Daro'Ashiri Knivett | Female Khajiit | 25 years | DB & Werewolf

Ashiri leaned her back to the wooden structure, her lungs burning. Her ears flicked around purposefully, waiting to hear approaching footsteps. One or two dark red blotches stained her shoddily-sewn dress and mud caked on her leather boots and dark tail, obscuring the faint stripes that decorated the long appendage. An arrow was already notched in the flimsy longbow, waiting to sail toward her target. The nearly silent sound of footsteps caught her attention, causing the woman to perk her ears forward. A toothy grin spread across her face and the woman ran out of cover, letting an arrow fly downward as soon as she spotted the light green tunic.

The round, stuffed fur arrowhead struck the Breton boy in the middle of the chest, leaving a circle of blue dye after the soft arrow bounced off to the ground. "You're it, Blaise," the Khajiit woman called cheerfully, her green eyes shining mischievously. Blaise notched an arrow of his own, the fur tip covered in red dye, and aimed it at his mother. With a release of his light hands, the arrow sailed up at the balcony, but cruised over Ashiri, arcing over the house's roof. As Blaise prepared to take out another arrow from his quiver, a yelp sounded from the other side of the house. A small girl ran from behind the mansion, a surprised look on her face and a fat blue spot on the shoulder of her red dress. "Blaise," Elizabeth exclaimed, holding her bow and yellow-tipped arrow at her side, "How did you get me? I was standing on the other balcony!" The young boy looked just as surprised as she was before they both began bursting out in laughter. Ashiri chuckled with her son and daughter before glancing at the sun. "Let's go inside and change clothes," she said, setting her bow and quiver of soft arrows down on the balcony, "We're going to town today."

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(I'm going to make him traveling so they'd meet up eventually ^^)

Ruairi Adelind | Male Imperial | Appears mid 20s | DB & Vampire Lord

Even on the horse it was still a tiring trip. He'd been sitting on the animal's back for at least a week now, and was just now arriving at the city of Falkreath. He couldn't guess how tired the poor animal was, considering it barely got a chance to rest. He only rode during the day when she sun was up, but once night fell and he could travel on his own without tiring after the first thirty minutes, he took the chance. It was faster travel as a vampire anyway, even if he took the risk of being seen. But the road from Markarth for Falkreath was one that not many traveled on, so he took his chances. But he had to drag the horse along with him, not only because he'd need it the next day, but because it held all of his belongings in its saddle bags.

Really, Ruairi wasn't sure why he was traveling to Falkreath. He used to have friends stationed at the city from when he was part of the guard, but that was a long time ago and he wasn't quite sure where they were now, or if they were alive. Perhaps it was just old nostalgia why he was visiting, after all he hadn't left Markarth in a while. Hell, he didn't even leave his house much while in Markarth, not during the day at least. And at night when he could come out comfortably, no one trusted him enough to be alone without thinking he would turn them. He resented the idea, at least for the people he liked in the city. But of course, he couldn't go turning those who didn't like him. Everyone would know who did it. He had to be careful in that city where everyone knew who and what he was; but this was a new city where no one recognized him. And, he didn't have plans to ever move to the shabby little hold, so he could be a little more reckless while visiting.

As they passed through the open wooden gate, he felt the curious eyes of the guards watching him. It made sense, seeing as the hold was mainly dominated by Stormcloaks and he was donned in basic Imperial clothing, but luckily none of them made a comment. He gave the horse a small nudge, not exactly wanting to cause trouble if one of them did decide to do something. After approaching the inn, he dismounted and led the horse to the stables. He gathered his things and checked in a room, then leaving his things behind its locked door as he sat out on the shaded porch.

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Sincera Yunaderen | Female Nord | Appears early 20s | Werewolf

Sincera Ambled along the dirt road past the Eastern Watchtower near Whiterun. She smiled as a Guard noticed her drenched in blood, but He didn't stop her from leaving. She hummed the age of the Dragonborn as she headed towards Falkreath. Normally, she came back with a ton of loot from her Bandit kills, but this time she had lots more. She spotted a Giant and hid from it's view, she wasn't in the mood to take down a giant. After a while she seen the giant leave and she silently sneaked out of her Hiding spot. She wanted to find a place here she could clean her armor while being near the Place she loved most. She skipped as she scared deer, elk and rabbits.

