The argonian warrior was stunned at the speed of the brute that charged at him, to the point where he almost forgot to block. When Magnor's hammer made contact with Reesh's shield, he argonian felt like he was hit by a mountain and blacked-out. When he regained his senses, he glanced around to quickly find that he had been thrown several feet away, and as well as spotting the next strike from the beast of a man. He narrowly dodging the hammer as it hit the ground. He observed in horror at the devastation it created when Magnor lifted it back up for a second strike.

"STAY STILL LIZARD!" bellowed Magnor. "DON'T BE AFRAID. MAGNOR IS YOUR FRIEND!!!!!!!!!"

Reesh looked up to see the man prepare another strike. The lizard-man's joints screamed in pain and resisted his commands to move, all he could do at this point was to watch for his imminent demise... A demise that never came.

"Glurgh" was the sound that left the throat of the man. Reesh felt something like rain fall on his face, though the sky was clear. He then saw Magnor waver before dropping his weapon behind him and tripping over it in what seemed like a slow motion fall. When he did land, the argonian could feel the earth beneath him shake, causing his joints to complain again. Reesh relaxed slightly by laying down, only to have the thought cross his mind that the battle wasn't over. He tried to get up but his joints continued to cry against him.

Are you hurt? a voice asked, How can I help you? Reesh turned to see the breton had approached, her hands glowing a fine yellow. He gave her a quick nod. She applied the spell to him, relieving some of the pain in which he felt. While it wasn't much, it was enough for the argonian to get up off the ground, with her help.

Reesh checked his potion bag to find that his vigorous healing potion was shattered and leaked everywhere inside the bag, along with two of his skooma bottles, their contents being soaked into the bag. He growled in frustration, such wasted skooma. He took out his second last remaining healing potion, along with a minor stamina potion and consumed them. He felt stronger and healthier, though pain still engulfed his entire being from the background. Reesh, upon dropping the empty bottles to the ground, noticed his shield was also heavily damaged. It had a nasty dent with an obvious crack running through said dent. He sighed, he was going to have to find a new shield.

Reesh quickly realized the breton was still beside him, probably to make sure he was still ok. He nodded at her, "Thankss." He then readied himself for more possible danger.

As the battle raged on, Gherken had been able to turn her attention to her comrade, about to be splattered by a Bandit with an axe. Unfortunately, it seemed like she should have finished the other Bandit she'd just disabled, since he was being quite a nuisance for the Argonian.

Always one to make herself useful, Gherken ran up to the distracted Axe bandit and, with both hands, swung the top of her own Axe into one of his shoulders. The Axe easily penetrated his flimsy leather armour, but got lodged into his bone. To set it free, she placed one foot on the Nord's other shoulder and pushed him away, his arm only barely connected to the rest of his body. When the Argonian nodded to her as thanks, she nodded back.

With that out the way, she swivelled around to see if the archers had been taken care of, and caught a very brief glimpse of yet another new figure fighting them at close range; a Dunmer, she guessed, from his grey skin, but before she could think any further, she saw a great fat mountainous bastard appear in her line of sight, waving about his colossal hammer as if it was a Baby's Rattle. Her attention having been diverted, the Orc chose to get out of his way ASAP, jumping backwards on both feet.

Edging close as the bearded bastard attempted to squash the Argonian into paste, she was about to try and cripple him like she did with the Bandits. Unfortunately, he swung his Hammer back to deliver a third and final blow to the Argonian, forcing Gherken to jump back again; the spiked back part of the Hammerhead scratching her armour. If she'd been half a second late, she would have been sent flying into a wall.

Recovering from the impact of that fact, she noticed three arrows fly in from of the other side of the ruins, piercing his back and sending him tumbling to the ground like a toppled statue, complete with a mini-Earthquake. Her eyes widened again; she was surprised those arrows could have pierced his fatty hide.

"Awww, Gods..." She lamented to herself, out loud. "...I was lookin' forward to cracking this fat bastard's slaphead." She said sarcastically, with a chuckle and a kick to the man's head, just to see if he was alive. Didn't seem like it... especially since he'd fallen backwards, causing in the arrow in the back of his head to go straight through his brains and out the front.

