[Skyrim, Falkreath] A Room admist the Storm (Open)

As it just so happened, Amelin's return to freedom after a brief incarceration was greeted by the arrival of storm clouds. That and the fact her journal had been replaced with an enchanted ledger, she resolved to investigate that matter another time, after she had found shelter for the night. Unfortunately, the guards had chosen to skim some of the Septims in her purse, which made finding a room rather difficult, especially for a Bosmer exile.

The Nord from the ledger had informed her of a tavern, fittingly called the Storm's Refuge, owned by her family. Amelin of course was reluctant at first to accept a stranger's word at face value, however, with few remaining options, aside from riding the storm outside...

Amelin strode into the tavern, finding many patrons gathered at tables and near the bar, no doubt also riding out the storm as they recounted traveler's tales over mead and bread. Given that several of the patrons had also brought fur pelts along them, it seemed to indicate this establishment served as a hunting lodge in the Hold.

At least I can ask them about any good game in the area. She thought as she approached the owner of the tavern. "Skiran Free-Spirit's daughter told me about this place, do you have a room for rent?

Sopping wet, Sundulis shook himself off like a dog on the front walk of the inn. His own body was dry, but his normally light-grey vestments were almost black with the amount of liquid absorbed into the fabric. They were also incredibly heavy, and had hampered the last leg of his journey from Cyrodiil significantly. He reckoned that he ought to have arrived by mid-morning, not late afternoon. Not that one could tell, given the blackness of the clouds.

Sundulis considered removing his robe as he stepped inside, though he worried that his clothes underneath would not keep him nearly warm enough. It did not need to be said, but Skyrim's air had a bite. The fire slowly being setup by the matron of the Storm's Refuge appealed greatly though, and he removed his hood, one side getting caught on his ears for a moment. He shrugged it off, letting his damp hair air out.

One of the attendants nodded to the elf as he took a seat on a stool, greeting him politely. Sundulis went over the arrangement that had already been sent to the inn about his lodging, and he simply paid the night's fee as well as placing an order of wine. Not honey wine, though he was somewhat tempted to taste mead, given the Nord's love for the drink. However, Nord tastes were backwards in many other places, at least in the bosmer's eyes, who had been raised on an upper-class breton diet. A classic "milk-drinker" to them.

Another bosmer spoke to the tavernkeeper, and Sundulis tilted his head in surprise. A pleasant surprise, though, elves in Skyrim weren't as common as they were down south, and he'd almost grown accustomed to their constant presence within the Synod. He flashed her a nod and a smile before asking the barkeep whether drying his robes over the fire would be acceptable.

"I have four rooms left for vacancy, your lucky you arrived when you did traveler. Ten Septims for one night." The keeper informed her, which Amelin promptly payed in return, plus several more Septims for a meal. It was simple, cheese, bread, bacon, and a bottle of Colovian ale. For a Bosmer, her tastes weren't as refined compared to others. Then again, considering her upbringing, and desire to be as separate from what was seen as "acceptable customs", or what the Thalmor considered acceptable.

She noticed another of her kind sitting on the stool next to her, smiling. "You're a long way from the south, aren't you."

Sundulis almost corrected her. To him, "the south" was Cyrodiil's border with Elsweyr, or Vvardenfell, both places he had never been. He was tempted to say that he was only half-way up the continent before remembering he was a fair way up. Falkreath was close enough to the border that it didn't feel so far out of the way, yet.

"One could say the same for you," he said, resting on his elbow as he turned towards the woman. "I take it you're from Falkreath? Otherwise seeing a traveling mer wouldn't be so unusual a sight." He was coming off more rude than intended, and he frowned as he realized it. "I'm sorry, I'm rather soaked and it seems to be making me a tad grumpy."

"There's a drying rack over by the fireplace." The huntress said as she pointed the male Bosmer where to go. "As for me, I'm not the one that stays to one place for very long."

Sundulis nodded in thanks, throwing his outer layer over his shoulder as he placed it across the wooden rods. He came back wearing a simple vest and sleeved-shirt, very mundane in colour. "So, a traveler? Merchant? What takes you from place to place?"

"Hunter actually, which makes a place such as this appealing for one in my occupation. Though you are somewhat right on the traveler part as well." She said whilst downing some of her ale. "You?"

"WHO MENTIONED THE SOUTH?!"

Vernus Rex intruded immediately upon the conversation.

"I am Vernus Rex, GREATEST FIGHTER IN THE ARENAS OF CYRODIIL! Who asks?"

Vernus Rex boldly walked over, his wounds healing slightly.

"Who seeks a man who can defeat an evil?! ANY EVIL? Let us ride together! Or some such!"

Vernus Rex boisterously coughed, turning.

"I go where I need to! Who needs me?! WHO?!"

"I'm Synod. One of their field archaeologists. I spend a great deal of my time treading ground in ruins, making diagnostic notes about time period, function, so forth. Mainly so that we know what to send over for evaluation--"

And then a loud man walked in. He was behind the pair immediately, bellowing about some such nonsense, the whole ordeal making Sundulis' ears ring. He thought the man was finished twice over, and opened his mouth to speak before this Vernus Rex character cut him off. When he finally finished, the elf turned towards him, rubbing his temple.

"If you wish to smite evil, I'd suggest starting with the impaling headache you've afflicted on me, oaf." Julianos, I pray that he does not take that literally.

Vernus drew his blade, laying the flat on Sundulis' shoulder.

"This is fine Imperial Steel, friend. The best available to men and mer. I can rid you of a headache, in the most literal of senses."

He drew the blade away quickly, without touching Sundulis, and slammed the point into the ground.

"OR, I can cure you of a headache or two in a more metaphorical sense. That, of course, is your choice."