Out of the corner of Her eye, she seen a Bandit. Swiftly and Silently, she hid behind some bushes. She casted a Flaming Familiar right behind Him and watched as he died. She laughed at his Face, he looked like he Was just as crazy as Sheogorath! She Looted his body of Gold, jems and books. She came across a letter about a killing he was supposed to do. "Hmmm..." She hummed. "Looks pretty nice, and might be useful!" She spoke. After a while of deciding, She opened it. She read it out loud, "Agerin, Kill A black haired girl named Sincera. I Will pay you good for this.". She didn't know someone wanted her dead, or even knew she was alive! She never let anyone she attacked stay alive! She shrugged and kept the letter as she went back to her walking.

After a week of walking and running, she made it to Falkreath. She skipped inside the Hold as she looked around. "Still as beautiful as I remember." She said to Herself. She Went to the Blacksmith and asked for her sword to be fixed. As she waited, she looked around once again and smiled. "This place never gets old." She whispered. "Not a lie Madam." The Blacksmith said. Sincera jumped as if she didn't think he heard her. Slowly, she smiled. After a while, she got her sword back and thanked the Blacksmith. She checked in at The Inn and checked in A room. She put her Things away and looked outside as it was turning To night. She softly laughed as she seen the tiniest sliver of the moon.

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[Remus, it's about noon in the RP... I suggest that you slow your pacing some and try to add more detail. c:]

Daro'Ashiri Knivett | Female Khajiit | 25 years | DB & Werewolf

Blaise and Elizabeth crashed through the doors of the mansion, racing each other to be the first in their room. Ashiri stepped in behind them, already beginning to untie the leather strip that held her mass of dark hair. "Thanks for holding the door open for your dear old mum," she hollered, only answered by the quiet shutting of doors behind her. Long dreadlocks fell against the woman's back and shoulders, making her look straight out of Elsweyr. She stepped into her armory, where she kept most of her clothes, and shut the door behind her. A plain brown dress lay set out over one of the chests, a pair of pleated boots slumped on the ground in front of it. Carefully, she lifted the blue dress over her head, holding it in front of her when she finally got it off. Two red blotches painted it, one on the front and the other in the small of her back. A yellow streak painted the side of the dress, Elizabeth having just barely scraped it with one of her arrows. Tossing the stained clothes onto an armor stand, Ashiri strode over to her dress and grabbed it carefully. She slipped it over her head, letting the brown cloth slide over her body until she could get her arms through the sleeves. She took a seat on the wodeen chest, picking up her boots and slipping one onto each foot. Standing, the Khajiit lifted her steel greatsword from its place on the wall, the hilt wrapped in green-dyed leather. She placed the weapon on her back, the blade protected by an old sheath with a strap that lay across her shoulder and chest.

She exited the armory and greeted her housecarl, a redguard warrior named Rayya, leaving the homestead in her care while they were in town. Elizabeth and Blaise were already chasing each other outside, Elizabeth in her favorite blue dress and Blaise in his cleanest grey tunic. "Liz, Blaise," she called, poking her head out of the front door and grabbing a few empty sacks from on top of a barrel, "Do you mind getting Kirelle? Dibella can stay in the stables while we're gone again this time; she has to get used to being away from her mother more." With two excited calls of 'yes', the children darted off to where Kirelle and her yearling grazed. Ashiri dissapeared back into the house, slinging the burlap sacks over her shoulder and fetching several assorted pelts that lay stacked in the trophy room, holding a small pile in each arm. A stout draft horse stood patiently as Blaise expertly attached the carriage to her harness, double checking his handiwork. Furs were loaded into the back of the carriage, wolf, saber cat, deer, elk, and bear pelts stacked together. The Khajiit dissappeared back into the house, filling up the smallest sacks with assorted jewels, jewellery, and other wear scavenged from a bandit hideout and the largest with surplus crops. One last container, a box filled with chicken eggs and cow's milk, and stray pieces of extra armor and weaponry were loaded in last. Ashiri climbed into the driver's seat and Elizabeth and Blaise shared the passenger seat as they began to head to Falkreath.

