@ The Broken Hall in Woodhearth

Note: I started out writing this as an exercise in characterization, but decided to throw in a hook at the end in case someone wanted to hop in and join me.

Please feel free; as you'll see that the end, the setting is the 'morning after' yesterday's events, in the Merchant's Hall where Qa'Han & Company have taken refuge. I forget the town but doubtless someone else remembers. Partially inspired by the 'bar thread' I saw earlier. (Very Motivational)

Please enjoy.

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J’vani lay down to sleep, but found that she could not.

She sat up and prayed, for a while, but found that unsatisfying.

In the stuffy, low windows of the inn, here, she could just spy the crack of dawn as it crawled over the horizon, paining her eyes. A few tentative rays touched on her armor, discarded in the corner, and a few motes lingered upon her longblade in its leather sheathe. The sight evoked a burning within her she couldn’t quite swallow, like bad moon-sugar coming up again. So much iron and not enough of it covered in liar’s blood.

Qa’iit’s words bothered her more than she cared to admit. J’vani pulled the thin, mer-crafted covers up over her shoulders, swaddling herself as she sat with her legs curled as she considered the inside of her inn room. More mercenaries than she’d liked had gone over to Ri’sari’s side in this conflict, though at the time Qa’Han had certainly outnumbered them. Even now, J’vani was convinced they had the upper hand. What she hadn’t accounted for pained her the most, twisted in her soul like a small knife.

Ri’sari, of course, had lied.

The black-maned Qa’iit had explained to her the accusation; Qa’Han had bribed the Clanmother to nominate him. J’vani didn’t believe it for a minute. As before, she knew Qa’Han’s soul, better than most people, better than any she knew. Moments of crippling weakness tended to bear those things which man, mer, and khajiit kept close and secret, and she had seen the Sandscale at his more vulnerable. She had watched him cry and felt his pain and known his anguish keener than she knew her own.

Her lips tightened. She could feel a little bit of sourness in her teeth, in her gums, and found herself gently sucking them.

The Clanmother, put under duress, had renounced Qa’Han’s rightful claim. Her condition had been obvious; tortured, brutalized, another broken soul shattered by Ri’sari.

Today for the first time, J’vani had looked at Ri’sari – seen him in person, instead of from a distance by reputation. He had been holding the Clanmother’s tail. He had been smirking like the world had given him the biggest sweetroll at festival and peppered it to sickness with sugar. The expression made J’vani want to pound his face in, even now, beat him to pulp – burn his fur, pluck his whiskers…

By force of habit, alone, J’vani resisted the urge to spring out of bed and grab her sword and go to war screaming. She reminded herself of the peaceful sounds of morning. Birds and insects going about business, in the forests of Elswyre. The stirrings from below, where some of the company were finding their beds had turned into tables, during the night, and their fur was somehow sticky with unidentifiable substances. The horses, outside, and the sounds of business.

All of these sounds, J’vani used to calm herself, a little bit at a time.

Now would be the time for calm. She put her faith in Qa’iit, and in Poor-Liar – her nickname for Qa’Han, affectionately given. Qa’iit would serve honorably, of that she had no doubt. She’d known him only a few days, but felt she knew him much more deeply than that, and had admitted to herself last evening she was attracted in more than a casual way. Something about him seemed more solid than other khajiit. Sometimes he made her tail curl. Self-examination on that fact – well, of course she found herself biased, but didn’t actually mind that. Long ago, J’vani had learned to trust her gut.

And Poor-Liar had earned his name.

The rest of them, eh, she had seen them about. Ra’Zacc the darjiit. And others, mercenaries as they came, sellswords who hadn’t been culled by the lies. All would dance beneath the Twin-Moons.

Her curved sword, even sheathed, glittered dangerously to her eyes. How long would it be, before she could righteously stain it with the blood of those who had crossed into the shadow of dark moons?

Perhaps not so very long.

She rose, and dressed in a tunic and loose breeches. In the wee hours of the morning, J’vani decided to drink herself to sleep.


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Downstairs...

The bartender gave her a thick, almost honey-textured sugar-mead in a pewter mug – the bosmer had no doubt taken a hand in that. No wood.

In the gradually rising dawn, the light caught some of the dust of the place. Torches burned low, and weren't refreshed, but soon the room would be lit again in more traditional, natural fashion. Still, it left lingering shadows in certain bends and corners.

Around her, the general feel of the area was open - not open in the sense of large, but open in the sense of being unoccupied, as though there were space enough for dozens and it only saw use for herself, a few recumbant celebrants, and the Altmeri bartender who was partially busy cleaning up the leavings of the night before, presumably so that he could go home to whatever family he had, or hadn't.

