Open The Winking Skeever Tavern and Lodge

[Hermaeus_Mora]

"Say, Torbjorn. You want to crack some skulls? I heard some sort of guard impostor gang is patrolling Hjaalmarch at night these days..."

 

[TJohnson]

"Guard imposters?" He pondered...
"Well, I suppose it could be fun - do you know where we should begin?"

 

[Hermaeus_Mora]

"We begin by waiting until nightfall! With mead!" Belwas sure was thirsty today.

 

[Star Gazer]

Isnar came to Solitude to see what it was like. "Wow, 96 years old and I've never been to this place." He said to himself, while looking around at the market-stands and decorations. He grew weary and headed over to the local inn. He opened the door and sat down. He removed his hood and uncovered a bald and shiny head. He called over to the bartender, bought a room with the last 10 septims he had and took a seat next to the man that had bought a week at the inn. Isnar looked at the ruby ring on the bar and asked, "Where on earth did you find a treasure like that?"

 

[Hermaeus_Mora]

Solitude guard cleanup | Skyrim Forums We have started!

 

[solace84]

(((Felian's story continued from the Bannered Mare pg.31. Felian's bio pg. 15 of character cards)))

Felian (wood elf) followed the trail from Rorikstead to Solitude. A rather uneventful journey, save for a few hungry wolves he had to put down.
"Have any orcs come this way," Felian asked the first guard he came across in the city.
"Yeah, I've seen an orc recently," the guard replied. "But that's none of your concern citizen."
Felian handed the guard 20 gold.
"What do I look like?"
"That's all I have."
"Keep your gold," the guard threw it back. "It's no secret anyway, the orc was caught trying to steal horses from the stables a few weeks ago. He's in our jail now, probably to be be-headed soon."
The news brought a smile to Felian's face. Felian entered the jail...

..."Stay at a safe distance!" the commanding officer told Felian of his visit. Felian looked to the cell, and there he was. Beaten and bruised, the orc Gorund lie with a blank stare upon his face. 'Finally, after all this time looking for him he is in my grasp' Felian thought.

"This prisoner, Gorund I believe his fellow bandits called him, is mine to take," said Felian. "He has slain my people of Valenwood and I've come to bring justice to him."
"You have no say here, elf," the officer claimed. "Valenwood is a long ways away. This orc is under Solitude law. He is our prisoner and will remain so."
"Well, what will become of him then?"
"He's to be transported to Cyrodill."
"For what purpose?"
"The New Emperor is to begin the Arena Games in a month in honor of their recent victories. For 40 days and nights the games shall be held and they need as many losers as possible. Only problem is we're understaffed here in Solitude. Many of our men are busy elsewhere these days and we currently only have 2 guards for the job. Say, if you maybe helped transport these prisoners to Cyrodill you could not only have your justice by signing up to fight the orc in the Arena, but you would also make much coin and become an ally to us."
"...not a bad idea."
"Great," the officer writes up a note and hands it to Felian. He shows him a point on a map of Skyrim.
"All you have to do is escort the prisoners to here, we have a camp just outside of Falkreath. We have more men there, hand them the note and they will join your party. Also, if you know of any trusted men here, I suggest you recruit them. The coin will be good for it."
"Why would I need more men?" asked Felian.
"You're taking 4 prisoners," said the officer. "The orc, 2 thief Bretons, and Hannibal the Grim. Hannibal, if you haven't heard of him, is one of the most powerful Dark Elves in Tamriel. He's wanted for horrible crimes across the lands, including his own. By power, I mean he's got many trusted allies of which we believe might try to free him on this escort mission."
"Why not just wait for more men?"
"Because the Emperor wants him in the Arena Games now and those are my orders, whether I like them or not. The escort begins tomorrow morning if you can help."
"I can," Felian said. "I will get your prisoners to Cyrodill and have my vengeance as well."
"If you feel uneasy about your safety, there are usually pretty good mercenaries and warriors you can find at the Winking Skeever if you so choose, as I mentioned earlier."
"I'll keep that in mind..."
(continued...)

 

[solace84]

(cont...)

