MacabreFox — Roleplayer Guild

A Collab Between @Scout and I

     Whereupon she finally crossed the threshold of Windpeak Inn, the sun had long set after her duel with Sadri, the sky now veiled in the abysmal darkness, embroidered with bright, twinkling stars. The moon had lost its ominous blood-red color, and her nerves were at rest for once. Did this signify a turn of events? Had it been a warning from the Divine of the approach and inherent invasion of the Kamal? Besides the fact, whatever it may be, Sevine made her way over to the bar counter, and settled onto the worn barstool. When Thoring had a moment to spare, he sidled up to the weary woman, and leaned on his elbow.

"What can I get for ye?" He asked.

"A room, if you have one. And a mug of your finest mead." After the exchange of currency, and the alotted room, Sevine sipped readily on her frothy mug of chilled, sweet-honeyed mead. Her nose tickled at the scent of spices used, and as she raised it to her lips, she felt the tension in her muscles fade. After quenching her thirst, Sevine turned in her seat, eyes sweeping over the cheerful interior of the inn, searching for any of her companion's she knew, even Leif perchance, strangely enough, she did not see him anywhere. It would not bother her for now in the least, as she presumed him to be resting. The poison arrow he received from the falmer left him in a weakened state, luckily, Sebastian, Roze's Nord friend from the College, and attended to him the best he could.

Elmera swirled the clear liquid rum in her glass, watching the tiny waves lick the sides of the container before she took a drink.  It was absolutely mesmerizing, her crimson eyes fixated on the motion when it resumed.  She had just signed a contract that could potentially give her a new life; perhaps she wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore.  The thought still lingered, of course - what if one of them found out and somehow got her?  What if somebody recognized her or they needed to do work in Morrowind?  It was all very unlikely, but she knew that this might not last forever.  For now, she had somewhere that she could belong and there would be less rules than there were back home.

A Nord woman took a seat at the bar nearby and Elmera turned her head, quirking an eyebrow as she leaned back against the counter from her stool.  She rested an elbow on the wooden surface and gave a nod for a greeting.  Mead wasn’t the Dunmer’s drink of choice, but she could understand the draw of its simplicity.  There was just something more alluring, for her, in the art of nursing a beverage that had a stronger kick to it.

“Evening,” She greeted, looking the Nordic woman over.  She looked familiar…  But not incredibly so.  Elmera paused for a minute, maybe it was just because she had hair like that brute who had insulted her earlier.  Eventually, all of these Nords ran together and looked like one person, shouting about their birthright and fighting for the homeland and winning their honour.  It was a bit refreshing that this one hadn’t proven to be so boisterous yet, though perhaps time would tell.  She was alert and her eyes were cutting through the bar, which was gradually growing more crowded, clearly on the lookout for something.

“Quite a festival, huh?”  By the Nine, how Elmera abhorred starting small talk.  But she couldn’t continue just being some spectre in every town she visited - especially if she was going to be with a group that needed to feel she was worth trusting.  Might as well start with a stranger, right?  This was a big festival and it was rare that a Nord of any kind would sit within two seats of a Dunmer unless they had to, so being cold and unsociable to this woman would only make her less approachable.

”Evening. Quite some festival, huh?”

     The words cut through her mind like a knife through warm butter, turning her head in the direction of the voice, she discovered the source, a Dunmer woman with a peculiar look in her eyes, a feeling that reminded her of herself in years gone-by, though this woman appeared older, perhaps close in age to Sadri? It was hard for her to discern with Mer, they aged, gracefully?

“Hullo,” she returned, a pleasant smile coming over her, “aye… After the turn of events of late, a festival is most welcome. I've only visited Dawnstar once before, and this is a side I've yet to see.” Her piercing gaze swept over the woman, studying her with an intensity that would make a babe cry.

“Sevine, The Huntress, as some of my kin call me. I’ve not seen the likes of you around here, are you attending the festival or are you with the company?” She figured that it would be best to make nice, unless of course this woman wasn't looking for casual pleasantries.

With a pause, she finally responded.  “Elmera.  A pleasure to meet you,” She replied cordially, pressing her cool glass to her lips before taking a moment to revel in the rum’s taste as it ran down her throat and gradually to her brain.  A shiver ran down her spine and Elmera shook her head, “I actually came here to join, since you mentioned it.  Signed on only a short while ago with Ashav, he seems quite proud of what you all have accomplished.”

The Dunmer woman’s fingers drummed lightly on the counter.  “It certainly seems like the kind of town that doesn’t get so worked up this often.  If I’m not mistaken, it sounds like you’re one of my new ‘comrades,’ Sevine.  So, perhaps you’re more willing to fill me in on what to expect here than Ashav.  He seems to be quite the busy man and mercenary work is a new field to me, I’d be quite grateful for some insight.”

“Welcome aboard then.” The Huntress nodded in response, yet her eyes drew away to stare into the bottom of the wooden mug she cradled gingerly in her hands. What should she tell Elmera? There were several lines of thought that seemed to shout all at once in her mind, where she ended up running her fingers through her bangs with a heavy sigh.

