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

Kennek-Getha of Iblan wrote:Kennek could quite honestly care less about some timid little thing going away from the table. Now he could focus on more... important matters. Clasping his hands together, he grinned that grin of his at the remaining Imperial. "Well, looks like I won that draw of yours by default. Can't say I'm not happy about that."

"Oh, well," Lesar said, turning toward her food. "Her loss," she said, popping a last bit of bread into her mouth and then washing it down with a generous sip of the local, and, in Lesar's opinion, quite excellent Nord Mead.

"So, how was your day of adventuring bad, in particular?"

"I took an arrow in my ankle for one thing."

Kennek propped his leg on the table, the scar quite visible. "Luckily," he noted with more then a hint of pride, "Argonians are pretty lucky. Particularly those that lick the Hist a lot." He grinned at her, taking another swig of mead. He looked the woman over thoroughly, and he couldn't help but approve of her. Slim, well set... though something seemed a bit off about her scent. "That and, well, I happened to be better with a mace then those... people... happened to be better with their aim. Hurt like a bastard though."

His tail curled around one of the chair legs, the sound more then a bit rough. "So, mind telling me what brings out in these parts?"

"Yeesh, doesn't look too good," Lesar said in response to the scar, not even wincing at the sudden move by the Argonian.

She shrugged at his question. "Haven't been to Skyrim in years. Ingredients from down south sell well here. There's ingredients up here that'll sell well down there. It's a living."

"One way to do it I suppose. Used to be a mason in Falkreath, myself - where I got to learn how to handle a hammer." Kennek scratched the scales of his chin, the rough sound of scraping heard as he did. "Must have made half of those gravestones when the Civil War was over. Lot of good men and women died during those times. Damned Stormcloaks." He hissed. With a deep, rumbling grunt, he continued. "Then the Thalmor came and shut down the operation when my boss turned out to be a Talos worshiper." He spat onto the ground, crossing his arms over his chest.

"And now here I am - a wanderer. Adventuring where I can, selling the loot I plunder for coin. An exciting life." Kennek grinned once again, an almost perpetual thing at this point. "Not to mention it keeps me in shape."

Agrippina surreptitiously slipped into the establishment - or at least, as surreptitiously as one could when she was a grey-skinned Altmeri in a settlement of Nords. The rest of her band remained outside, secluded in the shadows. They were close enough to secure the door in case of trouble but far enough away to avoid inviting trouble in the first place. These were tense times - even more so than usual - and she was not taking any chances. She had just been released from detainment; she was not about to get herself embroiled in another fight.

As casually as she could, Agrippina journeyed through the fray and onto the bar proper. She glanced over the inhabitants as she did so. The usual crowed, although there were some peculiar faces scattered amongst them. Hopefully no one who had a bone to pick with a Thalmor Justiciar. Agrippina could handle herself in a fight - a bar brawl was another matter entirely.

Arriving at the bar, she ordered a beer - Nord liquor was simply awful - and leaned against the table, glancing over her shoulder around the folds of her hood.

"I'll say it does, at that," Lesar said, looking him up and down again, not having much to say about the war. It had been a stupid war. Why would the damn Stormcloaks try to destroy Talos' legacy to worship him? That was beyond stupid. Of course, she could understand not liking the Thalmor. After all, who did? Though she hoped that the Argonian wasn't himself actively anti-Talos. Obviously, it wouldn't do to ask any such thing in the open. One trained oneself to say what sounded right whether it was true or not if one wished to avoid the Thalmor. This went double for an Altmer-born human, such as herself, which the Thalmor always knew from even the scantest of contact. She was, as far as they were concerned, the daughter of a traitor, no matter who or why it was, even if they had no idea who her father was.

Of course, if they knew, then they knew it double.

"So, how far afield do you adventure? I imagine wandering Skyrim alone would be fairly... cold."

"Lonely, too." Kennek nodded, his tone more then a bit suggestive. "I don't get much company out in the wilderness, y'see. So I have all those Septims to myself, but not a soul to share it with. So, hey, pretty lucky on that part." He chuckled, a deep hissing thing, his chest rumbling with each one. He took his leg off the table, looking about the inn for a brief moment. The place growing dead-

And then he spotted the telltale Justicar robes, and he gripped his hands in fury, his warrior's instincts burning inside of him. Telling him to smash, to rip, to break and tear. But, thankfully, his mind was just a wee bit louder then his instincts. Namely, where there's a Justicar, there's a death squad nearby ready to take down anyone willing to break Dominion laws... and people.

