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 Posted: Mon Oct 06, 2014 10:04 pm
 The Bee and Barb is an inn located in Riften that is owned by Talen-Jei and Keerava.
CURRENTLY ;; There is a celebration going on. Mostly everyone has forgotten why but who cares?! Drink and have fun!
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Posted: Thu Oct 09, 2014 3:17 pm
xxCurrently Doing ;; Enjoying a drink.| Current Location ;; The Bee and the Barb| Equipment ;; Ebony Sword; Assorted Items| Health ;; 100% | Stamina ;; 100%
There was nothing like a long boring day to ruin someone’s mood and that was exactly what Khasrin had experienced, no matter how hard she had tried to find something to do for the day it seemed almost impossible. Her brother who would normally train her in anything she could think of had a contract that pulled him away from their home for several days now, it was the main reason she had grown so bored. The more she thought about it the more she realized that most of their family was away on business. Looking around the empty place she sighed some, there was a chance if she actually moved from her bed and took a look around the stone halls that she could find someone to pester but the thought barely interested her.
Staring at the ceiling she wrinkling her nose a bit, swaying her tail gently against the ground. This was certainly no way to spend her day and she would be damned if she spent her night like this. Nodding to herself, she had a mental conversation going over all the things she could possibly go do. The conversation continued for about five minutes or so when she decided she felt like going out. She had a sudden need to get on a horse and go somewhere; it wasn’t like she had anything else to do. It also helped that there was no one around to tell her to stop. Packing a small knapsack, Khasrin didn’t give it another thought and leisurely walked out of the Sanctuary. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t do as she pleased, some of the members still thought her too young – too naive to do some of the things she wanted to do. They worried for her safety after taking care of her since she was a young kit. It wasn’t that she disrespected them or the way they treated her but she thought herself old enough to make whatever decision she saw fit.
Eventually the Khajiit found herself in Riften, she hadn’t really paid attention to what she was doing or how much time she had spent away from home and nor did she care. Looking around the city, it was maybe the fourth time she had been here, luckily for her those times she had been here had gone unnoticed. Smiling a little bit to herself, she couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at the thought of what she had been doing when she last visited, if she was right that was actually the last time she had been given a contract.
Shaking her head a bit she let out a small sigh she enjoyed what she did and hated when she wasn’t given a contract or asked to help someone else – it depressed her a bit but this was not the time for her to be thinking of such things. Khasrin continued to stand around for a few minutes wondering what she should do next and if she should even stay in Riften, shifting the knapsack on her shoulder she came to a conclusion on where she was going, The Bee and the Barb.
A tavern was a great place to spend the night, after all there were always such great characters in their walls. Adventures and ruffians, they all had stories to tell too, some of them were bland but then there were some that just took your breath away, she had heard an amazing story recently, one of the mercenaries that usually hang out in those type of places had gone on an adventure with the Dragon Born! The girl could barely keep her excitement hidden as she listened to the details he went into, how they had went into this cave for one of the Jarls. Oh what it must be like to be an adventurer like that. Smiling as she thought of the story she walked into The Bee and the Barb. The place had a decent amount of people in it though there was still plenty of room. Finding a seat the young girl sat down, crossing her ankles, taking her first glance around. This wasn’t the group she had been hoping to find, most of them seemed to be keeping to themselves, drinking whatever they could afford. It didn’t take her long to join in on the same plan, ordering herself something to drink she sat back into her chair – getting as comfortable as one could in such things.
ooc;; /makes fart sounds/ Shitty post is shitty. Make sure you quote who ever you are interacting with c:
Yes I reused my post- eat it.
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Posted: Wed Nov 05, 2014 3:28 pm
Thalia Sarkissian, the Fang-Crusher xxx
The Bee and Barb xxx
100 X 100 X 100 xxx  Thalia often wondered why she bothered returning to a skeever hole such as Riften. All this damnable city ever bred was grifters, thieves, and skeevers. Frankly, she could not tell which of the three was the worst. As long as they stayed in their little ratholes and left her alone, she did not care. She thought back to lessons Garm had taught her. Bloodsuckers like to flock to two kinds of places, the frostbitten caves of the North, and anywhere filth and corruption reign to hide in plain sight. If ever the phrase “filth and corruption” were to describe any city, it would certainly be Riften. The frozen north would be fine if she was still travelling with Garm, with him to watch her back against the dangers that lurked in the snow-covered regions of Skyrim. She was fierce with a blade, sure, but that did not matter if a sabre-cat or a snow bear came calling in the night while she slept, with no one to keep watch to warn her. Instead she chose the southern parts of Skyrim for her patrols and hunts, where the land was flatter, dryer, and she had Fort Dawnguard at her back to retreat to should the need arise. And it just so happened that Riften had the closest tavern where she could wet her parched throat.
