open } GOD BLESS SUFFERING

[dredhwen .]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,5,true][atrb=style, background-color: #a32424; width: 450px; padding: 5px, bTable][cs=3] YOU WILL KNEEL BEFORE ME

[atrb=style, width: 145px;][atrb=valign,top] OPEN FOR ALL SIX FIVE FOUR FIRST DREDHWEN POST! OUTFIT HERE

[atrb=style, width: 265px;][atrb=valign,top] dawnstar. a city in which not many people liked to visit. being only known for it's mines and freezing cold environment, it was the last place you would expect an outsider to be, especially a bosmer. yet, the champion was there, scouting out the area and looking as though she was aiming to buy property of some sort. of course, that could not have been farther from the case. she was looking for property, but it wasn't for herself. it was prey the woman was seeking and she loved it when it became a challenge. especially when it was in such a small city, such as dawnstar. the people were so simple and sheltered, it would be good for them to be rattled up a bit. it was obvious, from the moment she stepped into the inn, that people knew she was outsider and definitely not to be trusted. dredhwen held herself in a way that people were intimidated by and maybe even fearful of. not many people ever dare approach her when she was on the road and the patrons in certain inns would lock their doors in fear that she might do something to them. oh, but she was of no threat to them, not unless she was told to become one. the only thing on her mind right now was finding and ending her target. there was hope in her heart that it would be a challenge, but with dawnstar being such a small town, it was highly unlikely. clueless as to why her master was giving her such tedious jobs, she kept her mouth shut and did as she was told - no one ever wanted to to upset a daedra, especially molag bal. walking towards the bar, the inn seemed to go quiet, all of the patron's eyes on her as she sauntered. her footsteps were heavy and almost soothing as she walked up to the counter. out of the corner of her eye, the bosmer could see several men staring at her in both fear and admiration. jerking her head towards them with a fearsome glare, the men averted their eyes and turned back around with a speed that could only be done by reflex. a smirk formed on the young woman's lips before she turned back to the barkeep, who seemed to not be phased by the figure standing before him. "i need a room." her voice was low and smooth; a voice that could easily belong to a noblewoman. she had the accent of something that almost resembled a nord, but was absolutely mised with something else. growing up in skyrim, she had obtained the accent of the nords from birth, but had managed to keep a slight twinge of bosmer. it was odd to hear and most people got confused when she spoke, but in the end they understood her, "as well as a bottle of mead and your finest pheasant." she added before throwing down a small pouch of gold. with a simple nod, the innkeeper handed her the mead she had asked for before stating just where her room was. giving him an appreciative nod, she walked up the stairs to her room and removed her bag, tossing it on the bed before she took off her hood. a heavy sigh resembled something of a growl as she ran a hand through her long, ocean colored hair before heading back downstairs. no one would be stealing from her tonight - the men were far too afraid. once she was back in the main lobby, the innkeeper offered her the pheasant. grabbing the plate, she took a few steps towards a bench and sat down. every so often she would look from side to side, seeing the men stare at her as if she were some sort of abomination. oh, if only they knew just who was in their presence. an abomination would be most welcome.

[newclass=.track]height: 320px; -webkit-transition: 1s ease-in-out; -moz-transition: 1s ease-in-out; transition: 1s ease-in-out; overflow: hidden;[/newclass]
[newclass=.track:hover]height: 435px; -webkit-transition: 1s ease-in-out; -moz-transition: 1s ease-in-out; transition: 1s ease-in-out;[/newclass]

[Lamae Beolfag .]

And the Gods wept for she is risen

100 years…

It was nothing and yet everything as the figure walked through the ankle deep snow, feet as bare as the day she was brought forth into the world. She no longer felt the cold, she no longer felt the sting of death, of frost, of the old night.

The guards hardly noticed the woman, beyond the fact that she wore no cloak and no boots or shoes. In truth, Lamae wore very little. A diaphanous gown, knee length, torn and black as night, wispy and whipping about her in the blizzard quickly moving into town. She had always been unassuming, easy to underestimate. Whip-thin, with androgynous, semi-beautiful features, pale of skin and paler of hair with eyes like rubies glittering in the light of the stars.