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Ruairi Adelind | Male Imperial | Appears mid 20s | DB & Vampire Lord

The city was certainly quieter than Markarth. It was nearly noon, a time where his busy home city would be buzzing at its loudest with merchants, guards, tourists, and of course those who called it home. But this forest city was nearly as quiet as it could possibly could be. He couldn't imagine that it was much quieter at nighttime even. Or, maybe most of its residents slept in late here. It didn't appear like any of them were walking the streets aside from those who needed to most, and even then they seemed to disappear quickly. But it was a farming city, he knew that much. They wouldn't sleep in, the farmers at least. They were most likely out attending to their crops. He saw that many of the houses had small gardens attached, but they had to have large fields elsewhere for them to make profit. The rest of the family who didn't need to tend to the crops must sleep in late, for all these families, he assumed. Being a vampire, he didn't necessarily have to sleep any more, but he remembered from years ago that he never was one to wake after the sun had risen. Memories of his childhood mornings were simply dark, literally. Whether it was mage or weapons training, guard duty, or simply his own nature, he remembered always waking up before the sun rose in the east.

Ruairi looked up briefly as a woman walked into the inn and then quickly back out. She seemed to enjoy the city a lot for someone who was just traveling, it seemed. While it was nice and tranquil, he couldn't ever see himself loving a city like Falkreath. It was too quiet, nothing was happening. He felt as though it would take weeks for important news to make it way into such an unimportant city like Falkreath, whereas in either of his previous homes -- Solitude and Markarth -- news would be heard the minute it happened. The city just felt so isolated, not to mention small. Sure, in Markarth everyone knew who he was. But there, there were new arrivals to the city every day. Every day he spotted someone new, and a new meal to feast on without the consequence of having to live as a neighbor to the person for years. In this city, he guessed that he, and the woman who seemed way too happy to be in a city like this, were its only visitors in months.

But surely the city had something to offer. It was a capital, so it couldn't just be a simple farming community, could it? Ruairi rose from his seat and stepped onto the road, and more importantly, into the sun. Instantly, he could feel himself getting weaker, almost a nauseous feeling, but he hadn't given away what he was yet. And returning into the inn just to grab a hood would seem shady, at least to those who knew about the vampires roaming the land. He could deal with the sun for now, and he wouldn't be in it for long anyway. Just long enough to explore what the city had to offer, if anything. Guessing, he made his way over to where it looked like the markets were. He was carrying a decent sum of gold on him, and more lay with his belongings, but he didn't plan on buying anything too extravagant. He kept a low profile currently, and planned for it to remain that way for now at least. But that didn't mean he couldn't treat himself to something nice if one of the shops had something decent. He scanned the outside stands, not actually sure which building was a shop since most of the signs weren't entirely legible due to age and weathering. If he walked into one and it happened to be someone's home, it wouldn't be a great first impression of a visitor to their city. Most of the stands sold various food items and sundries, nothing great enough to really catch his eye. Ruairi made his way under the shade of a tree and narrowed hie eyes, trying to figure out what the signs in front of the buildings said. Maybe there'd be some better products inside.