Quickly the sword was removed from its position in the ground and thrust into the air.

"AND THAT IS THE CHOICE AVAILABLE TO ANY MAN, WOMAN, OR CHILD HERE CAN MAKE! I do not even ask a price - only, do I ask, for a chance to bathe in the blood of mutual foes! I am the best Arena Fighter to ever hail from Cyrodiil, and my blade stands free for anyone."

The sword was sheathed, his dramatic show ended.

"Thus, the choice is now yours. You can lead me to the evils that need be purged, or you may become one."

Sundulis did not back down, instead opting to pull out his own sword. It was a meager thing, made of iron with no decorations to speak of, and the hilt was as basic as could be. He rested the blade across his arm, the pommel outwards. As it kept at the moment, it would do no harm.

"This is worn, partially rusted iron, friend. Little more than a pig-sticker, for defense against rampaging moose and the occasional wild dog." He kept his composure, boldly looking Vernus in the eye. "If you are so bold as to strike at me, a man largely incapable of defending himself, there will be no honour for you. Moreover, I am a valued member of the Synod and they will not hesitate to put a warrant out for you, and your arena reputation won't mean piss. Now please kindly leave me to my drink."

It was a gambit, sure. But though Sundulis was perfectly capable of defending himself with some shock and awe, he truly did not like violence, and he bet that Vernus was simply a boisterous buffoon than bloodthirsty.

Amelin kept a wary eye of the two's confrontation, and a hand on her dagger in case the Imperial decided to take offense at her acquaintance's words.

"Enough!" The tavernkeeper spoke, a cold harshness to his tone. "Either you two stop now or I am calling the guards. You're free to settle this matter elsewhere but I will not tolerate a fight in my tavern."

"A fight? Never. As he stated; he is no competition. Who am I to fight someone who cannot successfully fight back? No, it is absurd. I offered solely to fight with him - for him - to find foes worthy. He is not one. That is clear to any man here. A fight? Preposterous. Were I in the least inclined, it would be a slaughter. No fight at all."

Vernus Rex laughed.

"And what kind of Gladiator would I be, looking for something that is not a fight at all?"

After a while, in strode the angriest looking nord around. Arla's disappearance had left her in a rut, naivety aside Arla was a good kid and didn't deserve to be in such a situation lost in the woods. The nord took a seat at the bar, ignoring the mentally deficient Imperial and his Bosmer friend for now as she ordered a mug of mead to calm her nerves.

"Damnable child...why'd you leave like this?"
She muttered to herself angrily...

The tavernkeeper rolled his eyes at the Imperial's stupidity. At least he seemed to be backing off for now. His attention now turned to the recently arrived Nord, a sullen look on her face.

"Ah, Asren! Good to see you."

Taking his seat again, Sundulis shook his head, paying the imperial little more heed. "There will be no fight, sir. I apologize for the display." He took another sip of wine, and politely followed up by placing a few well-polished septims on the counter, kindly requesting "something warm." The elf was a bit uneasy from the loud, brief episode, and desperately wished he hadn't brought his weapon out at all, even to mock the pit-fighter. Sundulis was better than that.

"That, there, is why I avoid the arena."

Glancing up at the familiar voice, Asren smiled a bit.
"Aye, Vekel, it's been a while now. How've you been holding up old man?"
She asked as she took a healthy chug of mead, letting it go down smoothly.

Amelin raised an eyebrow at the Nord's presence, she seemed to be a close friend of the owner.

"Ah," said Vekel. "Business has been good for me now that the damned war is over. How about you? Traveling been treating you well?"

"Been better."
Asren replied, swigging her mead once again.
"I've been looking for someone I was traveling with; small girl, blonde hair, she's probably missing her clothes if you've seen her recently."
The nord said, not even bothering for subtlety here, all that mattered was tracking Arla down before something worse did it first.

"Ah, I see." Vekel said solemnly, "I am sorry to hear that Asren, I wish I had more information to share. If I hear anything about your companion, I'll be sure to spread the word."

The mention of the Nord looking for someone piqued Amelin's interest.

"Excuse me" she introduced herself. "You said you were searching for someone? If you're willing to pay, I can help you track her down."

Glancing to the Bosmer, Asren nodded hesitantly, not sure what is was to her.
"Aye, that I did...and I do."
She said, choosing her words carefully.
"What is your usual price for tracking?"
The nord asked curiously.

"For game, twenty Septims. Double for finding a person." Amelin said, taking a swig of ale before continuing.

"What else should I know about who you are looking."

"I'll do it for free." Vernus Rex reminds, from across the tavern.

Asren glared at the mouthy Imperial with cold, blue eyes full of just...irritation. After she gave the gladiator a non-verbal 'Fuck off whelp, Adults are talking.', she glanced back at Amelin with an apologetic shrug.
"Sorry about that. Anyways, I'm looking for an Imperial girl; Chorrol-born, blonde hair, kind of on the short side for her race, last I saw her she was nursing an wolf-bite on her arm." She began, swigging her mead ever so often.

"We were camped near here when she disappeared, all I found of her was her clothing." Asren said grimly, already pondering the implications of that in her head; that somehow she'd either been taken from under her nose by some sick man or...

It didn't matter, what did matter was finding Arla and bringing her home no matter what. The girl deserved that much.
"I've enough gold, only thing is do you have experience in finding people as opposed to wild game. Judging by her size, she couldn't have gotten too far so soon."

"I have adequate enough experience in tracking people, their not nearly as good in covering their tracks compared to game. Mind you, I am no bounty hunter." Amelin downed another swig of ale before continuing.

"If you say she's not far from here, we might be able to find your friend soon. Can you show me where the two of you were camped?"