OPEN TAVERN: Fredas, 30th of Evening Star. 4E 202

[jaigalaar]

It's early evening in Windhelm, and the clouds obscure most of the moons. The wind carries dust and snow and the voices of citizens just heading out for a drink after dinner

Comments

[darth_eldritch]

"What I would do for a fresh kwama egg."

Sage Aryon mutters as he enters the New Gnisis Cornerclub.

He flexes his fingers, wiping away bits of Rollf Stone-Fist's face from the night shroud material of his Nightingale armor. He had beaten the vile Nord into submission after accepting a challenge to fight with fists when Sage took exception to his remarks about "Gray Skins," "Filthy," and "Amimals."

He doesn't look too closely at the bare rotted wood floor and walls of the establishment. They are a far cry from the warm eathern textures of his childhood, the organic fiber of ancient and huge mushrooms of Sadrith Mora. It hurt enough to see that Ambarys Rendar did not have the means to cover the bare walls with the rich tapestries of their homeland, Morrowind.

[jaigalaar]

Ashana's tracing the fine scars on her hands and scowling at the counter when she sees a Dunmer walk in wearing some particularly ornate armor in a style she doesn't recognize.

"What I would do for a fresh kwama egg."

It's not her best throw, but the wrinkled kwama egg sails towards his hands nonetheless. "I prefer Flin, myself." She takes a sip of the mead on the counter, grimaces, and slams the bottle down before standing and turning to face the newcomer. "Ashana Unduni. Can't say that I've seen you here before."

[darth_eldritch]

"Sage Aryon, Sera" He takes a distinct pleasure in the old form of address. The Gray Quarter was the only place he ever hears it these days. "I don't make it here very often."

He walks toward Ashana Unduni, pulling off mask and hood after catching the egg she had tossed him.

"I did not know that kwama were still alive. I'm impressed," he appreciatively cracks the egg to eat it, savoring the first bite.

"I would say, Under sun and sky, I greet you warmly, but Windhelm is a cold bitter place."

[jaigalaar]

"Cold and bitter indeed. And they required all the eggs for breeding, or so I'm told." She draws a silver dagger emblazoned with the sigil of House Telvanni on the hilt, cuts open an egg, and places half of it on each of the shaky tables. The scarred Dunmer in the corner gets a smile and a motion to come join them when she sets his half there.

"Haven't been home since there were still Cliff Racers, though." A long sigh.

[jaigalaar]

"It was a long time ago, I'm afraid. What brought you to Skyrim?"

Ashana sits back down at the counter, picks the mead up, and sets it back down. "This city is uglier than a nix-hound." She digs into a pouch, pulls out some septims, and hands them to Ambarys Rendar. "It's late enough for drinks for everyone. On me."

[jaigalaar]

"I have some skill with the bow." Ashana smiles at Sage Aryon, then reaches for another bottle of mead. "I would tell you that Master Aryon would have forgiven such neglect, but he was Telvanni."

She turns at the sound of the door opening, and shivers at the cold wind.

At the Argonian's comments, she finds herself glancing between the dagger still resting on the counter and the wine Ambarys Rendar just placed next to it. Armies from Black Marsh....

It takes a few moments, and her movements may seem a bit tense, but Ashana picks up the wine and offers it to the Argonian.

[jaigalaar]

"Ashana Unduni." She puts the dagger back in its sheath. There's something about the combination of mead and nostalgia and how no one here seems to have acknowledged the Ashlander's existence and now an Argonian walking in. But she smiles and makes a note to tear a bandit's throat out later.

[darth_eldritch]

"Knife throwing? Ice-spikes? Depends on who the target is." Sage comments.

"Hey," Sage as he eats cheese and bread. He has a sly look. "Have the either of you two come across Rollf Stone-fist who wanders outside at night, being an obnoxious N'wah that he is?"

[jaigalaar]

"I suppose it would be better than drunken attempts at levitation." Ashana draws the silver dagger and carefully cuts off a few slices of bread and cheese.

"That S'wit? Yes. Seemed more talk than threat. I could probably find a couple bottles of flin. Might take some time to get them here, though."

Her stomach growls, and she eats a couple slices of bread then reaches up to massage her neck. "I'm getting too old for scouting from trees."

[darth_eldritch]

Sage notes the care with which Ashana cuts with her knife. Finesse, he notes. Finesse and control.

"I was thinking of having some fun with the fetcher. Good enough, flin is worth the wait."

"All of this work does take its toll on the body," Sage comments.

[jaigalaar]

(Very good idea pyewackett. :) )

Ashana notices Ram-Head watching her, sets the quill down, and hands the satchel to the Argonian. "Best not to ask how I got these clothes." There's some pieces in there that are nothing more than thin strips of dark gray cloth accented with small gems.

She folds up the letter and seals it with a glob of red wax. The courier can head to Cyrodiil tomorrow.

Sage Aryon's observance is beginning to make her just a bit more cautious. His presence is enjoyable, but Telvanni curiosity can prove as dangerous as it is useful.

"Any luck with the goat-finding?"

[darth_eldritch]

(Good idea