Gherken looked aside for a moment to observe an Imperial-looking Mage type go to the Argonian's assistance. Good for her. Healing and grief counseling weren't exactly Gherken's forte, even if she had more than enough experience with grief counselors in her early twenties. Instead, she stayed focused on the mission at hand, and surveyed the ruins, sheathing her Battleaxe.

She vaguely remembered there being six Bandits charging at them, and four archers. She could see two corpses a distance away, next to what she knew now was a Dunmer, and five charging idiots, six if you count the fat bastard, were pretty damn dead or near death. That left one unaccounted for...

"Oi!" She yelled, instinctively, as she saw the missing Seventh idiot at the corner of her eye; couldn't have been anyone else, since it was obviously a man in cheap fur armour, rolling about on the floor, with no weapon. Poor bastard must have been knocked aside by fatty. Hearing her shout, the unarmed Bandit scrambled to his feet and tried to run, but had a hard time thanks to a nasty limp.

Not that it mattered, since he barely made two paces before Gherken had sprinted over to him and grabbed him by the collar. Baring her tusks ever-so-slightly, the Orc punched the man in the face with her armoured gauntlet, knocking some of his teeth out and decorating his cheek with more blood. She dragged his slightly limp form back over by the gate and set him down against the wall, intending to make their mission quicker.

"Now, listen closely, crap-for-brains. Hey... 'ey, listen!" She lightly slapped the side of the injured Bandit's head once he started to nod off... well, nod off as a result of exhaustion and blood loss, presumably, but the best missions are the ones that succeed in under an hour. Get in, get out. No fuss. Them having to nurse the man back to health would class as pretty bad fuss, and he was no prisoner of war, either. No doubt one of her new companions would probably want him dead.

"...Apparently there's s'posed to be some special Mead in this... thriving Imperial fort town." She continued, stern, but not shouting. "Juniper Berry Mead. From the looks o' you, you'd know what that looks like, yeah? So tell us if you've seen any. An' if you haven't, then for the love of Malacath, don't say anything stupid, and I might consider letting you go anyway. Maybe head to Solitude and get a bloody education."

Olaf the bandit blinked stupidly at the monstrous Orc woman in front of him, despite the blazing pain in his face. He wanted to tell her to go to Oblivion, and express her complete physical ugliness in the most colourful language he could muster. However, Magnor was dead; the fat bastard had died, stuffed like a pig by three shafts. He'd killed many men, that man, including Olaf's brother in a time the bandit could now barely remember. There was no more reason to fight these people.

"Mead with Juniper Berry?" The bandit asked, his face contort with confusion. "You just came in here, killed everyone, for mead? There are dragons flying around burning everyone, a civil war raging across the Jarldoms, and you're here for a drink?"

The lady Orc gave him another good clobbering, and Olaf's semi-intelligence made a fleeting return to his otherwise desolate brain. When it came down to it, he didn't want to die. Dying was bad. He'd seen several people die in his twenty four years.

"Okay, OKAY!" Olaf said, spitting blood and broken teeth. "Try the tavern you morons, where else is it going to be? Magnor's arse? You can check up there if you like, don't think he'll mind."

The group slowly looked up the road, towards the burnt out shell of the tavern. It was a sorry affair, all burnt timbers and scorched thatch - like the rest of Helgen. The bandit made some sense, if there was going to be mead anywhere, then they were probably going to find it there.

Seryn had followed the female argonian and witnessed how she skillfully took down the massive bandit with a few elegant shots, which the dunmer never could have pulled of himself, neither as fast, fluent or even accurate. This and the fact that she managed to sneak up on him, after he had killed the two archers, made him decide to keep an eye on this one, maybe he could pick up a trick or two on the side. He gave her a nod of approval and pointed to the rest of the group, by which he realized that he was still holding the bow and arrows he had picked up earlier. They seemed useless now, but he decided to hold on to them for now and on the way back to his companions he also took a quiver and some more arrows from the bandits bodies.

