[Skyrim, Whiterun] Our heroes, Our heroes (open)

Arm across her chest, Arla managed to push open the door to the Bannered Mare. It was deserted midday, only the barmaid working silently. She gave Arla a nod, looking over the injured women. A weak Imperial woman, she shouldn't be traveling Skyrim without escort. But it was none of her business.

Arla sat down at a back table, letting the barmaid bring bread and table wine over. The barmaid made sure to eye Arla's coinpurse before returning to her work.

The bread in front of her, Arla dove into it. She devoured the first piece, moving onto the second. Free bread? She may stay here the night. For now, she was content to sit quietly and nurse her arm.

Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart.

I tell you, I tell you, the Dragnborn Argonian comes.

With a voimace wielding power of the ancient Nord Marsh arts

Believe, believe, the Dragonborn Argonian comes.

Namely, staggering in through the door. The large Argonian man grasps a pillar to support himself, clad in armor made of iron, a steel warhammer upon his back. The red runes of fire enchantment adorned the hammer's head, along with a good amount of blood. He looks about, panting for breath heavily. An arrow sticks out from his leg, making him limp along as blood pours from the wound.

The man hobbled over to the bar counter, yellowed eyes bloodshot. His secondary pair of eyelids blinked once, and he spoke in a deep rasp. "I need a drink."

The piece of bread Arla was holding, ready to devour. Yeahhh she dropped it, her mouth hanging wide open. That was an Argonian... It was the first time she had ever seen one up close. Her mind flashed back to hunting lizards at her farm before she came back to reality.

He obviously was hurt more than she was. the arrow sticking out of his leg, the blood...By the nine that was a lot of blood... Her arm began throbbing painfully as she continued staring. A tail?! It was strange seeing it. She knew they existed but it was still bizarre. Especially in Skyrim.It was supposed to get cold up here. Lizards don't like the cold right.

She shook her head clear and began the struggle to get the cork out of her wine with one free hand. The battle occupying her attention for a few moments.

The "battle" was exchanging twenty gold coins for a bottle of mead.

Whoever his pursuers were, they'd given up by now. Damned Thalmor could try to find him all he liked, but just because he was a warrior didn't mean he couldn't be subtle. He went to the chair nearest by the fire. He winced as the arrow continued jutting out from his leg like a pin in some old woman's yarn. He grimaces as he grabs the shaft of the arrow, then suddenly begins to yank it out. He yells and roars as he does this, blood spurting from the wound and burning up in the fire. Every yank is a strain to him, the wood embedded deep in muscle and scale and bone.

With a final roar, he pulls the arrow out, the thing stained with his blood and a tendril of muscle attached to the head of the arrow. Elven made. He tosses it into the fire, panting softly as the blood begins to flow more freely from his wound.

Thankfully, he still had enough sense within his pain addled body to call upon the Histskin, healing the wounds covering his body. Scales repaired, muscles reformed, blood replenished itself, and his vigor came back to the man's body. With a grin, he uncorked his bottle and took a swig of his mead.

That bottle she was struggling with?

*Crash*

Oh...wow that was a lot of blood. Specks of the Argonians blood landed in the spilled wine. Arla was now just staring, no longer caring to hide it. The barmaid walked over, snapping her fingers in front of the Imperials face.

"Hey, girl. Blood is replaceable. Bottles get expensive."

Arla blinked twice and looked up at the barmaid.

"Umm what? Oh...sorry." her gaze flicked back to the formerly bleeding lizard.

She pulled out the last of her gold coin, paying for the wine bottle. She blushed and pushed her chair into the corner of the room, it dragged loudly as she tried to scoot across the floor.

She looked back up to see if she was somehow making a bigger scene than the roaring and hissing lizard man thing.

