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Post by DarkNova50 on Jan 18, 2010 2:22:53 GMT
Keeping his sky blue gaze focused intently on Zaire, his new aquamarine coloured friend, Lance broke out in an obnoxious grin. "Well, I've been called alot of different things in my life, Zaire," he explained light heartedly. "Many, many things...but I've never been called boring. Frankly, I think I'd be downright hurt if somebody did." He chuckled softly.
"Anyway, it's good to meet you, and even better to hear you'll be coming along on this little half baked adventure of ours," Lance continued on, his grin never diminishing one iota. "You know what they say, don't you? Never hurts to have a pretty Dunmer girl along on any trip." He belted out another chuckle before waving his hand dismissively, letting Zaire know he was just kidding; he didn't want her to think he was some kind of sex hound, after all.
"Anyway, if you're looking for Karst - she's the one who put up the posters - she's the snow coloured Khajiit, with a tolerance for liquor rivalling any Nord," he added in, once again remembering their earlier meeting. "She told me earlier she's going to address everybody at once, once everybody shows up."
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Agito
Novice
Fantastic Musical Diatom
Posts: 20
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Post by Agito on Jan 18, 2010 9:36:49 GMT
A strange scent passed into Reissa's nose. She felt as though she should recognize it, but it seemed to just evade her comprehension. All she could tell was that it was mixed with that of a human, and at that, a scent that only emerged to her when the Breton passed nearby. Trying to come up with what it was caused her to be mostly oblivious even to the interesting conversations emerging around her.
"Hey, uh... Karst?" she said, moving her muzzle next to the other Khajiit's ear to reduce her volume and placing a hand to obscure her speech to others. "She, uh... she smells kinda funny." She nodded in the other woman's direction, trying to be subtle, though that was not a trait for which she was well-known. "I don't know why, but... do you notice it?"
She lowered her hand back towards the table, but accidently scratched her nose and squeaked softly. It was not a hard stroke, but she checked to make sure it was alright, anyway. A glance at her claws revealed that they had deteriorated somewhat, without having received proper attention in about a week while she pushed through a project so that she could be here today. This was a problem that she would need to fix, soon.
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Post by Anticlere on Jan 18, 2010 21:13:55 GMT
"Yeah," The Khajiit responded. "I like to explore, and I travel a lot anyway. I thought it might be... nice."
Nice..? That was one mindset Nelson hadn't attempted to approach this thing with. Whenever he thought about the whole of this, he felt either excited and worried, just worried or scared witless. He had no idea what to expect out of the whole of this, but it'd probably not be anything good; the concept of someone hoping this might be 'nice' was rather strange.
"I'm Qa'Nari," The Breton's new-found friend of sorts added after taking a large bite of Mount Food. "What about you?"
"Nelson, pleased to meet you." Deciding to kick his introduction off on a rather formal note to feel more confident, Nelson leaned forward slightly, crossing his arms on the table. He wasn't sure how to go about explaining his reason for going on this trip; no one wanted to hear his lifestory and he wasn't too inclined to share it himself. Not with people I barely know anyway. And if I tell them I'm one of the Knights of the Nine they'll think I'm a fanatical prick, like everyone seems to.
Used to be a Knight. A stern voice corrected somewhere from the deeper corners of his mind, causing the ex-squire to frown slightly. He looked a bit lost in thought for a moment, his eyes fixed on the table but obviously not looking at anything and his hand involuntarily starting to twiddle with the clasp of his cloak.
Finally, however, his hand stopped messing about and Nelson's eyes rose up from the table to Qa'Nari's face, the barely visible gleam of excitement returning to them.
"I... hit a worse patch with my family. What they demanded and I could do didn't really mesh together all too well. I ended up with a life of my own, stumbled into one of the posters and thought that I needed to go somewhere; figured this didn't sound a lot worse than some of the alternatives."
