And so, your journey begins. You have answered the plea of help emanating from the northern lands of Skyrim, joining together with strangers in an attempt to end the dragon menace. You can stray in your quest, for one cannot be slaying dragons all of the time. Join factions, make alliances, end wars.

Upon travelling into Skyrim - unless you already lived there - the first place to go when joining Dovahfeyn is High Hrothgar; the Greybeard's dwelling near the tip of the Throat of the World. There, you will receive information and instructions on your new life as Dragon-Slayers.

Rozalia was getting impatient.

From when she had arrived at Ivarstead, the villagers had warned her against going up the mountain alone. What with the wolves, the snow, the treacherous slippery steps - and of course, the dragons - they assumed it was suicide going up there. But countless other had arrived at Ivarstead, staying in the same inn she made a beeline for. And they were all searching for the same thing.
Dovehfeyn.
Her breath swirling out in a mist, only to be blown away by the winds, Rozalia continued her way towards the inn, pushing open the door and stepping into the warmth. A few glances came her way, but she was overlooked, as usual. She smiled to herself. Well, that just made collecting coin for a bed and food much easier.
Dipping her hands into various different pockets for 1 or two septims, she found this easier to work with. In a crowd filled with like-minded people, she wasn't going to risk lifting much from one person.

The long shadow of the Throat of the World was cast over the small hamlet of Ivarstead as the sun sank behind the huge mountain. Even so, the orange shade of twilight filled the, the last remnants of the day. The Vilemyr Inn already bad its fair share of patrons, all shuffling in for the promise of a warm fire, a hot meal and a cool ale. However, one man stood in the inn sat alone, patiently awaiting night to settle in.

Vincent Storm-Born sat just outside the crowd gathering around the fire, a comfortable distance from the sweltering blaze. His fingers drummed on his leg and he slowly sipped at a bottle of cheap wine, his burning eyes watching the slow trickle of travelers entering the tavern. In this part of the world, the traveler crowd mostly consisted of pilgrims journeying to High Hrothgar, but the tonight the crowd was a tpuch more diverse.

Would-be dragonslayers filed in, drawn by the promise of honor and glory offered by the meeting offered by the Greybeards. Vincent supposed he couldn't judge them too harshly, given that he was among their number, but even as dark a person as himself had more altruistic motives. He figured that these adventurers were settling down for the night so that the Seven-Thousand Steps could be climbed in the warmth and safety of daylight, but Vincent had different plans.

As soon as the sun had fully retreated from the sky, he would make the climb alone, and shelter himself from the following dawn in the cool depths of High Hrothgar. For now, he waited. For one as old as him, a few hours was nothing. He had all of the time in the world, for as much time that the world had left.

Reaching the fringes of the roaring fire, her next target was sat down a bit away from it, and she smiled slightly in the shadows as she approached silently, not truly perceived by the crowd that she pushed through. This had been a great achievement of hers; whether she was wearing her chameleon armour or not. Sometimes it made her feel a wee bit lonely, but a thief often had a lonely life. That was part of the reason why she had came here with the handful of others from various backgrounds; perhaps she could find some form of companionship.
That was, if they didn't catch her stealing from them. And 9 times out of 10, they didn't. Arrogance was an attribute found often in adventurers, and with arrogance came the thought that someone couldn't steal from them. How wrong they were.
Reaching the man with the wine at the edge of the fire, she smiled nonchalantly as she slipped her hand into one of his pockets.

A completely unremarkable black cat sat by the fire pit, undisturbed by the commotion going around it, its eyes focused on a small satchel on far side of the inn. Drunkards, adventurers, mercenaries, rich folk with fancy weapons. People from all walks of life seemed to come and go, some even acknowledging the cat with a quick stroke of its ears, which the cat graciously accepted. It felt good to be acknowledged like that, even when it... she was trying to go unnoticed. At least, for the time being.

The cat, in actuality an Alfiq Khajiit that went by the name of Mazathad-Dra, was just fine sitting near the warm glow of the fire. It was about time to find someone that would lend her a ride to High Hrothgar, but the thought of leaving this fire made her hesitate. It was still snowing harshly outside, so perhaps it would be a good idea to wait until later. Maybe until after nightfall, even. Yes, that was a good idea: stay here until the snowstorm blows over, then leave in better conditions. She just needed to wait a little while, maybe even close her eyes and-
No! She willed herself to stay awake, even among this gaggle of "adventurers" there were bound to be people looking to take advantage and make off with certain people's hard-earned valuables. She cast a quick glance at her satchel, which was still lying on a shelf, seemingly untouched from the time she left it there much earlier in the day. She had made a point to inscribe a small lightning rune onto the inside of the satchel's flap to deter any potential robbers, but it was bound to be dispelled soon. A quick check of the rune's status was long overdue.
Mazathad-Dra stood from her spot next to the pit and quietly made her way around the legs of the Inn's patrons and to the shelf that held her satchel.

