Jul
Octavian
Niramo and Fen were... an acquired taste. Rowdy, sarcastic, and prone to sudden bouts of hustling at bar games that – nine out of ten times – ended with bar fights. Which, not so coincidentally, was why they had been tossed out of the pub when we'd arrived. Most of the Elf Quarter tossed them out for only a night after a fight happened, as they made sure nothing ever got broken in the fight and they usually did jobs growing up for everyone around the city sector. They were always allowed to come back. Regardless, being around the two High Elf legionnaires was never a boring time, but neither was it ever a rest. Which is why we did it! I get enough rest with Dorthe and Delphine fretting over letting me walk by myself without a bodyguard and someone trying to carry me.
Athyn... had not yet acquired that taste. He was currently in the corner of the bar, shrinking away from Niramo and Fen who were buy re-enacting a sword duel between my father and someone called 'The Ebony Warrior,' one of the many tales my father did not enjoy speaking of. In all honesty, I had learned more of him from Dorthe, his advisers, and these legends told by my friends than from the subject of those stories himself. Niramo and Fen jumped between tables, swinging wooden swords and drawing annoyed looks from the pub goers who had seen this a dozen times but learned to just accept it. "How did they not spill any of the drinks on that table?" Athyn asked as three full flagons finished rattling, none of the nectar within hitting the table or floor.
"You should have seen them when they started," Tora said dryly. She rolled her eyes as she leaned into the wall, holding a flagon of ale that I couldn't handle even if I had five days to drink it. Nords. "This is only after many failed attempts that ended with alcohol in the candles on the ceiling. Nearly burned down a pub once."
Athyn paled. "What is it with you all and burning down places?"
"Eh, it's just good fun!" Fen said as he vaulted over the booth's edge and onto our table, catching Niramo's blade with his own.
"And it didn't actually burn down," Niramo supplied from the other side, grinning wide and flourishing his blade to send Fen's flying.
"Maybe this time," I remarked while the sword tumbled towards a small chandelier, threatening to bring a dozen lit candles to the wooden floor. I held out my hand and used a telekinesis spell to pull it to my hand long before it could manage to, however. I twirled it at my side and looked over at Niramo, who was grinning sheepishly, then at Fen who wasn't even looking at me. "Still need practice, obviously."
"Well, you can't blame us," Niramo pointed out before placing his own weapon in the 'sheath' at his hip. "We've only been practicing with steel these days. Different weight!"
I just shook my head and tossed Fen's weapon back to him. "I think you should try this another night," I suggested. I gestured over at Athyn. "Our new friend here needs to start a tad slower, perhaps?"
Niramo and Fen looked over at the Dunmer. "Oh, come on, Oct! If you just get him to join in on the sword fight, he'll have a ton of fun!" Niramo said. He swung his arm around, as if holding the sword again.
Athyn grimaced. "I'd rather not get in a fight. I would have to end it."
"Ooh. Cocky," Fen noted. He wrapped one arm around the Dark Elf's shoulders. "You'll fit in!"
"How about a good bar brawl? Haven't had one in a long time!" Niramo suggested. He gestured at the door. "I bet we could find some bar with someone willing to give us a good time."
Tora grinned at that. "I second that," she said, slamming the empty flagon on the table. Athyn stared at it as it rattled around. "I need a good fight!"
The entire bar ignored us, again accustomed to Tora's pugilistic tendencies.
"We'll find one. Not in a bar, of course," I said, earning a wide grin from the woman.
"Are you sure that is a good idea?" Athyn asked with a grimace.
Fen shrugged. "Don't worry! We don't fight anyone who doesn't need some sense knocked into 'em," he supplied.
"It's sad, but you can usually find some Sub or another that sold out to the Doms," Niramo supplied, sighing over-dramatically. "Fledgling vampires aren't noticed too much round these parts. City's had a bit of a mafia problem ever since the Thieves' Guild died, here worst of all."
"Subs? Doms?" Athyn inquired, flushing at the thoughts he was having.
I snorted at where his mind went. "It's Elf Quarter vernacular. Subs – they submit to Doms. Doms – the Dominion. It's not an awful metaphor," I explained, sipping at my mead.
"Fight!"
