It didn't take me long to find the tavern. Dawnstar was small – much smaller than I was expecting. Not like Cheydinhal, or Blacklight; it was simple. That's the best word for it. The architecture was minimalist and nothing to write home about, but that was always going to be a given. It is Skyrim, after all, home to the barbaric Nords.
I made my way in quietly. Nobody seemed to notice me as I made my way over toward the roaring hearth, leaning down and soaking in its welcome warmth. I was sopping wet from my little 'swim' in the Sea of Ghosts earlier, and the opportunity to get dry and get warm was one that I wasn't going to pass up for anything.
The rest of the patrons were all congregated around a priest. Another Dunmer, just like myself and the one I'd met earlier, but this one was no priest of Azura. The amulet around his neck indicated he was a priest of Mara. Upon noticing that, I nearly scoffed. I was never too fond of Dunmer who had forgotten our traditions, particularly those who had taken up the gods of the Empire. From the conversations going on, I was able to discern that there, apparently, was some sort of curse laid upon the town; they were plagued with nightmares. Horrendous ones, ones that prevented just about anyone from getting any degree of sleep at all. It made sense, now that I thought about it; each of the town's inhabitants who I'd bothered to look at for more than a few seconds did look knackered. Their eyes were puffy, their body language was lacklustre, and they movements were languid and heavy.
A few hours later and I'd mingled with most of the locals. Karita, the tavern's wench and bard, borrowed me a spare set of clothes. They were a little loose, but mine had been ruined, and I'd lost all my coin and my luggage when the boat went down. It took some sweet talking, a few bats of my eyelashes, but Thoring gave me a free room for a few days. At least I'd somewhere to sleep, but I was still broke. I needed to come up with a way to change that, and fast; I couldn't just rely on the charity of these poor sods here in Dawnstar. Besides, I had a College to get to.
Right before I was about to leave to bed, the inn door swung open. I turned from my seat in the barstool, and watched as this traveller strolled on in. A Breton, but no mage. He was dressed in ornate, Elven armour, which was caked almost head-to-toe in blood. He'd one sword resting at either hip, with scabbards just as ornate as his armour. Upon reaching the counter, he placed a sack of gold atop it, gave Thoring a nod, and took up a seat next to me.
"A little out of place here, aren't you?" he remarked, looking me over. He spoke with a dim, but noticeable, Anvil accent. It had a satisfying sort of lilt to it.
"You're telling me," I sighed. Thoring set a mug of ale on the counter before the Breton, and he took a long, hearty swig. I decided to introduce myself. He was more interesting – I could tell just from a glance – than everyone else in this godsdamned place. "I'm Neria. What about you?"
"Name's Alfie." He took another swig. "I'm a wanderer. On my way to Windhelm right now, in fact. Think I might stick around here for a couple of days though." He was going to Windhelm? My lips curled upwards into a grin. That was good news; I saw an opportunity.
"Really? That's where I was headed, actually," I replied pleasantly. It was a lie – I was going to Winterhold, but no matter. Windhelm would do for now. The Dunmer there prospered, or so I heard. I could find myself a job and build up the coin to make the journey up to Winterhold. "The roads are dangerous, and I'd be scared to travel alone. Would you let me accompany you there, sera?"
Alfie stroked his chin for a few moments. He'd a rugged face, with an unkempt beard and shaggy, medium length brown hair. His eyes were blue and shaped like almonds, but perhaps his most discerning feature was an cross shaped scar on his left cheek. "Hm. All right," he finally answered, after a few moments of contemplation. "We'll leave in a few days. I've no business here in Dawnstar, but I've been on the road a while and I'd like to rest here. Maybe I'll do a job for someone, or somethin'."
Yes! I was in. I could barely contain my excitement on the inside, but outwardly I retained a composed, cool demeanour. "Lovely. We can speak more in the morning, Alfie," I shuffled out of my seat and cast a glance over at him, "then we should perhaps get to know one another a little, yes?" He nodded and waved me on.
I didn't really care to get to know him, interesting as he may have looked, but it was important to build up a rapport – if he was a wanderer, then he might not have been opposed to escort me to Winterhold, as well, which would've made my life a whole lot easier. I wouldn't need to stay in Windhelm for more than a few days at the very most, and I was almost certain I was talented enough to secure a place at the College easily.
It all seemed to be looking up from here on out.
"Thank you, Lady Azura," I murmured, before allowing myself to fall back on the inn bed (which was no more than a little bit of straw and some animal hides – even their bedding is barbaric), before drifting off to sleep in no time at all.