100 years…

Ten decades of her unnaturally long life taken from her by the curse of that fool Harkon. Unable to defeat her, unable to bring about her end, he cursed her to sleep as long as he walked amongst the living.

If you can’t destroy the threat, lock it up and throw away the key. Her lips curled into a hateful grimace, and the rage poured undiluted through her veins. She was the First, she was the one that mattered, not him and his two whores. They had subverted her authority, gone to Molag Bal and asked for the change.

They became Pure and it was defilement to her dogma.

She should’ve killed him; she should torn the spine and skull from his body and raped what meat was left behind. But what could she do when he had used an Elder Scroll as the basis for his curse?

Her hatred was red and hot. He had made her miss the arrival of Alduin, and she was positive he had exited the spell those Mortal Champions threw him into. She could smell his stench on the air, and hear the echoes of his Voice on the winds her screams had created.

The end was nigh, and this reassurance calmed her.

Coming to stop at the first building within the small town, the words “Windpeak Inn” were scrawled on the inn’s sign and a dark smile came to her lips. She could get her bearings; figure out where she was, everything she needed.

She pushed her way inside, and all amounts of conversation stopped. Men stared at her, confusion as to why such a thin woman wasn’t bundled up in a cloak written on their faces. Her feet were wet with melting snow, but she didn’t slip as she moved towards the innkeeper, fists clenched as the smell of hot, rich blood assaulted her. An ecstasy unknown to all but those few of her children who had starved the way she had awaited her, if only she would reach out, sink her teeth it and take it.

A shock of energy flared at Lamae as she passed by a elven woman, but she spared the girl only a disdainful glance, smelling the same stench Bal had left on her battered body all those years ago. It was an odor Lamae would never forget.

Foolish, little thing. Her suffering will be endless…

The man behind the bar grunted his welcome to her, his features betraying no emotion to her out of the ordinary appearance. He mentioned something about getting her a drink, but Lamae heard nothing beyond the beat of his heart.

The century of imprisonment had ravished her, and it was only now that Lamae realized that she could taste dust in the back of her throat. Swallowing, her close-lipped smile felt an unnatural expression on her features. “Where…where am I?” Lamae’s voice was a quiet whisper. It had always been a quiet whisper and it would always be a quiet whisper. Barely audible, her Voice held a power most couldn’t imagine, and so she spoke only in the quietest, lowest tones.

Most thought it strange; or frightening even, given her often strange appearance and empty eyes.

“Ma’am, you’ll be in Dawnstar at the moment. Are ya’ lost? Where are ya’ coming from?”

Her smile felt flat and her eyes grew as hard as ice and just as cold: “North.”

“There ain’t nothin’ North, ma’am. There’s the Sea o’ Ghosts.” The man laid his hands palm down on the bar and gave her a hard stare. She could tell he was trying to decipher whether or not she was having a go at him. A light, airy chuckle bubbled out from between her thin, colorless lips. She had heard of Dawnstar before, though back then it had only been a dock with an inn. But now, she understood. Everything grows with age, She thought to herself, nodding at no one in particular. Skyrim was her land, she had survived in this harsh wasteland of ice and snow for eons, and she knew every lake, river, stream, rock, tree and mountain.

Dawnstar. Lamae knew exactly where she was now, and some of her disorientation faded.

“And, I’m sorry, but could you tell me what’s been happening in Skyrim?”

The man slapped one hand down on the table, apparently fed up with her ‘jokes’. “Now everyone in all the fuckin’ land knows about the War. Even you, ma’am from wherever in blazes you’re from where they don’t be catchin’ a chill.”

A war? Amongst the mortals?

Lamae couldn’t have asked for a better climate than this in which to return to the circles of the world.
“Now? Ya’ look like you could use a meal, ya’ hungry?”