The armored argonian looked pretty good for someone who just got thrown all over the place, although his shield had a visible crack in it. He and the short breton looked up as he approached. "He's been sent by the collector too." said the argonian woman. Seryn gave a greeting grunt and looked around. The bandits had taken a solid beating. Blood, bodies and even some body parts decorated the surrounding area in a pattern Seryn had seen many times before. He noticed a Khajit standing a bit further in the back, but before he could decide if he should open his mouth to ask who he was; "Hey... 'ey, listen!"

Seryn watched the Orc as she proceeded to slap the information they needed out of the last standing bandit. He answered after only a minor beating, which seemed to disappoint the orc, but Seryn had always had trouble to read emotions from orcish faces . No matter. Deciding to let the others deal with the bandit, Seryn made his way to the badly burned tavern. As he opened the somewhat still intact door - although he may as well have entered through the massive hole in the wall next to it - the smell of burned corpses rose up his nose. He decided to look behind, what he supposed once used to be some sort of bar first and after working through several broken bottles of mead, wine and the remaining corpse of who may have been the owner once, he found what he was looking for in a small metal box. Genuinely surprised to find the bottle still intact, he left the tavern to present his finding to the group.

TES: The Collector Chronicles

As the group cast aside the bandit, and leave him to scamper off, they rejoice collectively in Seryn's discovery. Although, they first make sure he is one of them, before breaking out smiles, and hatching plans for their return to Cyrodiil. Seryn holds up a crumpled parchment bearing The Collector's sigil, and all is well.

"Well done," calls a stranger, fast approaching from Helgen's gateway.

The stranger is a tall man, an Imperial if one were not to be mistaken, clad in tight fitting leather, and soaked in a voluminous black robe. His skin is impossibly pale, and his cheeks inhumanly gaunt. His red eyes are the first sign of what he is. He keeps his hood low, blocking the sun's rays from touching his face.

"I am ... a friend of a friend," he says as he draws near; his voice takes on a hissing quality. "And that friend of a friend is most pleased, I can assure you, that you have obtained Helgen's last bottle of mead with juniper berries."

The stranger walks up to Seryn, and snatches the bottle from him in a lightning fast motion. His hood flys back, only for a second, and his skin reddens as if burning. As it descends back over his brow, his pale complexion returns. The group steel themselves, thinking they are being robbed by a Vampire Lord no less - but he holds up a gloved palm.

"So hasty to violence? All for 60,000 septims? My, my, our benefactor has chosen most wisely," he says, chuckling coldly. "Rest assured, that I am here to offer you payment for your services. There is a cart outside the gate, and inside that cart you will find some bags the size of a small child. Take them, they are yours -- but, but, The Collector has an offer to make."

Pocketing the bottle of mead into his robes, the stranger's red eyes flicker across the members of the group with an alien emotion... or perhaps hunger?

"I shall be brief, for the sunlight dislikes me, and shade can only do so much. There is a Dunmer Thief, by the name of Arvel the Swift, who has occup- had occupied the ancient Nordic tomb of Bleak Falls Barrow, a few miles north of here. He is dead, and so are his bandit lackys - slain, by a mortal being of tremendous power... however, it would seem that our benefactor desires Arvel's right hand. That is to say, he wants you to remove that hand from Arvel's corpse, and return it to him. In doing so, your payment shall be increased to 120,000 septims."

The stranger turns, and heads back towards the gate. The group debate their next course of action.

Take the 60,000, or double it?

As the discussion grows, they pause with bemused faces as the stranger suddenly vanishes - as if into thin air.

Jo'Resfo shrugs. "This be enough blood money for Jo'Resfo," he says with an amused smile, "besides, it be bad for Khajiits to mix with vampires." With that, he heads off towards the gate to collect his reward.

The others decide against collecting their due. The Nordic tomb is only a day's walk at most, and how hard can it be to harvest a hand from a dead man? They assemble, and begin the journey - just as another of The Collector's hopefuls, Daleeza, an Argonian wizard of sorts, walks into Helgen from the town's other gate. After taking in the scene of destruction and death with a bemused glance, he exchanges greetings with the group, and they explain to him their new assignment. He agrees to go with them, even though he'll probably only receive the initial 60,000 he was promised for the bottle of mead, for helping in retrieving the hand.

