"She's what?" Roamstorm nearly fell out of his chair at the Flowing Bowl tavern, the sudden news overwhelmed him. His face lit up like that of a thousand burning fires, yet a hopeful fire building inside of him, the news being the oxygen instigating it to burn brighter and hotter.

"Yep, I saw her with my own eyes." Aderyn displayed with his hands, stretching them out over his stomach.

"Did she say anything to you? How is she doing? Is the primate of the Chapel there to help?" Roamstorm had so many questions. It seemed only natural, but still hadn't completely sunk in that he was soon to be something greater than just Roamstorm the sailor.

"She said that she wished to see you!" After Aderyn repeated it for the third time Roamstorm's eyes widened a little, unsure if he should. It had all come to him so suddenly, and he wasn't exactly sure if he was ready for such advancement in life. How would he act? How would he treat his wife from this day forward? Would he be kind or tyrannical? Thankfully for him Aderyn was there to talk him through it all.

"Are you sure she said that?" Roamstorm whispered, unsure if he even wanted to know the answer.

"Yes!" Aderyn stated, frustration bordering the edge of his mind. He understood the sudden shock from news of this magnitude, but what else could Roamstorm do but go and see her. Running away certainly wasn't an option, they both agreed on that.

"Listen, Romiskeld…" the Nord hissed at the name. Aderyn only reiterated the necessity of his first name, proper and dignified from now on. Romiskeld loathingly agreed, thinking of his new title matching with that of a sailor. He even managed to smile, only a small bit, but it was at least an improvement on his current condition.

"Anyways, you'll do fine. I'm sure you'll be a natural. One of the best in the land!" They both smiled together, conversing more about the recent events. But soon Romiskeld thought it best to finally appear before his wife and take ownership of his doing – with joy, though, gilding his steps.

--

Merriment flittered about in the air, stained by the scent of alcohol – the atmosphere of the Flowing Bowl tavern excited and joyful. Beer and mead slung about by the excited men found its way to nearly every corner of the tavern. Maenlorn, a Bosmer and proprietor of the Flowing Bowl, scurried about, agitated, trying to calm the ruckus. There was nothing for his smaller physique to do, however, than let the men go about their excitement and leave when they had finished. Romiskeld, the most joyful man in sight, stood up from his table to spread the announcement to all – the awaited news that would tell everyone of his recent discovery.

"Gents, friends, and all of you other scallywags who call yourself seamen!" All sailors cheered, more or less confused at his last choice in wording – slurring it slightly – but knowing he meant well as he was simply 'in the moment'. "I bring great news from my wife." Cheering burst out again. "And it is with great joy that I bring it to you. We are now, as of not too long ago, parents to a handsome baby boy, Thormoor!"

Ecstatically ending the announcement Romiskeld ordered another round of beer and mead be brought to the tables for his fellow shipmates. Aderyn calmly sat in the back, watching as the Nordic men took swig after swig of the vile drinks. Politely he asked for wine instead, not quite fond of any other drink Maenlorn served. Still, he remained in the tavern to cheer and support his old friend.

The hour grew late, and still the men showed no sign of leaving. Maenlorn, curried by the rude beings hoarding his drinks, pattered about as the constant yelling for him to hurry motivated him to move along. Threats broke out saying they would turn him into nice little totem outside of his establishment – tied up and naked. Harassed enough he shouted above the voices and ordered for them all to leave at once before he called the local authorities. Aderyn, knowing full well the frustration of the exhausted Wood Elf, chided Romiskeld to wrap up the party and head home – guiding him there of course, for he was far too drunk to make it there on his own steam; which, right now, felt a pleasant buzzing in the back of the Nord's mind, but would soon morph into a monstrous headache before the sun arose.

Tossing the Bosmer a hefty payment for the destruction aroused by his comrades, Aderyn thanked him for being patient. Maenlorn graciously accepted the sum, and then promptly went about reorganizing the mess. Foul minded and ill-tempered, Romiskeld resented in being thrown out so soon. He still wished to taste mead run down his throat, the appeasing sensation it gave to him, relieving his mind of any other frustration. Aderyn, however, knew better than to let the Nord get too carried away. Already had his friend drained several bottles of liquor and would be in no fine mood come morning should he continue.