Oblivious to the drama inside, an herbalist stepped out of the frigid Skyrim air (even in the height of summer, Skyrim's air was still frigid, as far as she was concerned) and into the somewhat warmer inn. She shivered slightly, purging the cold from her body into the warmth of the room around her. She hadn't been to Skyrim since war had made things rather difficult for her sort, and was now back to reacquaint herself with some of Skyrim's more exotic herbs, which could fetch a pretty penny when she circled back toward Cyrodiil and Black Marsh.

Right now, though she'd just come off an excellent bartering session, selling some more southerly herbs common to the area roundabout the Imperial City to the local apothecary. Not a huge profit, overall; she could get a better deal if she'd planned to go further north, but, since she had no specific plan or market, she was only going to gather some of the more northerly herbs in this area of Skyrim and then make her way back for the rest of the Empire. A few days gathering around Whiterun would be more than enough time, and she had enough money from her sales to stay in a nice warm bed for a few nights, rather than sleep out in the rough as she often had to on these runs.

It wasn't an especially profitable business, but it was a living.

She surveyed the "Bannered Mare" with a knowing eye, noting the argonian by the fire, hissing in what sounded like pain. Apart from a barmaid and one customer moving a chair, there was no movement in the building that Lesar could see. Argonians were fairly rare in this part of Tamriel, the elfin Imperial thought to herself, before making her way up toward the bar counter.

A brief flash of light from the outside made Arla look up. She had finished her migration into the corner as the newcomer entered. It looked like another women, possibly an imperial? Well that was nice to see. Arla had worried about seeing only Nords and Elves.

The familiar sight calmed her, causing her wounded arm to relax. Pain shot through her shoulder, wincing, she cried out a little.

Kennek looked to one of his sides and inhaled the scent of herbs. Dragonstongue, frost berries, a hint of white cap, and he could have sworn he peeked a blue mountain flower or six. An herbalist would be valuable around these parts, considering the frozen landscape of Skyrim. He made a mental note to see if she had anything that could possibly be made to use in healing potions - considering what he did for a living...

He snapped his head back to the yelp, blinking. An Imperial mammal was in pain. He swayed his tail a small bit, curious.

Talos..the lizard was looking at her. Stay quiet, don't move, just don't make eye contac- shit! She jerked her head away from his gaze, causing her to wince again. She decided it was best to stare at the plate for the time being. Less teeth.

Kennek snorted, propping his feet near the hearth so that he could warm his feet up. He cracked his neck loudly, grimacing a small bit as he noticed the stiffness in his body. Nothing like being on the run to get one all sorts of sore. Still, he knew no one around here had love for the current elven population - even Argnonian criminals would be preferred to the Thalmor.

"More mead." He spoke simply, deeply, scratching at the scales of his neck absentmindedly.

Was he laughing at her? Real nice, laughing at an injured girl. So what if she couldn't rip arrows out of her. She survived that wolf attack, he'd be a stupid lizard steak for it. The jerk and he was scary looking. She turned up her nose and looked away, thinking of more insults she would never say to him.

She picked at her bread as the fire crackled. It was a simple pit in the middle of the room, at least in Cyrodiil they had fireplaces. More and more she began to regret coming here. She knew she was supposed to go right at that fork.

She blamed the poor handwriting of the Guard before grimacing at her aching arm.

Kennek gave the barmaid another twenty gold pieces as he worked on his second bottle of mead. Ah, this was the life. No more boring, slow days. No more having to worry about a paycheck from some crotchety whoreson of a Nord. No more civil war.

Now all he had to do was worry about Thalmor "diplomatic" squads what wandered the countryside. And of course when his next bottle might be.

"You scared, little girl? Never seen an Argonian before?"

Nine...he was talking to her... Act tough, you've done this before.

"Do I look scared to you?" She purposefully lowered her voice, maybe he would think she was some Nord warrior or something.

She looked up, held back a minor nervous laughter, and put on her best warrior face.

A single eyeridge was raised at the girl's response to his query.

"Uh huh. You're Imperial, kid. Long way from home, like me." The man took a swig of mead, licking his maw after. "Now you gonna answer me or not?"

