Emily looked around at the drunkards while there was parties and driking contests going on, she approached the bartender "Excuse me. May I have a glass of wine?" she asked. The bartender didn't even look at her, he just walked away and came back a moment later placing the wine on the counter. Emily paid the amount of septims "Thank you". The bartender smiled at her in a weird and odd way before looking down at her breasts. Emily noticed and gasped, she used telekinesis to slap the man across the face, she stormed away with her glass of wine and plopped herself at the table Eivor was at. "Men and there lust for sexual affairs...." she scoffed taking a sip of her wine.

Another one of the robed men nudged Arnbjorn with an elbow and scolded him for gawking at ladies. He turned to the man and gave a grin, folding his arms on the table. "Think I have a chance with her?" He asked. His voice had a natural raspiness to it and a lilting quality that was easy to listen to and easier to believe. The man merely scoffed. "You shouldn't be flirting with girls at a time like this." He only replied. Arnbjorn gave a laugh. "Hey, we're in a tavern! Lighten up. We have some time before it begins, don't we?" He turned his head back to Eivor and his colleague gave a  low sigh before returning to his drink. Arnbjorn felt a sinking feeling of dread as he looked upon the woman and a determination filled his eyes.

He had to keep her safe from what was to come.

Eivor had soon downed her mead in record time. Alcohol helped quiet her thirst; the dizzier her mind became the more she was able to ignore her need for blood. She then placed the bottle back on the counter and held up a few more septims with a cough. "Another." She urged the barkeep, who gave her a look before handing over another mead. "Careful, miss." He warned her, only to be replied with a scoff. "Save it. I need this." She growled back before raising the new bottle to her lips. The Redguard left it at that and returned to his work; he knew better than to argue with a Nord woman about mead.

After Emily ordered she watched what happened with interest, sputtering on her drink as she slapped him. She coughed, then laughed heartily, throwing an arm around Emily's shoulders. "Hahahahaha! I didn't think you had it in 'ya to do somethin' like that!" She said in between laughs before finally calming down, letting go of Emily as she settled back with her drink. "I respect you a little more, even if you are a mage." 

"Well isn't that a surprise?" said Emily almost laughing a bit. When they first met Eivor seemed angry with Emily and thought her a goodue two shoes and here they are at a tavern almost like friends. She took another sip from her glass of wine as she placed her staff across the table.

BelleoftheBrawl

Another one of the robed men nudged Arnbjorn with an elbow and scolded him for gawking at ladies. He turned to the man and gave a grin, folding his arms on the table. "Think I have a chance with her?" He asked. His voice had a natural raspiness to it and a lilting quality that was easy to listen to and easier to believe. The man merely scoffed. "You shouldn't be flirting with girls at a time like this." He only replied. Arnbjorn gave a laugh. "Hey, we're in a tavern! Lighten up. We have some time before it begins, don't we?" He turned his head back to Eivor and his colleague gave a  low sigh before returning to his drink. Arnbjorn felt a sinking feeling of dread as he looked upon the woman and a determination filled his eyes.

He had to keep her safe from what was to come.

Eivor had soon downed her mead in record time. Alcohol helped quiet her thirst; the dizzier her mind became the more she was able to ignore her need for blood. She then placed the bottle back on the counter and held up a few more septims with a cough. "Another." She urged the barkeep, who gave her a look before handing over another mead. "Careful, miss." He warned her, only to be replied with a scoff. "Save it. I need this." She growled back before raising the new bottle to her lips. The Redguard left it at that and returned to his work; he knew better than to argue with a Nord woman about mead.

After Emily ordered she watched what happened with interest, sputtering on her drink as she slapped him. She coughed, then laughed heartily, throwing an arm around Emily's shoulders. "Hahahahaha! I didn't think you had it in 'ya to do somethin' like that!" She said in between laughs before finally calming down, letting go of Emily as she settled back with her drink. "I respect you a little more, even if you are a mage." 

Despite being a Nord, Hjalund was not one to socialize. He never was, he was raised as purely a warrior, and not in the traditional sense. His sole purpose in life, up 'till now, was to destroy the enemies of the gods, convert others to the pantheon when able, and wage holy war against the Dominion for their transgressions against Talos. But now... he was possibly in the scariest position of his life: A tavern, and not for information or rest. He decides, to just lean on the wall opposite the bar, crossing his arms as he looks around the tavern for any threats. Seeing the barkeep staring at Emily's breasts, even after he was slapped, he sends a single, death-promising stare to him. Despite his face being hidden by his Crusader's helm, the feelings passed through the gaze were quite obvious, and the bartender turned a ghostly white as he shakily turns away from Hjalund. 

The bard took notice of all the going ons in the tavern. He nearly choked with laughter when the newblood mage slapped Ahtar. The man hit on nearly every woman who entered the inn. It was only a matter of time before another frosty maiden lost her temper with him. The light-haired man would not stop staring at miss blood-starved. It looked like she hadn't been properly fed in days. Scipio wondered how the guards didn't attack her on sight. As the divine crusader propped himself against the wall, Scipio's keen sense of smell picked up on something peculiar. If he didn't know better, he would say that the knight smelled... afraid. Understanding raced through his mind. With a mischievious grin, the bard slipped into the back room.

Moments later he returned as a waiter, handsome but not overly so and indistinguishable from the rest. After a quick word with one of the patrons, a beutiful lady by the name of ella, he sauntered over to the knight.