That meant either one of two things; random Justicar, or they finally picked up on his trail. It wouldn't surprise him; that arrow slowed him down by at least five hours getting back to Whiterun, and he'd been responsible for more then one raid in the past week. Still, he had to keep it cool. Make his getaway seem as clean as possible. He suddenly grabbed the Imperial woman by the waist, playing it smooth as he leaned in. "Hey. I'm a bit tired... wanna try out that bed?"

Kennek's eyes darted to the sides where the Justicar was standing, hoping to get the message across.

Lesar saw the tensing when Kennek saw the justicar, and quickly discovered the source. By the Nine!

That was the last disloyal thought allowed in her head for now. She prayed silently to Dibella before turning back to the Argonian. She didn't want to spend any more time with a damned justiciar, either. "That sounds good to me, my friend," she said, perhaps a little too flirtatiously. She arose, and allowed the Argonian to lead her away.

Kennek quickly stood up and took Lesar by the waist, a strong arm wrapped around her as he grinned, his tail moving up her leg and swatting her slightly as they moved past the common rabble - and, more importantly, the psychopathic Mer.

Up the stairs and into the room, and he quickly locked it behind him, looking at the woman. "Alright, we're in the clear for now."

She nodded, and moved toward the other side of the room, yanking an icon of Dibella out from the folds of her clothes and, after kissing it to seal the silent prayer she'd said earlier, set it on an end table. "So, anything in particular about... them, or just them being... them?" she said, not saying what they both knew she meant.

In walked an argonian of late middle age entered the tavern, her robe tattered and singed. She sat at the bar and ordered some ale.

"Sorry, hon. If I told ya that, you might be in more danger then it's worth."

Kennek began to take off his armor, the chest piece landing with a thud as it hit the ground. Next were the boots, filled with dried blood that had previously trickled down his leg. Next, the greaves, revealing the fact that... he wore normal clothes underneath. Flax, if the material was anything to go by. With a mighty stretch and the popping of muscle, the Argonian man finally relaxed against a wall.

"So. Wanna rut or anything? I'll probably be gone by morning, no strings attached." He may as well get one warm night before he was on the run. Again. "Unless you're planning on coming to Cyrodil anyway."

"Nah, I have to stick around for a few days. Gather some stuff for people in the south, you know. Sorry, business," she says, not sounding at all sorry.

"I wouldn't mind having some fun, though," she says, smirking flirtatiously.

"And that is the exact answer I wanted to hear."

Kennek grinned even wider then before, rubbing his scaled hands together. "So. Who first?"

Agrippina had noted the Argonian upon her arrival, of course. It was uncommon to see their kind so far north, although not unheard of. She had not initially paid him any heed; she was exhausted, and simply sought to finish her drink as soon as possible and retire for the night. But as she stood at the bar sipping at her drink, Agrippina could not help but consider the Argonian further. Something was stirring in her memory. Something she had glanced at previously. Something to do with an Argonian.

It suddenly occured to her. When she had stopped by the Embassy after being released, she had caught a glance of a warrant on the wall. A warrant for the arrest of an Argonian - for high crimes against the Dominion. Agrippina contemplated silently. It might not be this one. What were the chances? But then again, how many Argonians were there in Skyrim? She could not afford to let the opportunity slip. Slowly, she lowered her glass and turned around to face where she had seen the Argonian before-

Nothing. An empty table.

For a moment, Agrippina succumbed to panic. Had she lost her moment? If this was the very Argonian that the warrant specified, then she could immensely regret allowing him to slip the net. She might even pay for it with her life one day. Just as she was about to give up hope, she caught the slighest glance of scale. Her amber eyes focused on it immediately. For the briefest of moments, she saw a tail, before it disappeared up the inn's stairs. Agrippina managed a smile. The game was still in play.

