was bored. She wiped a few of the table with a rag. Rezlan smiled to himself, for she seemed to put a little more effort. " Probably doesn't want me to do it after.'
"Iman," Rezlan called out as she finished wiping the last table. "Are you sure you want to leave this place behind?" he knew that was a stupid question. Iman hated this place. The way it looked, the way it smelled, the unsavory nature of the bulk of her patrons...the way it always reminded her of her father. She always told him how she wanted to leave for Cyrodil or Stros M'kai or Daggerfall after selling the pub
She paced up to Rezlan and sat on the bar stool at beside him. " Yeah," she said. Her lack of conviction surprised Rezlan. "I want out of this damn city "
She said, more sure of herself. Rezlan was not surprised there. "Well, for now do your best and soon we'll get out of this city. Besides, I hear Skyrim is beautiful in the summer season." He said smiling. Rezlan saw Iman, for the first time in a long time, look happy. " Yeah," She said.
"Rez, don't you think you should leave soon?" Iman said, feigning annoyance. Rezlan sensed her concern and agreed; mother was going to be angry. "Perhaps I should, but I fear you would be lonely if I did my love" He said grinning. He leaned in for another kiss but Iman turned away.
"I have taken a liking to solitude in your company" Iman said with a wry smirk.
"Oh, then perhaps I should take my leave then" Rezlan said getting up with his lute. He picked up his sable cloak and draped it over his shoulders. Iman pulled his hood over his face and opened the door.
" You can be sure you can hear me play again tomorrow" Rezlan's mouth said mechanically.
He held his bag of gold up and continued," I also look forward to the 5 septim bonus you are gonna give me tomorrow"
Iman laughed "You wish. If I am ever to leave this damned city, I need to save every bit of gold I can save."
"Gold saved wisely" Rezlan conceded
"Good night my love " Rezlan said
" Good night, and Rezlan.." Iman shouted to Rezlan as he basked in the moonlight,
"Thank you" Iman smiling unconsciously.
Rezlan smiled and walked Sentinel's dusty streets home.