The Inn of Ill Omens had been quiet for some time now. As the bartender settled in his chair, leaning back, he noticed only one customer. A Nord, he assumed by his size. The man wore a plain cotton shirt of brown with matching trousers, his long black hair hung loose down his back and a small scar on his right cheek was visible from the light of the fire. The man had sat there, only ordering a mug of mead and a pace of bread. He had said nothing else, nor did he move from the chair by the fire place, the door in clear view from where he sat.
Slowly, the bartender could feel his eyes getting heavy. In was long past midnight, and he had wanted to close up. But the Nord had entered only seconds before he went towards the door to lock up, ordering his drink and paying for a room. Finally, he had had enough and stood, walking over to the Nord.
"Listen up mate." He said as he leaned down. "I'm closing up. The night's wearing on now and it don't look like I'm going to have any more customers tonight. Why don't you finish off your drink and head upstairs to your room so I can lock up." He spoke with a smile on his face, being as polite as he could.
The Nord just looked at him and took a finally swig of his mead before placing the empty mug down and standing. The bartender was right. It was late and he was indeed tired. He smiled at the bartender and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Forgive me my friend." He said in a deep voice. "I did not mean to keep you from your bed. I shall retire now."
But before he could even reach the stairs, the tavern doors opened and a small group walked in. One of them was a Kajiit wearing a suit of plate armour, a short sword strapped to his waist and a large broad sword on his back. Next to him stood a small Argonian, his red scaly skin marked with patches of green and black. He was dressed in light armour by the looks of it, leather maybe. Two short swords at his waist and a dagger strapped over his leg. The only female of the group was a High Elf. Her yellow skin glowed gold in the fire light, and her white hair fell down her back in glorious locks. She was also dressed in light armour, of a green coloured leather. A quiver of arrows was strapped to her back and she carried a long bow in her hands. Next to her was a Orc, standing roughly six feet, his green skin looking like tough leather. He wore a suit of Steel Armour and carried a mace at his belt, the spiked head glinting in the light of the fire like black gold. Finally, there was a Dark Elf, wrapped in a thick red robe and holding a long staff of black wood, a small dark orb glowing at the tip of it. His hood was up so his face was hidden, but his red eyes could clearly be seen.
"Thorgrin Ironheart." The Dark Elf said in a quite voice, as if he did not wish any one to hear him. "You must come with us to Bravil. There is some one who wishes to speak with you."
The Nord looked at them. It had been a long time since any one had used his name. After leaving his home in Bruma six years ago for reasons he kept to himself, he had remained away from most of the cities, using his survival skills to survive. In fact, he had found a new home in one of the cave systems not far from the Inn of Ill Omens. He shook his head as he looked at the group, as if to say something, but he was silent for some time.
He did not know why he had decided to come to the inn in the first place, but now it seemed like he was dragged here by forces unseen. Perhaps by the will of the Nine. After a long moment of silence, the Nord finally spoke.
"I have been away from the civil world for six years." He sighed. "How did you know I would be here this night?"
"That is not important." The Orc said. "What is important is that you come with us at once."
"I'm not going to Bravil." Thorgrin said. "I never want to set foot in any of the cities of Cyrodiil again." He looked into the fire. "Not after what happened."
"We care not of what you want." The Kajiit hissed. "We have been paid well to make sure you go to Bravil. You can come with us willingly, or we can drag you there by your hair."
Thorgrin folded his arms over his chest and looked at the Kajiit, one eyebrow raised and a smile creeping over his lips.
"Oh really?" He said. "I would like to see you try."
As if one, the small group all drew their weapons, the High Elf notching an arrow to her bow and taking aim. All except the Dark Elf who stood in the middle of them, not moving until he pointed towards Thorgrin. The High Elf let loose her arrow but Torgrin managed to dodge it by turning sharply to his left. He took only three steps and he was upon her, driving his fist into her stomach, lifting her off the ground and slamming her into the wall. She hit the floor, doubled over as she struggled to catch her breath.
Thorgrin turned once again to see a glint of black metal swinging for him. He lifted his arm and caught a hold of the Orcs mace before head butting him, his size equal to the Orc's. The large green bulk fell over backwards, letting go of his mace and slamming to the floor, dust floating up. Looking to the bar, Thorgrin could see that the Argonian had managed to get behind him, both short swords drawn. It seemed this one had stealth on his side. Grunting, Thorgrin threw the mace, watching as it hit the Argonian in the chest, knocking him back off the bar top and out of sight on the other side. The Kajiit was next, short sword in hand, he came at Thorgrin and swung for him. The Nord managed to catch his arm, pushing him self behind him and slamming him into the wall with a kick to the back.
Dropping his sword, the Kajiit turned and pounced for Thorgrin, wrapping his hands around his throat and choaking him. Thorgrin punched at the Kajiit's side, doing little damage through the armour he wore. In a desperate act, he reached around and grabbed his tail, pulling hard. The Kajiit let out a scream of pain and let go in time to see the Nord's fist slamming into his face. At this point, the Orc was up again, coming up from behind and gripping Thorgrin in a bear hug. The Nord struggled to breath as he felt the air being crushed from him. He pushed backwards, forcing the Orc to move with him and into the wall of the tavern, a large crack being heard. The Orc gave a little, allowing Thorgrin to get his arms free. He reached over his head and grabbed the Orc by the hair, pulling him over his shoulder and hitting the ground. He wrapped his thick arms around the Orc's neck and squeezed until he had passed out. This left only the Dark Elf standing, who still had not moved. The High Elf lay beside him, still gasping for breath as she tried to stand.
Thorgrin had not intention on continuing the fight, but these four had attacked him with out proper cause, and it seemed like the Dark Elf was their leader, a Mage by the looks of him. Thorgrin hated fighting Mages. He grabbed a hold of a pewter mug that rested on the table closest to him and threw it at the Dark Elf, watching as he rose his staff and fired a blast of energy from it. Thorgrin smiled as the mug exploded in a burst of light, this was his chance. He pounced forwards and grabbed the Mage, lifting him of the ground and chucking him across the room. He hit the wall first and then landed on the floor, his staff rolling away from him.
Thorgrin grunted and looked at the bartender who was hiding behind an over turned table.
"My apologies my friend." He said. "I did not mean to cause such havoc when I came here. I shall leave you and your inn now in peace. Farewell."
He turned and walked out of the door, heading in the direction of his cave. He was careful, making sure he was not followed and taking several detours away from the cave before finally reaching the entrance, covered by a wooden door. He took one finale look around him to see if anyone was around and walked inside, closing the door behind him.
An hour later and he had settled into sleep. He had not heard the door open or the muffled footsteps of leather clad feet. So when he awoke to see the Argonian leaning over him with his knife to his throat, he had a look of shock and surprise over his face. Looking to one side, he saw the High Elf with another arrow at her bow and the Dark Elf, staff in hand once again.
"You just won't give up will you." He said he was forced to stand. "How did you find me any way?"
Beside the Dark Elf, the air shimmered and a Wood Elf seemed to pop out of no where, a smile spread across his lips. He, like the High Elf and Argonian, was dressed in Leather Armour. He carried only a small dagger at his belt and his brown hair was tied behind him in a tail.
"Chameleon." Thorgrin whispered. "I should have guessed."
With a final roar he sent his elbow into the Argonian's face and ran forwards. The High Elf lifted her bow once more and went to fire, but the Dark Elf had pointed his staff at the Nord and fired, hitting him with a blast of fire that knocked him backwards. He slammed his head against the wall of the cave and slumped over. Before he lost consciousness, he grunted. It looked like he was going to Bravil after all. Whether he wanted to or not.