Nodding slowly, he put on a 'yep, that's my story' kind of expression. Starting to feel a bit more confident, Nelson decided to try keep the conversation going; after all he needed to pass time somehow until Karst announced the big deal to everyone, and this was a better way than brooding alone in a corner, looking like a nervous vulnerable weirdo. As I always do in places like this, especially at a time like this too. Aid of the Nine doesn't seem to extend to helping me deal with socialising...
"Sorry if I'm too much quiet to make a comfortable conversation." The ex-squire smiled; he looked a tiny bit less nervous than before, but that didn't say all that much - he still felt a bit unnerved by 'Nari's imposing stature, even if the mountain of a Khajiit lost a bit of the scariness when he smiled and talked (as opposed to biting Nelson's head off, which was secretly what one very silly part of his mind feared would happen). "It's just that this is my first time on something like this... an adventure I guess I should call it. I just don't get how everyone else seems so calm."
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Post by FC4 on Jan 19, 2010 16:13:35 GMT
"Oh. Okay, that's fine with me." Odeen replied, complying with Vivian's wishes. The Argonian moved his bag of goods across to the other table, taking a seat next to Vivian. "So..." He began again, in thought. "I'm sorry to hear that. But it is good to see you again...I always wondered what everyone else went on to do. I still stuck with Karst, obviously. I just hope fate's been treating you at least somewhat decently lately..." As he said this, the barmaid that Vivian called down was already in the process of delivering the drink Karst had ordered for Odeen, and nodded to him, hurrying on her way. "In a moment, sir." She said to Vivian, as Odeen looked at his tea, contented. He took a sip, and, quite satisfied, gulped a mouthful down before placing it back on the table. "Anything in particular you would like to talk about? I'm opening for anything, really..." The alchemist asked, fiddling with his tiny claws. They looked more like fingernails than claws, but they still had a slight pointed edge to them. "You'd be better off not knowing how my life's been." Vivian surmised with an abrupt, concise manner. "Needless to say it's not been easy, but then, it never has been." He shrugged, red eyes looking over Odeen. "Looks like you've been working out though. The robes don't flutter around you quite like they used to." He grinned slightly as he commented, and shifted to pull out some coins from his hip pouch when the barmaid returned with two mugs in hand. Vivian wasted little time in taking a drink of the first mug, but he by no means guzzled it. He was a man who preferred to enjoy his drink with leisure. Slow ingestion also reduced the effects of alcohol on the body; he couldn't afford to be drunk.
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Post by Kleidium on Jan 20, 2010 5:59:06 GMT
Odeen's face briefly wore a worried expression, but he quickly got over it. To him, it seemed it was just like Vivian to prefer to remain silent about such matters. "I understand." The alchemist replied after a brief pause, and took another sip of his tea before looking himself over. He hadn't realized he had put on many pounds of muscle himself, but apparently he had put on enough muscle to have it noticed.
"Yeah, they don't...I don't think I look too much bigger, do I? I mean, I do feel a lot more confident, and a lot stronger than I felt back then. I just figured I didn't look all too different." The Argonian replied, half in thought about the Dunmer's compliment.
"I have a better feeling about this adventure we're to go on now, too...unlike last time...I feel ready." He stated, a sudden new determination within in his voice.
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Post by Vicorva on Jan 20, 2010 18:38:22 GMT
Qa'Nari listened to the young imperial with interest, eyes bright and fidgeting minimal. When he mentioned being too quiet for comfortable conversation, Qa'Nari couldn't help but smile, for he himself had always had that problem.
Though the formal young man's story hadn't seemed complicated (at least, to someone like Qa'Nari who struggled to read between the lines), he couldn't help but wonder what exactly might have prompted a small young thing like this, to chase a life of adventure. He looked very... kept. Like his mother groomed him everyday, as the senches groomed their kittens. It was hard to imagine even what might have brought him to a low-class tavern like the Bloated Float.