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Daro'Ashiri Knivett | Female Khajiit | 25 years | DB & Werewolf

The wagon bumped and groaned as the dappled mare cantered along the stony road. Blaise and Elizabeth scanned the surrounding woods, gasping in awe every time they spied a deer, especially the giant bull elk with their wide span of antlers. "Look, there's Marrish," Elizabeth whispered excitedly, watching an elk like the one stuffed in the trophy room, one the children had dubbed Marrish. In the same way, they had named the taxidermied saber cat Amelia, and the slaughterfish Sirius. Ashiri slowed the wagon to a stop as a man decorated in Imperial armor waved at them to halt. Kirelle snorted in indignation, pawing at the ground with one wide hoof. "Where are you going with all those furs, cat," the soldier interrogated, approaching the driver's side slowly. The Khajiit woman closed her eyes at the slur, but opened the grey-green things again to stare aggravatedly at the men. "Falkreath," she said dryly, the tip of her tail flicking, "I live a ways down the road." The man glanced up at her, then at Blaise and Elizabeth, who both stared nervously at the unfamiliar Imperial checkpoint. "Is that so," he hummed, going around the back to inspect the cargo. "Don't watch me like that," he remarked, noticing how intensly the Khajiit was starting at him, "I'm not a sneak thief like one of your kind." Ashiri's blood boiled and her claws on both hands extended in anger. She knew better than to go off, even if her heart was beating faster the way it did when she was about to transform. "Can I just get by so I can make a decent living," she said through gritted teeth. "Of course," the soldier replied, coming back around the front, "But you'll need to pay." The other soldiers looked at him skeptically, their eyebrows raised. He looked back to them and gave a quick nod, as if to convince them to play along. Ashiri's own eyebrow raised, seeing something that the soldiers knew. "I didn't think this was a paying checkpoint" she murmured, staring into the Imperial's dark brown eyes, "Maybe I'll just ask Captain--" "No! I mean, no. That won't be necessary. Go ahead," The man interrupted, now with an angry scowl on his face. He stepped back to the side of the road, letting the wagon canter off again and enter Falkreath.

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Gyrfalcon & Nergui | Male Dunmer & Almer/Nord | Nerevarine & Vampire

"What's the worst way to die?"

Gyrfalcon jerked his head up at the question. They'd taken a stop on a rock outcrop, so Nergui could rest. Gyrfalcon took the time to organize his small collection of soul crystals, while the vampire simply sat with his legs hanging off the side. He couldn't see what kind of expression the half-mer had on either, he was all bundled up to keep the sun off him and his sensitive skin. "Excuse me?" Gyr replied.

Nergui looked over, "Worst way to die. Like getting set on fire or getting pecked to death by a cliffracer?"

By Azura, the mer looked like he was seriously considering this. Gyr started packing his crystals away, having finished checking on the delicate crystals. "Lockpick," He stated, slinging his pack over his shoulder, sliding off his seat, "And I'm sure I saw that. I'm not going senile yet."

Nergui scuttled up next to him, choosing the middle of the road rather than the side, where Gyrfalcon decided to walk. "That doesn't count. It's a quick death." He protested.

Gyr waved him off, a smile coming onto his lips, "Oh no, just imagine. Vivec was practically a god. Imagine all those years of preparation, all that power, and in the end you get stabbed with a lockpick by an old Dunmeri before you can use any of it." A rare laugh came out of the old mer. Nergui gave him a look, which made a fresh laugh bubble out of him.

That just started a fresh argument, Nergui getting increasingly annoyed at Gyr's laughter, and Gyr himself being goaded into laughter by the sheer reactions his laughter. He almost didn't notice the clatter of hooves until they got loud enough to prompt him to grab Nergui, pulling him over to the side so the horses could past. Nergui shrieked, about to curse up a storm, but the cart passing by him immediately stopped any protest. Thankfully, he didn't weigh much, and Gyrfalcon was able to right him with no problem.

"What was....?" Nergui stuttered, making Gyr's lips quirk at his words.

"Helping you," He replied, watching as the vampire huffed and trotted ahead, his pride hurt. Thankfully, Falkreath wasn't too far away, and soon enough he lost Nergui in the town. The Dunmer sighed, darting his eyes over the various houses, scanning the various Nords for a smaller figure bundled up in robes.