The group set off, leaving the ruins of Helgen behind them; believing all the while that the Imperial fort town was merely the victim of some bandit or Stormcloak raid.

Reesh made sure to grab the iron shield from one of the bandit's he killed, while putting his steel shield on his back for travel. If he was lucky, he could either buy a new one or have that one bandaged up for the rest of this simple task. Or that's the hope, that it was indeed simple. Reesh took a glance at the beast of a man who lay on the ground with a large pool of blood circling his corpse. Had The Collector known of the danger? He, or she, must have if they sent so many combatants to retrieve it. Still though, it made him feel uneasy, why send them after a hand if the task was as simple as it would sound. Reesh was reminded of a time when a man bought his services to enter into an ancient crypt, only needing the mercenary's protection from traps or spiders. Long story short, the dead didn't like them entering their home and killed the man while the argonian had to fight his way out. He hoped it wasn't the case in this part of Tamriel.

Giving a quick glance at the party as they made themselves ready for travel, Reesh realized he probably wasn't the only one to be thinking similar thoughts. He decided it might be best to get these heavy thoughts of their shoulders, at least for a time. When the party had made it to the gate to leave the burnt-out town of Helgen, Reesh turned around and spoke up. "Since we'll be working together for longer, I think it's best we'd at least know each other by name and general profession." He hated making introductions, at least to be the first one to do so, but someone needed to break the ice. Funny, considering the land around them.

The heavily armoured argonian continued, "My name is Reesh." He gave a slightly exaggerated bow with a cheesy grin on his face, "Your own professional walking-shield." He then returned to a more professional stance and got straight to the point, "In short, I'm a merc who'll take the hits so you don't have to." The cheesy grin showed up again. "A few minutes ago, I showed off these skills." He awaited for someone else to speak, otherwise he just put himself in a very awkward situation.

As Jaza wandered the battlefield to collect the arrows she'd fired, she caught snippets of conversation from the party that had convened at the cart full of money that had just appeared. A little startled that their contact was a vamp of some sort, that fear had soon allayed at the sight of the sheer size of the money sacks they'd just been given. She pulled her last arrow from the skull of the fallen bandit leader and wiped it off on his tunic, a look of disgust creasing her reptilian features. After replacing every last shaft into her quiver, she rejoined the party at the cart, a slender clawed finger tracing one of the bags of money. Jaza hefted it in a hand; heavy, yes, but nothing she couldn't carry. The jingling money would be a dead giveaway in a stealth situation though, but she'd figure something out. Maybe stuff the inside of her tunic with coins, or only take what she needed. She leaned against the side of the cart as she withdrew a dagger and picked at the underside of one of her claws.

"Deejaza, but call me Jaza. Hunter, marksman, rogue. Need a lock picked, need a pocket filched, need a throat slit, find me. Or, alternatively, I can find you."

Knowing the other Argonians' names settled her more. Reesh and Daleeza, both obviously not fresh faces from the Marsh, but they were new enough for her. She hadn't seen many of her kind outside of her home either, so having two of them here at once plus her was something of a miracle. Thank Talos. And with the addition of the others, especially that female mage and her impressive skills, she knew that this party was a force to be reckoned with. Maybe not as strong as the other, bigger mercenary bands in Skyrim, but they were up there, at least.

She stowed her dagger and folded her arms.

"Well, shall we get moving then, companions? I don't like waiting around here with several fortunes worth of septims lying around.:

Another 60000 septims just for a dead mans cut off hand. Normally Seryn would have been more reluctant to accept a job like this, too easy for the amount payed, but he was looking at the proof that the collector was indeed true to his word. The bags were the size of a small child each and even though the questionable honour of meeting the man, who had delivered his payment, left him somewhat unsettled, Seryn was willing to look past this minor inconvenience, especially if it payed so well. Now however he had to concentrate on the next step.

