Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Return of The World-Eater (semi-open group RP)

The black and white khajiit's back was to the male, her hands sifting through the blankets that covered the bed. Flipping them over, the khajiit's black and white hands find a satchel made of brown leather. Grabbing the satchel's strap, the black and white hands fixate it over a shoulder, and the satchel hanged besides Crow's hip. "You don't know that, unless you were creepily watching me in my room. Ugh, it's enough to make me vomit."

When the male was gone, Crow's lips lifted and a scoff was made. Moving over to the dresser, the khajiit's hands moved to pull out the top drawer, where several more milk-bottles clattered together, rolling towards her. Crow's right hand plucked the bottles out of the drawer, while her left hand opened up her satchel's flap, tossing the extra skooma bottles inside, and soon heading down stairs.

Dmitri watched her quietly as she walked past, "I wasn't watching you. You went into a rage the vomited and passed out in my arms," he's aid and turned back to the fire, "Also, do yourself a favor. Throw away the Skooma. At least sell it," he urged, "You're ruining yourself, comrade."

“If you had arrived a day or two ago, you probably would have found song, dance, and the promise of fine company.” Brienne glanced over her shoulder, taking in the worry creased faces and restless movement of the others. The crazed Khajiit had ruined any comfort that Ilfhild’s music had created, and Brienne now found the tense atmosphere more suffocating than before. She knew that she was contributing to it, thinking dire thoughts of what could happen and throwing a forlorn gaze, but she was growing tired of it.

Brienne leaned over the counter, propping her head up with a hand. “I’m beginning to think that standing outside might be more enjoyable than sitting in here,” she muttered.

"I doubt that." Ilfhild said with a chuckle. "I could try and make some music again. Maybe a bit of Ragnar the red?" she smiled a she looked around the room. There were a lot of Nords present, so she guessed it might just work.

The smaller feline stops when the male speaks to her. Turning about and pointing towards his chest, "Then I wish I could remember, just to see the expression on your face. And I don't know what you're talking about, com-rad."

One of the nords from before lifts his mug of ale, looking to those around him, "Aye, look at 'em cats, gettin' along so swell-y!" The large and drunk nord slaps his knee and points his mug towards the bard, sloshing some of the ale onto the wooden floor, "Aye! Play us some Ragnar!" The other fellows around him pick up their mugs as well, putting their arms round another, starting a low hum of altering pitches.

Crow's yellow eyes flick towards the drunks, and her body straightens itself, the feline's gaze dropping to her waist, securing the crystal's leather strap around a belt loop, "Well I hope you enjoy the drunken company. I'm not going to wait for the end to find me. I'll find it first." Tightening the strap with a few tugs, the unarmed and small feline marches towards the door.

Ilfhild rose from her seat and went over to Crow. "You might not want to do that. It's night outside, and this mist will rendr vision practically impossible, even for a kahjiit." she explained. "Do what you want, but I don't reccomend it."

She looked back at the nord who'd called for her to play Ragnar the red. "Well now, my fellow nord. How about you get me another mug of that mead you're so famous for here in Whiterun, and then I'll play you Ragnar the red!"

Dmitri shook his head, "I can smell the Skooma in your bag. I'm not stupid. Just get rid of it," he urged her, "You've got no reason to be ruining yourself."

Outside the sky was dark, a strange mist covered the plains, and there was a shiver-inducing chill in the air. Inside the tavern there was warmth from a fire, food and drink, and even if it was somber, company. Yes, the Nord was right; it was doubtful that standing outside would be enjoyable.

Brienne acknowledged this with a weary sigh, turning her eyes to Ilfhild. "There's no harm in trying. I think..." She trailed off when the loud voice of a man sounded throughout the room. Soon he was joined by others in a chorus of hums. "I think," Brienne continued, "that is a swell idea." But the music, it seemed, would have to wait.

Seeing the black and white Khajiit crossing the room startled Brienne; she worried that the feline had woken into another rage. The Breton's tense muscles relaxed when it became clear that the Khajiit was not, in fact, in a rampage but perhaps slightly annoyed. Her face twisted into an expression of surprise at the feline's words. Her mouth opened to add to Ilfhild's words, but snapped closed. If the Khajiit had already made her decision, then her words would do nothing. She turned her attention back to her mug.

The drink-happy Nord shot a smile at Ilfhild. "You've got yourself a deal, bard! Hulda!" he called, eyeing the tavern owner. "Get our friend another drink!"

"Allright then, Let's get this started!" Ilfhild announced. Several cheers went up as she took out her violin, the incident with the skooma suddenly all but forgotten. People got up from their seats and started clapping when the first notes left the strings. Then she began to sing. There was no need to use her soft, beautiful voice yet. This was a fun, drinking song so she used the voice that fitted it: loud and happy.

There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red,
who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead!
And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade,
as he told of bold battles and gold he had made!
But then he went quiet, did Ragnar the Red,
when he met the shieldmaiden Matilda who said…
Oh, you talk and you lie and you drink all our mead!
Now I think it’s high time that you lie down and bleed!
And so then came the clashing and slashing of steel,
as the brave lass Matilda charged in full of zeal!
And the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no moooooree…

when his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!

Cheering and laughter went up all over the tavern as the last words escaped her mouth and the bow stopped dancing on the strings. She laughed alongside with them and accepted the mead that was now offered to her by Hulda.

"Sing battle of the Tongues (I think that's right)," Dmitri urged from his seat, deciding to just let his fellow Khajiit be. Yes, he found her attractive but he wouldn't ruin himself by being with some skooma addict.
He swung his bushy tail softly from side to side as he started drinking a glass of Alto Wine.

The black and white Khajiit opened the door to the tavern and stared out into the strange mist, her hand still staying upon the door's handle. Her yellow eyes lift to the sky, which was darker than her fur. Some of the mist billowed around her ankles, and the feline's ears flicked once.

So that settles that then.

The feline's booted foot took a step foreword, the door to the tavern closing behind her. Soon enough, her body was covered in the dense fog, her visibility limited to what she could see in front of her nose, the fog billowing over her shoulders and under her arms. The crystal around her waist offered a dim light, hardly to be seen in the fog, that illuminated Crow's body, stopping just underneath her chin.

(OOC: I apologize for not posting for quite a few days. Life has just been a little chaotic lately.)

Ragnar the Red seemed to be the cure to the somber atmosphere inside the Bannered Mare. Smiles broke out amongst the crowd, followed by cheers, laughter, and excited chatter. Some were congratulating the bard on her wonderful performance. Some were gathering around the bar to refill their tankards.

Brienne abandoned her seat. Being caught in a crowd of thirsty, probably half-drunken individuals did not appeal to her. It was only when she reached a disserted corner of the room that she remembered her own drink sitting on the bar, now impossible to reach because of the huddle of people. “That was my second one,” she whined in a mutter.

She was just about to settle herself against the wall when another sound overpowered the noise of the tavern. Brienne’s eyes darted to the door. Another dragon?