Perhaps you cannot tell what is in one's heart from their appearance, Qa'Nari mused, but then he dismissed the idea. If you couldn't tell what was in someone's heart by their appearance, what were you supposed to judge by?
"It's just that this is my first time on something like this... an adventure I guess I should call it," Nelson concluded. "I just don't get how everyone else seems so calm."
Qa'Nari blinked in surprise and looked around the room. Did everyone seem calm? He didn't feel calm. He returned his gaze to Nelson. "People are scared of different things," the khajiit suggested. "I don't feel very calm about this. Although I don't really think of it as an 'adventure'. To me, this, in here, this seems like an adventure." He gave a small gesture to take in the room, curling his fingers and pulling his arm back almost as soon as he reached out. "When I must travel into the wilderness, I always feel like 'how different can it be?'"
Was he making any sense? Probably not. But at least Nelson didn't seem as nervous as he had initially. Seeing the imperial relax, even a little, signalled Qa'Nari on some level unknown to him that he too could relax.
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Lance smiled a lot. His eyes seemed very blue (the colour bule she'd been trying to dye her fur), although it unnerved her a little to see someone smiling at her rather than about her. "Well, I've been called alot of different things in my life, Zaire," he began somewhat theatrically. His grin was somewhat full of himself, Zaire noted. "Many, many things...but I've never been called boring. Frankly, I think I'd be downright hurt if somebody did." He chuckled softly.
"Anyway, it's good to meet you, and even better to hear you'll be coming along on this little half baked adventure of ours," He was still smiling, and obnoxious that it was, Zaire found it hard not to return it, especially when he was being so friendly. "You know what they say, don't you?"
Zaire arched an eyebrow at him, one ear pointed towards him, giving her a very quizzical look. "Never hurts to have a pretty Dunmer girl along on any trip." Zaire's eyes widened for the briefest, nearly invisible moment, both ears twitched towards him in surprise. He was laughing at his own joke already, however, and was unlikely to have noticed.
He was in a very good mood. Too good? It's possible. He could also be mocking me, since he doesn't appear stupid and I'm clearly not a dunmer and by that logic not pretty.
Does he seem like the bullying type? It would be very difficult to note the evaluation behind her gaze. Quite possibly, but his other comments suggest he just likes to laugh, so any rudeness is possibly just a side effect of the joke.
So do we trust him yet? The question hovered to the surface of her mind. For a split second, it awaited judgement, but judgement was swift in coming.
No chance. Even Imga know how to decieve with a smile.
"Anyway," he went on, drawing Zaire from her thoughts. "If you're looking for Karst - she's the one who put up the posters - she's the snow coloured Khajiit, with a tolerance for liquor rivalling any Nord," he smiled reminiscently, and this, at least, Zaire regarded as genuine. She looked around and spotted a snow white khajiit with bright red hair. She was as odd coloured as Zaire was herself, but with elvish features and very pretty. "She told me earlier she's going to address everybody at once, once everybody shows up."
This was a surprise. Zaire almost purred, she was so pleased, and her eyes narrowed and her lips quirked. "I love it when there's a change of plans," the aquamarine khajiit said. "Keeps me on my toes. Figuratively speaking, since I'm not a suthay." She shifted her braids out of her face, and sat up straighter in her seat.
"What do you do when you're not on half-baked adventures? I assume you're not a very good chef." She sniffed delicately, and then put her elbow on the bar, resting her cheek against her hand. "But are you Quickfists the Pitdog?" Her eyes travelled down to his hands. "I noticed you didn't have a weapon on you, and you don't seem skinny enough to be a mage." And I've squished my fare share of mages... "She tapped a short foreclaw on the bar, indicating his hands. "But those scars suggest you've had a punch-up or two. Unless you were on the recieving end-," She glanced suddenly up at his face, peering at it keenly, before smiling slowly. "Disappointing," she informed him upon noting the scarless features.