"Excuse me sir, but I believe someone has bought you a drink," And with a nod towards the maiden the waiter's voice falls to a whisper "and if I were you I wouldn't turn this one down. She's a good girl that one, and she doesn't do this often". Without waiting for a response the imperial strode away, arriving at Eivor and Emily's table.

"Excuse me miss," His voice was quiet and articulate, appearing to be used for both drunken rabble and distinguished patrons. He places a glass of deep red wine in front of the newblood."The bartender sends his sincere apologies for any grief he may have caused you."

Turning to Eivor, he set an empty glass in front of her. "And this," he began to fill the cup with a deep crimson, "this is from the gentleman in the corner" With a glance toward Arnbjorn, Scipio finishes pouring and rejoins the bustle of the taven.

(Just pretend Iacar never existed :P)

Name: Makor gro-Baroth 

Race: Orc/Werewolf

Class: Arcane Berserker 

Weapons: Volendrung

Appearence: Larger for even an Orc. He has a long, black beard and a braid and the hair is cut off on the sides (something like this)

Misc: He has lots of tattoos and tattoos, Champion of Malacath, known as "Werewolf of the North". 

onikhefhah

The bard took notice of all the going ons in the tavern. He nearly choked with laughter when the newblood mage slapped Ahtar. The man hit on nearly every woman who entered the inn. It was only a matter of time before another frosty maiden lost her temper with him. The light-haired man would not stop staring at miss blood-starved. It looked like she hadn't been properly fed in days. Scipio wondered how the guards didn't attack her on sight. As the divine crusader propped himself against the wall, Scipio's keen sense of smell picked up on something peculiar. If he didn't know better, he would say that the knight smelled... afraid. Understanding raced through his mind. With a mischievious grin, the bard slipped into the back room.

Moments later he returned as a waiter, handsome but not overly so and indistinguishable from the rest. After a quick word with one of the patrons, a beutiful lady by the name of ella, he sauntered over to the knight.

"Excuse me sir, but I believe someone has bought you a drink," And with a nod towards the maiden the waiter's voice falls to a whisper "and if I were you I wouldn't turn this one down. She's a good girl that one, and she doesn't do this often". Without waiting for a response the imperial strode away, arriving at Eivor and Emily's table.

"Excuse me miss," His voice was quiet and articulate, appearing to be used for both drunken rabble and distinguished patrons. He places a glass of deep red wine in front of the newblood."The bartender sends his sincere apologies for any grief he may have caused you."

Turning to Eivor, he set an empty glass in front of her. "And this," he began to fill the cup with a deep crimson, "this is from the gentleman in the corner" With a glance toward Arnbjorn, Scipio finishes pouring and rejoins the bustle of the taven.

(( Its not the knight that's afraid. I was describing how just his stare made the bartender nearly piss hmself, basically :/ Yeah, Hjalund itsn't really afraid of anything. ))

onikhefhah

The bard took notice of all the going ons in the tavern. He nearly choked with laughter when the newblood mage slapped Ahtar. The man hit on nearly every woman who entered the inn. It was only a matter of time before another frosty maiden lost her temper with him. The light-haired man would not stop staring at miss blood-starved. It looked like she hadn't been properly fed in days. Scipio wondered how the guards didn't attack her on sight. As the divine crusader propped himself against the wall, Scipio's keen sense of smell picked up on something peculiar. If he didn't know better, he would say that the knight smelled... afraid. Understanding raced through his mind. With a mischievious grin, the bard slipped into the back room.

Moments later he returned as a waiter, handsome but not overly so and indistinguishable from the rest. After a quick word with one of the patrons, a beutiful lady by the name of ella, he sauntered over to the knight.

"Excuse me sir, but I believe someone has bought you a drink," And with a nod towards the maiden the waiter's voice falls to a whisper "and if I were you I wouldn't turn this one down. She's a good girl that one, and she doesn't do this often". Without waiting for a response the imperial strode away, arriving at Eivor and Emily's table.

"Excuse me miss," His voice was quiet and articulate, appearing to be used for both drunken rabble and distinguished patrons. He places a glass of deep red wine in front of the newblood."The bartender sends his sincere apologies for any grief he may have caused you."

Turning to Eivor, he set an empty glass in front of her. "And this," he began to fill the cup with a deep crimson, "this is from the gentleman in the corner" With a glance toward Arnbjorn, Scipio finishes pouring and rejoins the bustle of the taven.

Hjalund pivots his head to gaze at the waiter, steel-grey eyes studying the man with the precision of a soldier. With a quirked eyebrow he, hesitantly accepts the drink. He shakes the glass around gently, swirling the drink and studying its contents, for some reason. After a moment, he looks back up to the waiter.

"Who was it?"

(Ah a tavern, perfect!) 

Makor sits on a large table, their sort of ruled the tavern, the "alphas". He looks at Hjalund "Who's this bitch?"

This post has been deleted.

onikhefhah

(I believe you said- "But now... he was possibly in the scariest position of his life: A tavern, and not for information or rest." my character isn't certain that you're afraid, it's just a guess from the biological response to scary circumstances.)

(( Right, forgot about that. SHit, I need to pay more attention xD Sorry, man. ))

Makor walks over to Hjalund with two big Orcs by his side "You new here?" Makor pauses "I eat and spit out the new people." 

YolGoraagSingh

(Ah a tavern, perfect!) 

Makor sits on a large table, their sort of ruled the tavern, the "alphas". He looks at Hjalund "Who's this bitch?"

(( And he doesn't recognize one of the legendary Divine Crusaders of the equally legendary Knights of the Nine. Dammit, Makor! xD ))

(He's joking! He likes picking fights!)