I glanced at Tora. Her cheeks were flushed, her nose red, and her grin wider than I'd seen it in a while. "How many of those did you have?" I asked with a gesture at the flagon.
She just grinned wide. "Ha! Well, we've reached critical alcohol mass. She's getting in a fight no matter what we do," Fen said triumphantly. He grabbed my arm and pulled. "C'mon! We gotta find one before she starts fighting us!"
"That's a possibility?" Athyn asked Niramo behind me. Tora ran past us and into the night, laughing boisterously about how she'd take them all on with a toothpick.
"A certainty," Niramo replied. I could hear him grimace and rub his jaw, which she'd broken months ago when we'd failed to find anyone to fight. I started to feel my bruised ribs from the fortnight after. "Never deadly, always painful."
"She fights like a Nord," I cast over my shoulder.
Fen scoffed. "It translates, doesn't it," he joked, winking suggestively.
I rolled my eyes. "Why don't you find a nice Nord woman and find out?" I suggested with a huff.
"So, Athyn, you met Prince Charming here at the Emperor's big party, yeah?" Niramo asked behind me, deciding to calm the obviously unnerved Athyn. "We met him in a fight. He's not half bad! I mean, when we met him he was almost cool."
"Closer than you, then" I retorted jokingly.
Fahiil
Niramo
Niramo grinned down at the cards in his hand before casting a glance at the pot. During the Summer Festival, when it was easier for Elves to visit the rest of the city, he always had his best hauls. The rest of the city had much more money than the High Elves did, a result of over a decade of bad treatment all because that Vampire Queen. He almost felt his grin falter before Fen caught his eye, a frown on his face. Good. Niramo's hand was rubbish. If Fen was grimacing now, with nearly fifteen hundred septims in the pot, he definitely had something. "Well, I raise thirty septims!" Niramo shouted, tossing the last of his money into the pot. With luck everyone else would bet all they had left, letting Fen clean up for the both of them. Niramo cast another glance at his friend and saw the back of the cards. Oh. That is a good hand, he thought upon casting a cursory examination over the markings. His yes examined all the other cards a moment later. A few had good hands. Great ones that would definitely go in. "What? You afraid to lose to an elf?!" And there were the others. The pot was now eighteen hundred Septims. More than enough for rent and food for the next couple months, and that wasn't even counting what they'd made the day before!
Fen placed his coins in last, then flipped his cards. "Three faces from three suits. That's the Nine," he said, already raking the coins towards him. The others all growled and slammed their cards into the table, knowing they were unable to beat that hand. "I guess last minute luck is more important than early luck, boys."
The group growled at their luck and surged from the table, grumbling about how they were out of drinking money now. Niramo also got up, pulling five septims from his pocket and going over to the bar to get a drink. He got a dirty look or two, given his grandstanding had caused everyone else to lose their money as well. Well, dirty looks were something that elves were used to receiving, so it was no skin off his back. He plopped down in a chair, grinning before he gave up two of his five gold pieces for a mead. Mid-tier was the top tier in Elf Quarter, and this mid-tier was cheap for the Summer Festival.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Niramo finished his sip and turned to the source of the noise.
"The hell!?" he hissed to himself. He'd never seen humans that tall! That Nord girl was tall even for their standards, with a fiery braid running down her back over her leather armored shirt. Her arms were clutched tight around her midsection, like she was sick or trying to protect herself. And the Breton boy! He looked about as tall as Fen! And... were those glowing eyes? This kid stood out like... well, not quite like a High Elf in a human bar. But close. And kid was the right word. The two didn't look any older than sixteen, despite their abnormal height.
"Of course, Tora," the boy hissed back under his breath. "We'll play a few games, grab some food... Dance together? We'll be back before Dorthe or Delphine even know we're gone!"
"Before they know you're gone," the girl corrected. Her grip on her gut loosened, as if she just noticed what she'd been doing. "They know I can take care of myself."
"Well, then if I get caught I'll just have to tell them that you helped me get out," the boy smirked.
"Ass," the Nord responded, though she was smiling back. She sighed and leaned against the bar. "Fine. We'll stay for a few hours, Oct. But you better follow through on that dance."
The Breton grinned and grabbed her hand. "You won't regret it, Tora."
Gods, that boy is desperate, Niramo thought to himself, grinning into his drink.