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Aulakauss
Waker
WARNING: Active Toaster Area
Posts: 194
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Post by Aulakauss on Jan 20, 2010 20:59:31 GMT
As she continued to eavesdrop on Lance and Zaire, she realized that the little cat had been looking for her. Lance was quick to inform where and who she was, and though the aquamarine kitty seemed to note this, she also seemed more interested in conversing with Lance. Karst smiled a tiny little smile, still intrigued by Zaire's manner of speech. She was pondering this when Reissa's youthful voice interrupted her mind.
"Hey, uh... Karst?" Rei said, putting her muzzle by Karst's ear, cupping her hand and speaking a little softer, "She, uh... she smells kinda funny." the Khajiit jerked her head at Mia, and Karst looked over and back with an expression of mild confusion, "I don't know why, but... do you notice it?"
Karst's confusion only lasted a moment, though. She'd heard that most animals, as well as some Khajiit, could smell the difference between a mortal and a Daedra. Stealing another glance at her currently Breton friend, she smiled, imagining what Reissa would say if she told her that Mia was a Seducer. Of course, out of respect for her friend's privacy -not to mention her safety- she avoided doing this.
"Who, Mia?" she smiled, flicking a lock of red hair out of her eyes and tucking it behind her ear, "She always smells that way," Karst shrugged indifferently, "You get used to it after a while."
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Post by shadow666 on Jan 21, 2010 0:42:48 GMT
<ooc> sorry about my absense.. had one hell of a week, screwing up relationships and all that, but hey i guess thats what life is about..
<ic> Mia glanced over at the Khajiit and Karst as they were speaking about something, and the little one looked in Mia's direction briefly, making the Daedra raise an eyebrow.
Some seems fishy here, that little Khajiit couldn't possibly know about us could she? Mia asked Demona as she winked at Reissa for recognising her, Mia walked back and glanced at the tables.. everywhere seemed to be taken, and the male Khajiit that had walked off after Mia had given him a view, was sitting at a different table, making ia giggle a bit.
I told you it was a good idea to wear that, gets attention doesn't it Demona said making Mia frown.
It gets attention alright.. which is why i'm wearing the robe.. The last thing we need is someone recognising the marking on my back.. Mia added but Demona simply tsked the healer.
Haven't you forgotten the Daedric rune over your right eye lid now? that's a mark of a Seducer that is a betrayer of her kind Demona added, and Mia's hand instantly rose to her face.
Well no one other than the Mythic dawn and other Daedra will recognise it.. We should be fine for the moment.. but maybe we should introduce ourselves to the two men that seemed to want to avoid me huh?
Besides there's something about that man with the Khajiit that's unsettling.. i recognise it.. almost like the monks at the priory As Mia thought all this, she reached the table where the two men were conversing. Now that Mia had the robe back on Qa'Nari shouldn't be as distracted.
"Well have you ever been inside the Deadlands?" Mia asked as she sat down without permission across from the two. "The realms of Oblivion are a disturbing sight indeed if you arent prepared.. Compared to this out here, it is like comparing a Courtesan with a bland woman, Danger with a hint of excitement, compared to plain and boring" The Breton grinned as she looked at the man that looked out of place.
"So i hear you both are coming along with us? Well my name is Mia, and i'm going to be the one healing you when you do something stupid"
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Post by FC4 on Jan 21, 2010 4:48:11 GMT
Vivian smiled at Odeen, a small smile that was friendly and serious all at once. "Body language, Odeen. Body language. You carry yourself better than you did in the crisis." Vivian took another drink, looking over the Argonian still. When he set the mug back down, he waved over his friend's form.
"For one, your robe flutters less around your chest, suggesting a closer fit. Also, you are looking more confident, speaking with less uncertainty." Vivian looked around, spotting Lance amongst the faces. She got Lance as well. Not surprised, he always was a willing one.