"Was that lil' one your son among the elves?" Gorund the Orc broke his silence. "I remember him well. He screamed for you Daddy, but you never came. His neck broke so easily, like a twig. And the woman, oh she was so sweeeeet..."
Felian notices his wife's ring is sitting upon a barrel next to the cell. He takes it.
"When this is over, I will have your head," Felian said in a calm tone.
"Hahaha, you would fight me in the Arena?" Gorund asked. "You slew my men in the dark when they slept, like the coward you really are. One on one in the Arena, you stand no chance."
"Really? Then why did you run on that day? We could have settled it then."
"Hahaha, says the sneaking coward. You will fall quicker than your son did."
Felian turns and leaves saying no more.

...He enters the Winking Skeever.
"A room and some water please," he orders. He drinks some water and turns to those within the Skeever.
"Excuse me. May I speak among you?"
The music and talking lessons by few, but the noise generally remains the same.
"Hannibal the Dark Elf is in my custody," says Felian. "I need good followers to help me escort him and a few other bandits to Cyrodill. The pay will be good, though it will not be received until the job is done. The escort starts tomorrow morning." The noise and partying continues on.

"Anyone?"

 

[solace84]

No one answered. Everyone was either too drunk or busy doing something else. 'Oh well' Felian thought. 'Guess no one cares.'
"If any mercenaries or anything like that come by will you share my words to them?" Felian asked the barkeep, who of which replied 'sure thing'. Felian decided to retire for the night and headed toward his room.

OOC: If anyone would like to join {The Arena: Gladiators of Tamriel} this is the time to let me know, or just find the thread when I make it. I will continue to evolve the story even if no one joins because I'm entertaining myself lol.

 

[Shawhaw]

Quinn walked slowly through the doors to the Winking Skeever, he couldn't help but stifle a chuckle as he had never quite heard of such an inn/tavern name. But in his travels with his family from Cyrodil to Skyrim in the past few years it was nothing surprising. Quinn ran his fingers through his hair as he took a seat down at the counter. He leaned over his shoulder and with his left hand waved off an elderly couple.

"Mother, Father, just leave me be for the night I'll find some work in the next day or so. I just need a good drink right now." He smiled as they simply nodded and continued their stroll through the streets of Solitude.

Quinn couldn't bare to look at himself anymore as he wasn't able to keep a roof over his parents heads, while secretly he blamed his father for their misfortune, he could not blame him entirely. He sighed and looked up to the Tavern's keeper.

"Just a regular cup of some of the regular stuff you serve, I'm in no mood for anything fancy." He sighed rubbing his forehead slowly.

The Keeper smiled and gave him a cup of some of the stronger mead, "I like an honest lad who works hard for their family... You should try down the hall there was another lad who was trying to get some men to come along with him in some type of escort duty... Although it is all the way to Cyrodil.."

Quinn thanked the man and took a long deep chug of the mead, it burned and the spices cleared up his sinuses. He took a short walk through the music and party goers smiling at a young barmaid who was bending over slightly. His pale cheeks turned red, whether from the mead or the embarrassment he couldn't tell. He found himself outside the strangers room and knocked solidly on the door.

"I heard you were in the need of a few good men." Quinn grinned slightly as he looked down at his palms, and within a brief moment two long swords appeared in both of them, their blue and purple hue giving off a sense of a ghostly and ethereal appearance, but Quinn knew these magical blades could cut through anything a regular blade could.

"I can assure you. I am one of those good men."

 

[Zij'Qua El]

The argonian's heavy footsteps could be heard far before he opened the door to the Winking Skeever. He was a newcomer and a rarely seen argonian and heavily armored with a rather nasty looking Daedric blade. It would be surprising if someone was comfortable at all as soon as he entered. As Zij'Qua El entered the tavern he was able to overhear, just in time, about a job opportunity in a conversation between the bartender and the young lad.

As the boy left Zij'Qua quickly went up to the bartender. It was surprising that he was not at all uncomfortable to face a never-before-met argonian wearing heavy armor and with a deadly weapon at his hip. Bartenders. Go figure.

"I take it you want to apply as well?" Corpulus Vinius spoke, cleaning a mug as he glanced at the lizard.

"Yes, I do."

"And you heard of the conditions?"

"I overheard everything." replied the lizard. He was eager to have a chance to have some honest to Divines gold in his pocket.

The bartender pointed down the hall, where the Breton disappeared off too. With a nod and few gold coins left on the counter Zij'Qua made his way towards Quinn and the door he knocked on.

Zij'Qua stood there as the blue blades appeared. A slight grin formed on his scaly mug. Another spell caster.