“The pay is good, when we get paid. And the company is close, everyone knows everyone, and everyone knows who they don't care for, so some folk just avoid those. You’ll see what I mean when you get the chance to meet Cat-Kicker. Not the nicest fellow in the group, nor the brightest...he's a hard man to be sure, I just wouldn't like to find myself on his bad side.” She paused here, and allowed herself a small smile, as she reflected on how Roze came into the company, and Dumhuvud had singled the Breton woman out, and even how she had stepped in to put a damper on his banter. 

“Allow me to warn you now, we have lost many in the company, either through desertion or death. The missions we are assigned, are not for the faint of heart. Death is prominent, it lurks behind every door, in every cave, every city, and in the eyes of those who wish to see us dead. I...hope that has answered some of your questions?” Sevine asked, tipping her head to the side, and gazed steadily at the Dunmer woman.

Elmera gave a small smirk and chuckled, shaking her head as she took another sip, closing her eyes for a moment.  “Sounds like my kind of group…  And I should be so lucky that death is hiding behind a door.  I could use some excitement,” She muttered behind the lip of her cup.  The crimson-eyed Mer sighed, her mind flashing back to those she had lost…  Why couldn’t it have been her?  Ugh, what bothersome thoughts to have at a time like this.  She took another drink and asked Thoring if he would please fill it back up.  It was now that Elmera realized she had been drinking a little bit faster than usual - usually her nursing took a while, but she just downed that glass in a matter of about twenty minutes.

“It does answer some questions, thank you…  So, you seem to handle all of this death pretty well…  I’m still a little bit hazy on how you Nords get your names, but with one like Cat-Kicker, he sounds weaker than he undoubtedly means to.”  She rolled her eyes, “On the other hand, you really act like you’ve got yourself together.  That’s good, strength is certainly an admirable trait to have.  Where do you come from, then?  One of Skyrim’s holds, I would imagine?”

    Therein, a pained grimace came over her at the mention of Nord names, “We do not choose our names, our folk give them to us. It is based on what choices we make, but not every one receives a name. Cat-Kicker is not a weak man by any means, but his name comes from what he did. They are literal in a sense. For he kicked a cat to death, and not any mere house-cat, Elmera, Dumhuvud is his name, but he kicked an Al’fiq to death. Stomped the poor creature until not a breath left its body.” Downing the rest of her mead, Sevine motioned for Thoring after Elmera had her glass filled.

“Bring me a bottle of wine.” She said, fetching the coin from her pouch and slid it towards him. When he returned with the bottle uncorked, she poured herself a glass, and carried on.

“There is a reason why my folk call me the Huntress. I earned it through the war, but that is the besides the point. As for where I hail, my kin come from Falkreath, the mountains thick with pines, and mist just as dense. ‘Tis a beautiful place. Tell me, where do you hail from? Do you call Skyrim your home like so many of your kind do?”

Elmera shook her head, “How pleasant.  I try to stay to the South and on the roads in this country - the mountains are… Not particularly to my liking,” She said, her voice trailing off.  Again, she shook away the thought, “I can handle some cold, but not like that.  I was raised in Morrowind, not a particularly interesting story.  I’ve studied magic for quite a large portion of my life.  Though study may not be the right word; I’m not so much an academic as I am a practitioner.  My knowledge comes from a little study and a lot of experience.  A few burns and shocks here or there, some angry fellow Apprentices from time to time…”

The woman nodded, figuring the story sufficed, for it was true.  “I miss home sometimes.  The land was mottled with browns and greys, but it was mine.  The people aren’t so spiteful as our appearance would suggest,” She noted, fully aware that their crimson eyes and dark skin could be off-putting to strangers.  “Otherwise it was a nice, simple life.  I moved because I was tired.  I may be old, but I’ll not be a slave to boredom,” She said with a cheeky smirk, raising her glass enthusiastically before taking a swig.

Sevine listened intently to Elmera’s words, it was interesting to hear Morrowind described, it sounded...dull, without color, almost like a wasteland, and she knew little of the culture. Perhaps she could ask Sadri, or that journalist, Madura?

“Back to the topic at hand, though…  You earned your name in war, you said?  How was that?  Are you simply a particularly good marksman, or more of a tracker?”  Elmera asked curiously, quirking an eyebrow.