"The crisis changed us all, I'd say for the better in your case." Something seemed to dawn on him, and he ruffled through his vest pocket, pulling out a selection of stout vials. Each of them was filled with a colored fluid speckled with solids. He chose two of the selection, placing the others back in wherever he stored them.
"Glad we met again, this just occurred to me." Vivian began to explain, holding out the vials. "I imagine you've grown better with alchemy. Is there anything you can tell me about these just from appearance and smell?"
"Don't taste them though. They're poisons."
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Post by Darkom on Jan 24, 2010 19:13:25 GMT
OOC: I spent almost a week trying to figure out who everyone is, where they are, and what they are currently doing, but due to a very busy schedule and a tad bit of laziness on my part I'll just jump in generically, and get to know everyone as we go along. Thanks, good to finally be in an RP here ;D
IC: Ormil II entered the floating tavern with a rather sour look on his face. Everything about the place revolted him, from the architecture to the inhabitants, nothing seemed to have any degree of intellectual culture.
'All of Cyrodiil is like this, a sty of inbred humans following a government born in treachery. Despicable.' He crossed the rough tavern floor, his strange appearance no doubt attracting significant attention from the various patrons. Between his strange gray robes, intricate tattoos, and his enigmatic glare, he was quite the sight. Though there were few places in Tamriel that a Psijic could rightfully fit in.
The barkeep muttered something about a drink, but Ormil silenced him with a venemous look. He approached one of the several tables around the Bloated Float, the small Breton there scrambling out of his seat as the tall Altmer took his own. His stare fell onto the opposite side of the tavern, where a strange looking group seemed to be speaking amongst themselves.
'Surely these are the ones Master spoke of, several match the descriptions for the Champions.' One Khajiit in particular stood out to Ormil, her garrish white fur and fiery red hair giving her away immediately.
As he had thought, several of the groups' members saw his entrance, and he met their gaze with a sneer. At least one of them would recognize who he was, though his mission did not necessarily include speaking to any of them. If they were truly headed for that place, they wouldn't be able to refuse his help, even at his price.
OOC: Meh, today simply isn't my day for decent posts. Sorry, I didn't want to intrude without a grasp of what all is going on. Thanks.
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Post by DarkNova50 on Jan 26, 2010 2:28:19 GMT
Lance's attention was focused decidedly elsewhere, namely on nursing his tankard of cherry ale, when Zaire piped up beside him. "I love it when there's a change of plans," the turquoise Khajiit remarked, sounding remarkably pleased. "Keeps me on my toes. Figuratively speaking, since I'm not a suthay."
Suthay... Lance thought distractedly to himself, absently sipping his drink as he mulled the term over in his head. Suthay, that sounds familiar. Dammit, I grew up in Elsweyr! You'd think I'd know this shit! Then again, Lance knew full well that anybody who'd met him would know better than to equate the name 'Cochrane' with the scholarly sort. He really was more a man of action, than anything else.
"What do you do when you're not on half-baked adventures? I assume you're not a very good chef." The woman's query jerked Lance out of his contemplations, and he turned back towards her with an intrigued look on his face. Right where it hurts...my culinary skills, he thought to himself jokingly, though the only outward sign of such was his seemingly ever present smile.
"But are you Quickfists the Pitdog? I noticed you didn't have a weapon on you, and you don't seem skinny enough to be a mage." Lance shifted slightly in his seat, somewhat unsure how to respond to that. Quickfists the Pitdog? "But those scars suggest you've had a punch-up or two. Unless you were on the recieving end-," Lance looked down to his hands, then back up just in time to catch Zaire keenly observing his face. "Disappointing," she added.
Well okay then... Lance thought quietly to himself, something at a loss for words. If nothing else, he certainly couldn't complain that Zaire wasn't interesting, even putting aside the rather obvious fact of her blue fur.