Valerion had finally reached the small village known as Ivarstead, on his way through the Pale pass that acted as the border between Cyrodil and Skyrim he was confronted by a small legion of Imperial soldiers.

"Halt traveler, it is unwise to enter Skyrim at the current moment in time, civil war and dragons of all things are making this place very deadly!"
The legionary officer stated with one hand held high, his palm directed at Valerion.

"I know, but you need not worry yourself sir, I can quite handle myself" Valerion said as he removed his helmet and placed it underneath his right arm.

The legionary looked mournful at this reply, he obviously hated sending travelers to their doom, especially ones who thought they could handle it, but this time it was different.

The legionary sighed in reply, a small mist emanating from his mouth. He extended his arm in the air signalling the other legionaries to let this arrogant man past the large sturdy doors and into Skyrim. A new and hostile world awaited on the other side...

But that was the past of his journey, he had finally arrived and he was hungry... and unfortunately for one poor soul it wasn't in the fashionable sense.
From a far Valerion spotted a small light on the mountains first pass, it was far enough up the mountain to be out of distinguishable sight but not too far up the mountain to be of a hassle to climb for dinner.
He passed an old barrow that was opposite the Inn which was very busy and loud, Valerion suspected that this was because of the same reason he had come here, but at the minute he cared little for socialising.
Valerion soon reached the bridge that extended over a small river and lead to the foot of the mountain, and the famous 7,000 steps, a common place for Nord's to make a pilgrimage, a guard nodded at him and said evening and Valerion replied in kind.
And he slowly began the ascent to his meal, counting the steps as he did. It didn't take long for him to start going very high up, already the guard at the bridge looked like an ant.

120...121....122

The snow that had been steadily falling for at the very least half the day grew in strength and a mist started to form, severely reducing visibility and making a soft cushioning that; very handily made noises almost impossible to hear.

456...457...458

At last Valerion reached the second station and there was a fairly old Nord with grey long hair and some nice fur skin clothing was kneeling.
Approaching the man with a hand extended Valerion greeted him warmly. The Nord looked with great surprise, but that surprise turned into a kind warm smile, he rose and shook Valerions hand with a strong grip. "Greetings fellow pilgrim" He said with great enthusiasm.

Valerion stood there after reclining his hand and started rubbing them together, he had to admit, even for him who couldn't feel cold that much. It was bloody freezing, and yet the Nord didn't appear to be cold at all. "Odd" Valerion thought to himself.

"These are dark times friend. What brings you up here when danger lurks around every corner?" Valerion asked, a small grin started to form on the right side of his lips.
Soon.... soon...

The Nord gave a hearty laugh "We Nords will continue to live our lives regardless of whats happening in the world, be it dragons, war or the end of the world"
He then looked up towards the mountain "Anyway, this pilgrimage will bring happiness and luck to my family, and keep us safe from those dangers"

Valerion started to collect energy in his right palm, and started thinking of the soul that awaited him. As he done this he said the last thing this man would hear.
"I'm sorry, but you're wrong..."

The nord looked queerly at Valerion, and that looked converted to that of horror as a cold, metal hand gripped around his neck.
With his dinner securely locked in his iron grip Valerion unleashed a dark purple ball of fluctuating energy towards them pilgrims chest.

A sharp shrill scream ripped into the crisp air but futilely clashed into the impenetrable mist that surrounded them.

A body dropped soundlessly to the hard stone ground below Valerion... And then he started walking back down the steps.

In the corner of the inn's main room, seated with her back to the wall and draped in a heavy mix of armors and furs, was Dura gra-Shurk. The orc woman passively watched the crowd as they came and went, ate and partied. Her mask was off, lying on the table next to her, as she nursed a flagon of mead slowly. She always found it enjoyable to take her time, for time is a luxury that she has been able to enjoy plenty. She yawned and swept her vision across the room again. The cat was probably the most interesting thing there. In the times she's traveled in Skyrim, cats have always been a rare sight. Minor as it was, it was the most unusual thing here and that was about the only reason why she watched it as it moved between patrons. And besides, even with sensation of cold diminished by her vampiric nature, it was warm in the inn and the mead was good. She could afford to wait a bit longer before starting the climb to Hrothgar.

Vincent was idly aware of the young lady stalking up behind him. It was really no fault of her own that he detected her when she was trying to avoid his notice; she was a perfectly decent sneak. It just so happened that the few signs she could not hide- the sound of her beating heart, or the smell of her living flesh -were clear as day to him. Even her hand slipping into his pocket was subtly and artfully done. Vincent decided that he could perhaps extract a little entertainment from this girl before he made his climb.

