Reagan

4E 201

17th of Last Seed

Riverwood, Whiterun Hold

Boredom, the greatest enemy of Reagan Altman. She had stacked and reorganized the supply of the Riverwood Trader three times over, and this was after listing Lucan's newest shipment, sweeping the floors, wiping down the counter, polishing the gold ornament, and dusting the books on the furthest shelf.

Now she sat doing much of what her... acquaintances had done, sit and think. Reagan thought of her new appearance, the bronze-yellow skin, the golden eyes, and the pointed ears were the differences. Everything else remained the same as far as she could tell.

She thought of home, it could be lightyears away from this place, and the worrying thought of being trapped here forever plagued her. That, and the thought of her parents being worried sick, they probably assumed that she'd ran from home, gotten in an accident, or worst of all, been kidnapped.

She thought of this new place, Tamriel, a name that sounded like it came straight out of a discount fantasy novel. A whole new land full of its own history, conflicts, and people. Magic was apparently a thing here, and that was the most bewildering subject of them all. The power to heal wounds, create fire, and conjure objects out of thin air sounded downright insane. Given that she was now a "High Elf" and her fellows included a green tusk-toothed girl, and a walking, talking cat boy, she wasn't in much of a position to doubt.

The young elf's thoughts were interrupted by the door swinging open, with three cloaked figures entering the store. One was an ashen-skinned man with pointed ears, red eyes, and a scraggly beard. The man was flanked by two humans, a man and a woman, both pale with dirty blonde hair.

"So much for the place bein' empty, eh." muttered the blonde man. "You said the owners had left."

Not good, Reagan thought to herself.

The dark-skinned elf turned to his companion and said, "This doesn't change anything. Harknir, grab the claw, Soling, make sure this girl stays quiet."

Uh oh.

Before she could even make a sound, Reagan was rushed by the human woman, from whose sleeve came a curved knife, now pressing lightly against her throat. "One little peep and I end you, understand?" said the woman called Soling. Trying not to panic, Reagan slowly nodded in the hopes that Soling wouldn't gut her just for funsies. "Good, very good," said Soling.

The man called Harknir grabbed the golden claw displayed on Lucan's counter, then tossed it to the dark elf. An impish grin came across the elf's face as he inspected the gleaming claw. Slipping it into the satchel at his side the elf said. "We've got what we came for, let's get back to the barrow."

"Arvel, what about the girl?" said Harknir derisively, "She's seen our faces, maybe we should get rid of her."

Panic gripped Reagan's heart as her eyes flitted about looking for something, anything that could help her. Nothing was in reach, and she believed that she was going to die.

It was then that the dark elf, Arvel replied, "No, we'll let this one live, she'd have to walk for half a day just to report to a guard, but you won't do that, will you young lady?"

Unable to speak, Reagan simply shook her head. She would live to see another day, thank God.

"Excellent, we'll take our leave now," said Arvel as he strode out the door with his companions in tow into the night.

Now alone, Reagan slowly sank to the floor, propping her weary head against a cabinet. Her breathing began to slow, and the rapid thumping of her heart shifted back into a gentle beat. She, or rather Lucan, had just been robbed. Moments ago she had felt like she was eye to eye with the grim reaper, and now she sat in silence, with only the soft crackle of the fireplace to keep her company.

The relief of her survival was quickly replaced by an air of anxiety. Lucan wouldn't be pleased to learn that he had been robbed, would he blame her for it? What would she even have done, contact the authorities? Get the claw back herself? What could one do in this kind of situation?

Once again her thoughts were interrupted by the front door swinging open. Through it the proprietors of the Riverwood Trader entered. the Imperial of dark hair and olive skin, Lucan Valerius, accompanied by his twin sister Camilla, nonchalantly came closer to the still sitting Reagan. "Sorry to leave you alone, we-" Lucan spoke before pausing, with his eyes shifting toward the store counter. "Did you move the claw, I could have sworn I told you to make sure it stayed where I always left it?"

Reagan, now finding her throat quite dry, spoke hoarsely. "I hate to have to tell you, but you just got robbed, three theives came in a few minutes ago." A look that she could only describe as a mix of anger and sadness… smadness, came across Lucan's face as he and Camilla stared in disbelief. "They threatened me and ran off with your golden claw, I am… so sorry"

While Lucan still seemed to be processing, Camilla placed a gentle hand on Reagan's shoulder, "Oh, sweetheart, this wasn't your fault, there wasn't anything you could have done. Right, Lucan? … Lucan?"

With a hand massaging his forehead, Lucan spoke, "Did they take anything else?"

"No, they just took the claw and left, said they were heading back to a 'barrow' or something." Reagan replied.

"They came all the way down from Bleak Falls Barrow just for the claw?" said Camilla. Reagan, curiosity piqued, asked, "What's Bleak Falls Barrow?"

Lucan spoke in turn. "It's an old Nord tomb where they keep their… honored dead or some such. It's thousands of years old, and rumors say that the place is riddled with traps and magic to keep intruders out." Now scratching his beard in contemplation, he continued, "Why in the name of the Eight would those damned thieves want to be there? Much less make the trip up that freezing mountain…"

"W-what are you going to do?," asked Reagan.

"Well… there's nothing we can do, damn it all, I liked that thing a lot."

Camilla gave a look of incredulity to her brother, "Nothing? You can't just give it up like that!"

"What do you expect? I can't just saunter up there and ask em' politely to give it back, and I highly doubt you could either! Don't you start with that ambition of yours, you know that there's nothing to be done!" Lucan shouted.

"Well one of us has to do something!" Camilla yelled back.

"No, I won't have it! No adventures, no theatrics, no thief-chasing!"

"So you're just going to sit and take it, this is so typical!"

"That isn't the-" Lucan stopped mid-sentence, remembering that another person was still in the room. Exhaling through his nostrils, he spoke much more calmly, "Reagan, why don't you head back to the Sleeping Giant for tonight? I'm sure you've had enough stress for one day."

She was able to let out a meek "Okay," before awkwardly shifting out of the Riverwood Trader. Shutting the door behind her, she was now standing on the porch of the general store, with the drafty Skyrim air around her, and the twin moons of Masser and Secunda above her. Looking back only once, Reagan made her back to the Sleeping Giant Inn, where the others were likely already resting.

As she returned to the Sleeping Giant Inn, the old wood of the steps creaked with her ascent. Swinging open the door, she was greeted by the inn's main hall, in which was the roaring fireplace in the room's center, as well the mostly vacant tables surrounding it. At the north end was Orgnar, the Nord barkeep, at his counter chatting casually with the inn's owner, the Breton known as Delphine, who looked even more tired and grumpy than she usually did. At the south end of the inn was the "bard" whose name Reagan couldn't quite remember. He strummed thoughtlessly on his gaudy lute with a vacant expression on his face.

Without a word, Reagan skulked into her room. Plain, with only a dresser, an end table, and two beds, one of which was occupied by her temporary roommate, Ben, the "argonian" who hardly ever spoke more than three or four words a day, who now lightly snored in a deep slumber.

Silently, she slumped onto her bed, fatigue crashing like a wave as the night's events caught up to her. The warm and inviting furs of her bed had overridden her worries, as she quickly fell into unconsciousness as her tired mind could no longer remain awake.