Skyrim- 4E 201
The land of Skyrim. A cold and harsh place, home to the towering Nords, natural fierce warriors of Tamriel. Years under the empires rule and Skyrim saw prosper Into a society. A community, a goal. But it wouldn't last forever... with the rise of the Thalmor, the banning of Talos came as a personal Insult to many Nords, causing the bloody civil war. Dragons roamed, blood was spilled and undead arose as the moon turned black. All was quelled, Ulfric and his allies managed to beat the empire back to Cyrodiil. Now, newly appointed High King Ulfric works to build Skyrim as a independent nation to be feared by the Thalmor. His first course of action, reinstating Talos worship.
Another one will ya?" Attrebus cried, gesturing the barmaid to pour him a tankard of mead.
The old Inn was jolly, full of the happy cheers of his men, well mostly drunk cheers "Honningbrew mead, now that's one thing I'll miss" Attrebus said his thought as the barmaid came over to fill his cup again, taking his outburst as a signal for another round.
He lifted his tankard up, rising from his seat. "You lot have been the finest companions I ever traveled with. Except for you Loris." The Inn roared In laughter at the latter comment cutting him off briefly before he could continue. "Drink up, get your rest boys. For the next I'll be raising a pint, It will be on the seat of the Ruby throne" The Inn cheered as they all raised their tankard's in unison and then drank as the loud combination of gulps echoed across the room.
The old Inn was quite run down. According to the owner It didn't much business on the road to Cyrodil like it used too. Regardless, Attrebus and his company had paid the Innkeeper well to house them as they set fourth towards Cyrodil. It was a city Attrebus hadn't seen in what felt like centuries...Not since his exile.
As his thoughts began to wander onto times in his past a figure caught the corner of his eye for a brief moment. Looking over his shoulder he noticed yet newcomer to the Inn. Judging by the figure and clothing, it was definitely a girl, though with the hood he could barely make out a race at first glance.
An eyebrow was raised when she shifted away from the bar, secluding herself into a corner, hand clutching her hood. This shifty behaviour had Attrebus curious, curious... and drunk enough to walk over to the girl, standing over her table, tankard in hand, reeking of mead.
"Ay, you cold girl? your clutching that hood like a newborn" Attrebus asked curiously, leaning against the opposite of the rounded table.
"No." She spoke quietly, taking a moment to scan the rest of the room, before sinking further into her hood.
With her eyes focused back on him, she slipped some septims she had placed on the table back into her pocket. "I'm... fine thanks." She carried on. "Just... not used to to Skyrim weather."
Attrebus chuckled briefly, somewhat cautious but understanding towards her demeanor
"Compared to Winterhold and Dawnstar? Count your divines ya near the border lass" He continued "Ay, Skyrim cold's grow on ya. Being an Imperial city lad, I was shivering like a washed up pup when I first ventured out." Attrebus replied, smiling. The girl had him curious still, she was not simply here for a drink... her mannerisms, the head tilts. She was acting nervous, the softness and pushes in her words proved it. A spy perhaps?, no, Serinal hasn't the guts for that, but the council on the other hand...
Attrebus glanced back down towards the table, realizing he had gone off On a tangent with his own thoughts. Pulling the empty wooden chair back, he sat opposite the strange girl, swigging his tankard, foam dripping from his beard. The cold splash of mead staining the already dirty table as he slammed the empty tankard on the table. Wiping his mouth, Attrebus stared, eyes crossed trying to etch a peak at her face, though she was doing a good job at hiding it.
His eyes reverted back to a normal gaze, realizing the uncomfortable feeling of a hulking Imperial staring at her may have been. He grinned slightly, waving his hand in greeting as he spoke. "Forgive me, lass, I don't I properly introduced myself. I am Attrebus Mede, Leader of The Bannerless, and soon to be, Emperor of Cyrodil!" The old Imperials voiced boomed as he spoke the last line. He didn't care who knew anymore, he was surrounded by his companions, 30 good fighting men, none could touch him hear.
