"Don't get too used to it." Eivor muttered in response to Emily, tipping back her mead once more. She didn't know where Hjalund was, and in honesty, she didn't really care. He was likely going to extinguish her temporary good mood. She looked up again as she noticed a waitor approaching, her frosty eyes narrowing as he got closer. It was habit; she liked to distinguish who she was to a person up-front, usually by intimidating them until they eventually leave her alone out of fear. 

"Look at you, miss popular. I would forgive him if I were you, though..." She glanced back at the barkeep with a nod. "... He's not too ugly. A fitting match for a mage." She was joking, of course, and became quiet again as her 'wine' was poured. "Huh? Who? Point him out so I can dump it over his head." She said in a growling tone, picking up the wine with an angry glint in her eye. She widened her eyes as she noticed something... strange about the wine that made her muscles tense and her fangs feel just a little sharper. Needless to say she lifted it to her mouth at once, soon draining the cup of its liquid and leaving none left to attack her supposed suitor. She coughed, lowering the cup as she wiped her mouth. Her eyes soon returned to their original, intense Tide-Breaker shade of blue and she only looked up at the waitor with a blank stare.
"..." She turned her head to look behind her at the corner, noticing the circle of men in black robes. They looked strange and she made a mental note of them, but none stood out... Until she caught eyes with a man with familiar features. He had platinum blonde hair, intense sea-blue eyes, and much-too-pale skin... Her lips parted in an iota of a gasp and she put a hand to the moon pendant at her neck. "It can't be..." She whispered, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Arnbjorn?"

He had no choice. Arnbjorn stood up and elbowed the man next to him. "Wish me luck." He muttered, then quickly walked off before the man could react. He sat himself rudely between Eivor and Emily and put his arm firmly around Eivor's shoulders, keeping her in place.Eivor tensed up, her eyes scanning his face. "But..." She whispered, unable to believe her eyes. She even looked down at her hands wondering if the mead had been laced.

"Shhh, Eivor. Listen. My buddies think I'm flirting with you so you had better act like it. I only have enough time to get you someplace safe... This village is about to be attacked." Arnbjorn said in a hushed, hurried tone, his blue eyes mirroring the sea hues of Eivor's bewildered stare. "But... Arnbjorn... It can't be you... I thought the pirates killed you." She reached out a hand to touch his face, an expression of bewilderment on her own. Arnbjorn answered her by pulling on a chain around his neck, revealing a silver pendant that depicted the moon. He let it hang by its chain right beside Eivors, showing just how alike the two pendants were. "They sold me to a vampire coven, just like you. I heard about your escape. I'm proud." He let a faint smile cross his face. "Prouder that you were able to keep the pendant father gave you. You always had a habit of losing things." 

YolGoraagSingh

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." 

Instead of rising to the challenge, the Divine Crusader simply walks away from the gathering of brutes. They were either brave or stupid to try to start a fight with one of Hjalund's status, and that's not boasting. Every Divine Crusader within the Knights of the Nine has at least fifteen years of experience purging the unholy and combating the enemies of the Empire and the Nine. Recently, they had officially become an independent organization, but behind the scenes... That's another story.

When he arrives at the bar, he sits down next to Eivor, removing his helmet and downing his drink like it was water. He looks into his cup for a moment, before motioning the milk-drinking bartender over. Setting down his mug along with a few septims, the silent request was obvious: More mead.

Makor's eyes widen he walks towards the Nord and grabs his shoulder "You got some nerve."

(Do we really have to hold the thread up? You can read, yes?)

YolGoraagSingh

Makor's eyes widen he walks towards the Nord and grabs his shoulder "You got some nerve."

"And you are either really brave or really, really stupid to try to pick a fight with a Crusader." He responds to the orc, shrugging off the hand and downing his second mug, his other hand snaking to his sword. Hjalund's been in enough fights to know where this is going... And nobody ever seems to learn who the Divine Crusaders are!

"Excuse me gentlemen, but there's to be no fighting in this tavern." The waiter seemed to simply pop into existence. "Sir knight, you'll find that it doesn't matter what crusades you've finished if you make trouble here. And Makor, I've been told to let you know that if we have another incident, the mead stops flowing."

Lokonikah

"And you are either really brave or really, really stupid to try to pick a fight with a Crusader." He responds to the orc, shrugging off the hand and downing his second mug, his other hand snaking to his sword. Hjalund's been in enough fights to know where this is going... And nobody ever seems to learn who the Divine Crusaders are!

Makor laughs "You here that, boys!" He pauses "I'm an Immortal, I have the power of the Gods themselves!"

YolGoraagSingh

Makor laughs "You here that, boys!" He pauses "I'm an Immortal, I have the power of the Gods themselves!"

 

"And the Knights of the Nine fight for the gods, without any special powers. Who is truly the strongest, when you take away a man's otherworldly powers?" Hjalund questions the Immortal. He knew who Makor was. He may be Dragonborn, and an Immortal, but if you were to take away those powers, he would be like any other man. And that's when his true strength would be tested.

"You dare compare yourself to an Immortal!" Makor puts his fists up. 

YolGoraagSingh

"You dare compare yourself to an Immortal!" Makor puts his fists up. 

"You are overconfident in yourself, Dragonborn. The Knights may regard you as a hero, including me... But now, with your abilities granted by the gods, you strut about like you are a god, yourself. You think yourself superior to all others, even though the powers of yours were granted to you for the defense of the people of Tamriel, and by extension, all of Nirn."

Hjalund quickly slips his helmet on, knowing that his expertely crafted armor would protect him from the inhuman strikes of the Orc. Really, it would be his only chance in a close quarters fight against him. The other two unknown orcs, however, they are able to be easily handled. Hjalund only hopes he needs not spill blood.

He rises to his feet, trained mind focusing for a fight, muscles tensing for action.

(( His armor is the same strength as Legendary Steel Plate armor, which is almost as strong as Dragonplate in-game. So thus, I would say that Legendary-level Steel Plate armor would be able to stop a few swings from a dragonbone sword. )),

The waiter/bard barked out a laugh. Grinning he began to jest. "Careful there Makor. Last time you fought drunk, you split open the wine cask. Tell you what, you gentlemen wait until you're outside to bash each other's heads and I'll buy you both a round. If you can't wait that long, at least let me set up a ring. It'd be a shame to lose good drink over good fights."

Makor looks at the bard "He does have a point."