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Alenin | Breton | Spellsword

Alenin strapped the potion sack to the saddle of the brown and white pinto. Skindling, was what Tully had decided to call the horse when Alenin first got it two years ago in Markarth. Alenin was able to talk the owner to a lower price for the Skindling, which was lucky, otherwise Alenin would have stolen it anyways. A moral dilemma that he would give less thought to now. Alenin elbowed the sturdy horse in the gut and tightened the saddle one last time.
"You almost forgot something." Tully walked out with his helmet. The vaguely bear shaped helm was tarnished from lack of polishing and little scratches carved a jumbled pattern into it, caused by much larger blows. "Indeed I did." Alenin walked up and took it from Tully's hands.
"So remind me," Tully leaned against the new fencepost, it was part of the more recent additions to the small farmhouse on the outskirts of Whiterun. "How long will you be gone?"
"About a week or so, shouldn't be too difficult," Alenin strapped the helmet to the horse with the other pieces of his armor too bulky to wear normally. "I just have to watch over a mage while he roams around a ruin collecting data for a paper or something. It's just well paid babysitting." Alenin turned back to Tully, who was wearing a skeptical look on his face. "I'll be fine." He grasped Tully's arms.
"I've heard that one before" Tully grinned
"And it gets you every time, right? Always the cheesiest pickup lines." Alenin smiled and kissed Tully. They stayed like that for a couple of seconds before breaking apart. "Got to go if I want to make it to Riverwood by sundown." Alenin mounted Skindling and waved to the blonde man leaning on his fencepost.

Alenin always loved the valley of Whiterun, the fields of grass reminded him of his childhood home in Cyrodil. The surrounding forest weren't bad either, a little too cold for his liking, but it wasn't like he could go home anytime soon. "Damn those elves." He grumbled. If they hadn't decided that Tully, although sometimes reckless and brash but overall a kind and good natured person, was becoming too much of a nuisance they would be living in some house on the coast with Alenin's sister and her kids. Alenin's mind wandered away from the darker subjects to the quest in front of him. He hoped the Mage wouldn't skimp the pay.

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Daro'Ashiri Knivett | Female Khajiit | 25 years | DB & Werewolf

The pine trees cleared, replaced by wood houses with straw rooves. Even if it was one of the smallest hold capitals, Ashiri thought it was one of the most beautiful. The wagon trotted through the archway, recieving a nod from one of the guards. The townspeople knew the family, so only the occupying Imperial soldiers looked more than once at a khajiit woman with two children, one breton and the other nord. The wagon halted beside a two-story building, aptly named Gray PIne Goods for the surrounding forest. Blaise and Elizabeth were the first to climb down, immediately running off to find their friends, while their mother went to the front of the store and knocked, requesting the shopkeep to come out. An old woman hobbled up to the dark-furred Khajiit, placing a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. "Ashiri," she said, causing the khajiit to turn, her features turning into a polite smile, "Good to see you, dear. How are Blaise and Elizabeth?"

"Good to see you too, Elirah. They're both doing great, thank you. Oh, and I got you this," Ashiri replied before pulling a wrapped package from the pocket on her dress and placing it into the old woman's hands, With shaking fingers, she undid the leather that covered the small wooden box and removed the lid. In a bed of thick fur, a silver pendant lay, the blue gemstone matching Elirah's striking eyes. As she lifted the necklace from its place, she admired it and looked back at Ashiri, her eyes wide. "For you, El," she said, helping the elder slip the necklace over her head, "For helping me settle down and adopt my two children. It's enchanted, too. As long as you wear it, you won't catch any deadly diseases." The old woman's face broke into a grin as she gently hugged the woman, her feeble hands entwining in the khajiit's dreadlocks as they always had. She walked back to her home, fingering the pendant gingerly. Solaf, Gray PIne Goods' shopkeep exited the tall building and inspected each fur and peice of armor carefully, totalling up the worth in his head. "1250 Gold, madam," he confirmed, dissapearing inside the building and reappearing with several coin purses. The khajiit took them, loading each one into one of the now-empty sacks and laying it into the front seat of the wagon. She noticed a man leaning onto a tree but payed him no mind as she hollered for Blaise and Elizabeth. Both children darted from behind a house, jumping a fence on their way, but as they got distracted waving goodbye to their friends, barreled into the leaning man. Ashiri jogged over, repeating sorrys.