"Nice trick," Zij'Qua said as he stepped closer. Up at the door he looked at whomever presided inside, "I'm willing to work as well."

 

[solace84]

Felian was already sound asleep when he heard a knock at the door. He awoke quickly and grabbed his katana. As he opened the door, he saw a well built Breton with noticeable scars and a tattoo on his face.
"I heard you were in the need of a few good men." the man said. Then he conjured up 2 impressive swords from his very hands."I can assure you. I am one of those good men."

Before Felian could say a word, another figure came up. "I'm willing to work as well,"said the Argonian. An Argonian with much color to his skin, which caught Felian's eye.

Felian stared at the two for a brief moment and started to nod his head. 'I don't know anything about these 2,' Felian thought to himself. 'But the more the better.'




"We're to help the Imperials escort Hannibal the Grim and a few others to Cyrodil for the Arena Games. The payment once we get there is 2,000 gold, mainly because there is such a high demand for this Grim guy. His followers may try to free him along the way, if you're both fine with these terms we leave come dawn. In which, I suggest you both get a good night's rest."

 

[Hermaeus_Mora]

No one answered. Everyone was either too drunk or busy doing something else. 'Oh well' Felian thought. 'Guess no one cares.'
"If any mercenaries or anything like that come by will you share my words to them?" Felian asked the barkeep, who of which replied 'sure thing'. Felian decided to retire for the night and headed toward his room.

OOC: If anyone would like to join {The Arena: Gladiators of Tamriel} this is the time to let me know, or just find the thread when I make it. I will continue to evolve the story even if no one joins because I'm entertaining myself lol.

I'd like to. Problem is, i have 4 chars. Which would fit in best, the brute, the knight, the huntsman or the assassin?

 

[solace84]

OOC: oh I'm not sure. You can use any of them, but if i had to say based on what they are alone...I'd probably go with the brute just 'cause it would be cool to have a smasher in our little team.

I'm gonna make the thread for it right now so look for it. It's called THE ARENA: gladiators of tamriel and our story continues over there...

 

[Soundwave129]

Esset threw off his dark cloak as he stepped into Solitude. It had been a long trip, as he had to take a detour through the swamps of Morthal for a particularly absurd contract involving exploding crossbow bolts and a lusty Argonian maid. Stepping into the Winking Skeever, he sat down. "Got any Cyrodiilic Brandy, Corpulus?" He asked. The bartender looked up. "Nothing. You know how hard it is to get imported spirits these days." The short and arrogant Wood Elf rolled his eyes, producing a small emerald from a pouch at his left hip. Corpulus looked taken aback. "Actually, I believe we just got a new case in. Let me go downstairs and check." As the gruff imperial walked away, Esset looked around the tavern. It was surprisingly empty, for a place that was usually crawling with customers. There was Sorex, drinking his problems away on his fathers coin. Lisette was playing a slow tune on her flute, and that sniveling lizard, Gulum-Ei, was hiding in the corner as always. Corpulus came upstairs again, clutching a large green bottle of brandy. "Here you are, my friend." Esset popped open the bottle and drank.

 

[Kalin of High Rock]

Kalin Toryvi meekly slid past the wind-battered wooden door of The Winking Skeever. The breton's fur-lined leather slippers padding softly across the ancient creaking timbers as she approached the bar. The weather in Solitude was temperate, to Nordic standards, but Kalin found the wind-swept bluffs of the towering ocean-front city to be as cold and unwelcoming as the drab grey stones it was hewed from.

She was a girl of slight build, though you would never know as such, so bundled were her collegial robes and fur-lined novice's hood. A thick and seemingly ancient leather-bound tome hung around her shoulder, far too large for a woman of such slight build. Quizzical amber eyes peered out above apple-red cheeks and nose, taking in the warm sights and cheerful sounds of Solitude's most popular (and only!) tavern. With a smile and a relieved sigh she pulled back her hood, letting fall a cascade of bright auburn braids.

Kalin bound into an unoccupied stool at the bar with a youthful grin. Laying her monolithic tome on the seat beside her, she motioned for the tavern-keep. "A mug of warm cider, if you please." She announced with hushed eagerness, her accent rang of the imperial heart-land.