Bleak Falls Barrow, Seryn had seen the place from afar before. The easiest way to get there would be through Riverwood, a small village north from Helgen. Its name serving as a great example for the creativity of the people living there. Looking up to the sky, he realized Jaza was right, they should get moving. He made a growling sound and nodded his head towards the road down to Riverwood. Realizing his companions expected some sort of introduction he decided to open his mouth after all.

"Seryn", his voice sounded rough and unfamiliar. How long had it been since the last time he had spoken his name out loud? Maybe a few months, a year even? He couldn't remember - it didn't matter anyway. He repeated the gesture towards the road.

"Hmph... well, when you put it like that, yes, it ain't something you'd expect." Gherken remembered saying to the bandit, before she and the rest of the crew had packed up their things and left for the road. "...But I'm not the one who wants it, I'm just a glorified postwoman. Personally, I'd take a good Beer over your cheap piss-honey any day."

Since then, the Orc veteran couldn't help but shake a feeling of unease from her. She was, by nature, a lone wolf who played by her own rules. Granted, she had a sense of military discipline about her, but that was part of 'her own rules', as developed by two decades' worth of courier work. But now she was being strung along with some people she barely knew, and while they certainly seemed competent, she didn't really trust them in a professional sense just yet. They all seemed too... independent, and chaotic.

Someone else might say this was due to a higher-than-average proportion of Argonians amongst them than... just about any Merc group north of Leyawiin, not counting Black Marsh itself, obviously. But she knew that the Guerrilla forces active in the Marsh were just as disciplined as any other professional army, so such an assumption would be wildly inaccurate. No, this was something else.

"Guess I can't stay anti-social for long in this ragtag bunch o' misfits, huh?" She made an attempt at sarcasm, not that she was used to talking much beyond clients and bartenders. She knew already that trying to militarise the group wouldn't go down well with laid-back misfits such as these, so instead decided to adapt herself to the circumstances.

"...My name's Gherken Grumar. Well... actually it's Gra-Umar, but everyone says Grumar 'cause it's easier t'pronounce."

It was at this point that she stopped fulfilling the bare minimum and perhaps began to overcompensate in the chattiness department. Plus, she might as well make some use of the people she was with beyond their apparent fighting expertise. Usually there was some kind of logic behind their jobs, but with this one, not even the militant Gherken could resist asking questions as they approached the town of Riverwood. Plus, it might make them look less out of place if they were talking. A visible overt military presence in civilian territory tends to unnerve people.

"'Kay, no-one else's asked anythin', so I'm gonna take the arrow. Three questions, actually. First, why are we takin' the long path to the mountain, when we could just cut through that forest there? Second, what's with gettin' paid this much for a bottle of worthless Mead? I mean, I ain't complainin', but I know good booze when I see it, and that ain't it. Third, there's certainly a lot of Argonians here. I mean, I was in Black Marsh a couple weeks ago, an' from what I gathered, everybody an' their mothers was goin' back there because of the whole, y'know, security in independence thing they got goin'. Plus, the weather's nice; warm an' reasonably moist, not like Elsweyr."

Arielle listened to the others introducing themselves. When the orc finished she decided it was her turn to speak.

My name is Arielle, of Wayrest. I am a magician, skilled in the colleges of alteration and conjuration. I have also dabbled a bit in restoration, she added, nodding to the argonian she had helped before, Although I am far from well versed with that school of magic. It is good to meet you all.

Her voice was calm and controlled, but Arielles heart was still pounding from all the violence. She was half-expecting another band of robbers to burst out of the woods at any point, her knuckles white from gripping her staff.

Reesh pondered over Gherken's questions "Well... I'm personally hoping the upcoming town has a blacksmith so I can possibly get a new shield. That said, I'm willing to head straight to the destination. The sooner we get this done, the better. As for your question about the mead... Maybe The Collector's lover demanded for it? I've done a job or two that was some rich person had a spoiled brat or lover who wanted something and they overpaid just cause they wanted it done quickly." Reesh has learnt not to question his contractor's intentions, at least for this amount of money. However, that didn't mean he played stupid to what was happening. "As for us argonians," Reesh shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe coincidence? I personally have no need to head back to the Marsh. My current job pays me well enough." Reesh didn't tell every detail, he also enjoyed the various adventures he's been on, seeing returning to the Black Marsh as a retirement plan more than a current one. But that was for him to know, as he didn't expect to get too attached to these people.