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(Sorry for the late & shitty post x.x mobile sucks)

Ruairi Adelind | Imperial | Appears mid 20s | Vampire Lord

Still trying to figure out what to do in the city, he didn't really pay much attention to the strange family that had arrived in the city. That was, until the kids knocked him off his feet. He turned, just barely catching himself, and looked at the Breton and Nord children. They weren't strange, at least not at first. It wasn't until a Khajiit woman came running over saying sorry on repeat that he raised a curious eyebrow. It was as if she were acting as their mother, and guessing from the way the children seemed to listened it was almost as if she was. He'd never seen such a thing before. A cat fostering two human children? What orphanage let two children run off and live with a Khajiit? Surely, guessing by her wagon full of goods, she had to be part of one of the common caravans that made their way from city to city. But her clothing was relatively modern, and resembled nothing of the common, worn Khajiit clothing he'd seen, and the children wore nice clothing as well. Either it was stolen, or she truly did have a decent living enough to where she could adopt the children. Still trying to figure out what was going on with the strange picture, he almost forgot to reply.

"Not to worry, Madam," Ruairi said, dusting the foliage and rubble off of his clothing. He watched the strange family, looking between the mother and the children a few times before listening to hear the reply.

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Daro'Ashiri Knivett | Female Khajiit | 25 years | DB & Werewolf

Both Blaise and Elizabeth raced back to the cart after they took turns apologizing to the man. Ashiri stretched a furred hand out and brushed a last swipe of debris from the man's shoulders. "This one's children get a bit... distracted," she said, her voice like many from Elsewyr, hissing, but genuine sounding, though having lived in Skyrim for the amount of time she has, it adopted a hint of the nordic accent and the rasp was softer and more subtle. The crimson of the man's eyes caught her attention and something in the back of her mind voiced danger. This man was a vampire, wasnt he? She had heard tales of vampires having an elevated sense of smell, sometimes being able to smell certain conditions one had. A feeling of worry crossed her mind and she wondered if he could smell any hints of her ailment. [Short because of school, sorry. D:]

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Ruairi Adelind | Imperial | Appears mid 20s | Vampire Lord

It wasn't until the woman came closer that he grew even more curious. A werewolf? he thought, wondering how the family could get any more out of the ordinary. He casually sniffed and forced himself to sneeze afterwards, wanting to make sure that she was for sure a werewolf. But with that scent, it was undoubtable. He wondered how the children didn't notice it, and then took a second to remember that they couldn't, that there was once a time when he couldn't either. Casting a look toward the Khajiit after watching the children run off, he wondered if she could tell what he was. Did werewolves have a heightened smell as well? In all honesty, he hadn't really put much thought into werewolves at all. He'd been so focused on his own condition, and since he didn't have to worry about catching their disease, he nearly forgot all about it. It wasn't often he ran into a werewolf either, but Markarth wasn't really the ideal place for them to live he guessed.

But instead of bringing the topic up, because he assumed she would if she cared and he really didn't care to bring it up, he said, "How long have you had them for?" Gesturing toward the children as they ran off, Ruairi wondered what their story was. It was just too unique: a Khajiit werewolf, two adopted human children, and a cart full of goods, now replaced with gold. Surely there was something to say there, and after all, it wasn't as if you came across this every day. Only in Falkreath, he gave a light smile, remembering how strange the city was even when he came here to play with his friends as a child.

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[b]Gyrfalcon & Nergui | Male Dunmer & Almer/Nord | Nerevarine & Vampire[/b]

"Stop! Pickpocket!" A guard yelled, breaking the relative silence of the village.

A small, black frame darted towards the east gate, two guards already chasing after it, another guard almost tripping as they rounded the corner around the Jarl's longhouse. But a fourth figure joined the chase, vaulting over the fences around the blacksmith's forge and accelerating much faster than the guards could, trackling the pickpocket to the ground.