 

[Soundwave129]

Kalin Toryvi meekly slid past the wind-battered wooden door of The Winking Skeever. The breton's fur-lined leather slippers padding softly across the ancient creaking timbers as she approached the bar. The weather in Solitude was temperate, to Nordic standards, but Kalin found the wind-swept bluffs of the towering ocean-front city to be as cold and unwelcoming as the drab grey stones it was hewed from.

She was a girl of slight build, though you would never know as such, so bundled were her collegial robes and fur-lined novice's hood. A thick and seemingly ancient leather-bound tome hung around her shoulder, far too large for a woman of such slight build. Quizzical amber eyes peered out above apple-red cheeks and nose, taking in the warm sights and cheerful sounds of Solitude's most popular (and only!) tavern. With a smile and a relieved sigh she pulled back her hood, letting fall a cascade of bright auburn braids.

Kalin bound into an unoccupied stool at the bar with a youthful grin. Laying her monolithic tome on the seat beside her, she motioned for the tavern-keep. "A mug of warm cider, if you please." She announced with hushed eagerness, her accent rang of the imperial heart-land.

Esset slowly walked downstairs, rubbing his head. Perhaps I shouldn't have drank the entire bottle, he thought. He was halfway out the door when he spotted a woman, a Breton by the looks of her, sitting at the bar sipping from a mug of cider. Sitting down next to her, he looked over. Judging from her attire, this stranger was a mage. He'd never seen her before. Was she one of those vampires everyone was afraid of? No, she couldn't be, she had none of the signs of the disease. He made a mental note to find out why she was here, after all, the Brotherhood could always use another mage. Buying a sweetroll for breakfast, he got up and continued out the door. Time to head back to Whiterun.

 

[Kalin of High Rock]

Kalin lazily eyed the Bosmer from behind the vaulted heights of her ponderous tome. Any human would agree that the races of mer were odd folk, the bosmer especially had a reputation of eccentricity. But at the very least they where consistent in that, Kalin reflected to herself as the wood elf vanished out the tavern door. Nothing at all like these nords, who may behead or befriend one solely biased upon ones parentage. She had not been in Skyrim a year, yet she had already grown a distaste for the locals and their odd customs and indecipherable system of honor.

She snapped the leather bound book closed and reached again for her cider, quickly chilling on the counter.

 

[Explicandum]

((Taking control of my other character, Dar'Vanni))

Dar'Vanni kept his hood up and walked into the Winking Skeever. "A room for the night, please." he looked away from the innkeeper as he put 10 septims on the counter. He took seat next to a Breton who was quietly drinking her cider. He took out a leather-skin water bag, however it was filled with Balmora Blue, and started sipping on it.

 

[Kalin of High Rock]

Kalin wrinkled her nose, quietly observing the Khajiit as he took a long sip from his water-skin. She never had a love for the Khajiit, or the often maligned Argonians. Her time spent as an outsider among the Nords of Skyrim had left her wishing she had been kinder to the beast-folk of Anvil, where she had grown. Not to say she had been malignant, bigoted or cruel, the mage mused. Just that she could have afforded them more welcome than she had. Had she seemed then to the Khajiit as distant and arrogant as the Nords now seem to her? The thought was unsettling.

The old cat before her was something of an oddity. Solitude had a small residence of Argonian dock workers, however no Khajiit population to speak of. Perhaps a caravan had set up its stands outside the city gates. The Khajiit traders, infamous for their frugal dealings, often carried rare artifacts from the far flung provinces of The Empire and beyond. However, just as often they carried cleverly crafted forgeries and fakes. Unsure of her ability to distinguish a treasure from a canny fraud, the thought of browsing their wares for any artifacts worthy of study left her as quickly as it came.

Kalin blushed as she noticed that she may have been staring at the strange cat overly long, she hastily opened the tome on her lap and returned to her studies.

 

[Explicandum]

Dar'Vanni noticed the Breton looking at him intently and scanned her book quickly, before getting up and making for the door. A burly Nord branched off from his group of buddies and blocked his way towards the door and roared, "Hey! You! Pussy cat, want some of this fish?" Dar'Vanni looked up to see a Histcarp held up by its tail. He replied smoothly, "No, sir, I haven't an interest in that fish." The Nord, surprised at the tone of the voice and how easily it was said, backed off, but not before tripping over a table. Dar'Vanni hid a smile as he left the tavern and walked towards the caravan camp.