Secunda and Masser, natures natural light in the cool, sunless atmosphere, brightly illuminated the heavens with their grace. Grateful for the serenities of night, Aderyn threw Romiskeld's arm over his shoulder, supporting the beefy weight of his friend, and continued on into town, passing the rows of houses little by little as he carried the Nord home. All was peaceful: the chirping of crickets off in the distance, the gentle breeze of wind rushing past them, even the soft pitter patter of their feet against the cobblestone path as they continued on. At least it was peaceful till they reach Romiskeld's house.

Dumania Jirich, the female Primate of Chapel Anvil, awaited Romiskeld's return. Though, seeing him in such an inebriated state sent her into a condescending temperament – spouting curses from the gods down upon his head for being so foolish. Aderyn excused the inappropriate state, claiming it to be his fault for letting the Nord get out of control. She dismissed after showering them with several more wrathful words, heading back to the chapel to atone for her foul tongue. Aderyn chuckled as she left, watching as she cursed herself for her irritability at the situation.

Once inside, he laid Romiskeld upon the bed next to Vigdis who only smiled at her husband, proud of the man he was becoming. With a loving hand she stroked her fingers through his wavy blonde locks. Aderyn noticed the child lying in his crib at the foot of the bed – small and calm – well, small for a Nord baby, but large for any other child besides and Orc's. Still, he gazed over Thormoor, noticing an odd birthmark over the child's brow. It was familiar to him – similar in shape to a three but somewhat jagged. Gingerly he caressed the forehead of Thormoor, feeling the child's smooth surface beneath his fingertips and the faint pulsation under the skin, and traced the birthmark along its path.

"Dumania claims it's an omen" Vigdis said, watching as Aderyn looked over her child.

"What?" Aderyn looked to her confused.

"His birthmark." She rose from her bed and walked over to the crib. Just as Aderyn had she too traced the lines. "But she's not sure if the sign proves helpful or a hindrance." Together they gazed over the child, watching as his chest rose and sank in rhythm to his breathing.

--

Back at the Flowing Bowl, Aderyn sat against the far wall, pondering the child's birthmark. Rubbing a hand across his forehead he remembered his own sign, the same as he witnessed on Thormoor, though now completely faded. His thoughts were interrupted, however, as two females, one Imperial and the other Nord, walked up to him. Fumbling with a ring on his left hand, he noticed they handled themselves rather provocatively. He felt his heartbeat quicken, his inner heat rising.

"Why hello there" spoke the Imperial, her voice soft and inviting. "Signy here wants to ask you something. I'm sure a handsome man such as yourself wouldn't want to refuse the offer we have for you." She slowly rubbed a hand up his leg, nearing far too close to his… pride.

The voluptuous Nord female, offering sight of far too much cleavage, leaned over him. Sweat began trickling down his neck, heated from the unexpected visit. Her voice, while not as clean spoken as the Imperial females, was still pleasant in tone.

"You poor thing, you're all alone," she began, coursing one of her hands through his hair long, jet-black hair. Normally he wouldn't have allowed such an invasion of his personal space be violated, especially in such a manner as this. But he hadn't experienced the comforts of intimacy, such as they offered him, in many years, making it extremely difficult to resist the welcoming temptation. And slowly he found himself slipping into the realm of desire. Her soothing words, hinting to sexual acts as she mentioned a "night of fun", sent him past the edge of caution and into wanting his mortal cravings fulfilled.

Though, all sensations halted as she motioned for him to meet them at their house – HIS house – at Gweden Farm. Defiled by sexual acts, he loathed their words now, infuriated in how a place of blessedness could be changed into an unholy whorehouse. The final resting place of his past family rested in the bowels of the establishment, and only the gods knew if their spirits' were stirring in retaliation. Trying his best to hide the rising emotions, the anger building inside of him stuffed back down for later use, he pretended to still be enjoying their company.

Tomorrow, past eleven at night, he was to meet them there for a pleasurable evening. Indeed he would, but not with pleasure on his mind – only retribution for their tarnishing his home. He somewhat wished to greet them with hellfire now, but a small voice in the recesses of his mind stayed his angered thoughts – rebuking him for their murderous intentions. He remembered now back to his devotion to Stendarr – the god of Mercy. He would have to reconsider his plans for revenge, and instead bring justice to the defiled home the way his practice should show.