An orcish blade skidded across the dirt, one of the guards immediately chasing after it, the others slowing to jog behind the small scene. Gyr tugged up on the black hood, moving so he could flip the man below him so they were now face to face. Burning (and tearing up) yellow-orange met furious red. "Ju'it muge'ag ohn captu'ag ist?" Gyr hissed at Nergui, a bit of the vampire's tension draining from his frame, likely from knowing the voice of who was on top of him.

Gyr half wanted to slap him, but he made a promise to never do that, on Azura's honor. Just to make things easier, he tugged the hood back on Nergui's head, shielding the vampire's sensitive eyes from the light, moving back so Nergui could sit up. Gyr scowled, noticing there were quite a lot of arrows on the other man's back. He hoped the guards wouldn't notice the multitude of steel arrows mixed in with the iron ones.

Before there could be a reply in Dunmeris (Gyr assumed, they were relatively safe with it considering nobody knew it), one of the guards, clearly shocked from what happened, cleared their throat. Gyr's head snapped to him, interrupting the usual announcement the guard would have made, "How much is the fine?"

There was some grumbling about 'to hell with the fine, I'll skin that knife-ear for stealing my new sword' in the background, but Gyr ignored it. Just ignore the arrows... The guard he was talking to paused, before answering, "Ahh.. i think fifty five gold?"

"He should pay a hundred!" Came an indignant reply from the guard skulking away with his stolen sword. Gyr didn't know if the nord was so incensed because Nergui tried to steal the sword while he was on patrol, or because it was taken at all. "Fifty five is reasonable," Gyr gave a respectful nod, rising to his feet so he could unhook his coinpurse to pay the fee, giving the gaggle of guards a few looks between him and Nergui.

"He's going to have to be brought to the guardhouse, protocol-" The guard began, but Gyr put on a patient smile, lightly touching the man's closest arm.

"No need to worry, ser. A fetcher like him will be dealt with, on Azura's honor. I doubt he took anything else."

Nergui's eyes darted to Gyrfalcon, already knowing how to resist the basic feelings of a weak calm spell. The guard hesitated for a few long seconds, before mumbling an 'alright' and giving Gyr a polite nod, walking away. The two elves waited until the rest stopped spectating before speaking again.

"Juohn." Nergui mumbled, not meeting the Dunmer with his own eyes.

"Ju'it muhritar kuaym asuhn muge'ag bahr taljed as kaatral," Gyr's complacent look shattered into the previous stormy one, glaring daggers at the vampire.

There was a small huff in response, but Gyr was still on edge about the arrows. He grabbed the quiver, and Nergui silently slipped it off his shoulder, stance almost like that of a cowering dog as the Dunmer hid the arrowheads under the fur of his leather jerkin, the quiver hanging at the side of his hip. "Really, don't do that again," He mumbled, flicking his eyes to Nergui.

"It was pretty," Was the response that nearly made Gyr want to tell the guards about the arrows. let the little skeever sit in jail until he picked his way out.

"Almost a pretty hairy situation! Be happy they didn't notice your eyes!" Out of necessity, the last part was hissed. Not all guards bought the blanket explanation that Nergui was a wood elf hybrid, if it even was asked.

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Alenin| Breton| Riverwood

Alenin reached Sleeping Giant Inn in record time. The sun still hung quite high in the sky, only a few clouds were hanging in the blue. He mentally thanked Skindling for the quick journey. He brought the pinto to the back of the inn, the only place suitable for tying up a horse in the little town. Alenin dismounted Skindling with his pack over his shoulder. He would get the armour later when he got his room. Luckily, Riverwood was a small town and there was little chance of his armour getting stolen. He nodded to the guard standing lazily in the main road. This wasn't his first time in town, he'd even taken the time to get to know some people when his clients decided to be fashionably late. The wolfhound on the steps barked at him as he walked up, dogs never seemed to like him for some reason.

