[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/q0fnOOu.png[/img][/center]
[right][sup][color=CD0000][b]Location:[/b][/color] [i]Imperial City Prisons[/i][/sup][/right][hr]
[color=silver]Veeza watched with mild interest as the Orsimer priest instructed one of the guards how to care for his newly attached finger. The man seemed to know his stuff; Veeza’d seen his fair share of severed digits reattached after mishaps in Kvatch’s arena. Fortunately for himself, no such injuries were sustained in the previous brawl. No, it would be more accurate to say that he had caused far more damage than he received. Every bit of it was justified too.

When all the violence and stupidity broke out, Veeza had done his very best to keep himself [b]to[/b] himself. He sat there at the corner of the bar as all the boasting and posturing gave rise to conflict, slowly nursing his glass of Surilie’s and enjoying the feeling of a warm meal in his stomach after a fight well won. He’d smashed enough faces in today. He wasn’t in the [i]mood[/i]. So he sat there, and he drank, and he ignored the growing chaos behind him until some moron tried to drag him out of his stool.

Then he bashed that same stool over the moron’s head. Which his friends didn’t like.

Regrettably, their cycle of vengeance was much more like a straight line that ended in Veeza’s fist and occasionally his tail. He’s pretty sure he collapsed a Khajiit’s windpipe when the guards barged in and put an end to the whole mess. 

Veeza wasn’t entirely convinced that he belonged in this cell, but he had to admit that the fight ended up being a [b]little[/b] fun. 

Beside him, a Redguard woman, barely more than a girl really, occasionally threw a questioning comment his way. He tried to take up as little space as possible for her sake, seated between two titanic Argonians as she was. Azura willing, the poor girl wouldn’t end up suffocated. With the amount of rabble getting stuffed into this cell, it was becoming a real possibility.

So he tried to answer her questions calmly and politely as his gaze surveyed the others in the cell. The yammering Bosmer woman -at least Veeza was reasonably confident, although they could be a man- caught the bulk of his attention as a young Breton fellow tried to rally those near him into finding a way to pass the time. The panicked movements of the squat, tattoo covered Mer were infinitely more curious to Veeza than any game of cards, however. Was she alright? She certainly seemed a stranger to these lands at the least. From what Veeza knew of the culture of Valenwood, it could be vastly different from that of Cyrodilic tradition. The sound of clanging metal stole him from his musings when a massive Khajiit tore a prison door off its hinges and sent the guards into momentary chaos.

A Cathay-raht? Here? 

Not only here in this prison, but soon to be here in the very same cell as the guards ushered him closer.[/color] 

[color=CD0000]“Stendarr… Give me a break.”[/color] [color=silver]His voice scraped from his throat in a quiet whisper.

The disgruntled prayer, to Veeza’s chagrin, went unanswered as the oversized creature loped into the cell and gave an introduction. At least he seemed docile after getting what he wanted. Veeza wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of having to try his luck against a titan like that without his equipment. Although it would be an invigorating match, to be certain. Perhaps once they were released from this pit he could set up a bout with the Khajiit in the arena, or at least test his skills against the larger beastfolk in a friendly spar.

The blithering of the possibly insane Bosmer continued as she made a great deal of proclamations at the Cathay-raht, apparently named Kiffar, who didn’t seem to have the capacity or care to comprehend the confusing assertions being made of him. He knew better than to judge people by their eccentricities, yet couldn't quite scratch away the feeling that there were quieter cells he could be stuck in. His tail flicked from side to side in restless irritation behind him where he sat.

He let out a low, rasping sigh. 

This was not worth five-hundred septims.

Next time one of the guards tried to shove another drunk, vagrant or buffoon in here, Veeza vowed to drag that guard in with them.[/color]