"Well, I don't know about 'Quickfists the Pitdog,'" Lance began, his tone quite obviously bemused. "But I've been in a brawl or two, if that's what you mean. And as far as these scars go...well, you should see the other guys." He chuckled lightly.
"As far as what I do...well, I guess you could say I'm sort of a drifter," he continued on. "And here I go again, on my own...going down the only road I've ever known." He shrugged. "So to answer your question...I guess you could say that I try whatever comes my way. In this case, a half baked adventure alongside these fine folks, and yourself." He smiled cheerily, before taking another swig of his drink.
"What about you, Zaire?" Lance set his drink back on the counter, and turned towards the Khajiit again. "What brings you here, exactly? Just another wayward adventurer, maybe?"
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Agito
Novice
Fantastic Musical Diatom
Posts: 20
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Post by Agito on Jan 30, 2010 2:24:05 GMT
"But... if you're... uh, nevermind." Reissa could not help but wonder how much someone would have to be around daedra or daedric ingredients and artifacts to actually come to bear their scent. She had used daedra parts in her alchemy before, especially when there were gates around Bravil and the temptation to eliminate them for ingredients was overbearing, but never had she found that the smell stuck, except occasionally with scamp skin. That was not her favorite, though. She always thought that daedra hearts were more useful.
Regardless, she figured that it would not be a problem, so long as she was wary, and this Breton--or, perhaps, Breton imposter--did not harm anyone. As long as that remained, she would just be careful. At the first sign of trouble, though, she knew that she could probably deal with most daedra. She was a bit more experienced than she looked, and probably knew more about how to kill someone than most at her age.
"Anyway, what kinds of drinks do they have here?" she asked, after a minute. "Just wondering. I might not even get anything."
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Aulakauss
Waker
WARNING: Active Toaster Area
Posts: 194
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Post by Aulakauss on Jan 30, 2010 5:40:06 GMT
"But.. if you're.. uh, nevermind." Reissa seemed to abandon an attempt at making sense of what Karst had just said. The pale feline continued to smile as the young mage spaced out. "Don't worry, she won't bite too hard," Karst snickered, patting Rei's hand jokingly and taking another gulp of ale. While the other cat stared into thin air, she put her left hand behind her back and her right on her ribcage, then sharply arched her back. Her spine emitted a series of cracks all the way up its length, evoking a deeply contented and relieved sigh. Karst leaned back over the table when she was done, one arm on the table lazily, the other holding her chin a mere inch or so off the surface. Her hair flowed like a silken curtain around her shoulders and face, but she didn't make any attempt to shoo stray strands from her eyes. The cat was severely hoping to get the show on the road soon. "Anyway, what kinds of drinks do they have here?" Reissa finally spoke again, causing Karst's lethargically odd-angled ears to sit up in unison. She lifted an eyebrow at the other Khajiit, "Just wondering. I might not even get anything." Sitting up again, the unlikely Champion regarded her ale and, once again, wished she could be drinking something stronger. She grinned tiredly once she'd reset her chin in her hand, this time propped up on her elbow. "Well, darlin', if you can think of it, they probably have it. Save for some of those ritzy daiquiri things and such we serve at the King and Queen," Karst informed Reissa, waving her hand dismissively at the notion of fancy drinks, "Unless you want something fancy like that, or fine wine, they've got just about any poison you can think of." _______ [ooc] And welcome back, until we leave, my other character from All Our Eras. He's gonna help sort the Psijic out and give Karst excuses to abuse Vivian during his short stay. Have fun with 'im while he lasts. [/ooc]Hard leather boots thumped rhythmically on the grimy, ill-maintained cobbles leading down to the Waterfront District, an odd medley of buckles jingling alongside armor and clothing shifting and rubbing against one another announcing the warrior creature as he strode along. Most people gave the large white Khajiit little more than a cursory glance, scoffing at him for the freelance adventurer that his outfit marked him as. A few stared as they realized they were looking at one of the handful of men and women who'd saved their collective asses from Oblivion just over half a decade ago. As the tallish feline journeyed through the slum, he adjusted a relatively new Imperial Dragonscale helm, the thing currently messing up his snowy hair while dark-tipped ears twitched though holes made just for them. He pulled a now battered envelope from his shoulder bag and unfolded the letter within for what had to be the tenth time today. It'd only been a month and a half since he'd seen the person who'd wrote it, but he reread it again and smiled nonetheless. M'dear Zant and Iris,
I know I only saw you two a little while ago, and I know you're both probably busy with something or other (besides each other, that is!), but I got a favor to ask of you both, if you're not too busy. I've been having these weird dreams lately, as I told you, and I finally found the place that's in them. Or.. at least one of them. And to think you guys thought I was crazy. Ha!