The dimly lit hall smelled of roasting meat and drunk nords, it was a smell Alenin had grown accustomed to in his time in Skyrim. Sven was in the corner trying to play something on his lute, but it looked like he had other things on his mind with the way his brow was furrowed. Alenin said a small greeting to the nord as he walked by, but Sven didn't seem to notice. "Hello Orgnar," Alenin greeted the nord behind the counter, "I'm looking for a man named Sai? He's a mage, from the College of Winterhold." Orngar gestured to a hooded figure sitting on one of the benches. Alenin walked up to the thin framed man and tappped on his shoulder. "Huh what?" Sai turned around quickly, surprised. It looked like he was reading a book, but the drool suggested otherwise. "One might get suspicious about a man with his hood up." The man stuttered something. 'Dunmer, huh', Alenin thought, 'Not too many of those in Skyrim, especially with Ulfric Stormcloak pushing for power.' "You Sai?" Alenin asked. "Y-yeah," The nervous looking dunmer said. "Good, I'm Alenin, I'm supposed to be guarding you while you complete some research. Where is this ruin anyways?" Alenin asked, he wanted to get this over with. "Oh, umm, hello. The ruin is West of Falkreath, South of here. It's sort of in between. I umm have it here on a map." Sai rummaged through the mess of a pack he had. Alenin set his bag down and sat next to him. "Here." Sai pulled out a map of the Southern part of Skyrim. A red circle was marked somewhat under the mouth of lake Ilinalta. "I-it should be around there, according to my sources."
"Alright, so we head out tomorrow? What exactly are you looking for anyways?"
"Yeah, w-we should. I'm studying to see if there is a correlation between some sp-specific herbs and nordic ruins." Sai said pretentiously. "Interesting, and you should know, despite my simple opinion, I am educated." Alenin said in the calmest voice he could manage. This, this is why Alenin had decided not to pursue a career as a mage. They study useless things and act like they're better than everyone for knowing all thirty seven uses for snowberries. "Hmmf." Sai responded. "Well, see you in the morning, I have to go unload all my stuff." Alenin paid Orgnar the couple of septims for a room and headed back out to unload his horse and maybe order some drinks after. This was going to be another long trip.

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Daro'Ashiri Knivett | Female Khajiit | 25 years | DB & Werewolf

"About a year now," Ashiri remarked, "My friend Elirah helped me convince the old crone at Honorhall to let me adopt them. Took a few spells on her part and some slight fibs on mine." She winked jokingly, her lips cracking to show a khajiit's fanged smile. Only now did she notice his Imperial attire and look, but somehow, it didn't bother her. He hadn't called her 'cat' or 'kitten' yet, at least. The yell of "pIckpocket" made her ears swivel to hear behind her and she turned her head, sighing as several figures gave chase. At least it wasn't her children this time or her being accused of such a crime. Sure, in her youth she may have picked a piece of bread from a tavern table or pocketed an unattended coin purse, but she hadn't stolen a thing in just under a decade. "Happens about once a week anymore," she sighed, turning her head back to face the man, "They usually want to impress the Thieves' Guild, even if the 'organization' is dying." A faint noise, like the roar of a far-off beast, drifted through the sky, and while several townspeople turned their heads curiously, they soon resumed their work. "Oh, forgive me for not introducing myself, my name is Daro'Ashiri Knivett," she said poiltely, her tail swaying calmly behind her.

A winged silhouette, its exact features unclear from the distance, soared from the horizon. It originally appeared like some sort of strange bird, but the wings were too long, the creature much too large. A louder roar echoed again as the monstrosity lowered further, terrified gasps following the sound. Memories of the attack at Helgen, an abandoned city not too far away, plagued the town as citizens bolted into houses and guards drew their weapons. "Blaise, Elizabeth," Ashiri shouted, unsheathing her own greatsword from her back and running to the cart, "Unhook Kirelle and leave the wagon and septims. Get on her and ride home. Blaise, you know how to get there from here, right?" The boy nodded, looking scared and worried as he mounted the dappled mare and helped his sister up as well. The horse galloped northeast, the two children bumping on its bare back.

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