She did find a chair to pull up by the unstoked fire. Last night, it had been roaring, but the companions hadn’t been very chipper – leave that for Ri’sari’s lot. The group that trudged, wearily, into the hall last night had been given few reasons for cheer. Still, she couldn’t help smiling a bit warmly at the memory of some of the conversations that had happened. The joking, even the strange corpse-humor.

Qa’iit would be making J'vani her own new suit of armor, smoothly, just like his. Small joys like that turned her mood.

Hooking a foot beneath a nearby stool, J’vani propped her feet by the low flame, drank deeply, and waited for drowsiness.

Ravenoak appeared at the Woodhearth Wayshrine shortly before dawn and wearily made her way to the Thalmor Embassy.

Our new home, she thought and a wry smile played across her lips. As though I can consider any place home.

She had spent most of the night tracking down Obsidian One and Blood-on-Claws to relate to them the events of that evening. Obsidian howled his rage when he learned of the dishonoring of the Clanmother by Ri'sari.

"To think this one believed that one's lies! Ri'sari's life is now forfeit, and this one will kill him when next he is seen!"

Blood-on-Claws' reaction was harder to read. Blood's face revealed little, but the slow hiss he made revealed a revulsion that ran deep and hot. Ravenoak involuntarily took a step back as Blood turned and strode from the room.

Ravenoak finally found herself at the door to the embassy and stepped inside. She thought of heading upstairs to the, Company's?, new quarters.

No, this is not a Company any longer! Ri'sari has broken that. We are now, what? Two warring factions, fighting each other while standing on broken glass!

Ravenoak needed a drink, badly. So she turned instead to the bar on the ground floor. Upon entering she noticed J'vani drinking and semi-drowsing by the low fire.

Quietly, so as not to disturb J'vani overmuch, Ravenoak got a Dark Meat Beer from the bartender, warmed it with a poker from the fire and added a sprinkle of moon sugar -- a habit she picked up from Obsidian One.

Not bothering to drag a chair over, she simply sat on the edge of the hearth. The low flames drove off the early morning chill as she sipped her beer.

"Have you been traveling all night?" J'vani asked.

"Yes, I wanted to get the news to Obsidian One and Blood-on-Claws as soon as possible -- to head off any further treachery Ri'sari might do."

"Pull up a chair and sit back. Let the weariness of the road lull you to sleep, if it can."

Ravenoak sighed, "I'm not sure I'll ever sleep well after what I witnessed this night." But she did pull over another chair and propped her feet on the edge of the hearth.

Soon both had finished their drinks and were sleeping in their chairs, though it was a fitful sleep -- full of bad dreams and omens for the future.

Any further treachery.

J’vani mulled that over for a while, gently rubbing at the peach fur of her chin.

“This one thinks there will be more to come. She notices many on the side of the False-Leader. It seems, to her, that there will be more fighting, yes, and especially when the Mane has heard of these things. And the other clans.”

What J’vani didn’t note, but what also rose to her mind – and should probably rise to any others’ – the fact was, the Aldmeri Dominion would likely hear of this, also. Khajiit politics, up until within the last fifty years or so, had been largely ruled by a sort of clannish nobility and it was to those laws that many still held fast. Where a mer might see ridiculousness, a Khajiit (J’vani, at least) saw a great dishonor being done, here. Surely Ri’sari would have made many enemies, and most prominently the Dominion.

But as far as enforcing it… she took a drink of her sweet alcohol to wash the stink of that out of her nose. The Mane only had a tentative hold on things, even this far along into the confederacy.

J’vani examined her new compatriot. “But, where are her manners. This one is pleased to be J’vani, sword-sister of Qa’iit, our new Captain.”

"Pleased to finally meet and talk. I'm Ravenoak."

"I agree, there will be more violence. We must all keep our minds and weapons sharp!"

"What I don't understand is what Ri'sari hopes to accomplish with such a brazen move. As you say, the Mane will not let this stand. The other clans will not accept him and soon he will attract the attention of the Dominion. I cannot see how Ri'sari can profit from this. It's a madman's gambit!"

"We must stay on our guard -- Ri'sari has not shown all his cards yet, not by a longbow shot."

With this, Ravenoak became pensive and alternated between sipping her beer and staring at the flames in the fireplace.