Anyhow, the part I found was the door on an island, that weird golden thing to nowhere. Well, the damn thing talked to me, told me to get some folks to come with me because 'I'll never make it alone' or some crap like that. So, if you've got the time, I'd love to have you both along so I can make you question my sanity even more than you already must. If not, then at least come see me before I go, will ya? Y'know, to wish me luck and let me get you drunk. Bloated Float on the waterfront, seven to nine at night on the 18th of Rain's Hand. I'll beat you both if you don't show.
Love the both of ya, KarstineLifting a leather-encased hand to his collar, Zan'Tarre dug the bottom half of a chain out of his cuirass and inspected the gold ring that'd spent the whole trip ticked between his chest and his undershirt, the one thing he kept with him to remind him of the other person Karst's letter had been addressed to. His smile widened as he thumbed the ring with one hand and tucked the letter back into its envelope, then back into his bag with the other. He got so wrapped up in what he was doing that he almost jumped when a small beggar child tugged his tail when he passed. Turning his blue eyes down upon the little human youngster, his ears fell at the ragged state of his clothing. I'd be flat broke if I spent much time in these slums. How can you say no to a poor little kid who can barely afford to clothe himself?"You're one of them, aren't you?" the Breton asked reverently, his eyes widening as he craned his neck upward. His face barely came past the knee of the Khajiit's elven greaves, "One of the others comes down here sometimes, too, you know. She's real nice to us." Zant knelt to the child's height, resting his arm over his knee and smiling kindly, "Yeah? Do you know her name?" The kid looked down a moment, then, seemingly ashamed, shook his head. "No, sir. She's.. a Khajiit like you, though. White furred, too, and really pretty," the child paused as something donned on him, "Wait.. are you two related?" Zant chuckled softly, "Yeah, kiddo. That lady's my punk sister," he grinned, "Is she in the tavern now?" "Yes, sir, she is!" the boy replied enthusiastically. Zant fished in his bag and dropped a few coins in the little boy's pocket, then ruffled his hair. "Thanks, little man," the Khajiit gave an appreciative nod and stood as the boy nodded back and thanked him, "You take care, y'hear?" Nodding furiously, the kid scampered off, leaving Zant hoping that the gold would help feed the kid for another day. Approaching the door to the floating tavern, he carefully poked his necklace under his shirt again and pushed the door open. Sound and smell, neither very pleasant, assaulted his senses. It didn't take long for him to spot Karst sitting, grinning no less, at a table with another Khajiit. A cursory scan of the occupants revealed Odeen and Vivian were along for Karst's insane trip as well. He didn't spot Mia just yet, and before he could approach anyone, he noticed an odd looking elf in gray robes who looked both out of place and entirely lost. Tilting an ear quizzically, he walked up to the Altmer and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned, he'd be confronted with a rather odd mix of feline and elven facial features blinking at him. "Pardon me, my good sir," Zant asked, removing his helm and tucking it under his arm, "You look slightly, er.. lost. Can I help you with something?"