Her eyes flashed bright red and she locked gazes with the man, her fangs distending from between her lips. “Starving…” Her voice was breathless, and there was less than a second of silence before she was on him. The man shrieked, high-pitched and womanly as her fangs sank into the meat of the man’s throat. She was a messy feeder, always had been, and it showed as she ripped his neck wide open.

Bits of skin were caught in between her teeth and hot blood spurted from the grisly wound out onto her, soaking her face and chest. Screams and cries sounded from the crowd behind her. She could hear tables flip and chairs being knocked over in everyone’s rush to escape the brutality of it all.

The man still clung to life, his hands scratching viciously at her face, pulling at her hair, but Lamae was like a plague, unable to be stopped by such base means. She clung to him, savagely swallowing mouthful after mouthful of the thing she had missed so, so dearly.

Pulling back, she cast the corpse to the ground and fell upon once more, but the heart had only two or three beats left and then the blood stopped flowing. She needed more, and Lamae was never one to waste.

Her fingers parted the skin and flesh of his chest easily, and with a gentle tug of her deathless strength, she opened him up. The sound of crunching bones and squelching organs filled the air along with the noxious smell of everything within a person that wasn’t supposed to be out of one. Her hands delved into the entrails and intestines, she lifted those out, eager to get to the blood-filled organs.

She gripped the liver, and bite deeply into it. The liver filtered the blood after all, and Lamae was correct in her assumption that it was still filled to the brim. The blood and viscera was cooling, urging her to drink faster. She loved it when it was warm.

Tossing the liver aside, she pulled the heart from the chest cavity. Engorged with the elixir of life, she squeezed every last drop into her mouth, the way a child would squeeze out the juice of an orange. Her hands were covered and she ran them along her, laughing with her haunting voice, nearing hysterical ecstasy.

She knew the guards would come soon, that the people would scream and yell and howl for salvation. Just more bodies…more feasts.

100 years, and torments will I be no longer…

STARRING:Lamae and Dredhwen | WORDS: 1,396 | OUTFIT: Clickie

[dredhwen .]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,5,true][atrb=style, background-color: #a32424; width: 450px; padding: 5px, bTable][cs=3] YOU WILL KNEEL BEFORE ME

[atrb=style, width: 145px;][atrb=valign,top] LAMAE/ LUKE SEVEN SIX THREE WOOP! BLOOD BATH OUTFIT HERE