"T..This is Imperial land. So therefore I'm not far from home"

She pulled her arms in closer, balling her hands up. That lick made her feel more than a bit insecure.

"In any case you are from further away. I'm not that far from home" She repeated her statement, calming herself. She needed to be reassured, not interrogated.

Keeping an ear on the byplay, in an admittedly not especially subtle fashion, Lesar went up to the bar and went about purchasing a bottle of mead and a room for the night.

"Uh huh. Sure. You're the big scary Imperial, right?"

Kennek leaned back in his chair, his recently healed leg propped up in plain view. Scarring had taken place rather rapidly, a gnarled look to where the arrow once was. The thing still burned in the fire. The smell agitated the Argonian, reminding him all too much of mer filth and debauchery. He undid he gauntlets, setting them aside with a heavy metallic sound as the iron things clattered together. He flexed his clawed hand, five fingers each, just like a man or mer.

"So why're you here?"

"I'm passing through. Thought I would take the long way back to the Imperial City. Excuse me" She grabbed her things and walked up to the second woman.

"Excuse me miss?" Arla approached her "I see you are getting a room, I don't have any gold- I mean very much gold and I was wondering if I could share the room with you?"

She glanced back at the lizard, she felt like he was watching her.

He was not watching her, because he couldn't be bothered to keep up with a racist Imperial. Damned mammals - couldn't even get a Khajit to trust him out in these parts. The fact he was almost always heavily armored, camping in the wilderness, and perpetually caked in blood probably had nothing to do with that.

Speaking of.

Kennek got up from his seat, politely pushing his way past Nords as he rested his elbows on the countertop. "Hey, you got some sort of tub I could use? Been a good few days since I bathed, and I really-"

The innskeep looked at him with a stern expression. "We don't like raiders around these parts, stranger. You're lucky I don't call the guards right now."

Kennek glared at the woman, claws scraping the countertop. "Hey, I ain't a damned raider! I'm... an adventurer. You get a lot of those in these parts, right?"

"Don't like them much either. Always causing trouble, stealing things when no one's looking, messing with my buckets and pots. 'sides, we're out of bathing water."

The Argonian hissed with frustration - something akin to a sigh, really. "Fine. Can I get a damned room at least?"

The innskeep smirked, handing the Imperial woman a key. "Last one taken, lizard. Looks like you get to sleep outside with the other animals."

Arla looked at the other woman, a nervous giggle slipping out of her.

Lesar stared at the barmaid in shock. Okay. So she now... had a room for free? She hadn't even paid her.

Racists were simply incomprehensible.

She secured the key in her hand, and slipped it into her pocket, turning, and saying, "Thank you, ever so much, for the room. Your servant, madam," she said, turning back. She waited for the woman to turn away, and move just a little away, but, while she was still in earshot. "Considering the... price of the room, I wouldn't be averse to sharing it with you fine people. Though sharing the bed might cost a little more," she said, winking.

Kennek perked up at this. Mammals were squishy and soft, but he was never averse to sharing a bed with them.

He turned to the woman and grinned. "Well, well. I think I can help with that."

Arla wasn't quite sure of what was going on. The whistling that could be heard was their innuendo going over her head.

"I don't have much gold, I can just make a spot on the floor. I don't want to pay for a bed..." She looked a bit happier, knowing she had an option besides the streets tonight. "It won't be..umm.." She glanced to the lizard "Crowded?"

Lesar sort of half-smiled apologetically at the Argonian. She'd had some fun, at least, when the barmaid had gotten that lemon-sucking look on her face. Taking pity on the young Imperial, she pulled back. "It's alright, I spoke in jest, anyway," though she made a last, flirtatious gesture with her eyes before continuing. "We can draw lots for the bed, and the others can sleep on the floor." No one would ever accuse Lesar's mother of not teaching her about fairness.

"Though I should probably know who I'm sharing a room with. I'm Lesar," she said, extending her hand.

"Kennek-Getha." The man shook her hand with a rough, scaled hand, careful to not dig his claws into her flesh.