Thesius
The Imperial Paladin
Kallus Briarhand, paladin of Arkay and bastion of righteousness, entered the city much like a stormfront heralds the coming of the storm. His pale blue eyes like shards of ice as he swept the inhabitants before him. Very few found themselves able to hold that stern, almost accusing gaze for very long. Even the guardsmen found a path that brought them out of the heavily armoured mans line of sight. Little did they know, the people of Markarth had nothing to fear from him, so long as they did nothing to hinder his mission. The man marched down into the main market, vigilant eyes keeping the more noteworthy within view. An orc soldier, an imperial in an armour and a long coat, a man or perhaps mer who had his features hidden, and a pair of khajiit. Of those, the masked individual drew his attention.
He lengthened his stride, determined to catch the mysterious person before they could breach the inn. Most confrontations were best done in the open, he found. Where he could call upon the guards to arrest the target of his ire, should they attempt to flee. However, it looked like he was to be too slow, as the masked man pushed the door to the inn open and stepped through. The breton cursed under his breath and hurried to the door, ignoring the annoyed curse of a miner he happened to shove out of the way in his haste. The door flew open under the force of his armoured shoulder, and Kallus stood framed by the natural light, surveying the dimly lit room before him for his ignorant target. Annoyed or outright hostile faces stared back, but all of them were bare, if grimy.
But the man he wished to speak to had not vanished. Had barely made it inside, in fact. Kallus placed a heavy, gauntleted hand on the shoulder of his target. "You there. You are not a local. Tell me, what have you heard of this forsworn incursion? Who leads them and what are their motives?" He glanced at the others in the tavern, a pair of identical looking elves, a dunmer, and an argonian. "And why have you assembled here, rather than gathering out in the square, ready to face them? This work will tolerate no layabouts!" He put some righteous zeal in those last words, intended to inspire the hired blades, for what else could they be? To action.
He lengthened his stride, determined to catch the mysterious person before they could breach the inn. Most confrontations were best done in the open, he found. Where he could call upon the guards to arrest the target of his ire, should they attempt to flee. However, it looked like he was to be too slow, as the masked man pushed the door to the inn open and stepped through. The breton cursed under his breath and hurried to the door, ignoring the annoyed curse of a miner he happened to shove out of the way in his haste. The door flew open under the force of his armoured shoulder, and Kallus stood framed by the natural light, surveying the dimly lit room before him for his ignorant target. Annoyed or outright hostile faces stared back, but all of them were bare, if grimy.
But the man he wished to speak to had not vanished. Had barely made it inside, in fact. Kallus placed a heavy, gauntleted hand on the shoulder of his target. "You there. You are not a local. Tell me, what have you heard of this forsworn incursion? Who leads them and what are their motives?" He glanced at the others in the tavern, a pair of identical looking elves, a dunmer, and an argonian. "And why have you assembled here, rather than gathering out in the square, ready to face them? This work will tolerate no layabouts!" He put some righteous zeal in those last words, intended to inspire the hired blades, for what else could they be? To action.