They were all making good points. Seryn knew that they would have to cross the White River sooner or later to reach Bleak Falls Barrow. The nearest bridge was in Riverwood and although said river wasn't yet too big or it's current too strong, so that they would probably be able to get through it, he wasn't too eager to climb the following mountain in wet clothes either. On the other hand going through Riverwood would certainly raise some suspicion, since their group was by all means not a common sight in Skyrim - or anywhere else really. None of them being nord or even imperial would be strange enough, but maybe more importantly; Reesh, Gherken and Seryn himself were still partly covered in bandit blood and Arielle seemed still a bit on edge. If someone were to call the guards onto them, they may get into more trouble than they could have handled. However Seryn had lived in Skyrim long enough to know that nords usually kept to themself and knew not to get into someone else's business. Plus smaller fights were not unusual in nordic culture - especially since the whole civil war thing - hence bloody clothing was almost considered a fashion trend by now.

Normally Seryn didn't really care why someone was willing to pay a whole mercenary group just for mead and cut off body parts. He wasn't the 'asking questions' kind of person and Reesh was right; there were enough crazy, rich lords and ladies ready to pay horrendous amounts of money for even more ridiculous objects, even though Seryn had rarely had the pleasure of being assigned these tasks in the past. He had learned a long time ago not to ask too many questions about a job anyway, better for everyone - conscience included. And yet, despite all this, he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong either, not since the vamp took the mead from him...

Traveling with three argonians however didn't worry him at all. Jaza seemed to know what she was doing, he was still somewhat impressed of her skills with bow and arrow. Reesh could at least take a heavy hit or two and appeared to have trained this particular skillset for a longtime. The white one, Daleeza, called himself a healer, which would possibly come in handy. Seryn was willing to judge them by their skills, although they'd probably part ways again soon. No matter, he was never too attached to his fellow mercs. There was just one thing he wondered. He knew of lizards which would sacrifice their tail to evade predators and their ability to regrow said tail later. Were argonians also able to perform this trick? He considered asking one of them, but he would probably make it accidently sound like a threat of some sorts. Besides, it was a stupid and unnecessary question. But he kept catching himself staring at their tails more than once afterwards.

As time went on, so did the band of mercenaries. Relieved that they had not been attacked by anyone else, Arielle watched the small hamlet of Riverwood appear just beyond the next creek in the road. Knowing that some of her colleagues had business to tend to before heading out again, she decided that a drink would set her nerves right and went straight for the tavern, the Sleeping Giant Inn.

I believe I shall have me some refreshment, she said to the group at large, Would anyone care to join me?

Riverwood. It had been a few years since Seryn had last been in this particular village and it had not changed in any way. Even the sawmill, which Riverwood was named after, was still standing, despite it's old age. The only real difference were all the curious, if not outright suspicious looks he gathered. The group was getting more attention than necessary and Seryn didn't like it. He wanted to leave as soon as possible, but the sun was already setting. They stopped infront of the tavern.

"I believe I shall have me some refreshment. Would anyone care to join me?" Arielle seemed eager to get inside, maybe she was getting cold feet - literally. "We should consider staying over night too, don't you think?" Jaza said out loud what everyone else was probably thinking anyway. "I'd like to go see the blacksmith anyway, so we may as well sleep in a warm bed tonight." And just like that the decision was made. The group would stay overnight.

Seryn left the others to their business and made his way to the town's own general store, the 'Riverwood Trader'. Creativity was really not a trait found in Skyrim, but it didn't matter, he thought as he entered. "Welcome to the Riverwood Trader, my name is Lucan Valerius, please take a look around!" Seryn already didn't like the talkative imperial. The dunmer approached him, "Whetstone, Flint, Cloth." He noticed a strange piece of jewelry on the table , a golden claw. It was somewhat out of place, since it was obviously worth more than everything else in the store combined. Seryn however had no use for it and he could not imagine who would. "Uhm..." the imperial was staring at him. He had gotten a bit paler, obviously not used to blood covered customers. But luckily he had managed to get everything Seryn needed. "That... would be 16 septims... sir."