Abandoning her drink on the bar, she turned about and walked outside. She organised her band to cover the area, surrounding the building on all sides. They concealed themselves in the alleys and the shadows. And then she returned to the bar, to wait. There was no room to manoeuvre - no means of escape. The fish would be driven directly into the net. Agrippina just had to pray to Magnus that the net was strong enough to contain it.

Speaking of game, Kennek was just about to play a fun game he liked to call "sex". The lights were out, the sheets were discarded, and everything was set up to be pretty damned great.

Or rather, everything was about to, until he heard the telltale shuffle of footsteps and the clanking of armor outside. Too soft to be the guards on patrol, and too loud to be a thief using padded wear. No... no, that sound was more then a bit familiar. The sound of refined moonstone and quicksilver smelted into suits of light-weight, durable armor. He looked out the window for a brief moment, the aurora in the sky and the twin moons hanging overhead providing light, and his suspicions were confirmed. Hawk like helmets, feathered pauldrons, sharp features all along the damned armor. Not to mention gold wasn't exactly a color one used to be subtle.

Thalmor soldiers.

"Damn." He muttered, tossing himself out of the bed and making a scramble to put his clothing back on. "Sorry, honey. Looks like some old friends got a whiff of my scent after all." He hissed in clear frustration. Still, keeping one's head was more important then pleasing one's own lusts. Slipping on his pants and shirt rather quickly, he looked at the woman with what could be construed as an apologetic glance. One couldn't really tell with Argonians; they lacked the facial tells of Man or Mer.

"Promise to make up for it one day. You know, when there's less people tryin' to kill me. Talos guide you."

With that, he began the process of putting his armor back on - something which would take quite a while by himself.

The argonian eyed the woman as she left. Whether it was the Thalmor armor or the grey skin she wasn't sure, but something about her didn't sit right in her gut. No longer wanting to stay here, she slapped a couple of coins on the bar and moved cautiously towards the door.

A tap on the shoulder for the woman.

"Hey, you know how late the Temple is open to? I'm a bit behind on prayer." The Argonian man looked unassuming enough, despite the blood caked on his body, the massive size, and in general looking to be of a more Nordic build then a lithe, fleet footed example of his kind. Ok, so he was very much assuming, but he was at the very least polite with her. Even if he looked up and down her body with a very noticeable amount of approval.

He then leaned forward and whispered. "I need help getting out of here."

She nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. In a gruff, harsh voice, she replied, "It's along the path to the right of the entrance. Here, I'll show you."

She then beckoned him to follow her out.

"The Temple is this way, my friends."

A hand gripped the shoulder of the male Argonian - it was Vinthros, the Vigilant of Julianos

"Come. Should we be caught, I shall cover for you."

Kennek visibly shook a bit as the man touched his shoulder, looking at the Vigilant and blinking several times in rapid succession. "How'd you...?"

He looked at the female Argonian, doing his best to not ogle her chest or tail - a truly heroic effort, this is assured. "Well. Come on then." His tone of voice was a bit urgent.

The woman's eyes widen in shock and confusion, but she quickly regains her composure. "Um... thank you, sir. Always best to have a local lead the way."

After helping the man into his armor, and fully clothing, subtly arming and armoring herself, the two had gone downstairs. She held herself ready, but was shocked by the appearance of the holy man again. She kept her expression to herself, and finally spoke:

"Yes... that would be an idea... of the good."

"We are good to move when you are ready. Any problems will be taken care of, I assure you. Pray to the Nine for guidance, and they shall grant it."

The Vigilant waited briefly, moving ahead towards his destination, indicating that he should be followed.

Having issued her instructions, Agrippina returned to the entrance of the pub. Just as she was about to enter, a half-cocked Nord came blustering through, swinging the door clean open before slipping out into the night. That brief moment was enough for her to catch a glimpse of the interior. Amongst the thronging masses were two Argonians - one a familiar face. And then the door swung shut, leaving her alone in the dark.

It gave Agrippina some cause for doubt. By all accounts, her mark was travelling alone. Certainly, she could not believe that he would stop for female company while he was on the run. Perhaps she was mistaken in identifying him? Or perhaps she simply gave him more credit than was due? Regardless, she would have her answer soon enough.

Agrippina wordlessly sank away into the darkness. The noose was in place. Time to tighten it.