With startling speed his free hand shot down and seized the girl's wrist with strength that stopped just short of crushing it. He didn't bother to cover her mouth to stifle a scream; a trained thief knew better than to attract attention to themselves when they had been caught. Setting down his wine, he reached over to yank the girl's hood down, sending her hair cascading down her back. Brushing the locks behind her ear, he leaned into her at an almost intimate distance.

He coolly whispered to her, "If you wish to keep your hand, come with me, and do not make a scene."

With that, he stood up, still clutching her wrist, and made his way to the back of the inn. From there he led into the small room that he had rented for his daily rest.

Rozalia had clamped her lips shut to stop the strangled cry that would have issued from her lips, in any other situation. Gods, he had a strong grip. Wincing as she stumbled along behind him, her fear was pretty much over-taken by her astonishment. That had been a perfect pickpocket. There was no way he should have been able to notice her.
Her face blanching white as they approached an empty room, she swiftly realized that she wouldn't be able to run from, or fight this guy. Not with those snake-like reflexes and perception she had just witnessed.
So that left her with one last specialty of hers.
Sweet-talking.
"Look... I'm really sorry, I just made a mistake." She quickly flashed him one of her dimpled grins as soon as he closed and locked the door behind them. However, the grin was more nervous than usual as she recalled the strange look in his eyes, and the cold, rock hard grip of his hand around her wrist - which was still throbbing.

((Double-post, kindly ignore.))

((Wow, triple-post. Again, skip please.))

((This site really needs a delete option for posts.))

Valerion felt energised now that he had eaten, it's was a slight pity that he was a family man, but it was inconsequental to Valerion and all that mattered was that he done it with no one knowing about it.
It didn't take long for him to reach the foot of the mountain again, and the guard was still there on the far side of the bridge.
There was numerous sounds in the evening air, although they were dampened down by the snowfall. However there was one that was getting a tad louder the closer he got to the far side of the bridge.
It was odd, a loud rasping noise, followed by a small sighing.
Valerion stood there for what felt like ages trying to place his finger on it, but it was futile.

Valerion shook his head and moved on, but once he reached the guard that was standing in the same spot with a small bed of snow on his shoulders he discovered what the noise was.
It was the guard snoring...
Somehow the guard was sleeping in this weather, whilst standing!
Valerion was very impressed, it took some real skill to do that, and was impressive within its own right.

Chuckling to himself he continued over to the inn, his cloak billowing in the wind behind him as he walked swiftly to the warmth.

The inn was just as loud as it was when he passed it earlier, but the sounds were more of merriment, it was obvious that drinks were being consumed at a fair rate in there.
Valerion stamped his boots on the porch and removed his helmet, placing it underneath his left arm.
Once he opened the door to the inn he was accompanied by a powerful and cold gust of wind, which caused the fire pits homey fire to crackle and dance violently, the door then slammed shut behind him as if by magic.

The music stopped and at the very least half of the inn began staring at this new figure. Some were looks of interest, some of lust but mostly they were of fear. Just as Valerion liked it.
However the music resumed shortly after this intrusion and people resumed to their laughter, discussions and the consumption of alcohol.

Valerion walked leisurely to the bar and sat at an empty stool, the occupant quickly vacated when he relised that he was walking to the bar.
He ordered a glass of firebrand whiskey and rested his helmet on the bar.
The barmaid who served him made sure to try and show as much of the top of her breasts as she could, whilst serving this drink but Valerion simply paid the 15 septims and started sipping his drink with complete disinterest to the foolish girl.

He began observing the other members of the inn, trying to deduct who he will be serving with shortly.

Turning back to face girl, Vincent was met with her attempt at talking her way out of her current predicament. He could tell by her practiced smile that she had attempted this before (and succeeded, judging by her mostly unmarred face). Perhaps she was a charming girl; Vincent's tastes were so warped that he had difficulty in objective observations of that matter. He was more focused on the fear that was shining through her bravado. Small things, like the slight twitch to her sweetly smiling lips, or the scent of her panic, like a subtle perfume. He was quite pleased by her reaction, she was very amusing indeed.

As Vincent approached her, he returned her smile. His, however, was made far more sinister by his glinting eyes and the fangs revealed by his curled lips. "A greater mistake than you realize." He said in a cruel tone of voice. He rushed toward her with a sudden burst of speed, pressing her against the wall and grabbing her face roughly by her chin. Turning her face from side to side, he inspected her, even tugging down her bottom lip to look at her teeth.

He released her, though kept his burning eyes locked firmly on the girl as he paced the room like a predator. "Far too well fed and equipped to be a common urchin. Exquisitely skilled, as well. Tell me, do you steal for excitement? A thrill? Vanity and pleasure?" He produced a jeweled, golden amulet from one of his sleeves, and dangled it temptingly before her. "Or do you chase the lure of wealth and treasure?"

