With wide eyes Modryn examined his room slowly

The room was very elegant; it was cabin like, but had all of the comforts of a high-class inn that you would find in the Imperial City. The large four-poster bed was covered with satin sheets and was draped on all corners with curtains for privacy. Candles were placed neatly around the room and the furniture was made of finely polished mahogany wood with intricate carvings on the sides. Modryn set down his bags and smiled, despite the fact that there was a crazy Altmer who he was sure wanted to rape him, he felt like he might actually enjoy this trip. He opened up his bags and began to unpack, putting everything away in proper order, including his lovely steel mace. Oh yes, he thought, this would be a good trip indeed.

When he was all done unpacking, Modryn set out to find the nearest tavern. It wasn't very hard, since the island was so small. The first tavern he found had a colorful sign that exclaimed 'THE PARROT'S NEST' in big bold letters as the name of the establishment, and hung next to a tall, colorfully painted building where drunks and sobers alike wandered in and out. He sighed contently and entered the tavern, only to find it strangely more active than other taverns in Cyrodill. The exotic dancers reminded him of another tavern he had visited in Vvardenfell called Desele's House of Earthly Delights. He smirked at the memory and continued into the tavern. People were up and moving around and chatting excitedly with one another, causing a loud mosaic of voices to fill the room. He sat down at an empty table and was immediately served by a waiter. 'Good', he figured, 'without the guild restrictions, I can get as drunk as I want!' With this new logic in mind, he set out to order as many drinks as his budget would allow. Pretty soon he was giggling and telling some of his misadventures in a slurred voice to some random, also drunk, strangers. They all guffawed at his little tale of loosing a bet on which of the newest recruits would die first, and they were clutching their sides when he told them about interrogating Ajum Kajin, a Blackwood Company leader, with the Archmage of the Mages Guild.

"D-d-dude, like sherioushly, yew are thee mosht funniesh…uhh Dark Elf I've evur met –hic-." One stranger commented through giggles. There were four of them, including Modryn, sitting at a table in the corner with empty bottles stacked all around them.

Modryn giggled in an out-of-character fashion and downed some more brandy. "Well," he slurred, "I don't mean to brag or nuthin', but I got me some great comedy schills." This caused everyone at the table to cheer and nod in agreement. Then, one of them shouted, "hey, yew should get up there and shing us a funny shong!" Once again, everyone at the table cheered in agreement, and who was (drunk) Modryn to deny their pleadings? So, with the coordination of a man with his ears ripped of, Modryn stood up and began to sing a rousing (if not incomprehensible) version of 'The Lonely Farmers Daughter and Her Magic Carrot.' Truly, it was a night to remember, as everyone else in the tavern felt like joining in. One man whose purple suit, yellow eyes and silver, smooth backed hair which made him look important, sang quite loudly in a strange accent. The smaller, balding man next to him looked as if he wanted to kill himself, and only sipped at a small glass of water. It was one very fun filled night.

Modryn woke up with a very, very, bad hangover. His skull felt like it had been broken open by an angry minotaur and his mouth tasted like he had eaten three servings of his mother's famous 'Kaguti surprise' meatloaf. He groaned and rolled over, luckily, his bed was devoid of other bodies.

"Uuugh…Worst Vacation EVER." He grumbled.

-REFRESH-

Olav had seen some strange things in his days of owning a tavern, but this just took the cake. The conjurer in front of him was grinning wildly as he held a thin leash in his skinny hands.

"Can you please watch my Daedroth, Odie for me while I'm out getting imp gall?" he asked exuberantly. "I won't be too long, and he's very tame, just make sure that he's on his leash at all times." Staring at the Daedroth Olav could only wonder how he was even able to walk into town without being arrested.

"No way." Olav said folding his arms. "It'll probably scare off my patrons and drool in their cups."

"Nonsense," the Conjurer objected, "like I said he's totally tame, this leash is enchanted to make Odie think he's a dog. He'll be really friendly with you're customers and as for the drooling…well I can't deny that he'll drool in your cups but you'll just have to be careful with him." while they talked the Daedroth began to gnaw on one of the nearby tables in boredom.

"Yes but, why me? Don't you have some buddies in an abandoned fort somewhere who can help you?" It didn't make much sense to Olav; why would a random Conjurer whom he had never met before come to his Tavern and ask him to baby-sit a dangerous bloodthirsty Daedra?

"My other friends are too busy trying to domesticate Xivilai to watch cute little Odie here to make sure he doesn't get out." The conjurer said in a miffed way. "Besides, I know you're very responsible with pets and that you'll take good care of him." A thought occurred to Olav as he watched one of his best tables get chewed up by Odie.

"Do you even know my name?" he asked skeptically. The conjurer looked offended then scoffed.

"Of course I know your name Mannimorco. And I know that you'll watch Odie for me, now take his leash and I'll be back soon."

And before Olav could even punch the little sucker in the jaw, he was out the door.