The recumbent sword-sister rose and took the poker from nearby. The tender didn't seem to mind, and probably would have done it in a while anyway, but a bit of prodding and another log from nearby stoked the fire. The hearth burned slowly, but with little smoke. J'vani settled into her seat again and propped her feet to enjoy the warmth - but not too close.

The Greenwood was humid, but cold in the mornings. J'vani didn't want her fur standing on end from chill, not during a conversation.

She'd used the time to come up with adequate response. Ri'sari hadn't shown all of his cards, this was true. However, he'd shown the nature of the person dealing them.

"Better if this one could read the dealer." J'vani clicked her tongue, thoughtfully. "Spies, assassins, arson. Maybe not in so many words. Easier to name weapons that one does not have."

J'vani turned wide, green eyes to Ravenoak, considering just how far her new companion could be picked up and thrown, if it came to a trust issue. Unsure, especially from only a minute or two of frustrated sounding about Ri'sari, J'vani baited the hook.

"Thie one wonders how he profits from this, aside from megalomania, and how others follow him so stead-fast-ly."

Ferulain Indyll opened the door to the new location that Qa'Han had described to him in his letter. Many changes were coming quickly, he thought to himself. Hopefully these interruptions will not hold up the business for too long. The lightly built, stout Bosmer had just himself come from negotiations with the City officials over the property and trade tax. Work was a plenty and new contracts were always popping up, needing to be negotiated and signed.

He looked around the downstairs, it was early in the morning, yet there were already a couple people at the bar. Walking towards them, he thought to himself that they might be able to provide more information on the happenings lately. Ferulain had been too busy himself and never interacted with the other side of the original company anyways.

Ansaari stumbles in from the rooftop balcony and downstairs to the others talking quietly. Quite clearly sleep-walking, her eyes heavily lidded, fur and hair mussed from having been asleep on ground of the balcony. She stumbles up to the Bosmer and licks his cheek. She then giggles and mumbles something about "Ansaari likes the taste of purple" before collapsing on the floor near the fireplace again fully asleep and snoring/purring softly.

"Yes, that is the question, isn't it? How can Ri'sari command such loyalty from his followers, when he displays such casual madness -- and especially an almost distain for functional business practice! This will require some serious thought."

Ravenoak headed to the bar for a refill of her Dark Meat Beer and returned, sitting directly on the hearth this time. Better to keep an eye on the door, she thought.

It was then Ferulain Indyll stepped in and looked about. "Looking for something?" asked Ravenoak, slightly irritated at the interruption.

Ferulain held up a note. "This is where Qa'Han said to meet. Is this our new headquarters?"

Slowly Ravenoak nodded. "Yes, I guess you could call it that. Qa'Han negotiated with the Thalmor for space for us upstairs, but it feels strange to be up there. I can't explain it. I have a feeling more will be accomplished down here than upstairs, but I could be mistaken."

Ferulain cleared his throat. "Mind if I sit with you a bit. I've been off negotiating contracts and missed last night's events."

At a nod from J'vani, he pulls up a chair near the fire.

Ravenoak snorted, "Events! Yes, I suppose you can call them that. Treachery, dishonor, madness -- these are all better words for it though."

She took a long pull at her beer and stared into the fire. "Ri'sari has gone too far this time! He captured the Clanmother and either drugged or ensorcelled her to give him leadership of the Sugar Tooth Clan. Then he ... he had Kazzah cut off her tail. Her tail!"

"I wanted desperately to kill both Ri'sari and Kazzah, but Qa'Han had a cooler head and held us back. And so we are here, without a clan, and Ri'sari (Ravenoak spits into the fire) is now clan leader and still has the Clanmother prisoner. Qa'Han is upstairs now trying to decide what our next steps are to be."

At this point, Ansaari stumbles into the room, licks Ferulain on the cheek while muttering something surreal, and falls asleep on the floor near the fire.

Ravenoak watches the bizarre performance and just sits there staring at Ansaari, shaking her head. "And people call Bosmer insane."

Then Ravenoak's mind suddenly clicks on a thought: drugged! What if it's the blue skooma Ri'sari makes? This could be the key to our questions. Did those addicted to Ri'sari's blue skooma become slaves to Ri'sari's will?? If true, this would make Ri'sari powerful beyond all measure!

Ravenoak shifted uncomfortably on the hearth and looked quickly around the room. How many members of the company were using blue skooma? Was Ri'sari, even now, pulling the strings of spies within Qa'Han's organization? A voice inside screamed for her to draw her daggers!

Instead she forced herself to calmly take another sip of her beer. She needed to tell her suspicions to Qa'Ha as quickly as possible, but without alerting any possible spies! For the first time in her life, Ravenoak felt the icy fingers of fear grip the back of her neck!

