"Oi you don't whistle at me, I'm no damn dog." Tagorn grumbled out as he adjusted the sack that was still being hosted over his shoulder. The Wood elf's current mood could be accounted to the fact that after standing out in the sun for hours now his skin felt as if it was being tanned and turned to leather while it was still on his body. He then let the sack fall in front of him. "Your stuff should be in there. Hell every other bastard that got themselves locked up stuff should be in there." Tagorn said managing a slight smirk before looking over to Sharee. "Well the dull ears got a few of the local kittens to start a little spark and to entertain the guards for a while on our behalf." He said before he moved himself over to a tree's shade and plopped his elven rear on the grass. It was then that he pulled his mask down from his face leaving it around his neck, keeping his hood drawn up over his head, and pulled out a ebony flask from his boot. Engraved on the side of the flask in polished silver was what seemed to be a simple skull, but to the trained eye it would be known as a sign of Molag-Bal. The Bosmer unscrewed the top of flask before taking a long swing. As the flask left Tagorn's lips a soft smile came to his face as if the world was just lifted off his shoulders.