And, while its distributors were certainly filthy and corrupt, she certainly could not deny that Black-Briar Mead was among the best.
As she stepped through the double doors of the inn, she did what she always did when entering a room full of mostly complete strangers. She looked around, naturally, for any signs of suspicious activity. Such things were bound to be found by the plentiful in a tavern located in Riften, but she was specifically looking for physical traits. Specifically, she was looking for the features that made a vampire stand out; stout noses, narrow faces, and eyes that went from golden to red, among various other signs that most would simply ignore as peculiar. Her eyes moved like a hawk, scanning the room until she was satisfied that the crossbow that hung listlessly from her right hand by its stock would not be necessary. Her shot silver sword hung from her belt in its sheathe as it always did when she was not in battle, while her mother's Nordic greatsword hung from her back alongside her knapsack which held the belongings she took with her in her travels. She moved her way inside the tavern with a seemingly bored expression on her face, hidden beneath the face plate of her helmet.
She took a seat on one of the stools at the counter where the reptilian barkeep was hard at work. She reached into her coin purse hanging from her belt, laying a pile of golden Septims on the hard wood before her. She removed her helmet, shaking her hair free before setting it down next to the pile of gold and her crossbow. She ordered a flagon of Black-Briar mead, and told her to continue filling it over and over again until she drank her money's worth. She then slid the pile to the Argonian to collect as she waited for her drink to come. When she finally received her flagon, she quickly drank down as much of the substance as she could before setting the flagon down momentarily. She turned on her stool to face the crowd. There seemed to be some kind of celebration going on with much of the crowd, of what Thalia did not care enough to ask. She took a long look around the tavern, nodding at anyone who looked her way for whatever reason. The large Nord woman turned back in her seat to face the innkeeper once more. She dropped a few more coins on the counter. ”I'll also have a haunch of horse meat, some bread, and a wedge of goat cheese,” she said then. She took yet another long drink of her mead as she waited for her food to be prepared.
((OOC: apologies for the lateness and crappy quality of this post. It's been a hectic couple of weeks. >.< Let me know if anything needs fixing.))
Blade with whom I have lived,
Blade with whom I now die,
Serve right and justice one last time,
Seek one last heart of evil,
Still one last life of pain,
Cut well old friend,
And then farewell.
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Posted: Thu Nov 06, 2014 6:05 pm
xxxxxxxxxxxCurrently Doing ;; Here | Current Location ;; Here | Current Health ;; Here | Current Stamina;; Here
The all too familiar scent wafted through the brisk and rainy air. Warm copper tickled her nose as she leaned over the dead body. The female sliced through the metallic smell, removing the excess blood from her blade. She rested now, mockingly in the poor soul’s chair, eyes half lidded with adrenaline. His crumpled body lay face down upon the polished stone floor, his throat oozed with blood. It’d only be a matter of time before there would be a horrid mess to clean up. Such a shame for his family, he would be given a proper Nord burial no doubt. With a small smirk on her features, the female glanced out the window at the last thing the old man had seen; Falkreath’s oh so noble graveyard.
How sad and appropriate.
With a grin and a huff, said female stood albeit slowly. Going back out into the rain wasn’t exactly a thing she’d like to rush back to. Taking one last look at her work, the woman sheathed her weapon and seemingly faded into the shadows. Pressing her body against the wall, she felt her way towards the room’s entrance. To exit out of the window at this point would be suicide, she’d have to make her way back to the hall, and descend from there, through the open window. Curtailing a sigh, she slinked through the lantern lit hall, making sure she wasn’t seen by the other patrons of Dead Man‘s Drink. Upon reaching the window, she leapt forward and perched herself upon its sill, looking down below. Quietly, she lowered herself down the wall and onto the ground, slick with rain and mud.
The woman rewrapped the thick, black head scarf, making it so it sat stop her head like a cowl. She moved quickly, cursing the rain and her wet clothing that stuck to her skin. Loose tendrils of hair plastered to her face, tickling her exposed throat. Her gray tunic had been thoroughly soaked and her leggings were chock full of mud. There would be no respite from the weather, not until she made it out of Falkreath hold. Because she needed supplies, Phade decided against wearing her Brotherhood armor as it would have been too obvious. It was hard enough for a Dunmer in Skyrim, let alone a killer.
Sighing inwardly, Phade made her way towards Gray Pine Goods. How bold of her to stick around, even after such a deed. But she needed something to protect herself from the rain, especially since she was traveling all the way to Riften. Inside, Phade eyed the typical Nord behind the counter. Before he could even open his mouth, the female pulled a pouch of gold coins from the inside of her tunic and passed it hand to hand.