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Ferulain did not react as the crazy female Khajiit went up to him and licked him on the cheek. He could smell some small Blue Skooma stench oozing out of her mout. The affects of Skooma are very interesting indeed, but it must be kept in control. Especially if this company is expected to function.

"I have never had the pleasure of meeting this Ri'sari you speak of, however I have heard multiple stories. What you say is indeed very troubling. My joining of this company was solely due to the convincing voice of Qa'Han. We are acquaintances from the past."

He notices Ravenoak tense up a bit, and then try to relax herself with the help of a bit of alcohol.

"Is anything troubling you my friend?"

((just a point of note, though assuming Ansaari is adicted to schooma is amusing, she is just that insane, and her actions had nothing to do with any drugs ;) ))

((I never said she was addicted, just that there was the smell of Blue Skooma on her. Though she did quite really like Mo'jahi's special medicine, you never know where that could have led. :) ))

[ I also want to make the following note; I'd thought it went unsaid, and should have mentioned in the beginning.

Playing another person's character, while I hadn't explicitly said not to, is implicitly rude. I've messaged the people in question but henceforth please refrain from doing this.

After all, if you're writing other characters' responses, where's the fun in finding out what they have to say?

I mean, unless you guys are like, titanpadding, or something. Which is cool and I'm totally down with that (it's a lot of fun) ]

((I meant that as more an aside, in that two different characters took Ansaari's typical insanity and jumped to conclusions about skooma, which amuses me no ends, and so as to not turn this into a pure OOC thread ....))

Snorts a bit in her sleep then giggles and mutters "Dancing chairs, Ansaari's favorite!" before returning to the soft purring/snoring

((last OOC comment, I agree with you J'vani. However I think doing it a little bit is fine, especially when it is almost reaffirming what the other char was doing. It moves the rp along a bit quicker. I licked what Obsidian One did with Ferulain.))

[ Quite so. I'm just not used to it, so I take it as a general rule. ]

J'vani checked the threading on the side of her shirt, idly tightening the drawstring. Indecent. The thought crossed her mind that she should be in armor; with everyone rolling in, and her eyelids clearly not wishing to cooperate with her drowsiness, it would be the safest thing to do.

Listening to her new companions, offered nothing further until Ravenoak's account of last night's adventure.

"She was tortured," J'vani interrupted. "And badly bruised and beaten. Ri'sari compelled her through force to renouce Qa'Han's more popular claim. Qa'Han did not allow us to slaughter them where they stood, as the Clanmother was led out, by one of Ri'sari's henchmen, at knife-point. Her life is under constant threat, and she is a safety against retaliation.

"All Ri'sari has to do is troop her out to ward us off. Later, this one shall be speaking to Qa'Han, about seeking guidance from the Mane. Until then, we can only wait and plan to free her."

((I'll be brief and try not to overload on OOC, but I need to respond to J'vani's concerns. First, it probably should be stated up front how much latitude others have with using other player's characters. Second, if I overstepped, I deeply apologize! Third, what I was attempting to do was pick up on the threads from other characters and write just a tiny bit of dialog from their point of view without going beyond what had already been stated for that char by his/her player. By doing this it allowed me to have actual dialog in the segment to advance the storyline. Again, I would have no problem with someone else (slightly) using one of my characters in this same manner, I promise if I do so, to not go beyond the parameters established by other players. I think it allows for a faster flow of storyline, but will refrain if other players don't want to see this. -- Obsidian One))

"Hmmm, what?" Ravenoak said, responding to Ferulain. "Sorry, deep in thought. No, I'm fine, or as fine as any of us can be at this point."

"J'vani, what you say is both true and sad. We cannot move against Ri'sari as long as he holds the Clanmother under threat of harm, but that just means that he will forever hold her as she is his only shield against our retribution. Qa'Han has a huge burden upon him. I only hope he is up to the task. He has to be as upset over these events as the rest of us."

"If you will all excuse me, I need to get my gear settled in a place upstairs." With that, Ravenoak finished off her drink and headed out of the room.

Ferulain Indyll nods to Ravenoak as she passes.

"Now it is only us two." he says to J'vani. "That one on the floor can hardly count."

"The last time we met, I believe you had been recruiting for a cause. How has that been working out I wonder." Ferulain says casually to J'vani, making sure Ansaari could not hear in the extreme case that she would overhear.

( Obsidian, it seems I over-reacted and am sorry. Please accept my apology on the matter, as I've been used to a different forum's rules for a while and didn't seek guidance before mentioning it in error. )

"Well enough," J'vani stated. "It was for Qa'han that this one was recruiting."