"What the fuck, the guy's a vampire!"
Was all Roze could think of as he 'inspected' her. Even once he let go, she kept herself pressed against the wall, in an attempt to stay away from him. God, she just had to pickpocket a goddamn vamp, didn't she. What were the chances of that?! Swallowing her fear, she glanced at the amulet in his hand, and her expression hardened somewhat, fear overtaken momentarily by annoyance.
"I steal for survival." She answered, looking straight into his eyes - curious, as to how they seemed to be the only warm thing in his body. And not warm in a good way either; they burned with an intense passion, something she couldn't even name. It was similar to staring at the sun, but she kept her gaze locked with his anyway to get her point across. "I'm not good with rules, so getting a regular job is sort of impossible for me. That and the fact I don't have any trade-worthy skills to speak of." She continued, being truthful, for once. Yes, there was always the thrill of it, but it was a thrill that she had to put up with. She had no legacy, no inheritance, and no way of making money in a legal manner without plundering various different caves throughout the land; most of the time, she didn't have the equipment for things like that. She still had scars on her arms from where she'd narrowly escaped a troll a few weeks ago. She had blades and magic, but she wasn't an expert in either. She had no money for training.

"Survival?" Vincent mused, almost purring the word as he rubbed his chin. "By the look of you, I should think that the life of a thief is not terribly hard on you." Again, he approached her and stroked her jawline with the back of his hand. "Such a fair, young face, without the hardness given by the touch of cold or hunger."

The smell of fear on this girl was only increasing. She seemed more apprehensive of him than she had just a moment before. Perhaps she had realized what he was? To have caught on so quickly, she was surely quite worldly. Vincent smiled one of his cruel smiles again. He decided that this girl was interesting, and that he wanted to talk to her a bit more.

He seated himself in the wooden chair by the table in the room, crossing his legs luxuriously. The amulet he had bern holding a moment before was tossed on the table carelessly as he returned his gaze to the girl.

"You may sit if you like," He said, gesturing to the bed near his own seat. "On this particular occasion, what drove you to steal from me? Did I appear to be an easy target? Or a lucrative one? I'm terribly curious, so please do tell me..." He paused suddenly, and a strange, pitying look came into his eyes. "Why, I don't yet know your name, my dear. My name is Vincent, won't you tell me yours?"

Mazathad-Dra finally reached her satchel after navigating the gauntlet of stomping drunks and leaping onto the shelf. With great care, she gingerly lifted the flap with her paw and checked for her rune. Of course, it was gone. Cursing her luck, she tossed open the satchel and dove in. Septims, food, cloak, her soul gems... all there. With a sigh of relief she emerged from the bag and began reapplying the cantrip. Small sparks of magicka flowed through her paws and into the satchel, etching a small glowing circle of runes onto the satchel. It should stay active for a few more hours.

Content with her handiwork, the Khajiit mage spun around and was met with the steely gaze of an Orc. How long had that person been watching her? Had she seen her casting the spell? Slowly, the cat raised her paw, licked it, and meowed. Maybe if she kept up the act...

Rozalia's eyes narrowed suspiciously as Vincent gestured towards the bed. Not the first place she'd pick to sit, but she doubted she had a choice in the matter. Going over cautiously, her eyes still did not leave his own.
"It's Roze." She said, saying her shortened nickname without thinking, as she perched on the edge of the bed. "And I wasn't targeting you specifically. Your pocket isn't the only one that's been fished tonight." She added, hardly helping a proud smile at herself. "I never steal too much from one person; too suspicious. So I just take a bit here and there from various sources. Less chance of me being found out and killed that way." She was somehow finding herself relaxing in his presence, despite the fact he had nearly snapped her wrist, and was quiet capable of killing her within a moment. "Actually, I'm quiet relieved to see you're a vampire. Makes sense that you noticed me that way; I thought for one horrifying moment that I'd lost my touch."

Dura didn't make a sign that she saw the cat cast the rune, though it mildly amused her. Magic cats, what's next in store for her. Rather, the woman took another drink of her flagon and the bent down to tap the floor in the way one does to attract a cat's attention to try to get them over to you. She was curious about the cat, it again being the most interesting thing in the room. Besides, she wanted to see how the cat would react to her act. one of her thoughts showed on her face, her expression unchanged from before. After all, the predator does not give itself away to prey.

The cat tilted her head at the Orc's tapping. Had her plan worked? Whether it worked or not, she was interested in pale orc. If it had indeed seen through her facade she might as well try to hitch a ride with the Orc; she could use the muscle on the way up. If not, well, she could just continue with her plan. Giving her bag a quick glance, Maza slowly made her way towards the Orc. She struggled to maintain a relaxed composure as get muscles tensed, ready to scurry away at the first sign of bad news.