Blazing Falcons
02-27-2015, 04:34 AM
(Tales From the Companions of Midgard)
Chapter 1: Tavern Troubles
Whiterun, Sun's Height, 4E 233
A city guard flew though the door of the Bannered Mare. Two more rushed in hopes that they would be able to put an end to the fighting. They quickly came face-to-face with the main problem. A seven foot tall Redguard in near full ebony armor. The guards stared at each other for a moment before one mustered the courage to confront the man. "Alright Altair, you've had enough for tonight! Go home, come back tomorrow." Altair dropped a villager and turned to face the guards. "You're probably right. Let me just grab my helmet and I'll show myself out." Altair grabbed his helmet, spun around and clubbed the guard who'd told him to leave. The guard tumbled to the ground, the other drew his sword and tried to swipe at Altair's leg in hopes of disabling him for the night. The blade merely slid off the black armor. "Don't you know the first rule of a tavern brawl lad?!" Altair roared, "No rules! Most know that one! But the second is 'no weapons'!" Altair grabbed the trembling man by his shoulders and smashed him into a table.
Several more guards ran to the tavern to try to put the problem to rest, but all of them dispersed when the Dragonborn pushed through. At the sight of him, Altair grinned even wider, "Legolas! Come on in! I was just about to find these gentlemen a seat!" Legolas spoke calmly but assertively, "Altair. You're done for tonight. Don't make me force you out." Altair frowned and shouted back, "Piss off! I'm just showing the people of Whiterun a good time!" Legolas frowned as well, "I'm sorry my friend, but you do leave me no other option." he said before he shouted the words "Fus Ro Dah". Altair was sent flying across the tavern into the wall. Barely phased, he stood, spat on the floor, yanked a mead bottle from a nearby patron, and made his way to the door. Legolas was quick to relieve Altair of the bottle. "As the city guardsmen and I said, you've had enough for tonight." Legolas said as he placed the bottle on the counter. When Altair was gone, Legolas turned to Ysolda, the tavern-keep, and said, "How much for the damages this time?" Ysolda took in the carnage and said, "I'd estimate one-thousand Septims." "By the nine, he gets more destructive every night it seems." Legolas sighed.
Altair forced his way into the Drunken Huntsman (where he was banned from the bar for the next three months) and set off towards the room he rented. His son Vanik was waiting for him. "You disgust me." The Dark Elf spat. "For what? Knowing how to have a little-" Altair said before being cut off. "For being a senseless drunk. Most days now you spend raiding your private reserve and every night at the Bannered Mare or the tavern of whatever city we're staying in getting charged with assault and destruction of property! Look at your coin purse! It used to be as fat as your armor is thick! Now even I have more gold than you! You pissed it all away on mead!" Vanik shouted at him. "At least I spend my coin on mead, and not that pathetic wine you're so fond of!" Altair snarled back. "You're missing the point! When the letter reached you that my mother had died and left a son behind, it took you two weeks to find the time to sail to Morrowind. I was unbelievably excited when I learned that my father was the Ebony Warlord, and that one day I'd learn to fight beside him! But look at you now! You're a drunk with two enchanted greatswords and an enchanted shield! You're more dangerous to yourself and everyone around you than you are to the Aldmeri Dominion!" Vanik spat. "Get out of my sight." Altair growled. "With. Pleasure." Vanik said. When Vanik went downstairs, he heard him talking to someone, "Best wait until the morning, his drunken mind won't even be able to count out three-hundred tonight, let alone know what to do with it, even with you there."
Chapter 1: Tavern Troubles
Whiterun, Sun's Height, 4E 233
A city guard flew though the door of the Bannered Mare. Two more rushed in hopes that they would be able to put an end to the fighting. They quickly came face-to-face with the main problem. A seven foot tall Redguard in near full ebony armor. The guards stared at each other for a moment before one mustered the courage to confront the man. "Alright Altair, you've had enough for tonight! Go home, come back tomorrow." Altair dropped a villager and turned to face the guards. "You're probably right. Let me just grab my helmet and I'll show myself out." Altair grabbed his helmet, spun around and clubbed the guard who'd told him to leave. The guard tumbled to the ground, the other drew his sword and tried to swipe at Altair's leg in hopes of disabling him for the night. The blade merely slid off the black armor. "Don't you know the first rule of a tavern brawl lad?!" Altair roared, "No rules! Most know that one! But the second is 'no weapons'!" Altair grabbed the trembling man by his shoulders and smashed him into a table.
Several more guards ran to the tavern to try to put the problem to rest, but all of them dispersed when the Dragonborn pushed through. At the sight of him, Altair grinned even wider, "Legolas! Come on in! I was just about to find these gentlemen a seat!" Legolas spoke calmly but assertively, "Altair. You're done for tonight. Don't make me force you out." Altair frowned and shouted back, "Piss off! I'm just showing the people of Whiterun a good time!" Legolas frowned as well, "I'm sorry my friend, but you do leave me no other option." he said before he shouted the words "Fus Ro Dah". Altair was sent flying across the tavern into the wall. Barely phased, he stood, spat on the floor, yanked a mead bottle from a nearby patron, and made his way to the door. Legolas was quick to relieve Altair of the bottle. "As the city guardsmen and I said, you've had enough for tonight." Legolas said as he placed the bottle on the counter. When Altair was gone, Legolas turned to Ysolda, the tavern-keep, and said, "How much for the damages this time?" Ysolda took in the carnage and said, "I'd estimate one-thousand Septims." "By the nine, he gets more destructive every night it seems." Legolas sighed.
Altair forced his way into the Drunken Huntsman (where he was banned from the bar for the next three months) and set off towards the room he rented. His son Vanik was waiting for him. "You disgust me." The Dark Elf spat. "For what? Knowing how to have a little-" Altair said before being cut off. "For being a senseless drunk. Most days now you spend raiding your private reserve and every night at the Bannered Mare or the tavern of whatever city we're staying in getting charged with assault and destruction of property! Look at your coin purse! It used to be as fat as your armor is thick! Now even I have more gold than you! You pissed it all away on mead!" Vanik shouted at him. "At least I spend my coin on mead, and not that pathetic wine you're so fond of!" Altair snarled back. "You're missing the point! When the letter reached you that my mother had died and left a son behind, it took you two weeks to find the time to sail to Morrowind. I was unbelievably excited when I learned that my father was the Ebony Warlord, and that one day I'd learn to fight beside him! But look at you now! You're a drunk with two enchanted greatswords and an enchanted shield! You're more dangerous to yourself and everyone around you than you are to the Aldmeri Dominion!" Vanik spat. "Get out of my sight." Altair growled. "With. Pleasure." Vanik said. When Vanik went downstairs, he heard him talking to someone, "Best wait until the morning, his drunken mind won't even be able to count out three-hundred tonight, let alone know what to do with it, even with you there."