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Post by Vicorva on Feb 4, 2010 21:56:34 GMT
OOC: Aula, I'm sorry to hear about your dad, but it must be really great that he's not completely incapacitated. Broken bones suck at the best of times, but that sounds not nice. Anyway, sorry I've been so long, I was waiting for Dark and Anticlere to post but, uh... yeah. And now to delve into the rotted aquamarine apple core of madness... IC: Zaire's brow knitted together as Lance looked confused. Okay, she thought. So maybe he has a sense of humour, but he's not so quick off the mark... afterall, referring to 'half-baked adventures' as poor cheffing ability is priceless!
He also has poor connectivity of conversation, he didn't seem to remember me referring to him as Quickfists when we met.
Between that and the ego?
Probably safe.
Unless... IT'S ALL A RUSE!!!!!
But it's probably not.Her left ear twitched, the only outward sign that something was going on behind her chilly fur-coated exterior. She listened carefully to everything else he had to say, however, and choked a little on him referring to himself as a drifter. "-The only road you've ever known?" she repeated, her lips pressed tightly together. "That- uh-," Don't laugh at him- "You must-," -Not have drifted very far. How long is this metaphorical road, exactly? She cleared her throat. "You must have a very, uh, adventurous personality." And poor map-reading skills.Why was she constantly struggling against the urge to laugh at inappropriate times? "What about you, Zaire?" Lance asked now. Her ears lowered ever so slightly, and she watched him with somewhat guarded eyes. "What brings you here, exactly? Just another wayward adventurer, maybe?" Wayward adventurer? Well, she couldn't help but smile at that, and much as she fought against it the mirth shone clearly from her eyes. "More like wayward average city dweller," she corrected. "I mean, how long do you reckon a dunmer like me would actually last in some deep dark cave in the wilderness? Actually, in moonlight, I practically glow." She shifted in her seat and added, "What, do you think adventurers have a monopoly on weirdness? Couriers can have fun, too." This was all making her stomach knot in strange ways. She glanced back to where the Champion was sitting, but her fellow colourful khajiit was still deep in conversation.
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Post by Darkom on Feb 7, 2010 19:33:53 GMT
Ormil continued staring disinterestedly at the group of adventurers on the other side of the tavern, studying each in turn, memorizing facts for future use. Just as his gaze fell on a stark white Khajiit with blazing red hair, the Altmer felt a light tap on his shoulder. The Psijic turned his tattooed face around slowly, in full compusure despite the slight shock the touch had given him.
Ormil had seen quite a few interesting people in his long lifetime, several of the Psijic masters didn't even bother to use their corpereal bodies on Artaeum, but the Khajiit that had tapped him was something else. His fur was just as white as the other Khajiit, but his ornate armor and intimidating physique making him seem larger than life. He wore an elaborate and curious helm, Ormil quickly recognized it as the famous Imperial Dragonscale, given solely to the recent Champions of Cyrodiil.
'My my, he's one of them too,' Ormil thought, smoothing his bland gray robes and adjusting the staff strapped to his back as he stood. The Psijic was fairly tall, but was still overshadowed by this warrior cat.
"Pardon me, my good sir," the Khajiit began, removing his helm and tucking it under his arm, "You look slightly, er.. lost. Can I help you with something?"
The Altmer sneered up at the Khajiit, his natural Altmer pride combined with his Psijic attitude towards beast races creating an all around dislike for the cat, even if he was an accomplished warrior and famous hero.
"A Psijic is never lost," he replied spitefully, in broken Cyrodiilic, "And I require information, not help. You are one of them, correct?" Ormil indicated the group of adventurers with a wide gesutre, his oversized sleeve billowing. "I am here as eyes and ears of the Order, the seliffrnsae binds me to my task, and the Old Way demands that you assist me in seeing this away from oegnithr. The Order accompanies you on your task, so be thankful. You may go to your friends now, I shall accompany you, so that I may inform them of my task as well.
Ormil looked the warrior up and down, his sneer growing, "The Order appreciates your assistance, Khajiit."
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