Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24449631-20140917204356/@comment-3293219-20140925223032

Azarath watched her leave, giving her a faint smile as he sat back in his chair, smiling a little to himself as he did so. Now he could get back to the task at hand...

"Bloody stupid this country..." A rather dim voice called out, from several tables behind Azarath, the Dunmer ignored him, burying his chin in his pint. Things weren't as bad as he'd heard, nobody had stopped him coming in and ordering, in fact the girl behind the counter was more than happy to serve him.

"You call someone a grey bastard and they call you a racist." The same Nord sneered, sharing his woes with another patron before taking another swig, killing more of the few braincells that congregated in the stem.

Azarath sighed and took another swig of his drink, finishing it off as he hoped to leave and check up on Elana or Griever, he slowly stood up and made his way towards the door, surprised to see it open before his eyes. Two Nords entered and another one, who Renn had mentioned earlier had left the bar behind him and wandered over to Azarath, slowly stepping out in front of him. He had a fantastic mustache but looked like he had been dragged up, out of well and he was followed by two drones, who looked more obediant than Nadira was, when Jorthar made her Emarrel's slave.

"Well, well... Looks like the chatter was right..." The ring leader said, arms folded as his commrades just nodded along, gently stroking his already throbbing ego.

"This isn't the grey quarter, elf. You'd best piss off, back to that shit heap of a corner club or better yet, back to Morrowind, with the rest of your kind."

Azarath just stood in silence, sizing them all up, this would be more amusing than challenging...

"Last time I checked, Morrowind was little more than a wasteland, still it was much nicer than this shit hole. I might just take you up on your offer and get the fuck out of here before I get the disease that seems to have taken most of this city."

Azarath's words were calm, direct, unwavering, he knew what to say to antagonise them and hoped that he could get them to make the first move.

"Hey, you're standing in the former capital, show some respect you low life!" The leader snapped, he was quite quiet spoken and of little threat to Azarath or anyone who wasn't a complete pacafist. Hell, Nadira could take him on...

"Former is the operative word, this place hasn't been important for centuries."

The Nord stepped closer, dangerously close as he pushed his own face in Azarath's, who, as usual, didn't even flinch.

"I think you and I need to have a little chat, outside..."

"Shit, I didn't think I was woman enough to deserve one of your beat downs..." Azarath grumbled, noticing a few dunmer women with black eyes. There were dunmer men with black eyes but he was aiming for the man's pride here...

"I'm not afraid to put anyone in their place, least of all some out of towner, who thinks he knows what's what..." He turned around, looking to his men.

"Let's show him who truly owns this land!" He called back, hoping to rally his men before he turned around and threw the hardest punch he could into Azarath's face. The punch was rock solid, enough to make the Dunmer's cheekbone throb fiercly as he was staggered to his left. He soon found his balance and stood back up again, rubbing his face as he looked over to the Nord, who's smile vanished as soon as he saw how little impact his punch had, had on Azarath.

"That all you got?" Azarath grumbled, in a gravelly, dark tone.

"Not even worth my breath!" He roared, striking out his forearm, directly into the ring leader's face and sending him spinning to the floor. The Nord's two cronies both threw themselves into the fray, charging towards Azarath and recieving a punch to the gut and the to temple for their troubles.

They both fell to the floor, curling up and clutching their wounds as they fought the pain, slowly pulling themselves to their feet. Azarath expected more than this but then again, they were just drunken peasants, so he didn't exactly know why. He laughed as they retreated, crying and whimpering as they called to their leader.

"Rolff, we need to get out of here!" One of them called as he vanished into the darkness of the alleyway, with the rest of the rats. Rolff, however, wasn't listening, he had staggered over to counter, the girl behind it slowly backed away and he fumbled for a bottle, which he promptly smashed on the table, turning it into a weapon.

He examined the jagged edges of the broken glass bottle before turning around and looking to the Dunmer, his eyes full of rage and hatred. Azarath had finished laughing at the two Nords as they scampered out of the inn and had slowly turned his attention back to Rolff, who was now puffing and panting as as he slowly approached the Dunmer, taking a tight grip on the neck of the bottle before giving it and almighty swing.

Azarath didn't expect this, he swiftly responded by jumping back but not moving fast enough to avoid getting scratched, the glass cut right through his shirt and across his stomach. It was very shallow, hell, he didn't even pick it up as he immediately tackled Rolff to the ground and repeatedly punched him, pinning his offending arm to the floor as he did so.

Azarath continued to beat on the Nord, not noticing that everyone had fled the tavern and the chattering of grieves approaching the tavern. The large wooden doors were kicked open and the guards came pouring in, tackling Azarath to the ground...

"Can we not have one night, without these pointless squables?" The most senior guard said, slowly entering the tavern, behind his men, who seemed to be doing all of the work for him.

"You best let me go!" Azarath growled as the guards barely contained him, kicking and squirming desperately, so he could get free for a moment and punch one of them.

"You'd best calm down sir or else tonight is going to be so much worse for you..." The Senior guard informed him, turning back to one of his comrades.

"Take Mr Stone-Fist and Mr...?" He turned to Azarath, waiting for an introduction.

"Fuck you..." He seethed at the Nord, that was the only introduction he was going to get.

"Mr... Fuckyou to the dungeon to cool off."

"Yes sir."

With that, the guard stepped in and coordinated the arrest, the two of them were hauled off, to the dungeons, which served more like a drink tank these days. The Senior guard sighed and shook his head at the needless destruction, at the otherwise lovely inn and slowly walked out of the taven, followed by his men...