Needless to say Olav didn't keep his usual customers for very long. They would walk in, he would smile, and then Odie would look up and go bounding towards the newcomer with dogie exuberance. Then, the tavern go-er would scramble out the door, and Olav would have to dig his heels in the floor and pull with all his might to keep the Daedroth from getting away. But, other than having his income cut short for the day, Odie was quite an enjoyable companion. By 3PM he had taught the scaly dogie how sit and roll over (resulting in more broken tables) and even got him to stay still when someone came in. By 6PM one of his usual patrons, Ongar, was brave enough to stay and order a warm bottle of ale

"So," Ongar asked in-between gulps. "What's this big guy's name?"

Sitting at one of the few surviving tables Olav shrugged in a nonchalant manner and replied, "Odie, apparently. Odd name ain't it?"

Ongar's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he nodded, then took another sip from his half-empty bottle of ale.

"So, what're you gonna do with the big guy? I'm assumin' the little turd left the thing here and ran off, or got mauled by a bear since he's taken' so long."

"I'm thinking of either donating him to a Mages Guild conjurer or…" Olav paused, considered what he was about to say, then finished with, "keeping him." The finishing remarked caused Ongar to fall out of his chair and choke on his ale in utter surprise.

"K-keep him?!" Ongar managed to croak out. "Are you insane?! Do you want to get hauled off by the city guard? Been there, done that, not fun!" He shakily stood back up and stood his chair back on its four legs then sat back down.

"Hey, it's a…good idea! With this leash it'll be like he's a normal dogie, and I can hide him in the cellar if the guard comes." Olav retorted defensively. Ongar lifted a skeptical eyebrow and shook his head; they both knew that was a dumb excuse. During the discussion Odie had been napping in a corner quietly, paws tucked under his chin contently and unnaturally delicate snores sounding every few seconds. Now with a large yawn the Daedroth woke up and scratched behind it's non-existent ear. Olav turned in his chair and watched his now beloved pet with sad eyes. It was true, he couldn't keep him, even the guards weren't stupid enough not to check his cellar and sooner or later someone will report him to the guards (in fact he was surprised that the guards hadn't hauled him away yet).

"…Yeaah so like I said, what are you going to do with him?" Ongar said slowly. Odie cocked his head and stomped his way toward his temporary owner, as if sensing his distress.

"I guess the only option is the Mages Guild, I'd hate to see him killed," Olav sighed. "I hear the Chorrol Mages Guild specializes in conjuration, maybe he can live there." He mumbled hopelessly. They sat in silence as Olav brooded and Ongar searched his pocket for spare septims. Suddenly, an ear-piercing shriek shattered the calm evening. Odie stood alert and Ongar and Olav abruptly sat up in their seats. Swiftly they all scrambled for the door and threw the door open to see what all the commotion was about, nearly getting knocked over by Odie. A man in a crimson robe was attacking a young girl, and the guards were busy hacking through similar men blocking the way. Bystanders tried their best to help but most just stood to the side and watched in terror. With an earth-shattering cry Odie barreled through Ongar and Olav and ran over to the robed attacker. The girl screeched at the sight of the Daedroth and ran deeper into the alley she was cornered in. The attacker, thinking he caused the scream, advanced further, ignorant of Odie's advance. With a swipe of his massive paws, Odie slammed the robed man into the ground and proceeded to rip him to shreds. The man's screams echoed across Bruma, and nearby animals lifted their heads at the disturbance. Guardsmen and citizens alike watched in shock and revulsion as the poor man was ripped apart, then in curiosity as it began to wag its scaly tail and practically hop back to Olav for a good petting and praising. Finally finished with the robed man's comrades, a guardsman approached Olav and with a curious look asked, "Excuse me sir, but are you the owner of this…Daedroth?"

Olav looked away from Odie and replied, "Well, kind of. The owner left it with me and he hasn't returned yet, I assume that he's dead." Seeing the Guard's wary look he added, "Oh, don't worry about him attacking you, this leash makes him think he's a normal house dog. Mostly harmless."

The guard nodded and said, "Well, I suppose the proper thing to do would be arresting you for owning a dangerous creature in town limits, but seeing as he just saved a life and hasn't hurt any innocent people…". The guard stopped the think and the other townsfolk took the opportunity to inch closer to Odie. Finally the guard came to a decision.

"We'll take it to the Countess, we'll try to have her decision to you by tomorrow, good night citizen."

They both sighed in relief, and re-entered the tavern for some celebratory cyrodillic brandy and sweetrolls. By mid-morning the Countess had written up a special contract that stated that Odie may stay in the town as long as he didn't harm anyone and that if the original owner ever returned Olav was required to return him. The original owner's remains were found approximately two hundred feet from the city walls with injuries suggesting a bear attack, and Odie and Olav lived… cheerily forevermore.

THE END

Writers' block sucks. Idea's for the Modryn story just won't come. HEY READERS! Tell me, what should happen next? Give me suggestions! If you do, I'll update faster and give you free tickets to The Hill of Suicides! Wait…