While cleaning his armour and weapon at the river afterwards, Seryn looked up to Bleak Falls Barrow, wondering what would await them tomorrow.

Reesh was one of the last to enter into the tavern, of those who entered anyway. He observed the few torches that were being held by guards, wondering why there were so many out at this time of night. He quickly shrugged the thought away, maybe the fat-bandit they killed terrorized the little town and the guards were there to deter said bandits.

Obviously the group had drawn their attention upon walking into town, each guard had his hand on his weapon's hilt. Reesh removed his helmet before politely smiling and giving a nod to one of the guards, who didn't respond back. Reesh hoped that would at least put them at ease. He then entered into the tavern.

Once inside, he noticed the tavern was quiet, all eyes observing his fellows as they stood at the tavern keeper's desk. The woman behind the desk spoke with quite a bit of authority in her voice, "I've got rooms, but only if you clean yourselves up. I won't have you bloody my sheets or floor, either with your's or your enemies'." She seemed unfazed by the heavily armed group in front of her as she placed a few rags on the desk in front of her, "Use these." She then disappeared under her desk and popped back up to place a few bottles of mead and other forms of alcohol beside the rags, "The rags aren't free and neither is the beer. Clean yourselves outside." She gave a glance to Reesh, leaving the lizard-man with the feeling of being scolded.

When those of their party that needed to clean themselves up had taken some of the rags and paid for them and the couple of drinks, they took the items outside with them. As Reesh approached the desk, He opened his mouth to speak when the woman interrupted him with a stern stare. Something about her put him off, he couldn't tell what or why. Pushing the odd feeling aside, he grabbed the rag before leaning on the desk, "Hello keeper, I've got a question about-"

"Clean yourself first, then we'll talk." Reesh gave her a blank stare. Realizing the room was still very quiet for a tavern, he glanced around to see that the patrons were observing them still. The sound of crackling fire was all that pierced the air.

A smile crept across the lizard-man's face as he turned back to look at the woman, "Is that the way to treat someone who's..." he turned to face the tavern patrons, raising his arms to the side and raising his voice, "Who's going to give everyone two drinks this merry night!" A cheer rose up from the patrons, predictable nords.

--

When they had received their promised drinks, the tavern came back to life, noise filling the air. The argonian was a tad bit annoyed that he had spent roughly 320 septims for the lot, but argued with himself that he will be getting much, much more than that with the current job. He turned his attention back to the tavern keeper, "Now. About my question..." She gave a reluctant nod, so he continued, "We passed by Helgen and it was infested with bandits. While I normally wouldn't care about such things but how did they come to hold a fortified town? Ssurely they didn't take it from the imperial forces there... Did they?" He was also bothered by how The Collector must of known about the state of the town, considering the party he has joined up with. But she didn't need to know that.

She cracked a half-smile before lowering her voice, "Are you sure you want to know?" Reesh nodded, leaning in. She spoke almost in a whisper, "A dragon attacked Helgen."

Reesh gave her a stare that spoke of how he didn't believe that one bit, "Rrrriiight..."

Her smile faded as her voice regained its original volume, "Don't believe me? Ask the guards outside, that's why they're here. Now get out and clean off that blood." With that, she turned her attention to other tasks.

Rolling his eyes, Reesh stepped out of the tavern. A dragon, really? What did she expect, that he was a child that would believe such a tale. Maybe she was being smart and meant it metaphorically? That made more sense. Or she was pulling his tail, that could be it as well.

He looked over himself and could see some of his fur clothing had a few red spots here and there. He sighed, it may be better to simply burn this set and buy a new set from the smith in the morning. Then again, if the smith didn't sell fur, it may be best to keep them somewhere else till morning. Taking the fur off of his armour and person, he neatly folded it up and stuffed it under the walkway into the tavern. He then decided to head to the river to clean up what he can before heading back to the tavern to socialize before heading off for a good nights rest.