"How much food will this get us?" Niramo's eyes nearly exploded from his head when he saw the boy put down a Seran – a platinum coin worth a hundred Septims. Niramo had thought he'd never see one of those! No one would toss that much money around. Nobody! But here it was, enough money to buy everyone in the pub a meal!
The bartender stared slackjawed at the coin for a moment before looking up. "Um... Twenty meals?"
"Oh, that's a lot..." the giant Breton muttered. He glanced up at the Nord girl. "Meals and drinks for us then a round for everyone else? Buying a round for everyone is something that people do, right?"
The girl shrugged, just as unsure as he was. "Aye, I suppose."
"Then that's what we'll do," he said, turning back to the barkeep. "We'll each have your finest meal with a round on us."
The barkeep raised an eyebrow, and Niramo understood why. Throwing money around like that was stupid, even if you were being generous. This boy obviously had no idea about the value of a Septim. Which... oh, he had to talk with Fen about this. Niramo stood up and walked calmly towards his old friend.
"Oi, Fen! Fen!" he hissed upon nearing the other elf, not bothering to hide that they knew each other now. He leaned in close despite his friend's annoyed sigh as he stopped counting their Septims.
"What is it Niramo? You know I like to learn how many Septims we have as soon as possible," he asked, uninterested in what was going on.
"Well, then I guess you don't want to know why everyone's cheering."
"I wasn't listening," came Fen's response.
Niramo shrugged and examined his fingernails. "Oh. Well a kid just dropped a Seran on a round for the bar." He looked over at Fen's stunned face. "But I guess I'll just keep that to myself."
Fen shut his mouth and glared. Finally: "So... what's the play?"
Niramo grinned. "Well, I think we should -"
"You two!"
The High Elves cringed and turned, finding themselves greeted by the enraged form of a tiny Imperial man in resplendent purple robes... flanked by a half dozen rough looking brutes. "You two are the ones who cheated me out of my money yesterday! Stupid, returning to the scene of the crime," the man in the robes said angrily. He smirked. "But, what else to expect from High Elves?"
"Oh, this can't be good..." Niramo muttered.
Fen had always had the big mouth out of the two of them. Which, Niramo thought, said far more than he wished. The last of their adolescent years spent in the High Elf Quarter had made the both of them rather blunt when confronted about their activities. It was that or give it back, after all. But that was with Elves. Not... "I think you're just angry you couldn't play cards with me. Tell me, you afraid I'll beat you with my fists too? That why you brought your nannies?"
The mage's eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms. "I would be careful what you say to a member of the Synod, Elf."
Niramo was worried. The Synod were wannabes, yes. But they were dangerous wannabes.
Niramou could tell that Fen wasn't going to stop on his own. He was putting on a show, after all. Niramo understood, but wished his friend would shut up! He didn't. "The Synod? What, did your neighborhood magic club have no open spots?" he asked mockingly. He shook his head, laughing. "Wow, no wonder it was so easy to beat you at cards. You're an idiot!"
The Synod mage took a half, angry step forward, the movement mirrored by his goons. "I could kill you, Elf, and no one here would care."
"I believe I would."
The heads of every person in the bar turned towards the huge young man and young woman, who were standing gravely amid the group of thugs. The young man's black-brown tunic and long cloak marking him as little different from anyone else, aside from his size and eyes. What was more impressive was how he held himself, shoulders square and daring the thugs to attack. The girl next to him had changed as well, growing ever more excited by the prospect of a coming fight. Nords... Niramo thought to himself dryly.
"And who are you to interfere, boy?" the Synod wizard asked petulantly. "I am a member of the -"
"Yes, the Synod. Not something to proudly announce, you know," the giant interjected. He crossed his arms and shook his head at the man. "Even the Emperor can tell you were second rate politicians and fourth rate magicians."
Fen and Niramo snickered to each other. The man's eyes widened with rage and his nostrils flared. "Get him," he commanded the thugs. They glanced at one another for a moment, the young man's aura of confidence throwing them off. "Now!"
One sprang into action, rushing forward with a steel dagger held in his left hand. The blade slashed upward at the young man's throat, but the young man did nothing. Instead, the woman at his side lashed out with one hand and sent the thug flying. She pulled her hand back and grinned around at the rest of the thugs. "Well, you Milk-Drinkers, I don't have all day. Who's next?"