“I need a good woolen cloak, a few apples and wedge of eidar.” The mer voiced her wants as calmly and as pleasant as she could muster. She hadn’t the best exchanges with Nords in the past, as some were down right hateful. Therefore, she preferred to keep their meetings quick and painless. As he handed her the items, she nodded in thanks and paid for her wares before slipping the heavy cloak around her shoulders, pulling the hood over her head as she pushed the heavy oaken door open.
Satisfied, the lithe Dunmer prowled down the main thoroughfare, rubied eyes cast forward. She hurried out of the town and towards the stables where she had left Shadowmere to rest. Running her fingers over the dark horse’s saddle, she paused a moment. It would be sometime before she was able to return to Dawnstar as her journey to Riften would take some time. Not only was there quite some distance between her and the Rift, but her mark wasn’t exactly an easy one.
Someone wished a high ranking officer of the Penitus Oculatus to be killed. She only had one chance, however. The terms of the contract were that it must happen in Riften and as her bad luck would have it, the man was leaving in two days time. It meant that she would have to ride hard, hopefully getting there in enough time to scope out the situation. How she hated running into things carelessly. With a single aqueous motion, she mounted her horse and headed out.
By the time it was nightfall, Phade and her mount had entered The Rift. Her only logical choice was to book a night in Ivarstead and follow the Treva River all the way to Riften at first light. It would rest her horse and her wary body. Her mark in Riften would yet see another few hours of life.
When the first light broke the horizon, Phade was up and out munching on an apple and saddling Shadowmere once more for their final push into Riften. Should the weather permit, they would arrive before afternoon. That would leave her with enough time to get something proper to eat and drink and warm up by the fire. Besides, she was pretty sure there were a few of her members on missions in the area it would do her some good to meet up with them. She had to admit the crew that she had now was a good one. The lot of them were young, but they were willing and agile and without lingering mercy. This pleased her. Tossing the apple, Phade eased the horse into a gallop. After this journey, she would definitely need a good tankard of ale and warm fire.
Riften was not a place that she enjoyed. It was gloomy and dreary. Did the sun ever shine there? Not only that but, even as good as a client she was, Phade could not stand Maven Black-Briar. The woman rubbed her the wrong way, too conniving and condescending for her own good. Alas, Riften was still a profitable place. Even Cheydinhal was more welcoming, though it oozed with blasted Hlaalu influence.
Slightly annoyed at toothy, not-so-innocent snicker and howl the gate guard had given her, the dark-skinned mer whisked herself towards the Bee and Barb. A drink was in order before she started on her task of setting the stage for the poor fool’s demise. It seemed to her that she had been out of the sanctuary more days than not. Always traveling across the country, doing things elsewhere, Phade couldn’t remember the last time she slept in her own bed. She was naturally a solitary creature, but sometimes she found solace in camaraderie. Though she learned to deal with it; being of House Telvanni, practically demanded it. Being alone was more of a comfort to her now, it meant that she needn’t depend on anyone or have anyone depend on her. Aside from the Dark Brotherhood, of course.
With a sigh, she entered the establishment and sidled up to the bar. Phade ordered a tankard of ale, her fingers running the length of the cowl over her head. To her side, she noticed a half drunk Nord who seemed to have had too much to drink. He leaned a little closer to her,
“What’s yer name?” The male slurred much to her dismay. Phade promptly rolled her eyes, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. The female went by many names. Her given name was unknown to most, only a select few knew her as Nalvala Arelas. Most knew her as Phade and she planned on keeping that way.
But for this man? She didn’t have a name.
“That would be none of your business..” She quipped. It was well known that Dunmer females had a reputation of promiscuity, an ideology that Phade never quite understood. But this particular drunk wasn’t getting any closer to her and by the evil glare she shot him, he had better understand. She snorted faintly, nodding in thanks to the barkeep for her drink before bringing it to her lips. She swallowed the bitter liquid a few times before setting it down upon the bar. Phade rifled through a pocket inside her tunic and fished out a few coins, setting them down on the polished wood grain. It wouldn’t be long before she’d head out and start her plotting.
However, something else had caught her attention. There amongst the darkly clad patrons was a shock of white and familiar pattern of fur. Her lips twitched at the corners and she stood, grabbing her tankard and slipping off the stool. Phade weaved expertly through the increasing crowd, careful not to spill a drop of the well-deserved ale.
“I didn’t expect to see you here, Khasrin.” The Dunmer greeted, head cocking to the side. It was a lie and she knew it. But, no one else needed to know that. No, to everyone watching they were simply two people who knew each other and nothing more. Phade smiled lightly, lowering herself into a chair at the Khajiit’s table. “How have you been?” While she waited for an answer, her attention fluttered round the room. It was in her character to assess the situation, marking certain people for troublemakers or people who stood out. It was obvious as the day was long when people didn’t belong. Though this day seemed pretty bland, it was no concern of hers.
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