    The question caught her off guard, she had expected the woman not to touch the subject again, but, if asked, she would not turn down anyone. “Both. When I was but a lass, my Pa gave me a bow and quiver for my birthday. ‘Twas all I wanted to do, every day, I rose before he woke, finished my chores, and by day-break I was out in the cabbage patch, notching my bowstring, fingers straining to hold the arrow in place, and to aim it true. Many years did I spend, practicing the bow, when I turned seventeen, I felled my first deer without Pa, and carried it all the way home. It was a wretched winter, and Pa had fallen ill, ‘twere only Pa, my little sister and I, so without him, without me, we would have starved to death that winter. I knew every track of the animals that roamed the mountains there, and I could tell a footpath from a game path. When the war came, my skill at the bow were put to use, that is also where I learned to wield an axe for the first time. You could say that it is a mix of my hunting, and from the bloodlust I developed on the fields of battle. There was not a foe that survived in my line of sight. But that still does not say where I earned my name. It is an even longer tale, one that I do not like to tell in full.” She paused once more, this time to take a deep draught of wine. She had talked at a great length, but this woman did not know her, and for whatever reason, she felt compelled to disclose this much information as is. Was it the Dunmer woman’s age that comforted her? Perhaps. Such people often possessed an aura of wisdom.

“One night, as I lay sleepin peacefully in my tent, the Imperial’s swept through our camp, many were injured in the aftermath, and I, myself, suffered a grave wound, an officer of the Imperial Legion wielded a poisoned blade, and for many nights I laid awake wandering in and out of consciousness. When I recovered, I slipped away from camp, and tracked down the Imperial squadron that had attacked us. I waited for three days in the bushes, and when I caught the officer with his pants down around his ankles, I struck him dead with my arrow. A week later, my brother and sister’s in arms congratulated me, and thus that is how I became The Huntress.” She sighed, thankful the war was over, and thankful that she had survived so far.

“Now tell me, what brought you to our country? And tell me this, what forms of magick do you wield?”

Elmera nodded, listening intently to the story as she drank her rum.  It was hard to tell when one of these so-called ‘Earned Names’ was from a dark story or a lighter one.  This sounded more or less like one that was earned through hardship; good, those were the ones that she thought warranted such a tradition.  “Thanks for sharing,” She said honestly, thankful that the drink could replace her itch for the Moon Sugar sitting quietly in her pocket.  At least, it eased her mind for now.  She wondered if she was the only one in the company who partook and how quietly she would have to do it.  The question then turned to her and she knew that this was going to be difficult territory to traverse after the alcohol.

“I suppose that’s only fair, eh?”  She asked with a small laugh, scooting to sit up a little straighter, “Well…  I came here because, like I said, I was growing tired.  My family was small and after my father’s passing, it felt like the only thing to do.  I wanted to move on, go somewhere new, start a new life.  I didn’t have a lot of people back home after he died, you see, because I spent much of my childhood as an Apprentice.  When I returned home, I worked humbly to earn my keep and the rest of my time was spent taking care of my studies.

“My mentor was a rather well-rounded sorcerer, but I took to the School of Destruction early on.  Of course I’ve dabbled in a few, but… there is no greater feeling than the power you get from this one.  To wield electricity… Or fire itself in the palm of your hand is to feel specifically blessed by the Nine,” She said, staring at her hand as she flexed her fingers into a fist and opened it once more.  “However, that said, it can also be quite dangerous.  I was not well-liked among my peers when it came to practicing magic…  I’ve had my fair share of accidents experimenting beyond my capability.”

“Perhaps one day, you could tell me of your ‘accidents’, depending on the sensitivity and the severity of course. I am unable to wield magick, or at least have never tried. I know the usefulness of it, especially in restoration, yet, the destruction side of it, while wholly enthralling, is as you said, dangerous.” She said, nodding in agreement, it felt good to know another woman with the same mentality so to speak, they were both humble.

The Dunmer took another drink.  It was nice to have company; after all, Ashav had been such a professional conversation, but Sevine seemed personable, even if she was a little bit physically intimidating.  Looking straight ahead, to the other end of the bar, Elmera rolled her shoulders, “So, are you waiting on anybody here tonight?  I mean, you’re in the company, of course, but anybody specific that you will be meeting?”

“I, uh… Yes.” She blushed a deep shade of rose red, almost matching her tresses that hung over her shoulders in a warm veil. “I have...a close friend, I purchased a room for tonight, spent too many nights sleeping in hammocks and on the floors of caves to not take the chance when it presents itself. I offered to share it with him…” Her voice trailed off as her mind wandered to Do’Karth. 

“I do have another friend, Leif Raven-Stone, proud Nord man he is, but I shall worn you, he is with the company, and a sly fox when it comes to women. He is loose with his words, and will try to bed anything with legs and breasts. Now that I think of it, I haven't seen him since I went to go look for a few select members of the company.”

“Leif is it? The Red-Bear paid for a room to put the blubbering fool asleep in.” Thoring grumbled, over-hearing their conversation, or at least her mention of her comrade. “He was tied up in knots over some woman that wronged him. Said a lot of mighty big words for a man of his size, I'd hate to be the lass to handle him when he wakes.” The inn-keeper turned away to carry off a platter of food to a table in the far corner of the tavern, leaving Sevine with a foul taste in her mouth. She squirmed in her seat and suddenly rose, “Elmera? I'll have to bid you goodnight friend, it was a pleasure to speak with you, I know I'll be seeing you with the company.”
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