She finished off the beer, and sat the pewter mug on the ground, on her left, near the recumbent Ansaari. For a moment, J'vani considered the khajiit sprawled out near her, but not with annoyance. There were several khajiit and even one or two Altmer sprawled about this morning, victims of the night. She began to feel the warmth creeping out from her stomach, as well as from the fire near her feet.

"Now," she said, eyes not leaving Ansaari. The khajiit looked happy. J'vani could not recall a moment where she had not seen Ansaari happy; it seemed to be a madwoman's bliss. "It seems to J'vani that the swords are all assembled, what swords there are to be had. She recalls you replied. Would you be one of them?"

Ansaari shifts in her sleep, reaching seemingly for J'vani before pulling the released mug to her snorts lightly and mumbles again "Shouldn't have ... Ansaari likes tasty ...." hugs the mug as if it were a teddy bear.

((Though this originally took place after the night we moved into new quarters in Woodhearth, through the magic of writing I will assume this continues after the Fight Pit night at the Woodhearth docks and with the same people :-) ))

After being absent for about an hour, Ravenoak quietly slips back into the room. She has a troubled look on her face and takes her place on the hearth once again.

She then looks at Ansaari again and remembers the hint of blue she saw on Ansaari's teeth earlier.

Shaking her head a bit, Ravenoak decides to address J'vanni and Ferulain. "I was upstairs getting my gear sorted when I heard Qa'Han's and Gnarlus'voices. I know I should not have, but I crept closer to listen in. What I heard disturbs me greatly."

"I heard Qa'Han talking about blue skooma, the drug not the guild. It appears that some of the blue skooma given to members of The Broken by Ri'sari is tainted! Qa'Han believes it's yet another attack on The Broken by Ri'sari. So he's made the hard decision to make his own blue skooma and offer it to those addicted within The Broken -- but not for sale outside! He made this decision because there is something different about blue skooma such that switching to normal skooma will not work and still leads to withdrawl pains. He told Gnarlus to quietly talk to members of The Broken that may be addicted and to have them pass the news along to others they know. Therefore, seeing that Ansaari here is at least a user, if not addicted, I don't believe I'm betraying Qa'Han's confidence in this."

"If we care about Ansaari at all, we'll need to get her to Qa'Han. Also, anyone else you think may be using or addicted."

Ravenoak steps down from the hearth to check on the sleeping Ansaari.

((Only way to learn is through experience, keep working at it))

Time had passed, and the days had passed, and all had found themselves in relatively the same spots again.

J’vani occupied her regular chair, and was gently loading a long-stemmed pipe with some of the merchandise oft-moved; Ravenoak did not truly intrude upon her, nor Ferulain; the mer had taken the time to set J’vani straight on his position within the Broken Bottle, and they had of course been discussing various things when the Mer strode in with her accusation.

Ansaari herself, well, it seemed she was occupying the same place too, as though this evening were a mirror of the last few mornings.

J’vani cleaned the mouth of her pipe with the edge of a claw, then popped it into her mouth and drew deeply to start the tiny embers. It didn't work. She went back to packing it, a little flummoxed.

“It seems to this one that coming into the common hall and pointing out some unfortunate khajiit’s addiction is not the highest of subtle maneuvering. The Sandscale sleeps now. What do you suggest we do?”

((Not bad, keep practicing! Work on run on sentences and take your time to spell words out and spell them correctly!))

Ansaari was indeed in similar position as she was left, sleeping curled up near the fire, though this time the "teddy bear" is not a mug, but a boot, perhaps unconsciously purloined from a fellow occupant of the building. She drools slightly as she snores away. Warm and safe for the moment.

Ravenoak carefully checked Ansaari and was satisfied she slept peacefully, for now. Looking up, Ravenoak addressed J'vani's question. "I'm not sure! Either we have to find a way to get Ansaari to go meet with Qa'Han under her own power or we have to drug her or subdue her somehow. The last two options don't sound very good. Maybe we can just say Qa'Han asked to speak with her and let her go on her own? In any case we can't just ignore this issue. If the blue skooma coming from Ri'sari is tainted, anyone using it is in serious danger."

Ravenoak, looked at the sleeping Khajiit again -- she seemed so "tame" sleeping there. But Ravenoak knew she was a fierce warrior -- when not being a crazy kitty!

"Let's just let her sleep for now. When Qa'Han awakens, I'll ask him if he can see Ansaari and then we'll try our best."