If the girl was a spy, then her mission was accomplished at least, Attrebus thought to himself, ordering another round of mead passively.
She knew she had to be careful. People had short tempers when they've had a lot to drink. This man looked like he'd had a few of those tankards, which were almost as big as her face at that.
Imperial City? her own curiosity now peaked. Questions began to build in her mind. Why was he in Skyrim? She shook her head internally. What did it matter? People could travel, look at her for example. She was about four or five regions away from where she was born.
Dragging her busy brain out of her thoughts, everything stopped when she realised that he was staring at her. Probably not a good sign. Why would he sit with her, then stare at her like that? It dawned on her that her hood was hiding her face... Maybe she looked shifty?
Biting her lip, and swallowing nervously, she pulled her hood down, revealing her face fully for the first time.
By his age she bet he was around during the Great War, and if he was a Mede...
Looking around again, she didn't like her chances. If it was just this man, she could probably conjure up something to distract him and run, but there were so many...
Clearing her throat, she spoke quietly as not to draw anymore attention from the other men. "Arilina." She introduced. "Just... Arilina." She didn't have any fancy titles like he did. Or a plan...
The loud bang of the chair fall back was loud, Attrebus reared up from his seat. A face now filled with disgust. His supposition, we're worse then he had previously thought, no spy... A THALMOR! The audacity of the elves, bursting into an Inn and take him surrounded by his own men. haha, brave or foolish, this one would soon meet the end of his blade...
His men stood up in response, all equally as shocked as he when the girl revealed herself an Elf. Each reared a weapon, approaching Attrebus. A raise of his left hand, a stern nod of his head was signal enough for his men to stay put, he was capable of handling the situation.
lifting the Nordic Warhammer from his back. The the gleamed on the head of the weapon, signs of a recent polish. The weapon had seen its use over the years, but fi this skulls you want smashing, this baby will do the job right. He held it in both hands, the weapon looked huge, and heavy, but the old Imperial seemed to lift it like any old sword. A few practice swings In the air, Attrebus wouldn't just outright hit an unarmed girl, intimidation was his goal. Finally, after a few moments of slow swings in the air around Arivenwe, Attrebus, looking right at the slender Altmer spoke his piece.
"So, I think you know why you're here, and we know why you're here. I can't tell if you Altmer are brave, or just plain fools. What was your plan lass? poison my mead? shock me death? stab me in me sleep? I expected more from a Thalmor assassin, the last one almost took my good eye out" He finished, pointing towards his right eye, showing a deep cut all across his eyelid and pupil.
On pure instinct, Arilina cast her defensive Alteration spell, Ebonflesh.
"Th-Thalmor?" She wished. She wouldn't have to run from them if she was a part of the damn thing. "I-I'm not a..." She looked around the room at all the faces staring angrily at her like she was nothing. The disgust on their faces offended her. She'd never actually been treated like this before. She expected it, but feeling it was different.
"Maybe you Imperials are stupid!" She yelled, suddenly unsure if this was the right way to go. "The Thalmor aren't all Altmer you know!" She yelled again, far from done, she was obviously offended. "Why would they risk sending the most obvious race to assassinate you?" She flailed her empty hand. She hadn't gone near her dagger, but one of her hands had the ominous purple glow of a conjuration spell. "And just one of them at that?"
"You have soldiers!" She shot the rest of his group a quick look. "Or maybe you just enjoy killing any Altmer you see?"
As she had stood up, the small amount of Septims she had been messing with had fallen from her satchel, scattering on the floor. No more than twenty pieces, but it was all she had right now.
"You're racists!"
She stared at his hammer. An aged nordic warhammer, silver and steel looking to wither at the hilt from what looked to be years upon years of usage. Nonetheless, she doubted her defensive spell would hold up against that monster for long...