The thugs rushed her all at once, hoping that strength in numbers would be the answer. Niramo was very impressed when it was not, in fact. The young man lashed out with his foot at one of the thugs, the long reach of his leg hitting the man's chest and forcing him to stumble back while the young man uncrossed his arms and grabbed the wrist of another man with a dagger aimed at his throat. The girl, meanwhile, dodged a dagger blow and brought her hand up to slam a throat blow directly into the thug's throat. He fell back, choking for a few moments. The girl turned on her heel and elbowed another of the Synod's thugs across the face, shattering his jaw. He yelped in pain but, to his credit, remained conscious. A temporary state of being, as the woman grabbed a wooden chair and brought it around in a powerful blow across his back. He hit the ground, bleeding but – well, hopefully at least – alive.
The boy's other hand lanced out as his attacker vainly struggled against his grip, fingers wrapping around the thug's throat. With one hand, the boy lifted the man up and slammed him down through a table. The wood shattered against the man's back and he hit the ground with a thud, unconscious before he could make a noise of his own. The man the boy had kicked earlier came up behind him, expecting to surprise him with a dagger to the back. Instead he was surprised by the last of his comrades – the one the girl had taken down with a throat punch – slamming into his body and sending them both into the bar. Their heads collided with the wood and they were out.
"Tora," the boy whispered after watching the two thugs hit the bar. He walked over to the girl and grabbed her hand. "Damn, you're amazing."
The girl frowned at him. "Flattery? That won't get you anywhere."
The boy grinned sideways. "What about honesty?" he asked jokingly.
The girl smiled back. "More likely."
"Those kids'll be 20 feet tall!" Fen whispered in Niramo's ear while they watched.
Niramo laughed once. "On the short side, then?"
The Synod mage, however, didn't seem to care. "Ah, brutes, I see." The boy and girl – No, they weren't kids. The Breton and the Nord turned towards the mage, already bored with him. "Then you should run, now! I am a master mage, regardless of whatever you believe about the Synod! I am no fourth rate mage!"
"You're right, that's mean to the fourth rate mages," the young man said. He turned fully towards the mage. "Now leave, you're bothering me."
"All of you leave!" the bartender shouted. "You're destroying my inn!"
"Enough!" the mage snapped, ignoring the bartender. He raised his palm towards the young man and flames appeared in their center. "I will not be trivialized by childr-"
He never got a chance to finish, as Niramo and Fen both slammed wooden stools into his back, the force slamming him to the ground for a quick kick to the head that knocked him unconscious. "Now that's enough out of you," Niramo said as he moved his foot back. He dropped his stool and looked up at the Breton boy. "So, I'm Niramo. This is Fen. Wanna be friends?"
Jul
Octavian
"Three hours later, Dorthe and Delphine showed up. I have never been so gods-damned terrified of any pair of people in my entire life than those two right then. They looked ready to explode at the idiot."
"Try training with them," I scoffed. Even through the alcohol, the fear hit Tora too and she shivered. "Much scarier."
"Thank you, Niramo," Athyn said, intrigued still by the story. He turned towards me as we hid behind a wall of barrels near a warehouse. I had cast a spell for tracking Vampires that I had learned from Sybille Stentor during a visit by Tora's family a few years ago. "You and she are natural warriors it seems."
"We were fighting untrained idiots," I said, slightly embarrassed by the attention. "But now, Tora and I are actually good. These two can even fight."
"Legionnaires through and through," Fen stated proudly. He glanced over at the warehouse. "So... what's the play?"
I looked over at it as well. "Elf prisoner?" Fen suggested.
I grimaced. The prisoner gambit? I hated being the prisoner in the prisoner gambit.
"I like the way you think!" Niramo said with a grin.
"Aw... I wanted to charge in," Tora drawled.
Well, I knew that was coming. "Fine. I'll be the prisoner. Athyn and you will charge in when we signal you," I said placatingly. Tora didn't look happy that she had to wait to fight, but she at the same time glad she wouldn't be involved in a trap she'd likely spring too early in her drunken state.
"What will the signal be?" the ambassador's son inquired.
Fen, Niramo, and I glanced at one another. Then, as one, we said, "You'll know it."