[atrb=style, width: 265px;][atrb=valign,top] and for a brief moment, dredhwen honestly thought she was the most misfit person in skyrim. just like all of the other patrons at the inn, the dunmer turned her head to look upon the face of an unfamilar. thought, at the same time, she felt as though she knew that face and knew it all too well. still, dredhwen kept herself concealed, trying not to draw attention to herself in case her targt got too frightened and flew away. even though the target was not in this very inn, there was a chance that they could catch wind of a suspicious figure and become paraniod. although dredhwen wished for a challenge, that sort of parania just frustrated her. as much as she enjoyed the look of terror on the people's daxe as their nightmares came to life, she still much prefered the complete element of surprise. glancing at the woman and eves dropping on the conversation, dredhwen furrowed eyebrows together, finding the words exchanged quite peculiar. how had the woman not known about the civil war? all of skyrim was in an uproar over it and the woman had no idea about ulfric or the imperial legion. was it a possibly that she lived in the wood among wolves and beasts? surely not, even though her feet were bare, the woman's attire was evident she game from a place of some wealth. then, in one swift movement, the woman was behind the bar, causing the man to let out screams of agony. every patron at the inn went into a frenzy of panic, everyone except dredhwen. simply rising to her feet, she walked around to the opening the bar, witnessing before her the woman ontop of the barkeep, chewing at his liver and lungs, as if they were mere steaks. this sight did not phase dredhwen in the slightest, it instead brought realization her. realization that made her heart jump into her throat. "lamae..." as soon as she had said the name out loud, the doors burst open and two guards rushed in, warning dredhwen that she was to leave the premisis or she would be thrown in contempt. a smirk formed on dredhwen's face as she placed her hand on the hilt of her mace. a challenge. we will not warn you again... taken as an invitation, dredhwen lifted her mace and get into defensive stance; there were only three of them, guards that probably had little to no training in any battle she had ever been in. the guards charged at her and the champion of molag bal set on her work. one after one, the men went down at the harshness of dredhwen and her mace. the first went down after the dunmer hit the back of his head with a blunt blow. immediately, the man fell dead, his brains leaking from the large crack in the back of skull. unfortunately, before dredhwen could make another move, one of the other guards managed to snag his sword against her ribs, making a small gash. letting out a growl of agony, the champion looked down at her wound for a moment. the rage built inside of her at the sight of her own blood made a small adrenaline rush course through her. swinging her mace, she hit the guard in the ribs before bringing it back up and hitting the man in the jaw, managing to have it come clean off. guards, they were so useless. however, the last guard seemed to have a bit more experience. kicking her out from under her feet, dredhwen landed on her back, knocking the wind out of her before he tried to bring his steel axe upon her head. gasping, she rolled to the side, managing to have the axe now stuck in the floor. getting to her feet, she started to beat the man with her mace, not caring where it hit. over and over, as the man begged for his life, she kept swinigng, "you are a pathetic mortal!" she shouted before she leaned down, grabbing the man's disfigured face from behind from under his chin before she whispered in his ear, "your life means nothing to me." it was then that she brought the mace down once more and turned the man's skull into shattered pieces. looking down at her gash, she held it and walked towards the woman once more, "you had better be who i think you are." she explained before she took a step towards the woman and her feast, "i do not bleed for just anyone."

[newclass=.track]height: 320px; -webkit-transition: 1s ease-in-out; -moz-transition: 1s ease-in-out; transition: 1s ease-in-out; overflow: hidden;[/newclass]
[newclass=.track:hover]height: 435px; -webkit-transition: 1s ease-in-out; -moz-transition: 1s
ease-in-out; transition: 1s ease-in-out;[/newclass]

[Lamae Beolfag .]

And the Gods wept for she is risen

So this is what passes for Champion now? My, my, Bal; have your standards ever so dropped. Perched on the counter, Lamae watched the elven girl dispose of the guards who’d attempted to do stop Lamae from enjoying her dripping feast.

The girl seemed…off to Lamae. Vicious and dominating in her battle, but she did have to wonder how much of that was the Mace and how much was her own personal skill. She still draws breath, her heart still beats. She has no choice but to be inferior. A clutch of suspicion shot through Lamae’s unbeating heart. Most of Bal’s favored servants had always been vampires. Created in a ritual that was essentially a bastardized version of her Death, Molag Bal rarely; if ever before strayed from this.

He must like you. That’s unfortunate, poor thing.

The scent of blood wafted through the air as the Dunmer finished off the last of the men come to save the day from poor, old Lamae. But it was the girl’s arrogance that spiked her anger, not her allegiance nor her possession of the Mace.

“As I recall it; the request that you bleed for me was never uttered. And even if it was, the blame is solely yours; I didn’t injure you, you and your lack of experience did. Be mindful of that tongue lest someone rip it from between your lips.” Her breathy whisper made her point quite clear without being overly vulgar. Though she did have to wonder; what were the odds of her meeting the Champion so soon after awakening? Lamae had never been one to doubt Fate, but this was a stretch even by her standards.

Perhaps you’re more than you seem.

“I can smell Him all over you, and yet you remain untouched. He took you and refused you to become a Daughter…” A cruel grin spread across Lamae’s blood-soaked mouth. Her thirst still roiled in her belly, and the pulsing veins beneath the girl’s skin; promising adrenaline-laced life made her mouth water. “You must’ve been easy then. How scandalous…”

Lamae circled the girl, similar in the way a bird circles the worm. The girl was toned, with charismatic features. Lamae would never call her ‘pretty’ but then again; her idea of beauty was a drastic change from the accepted norm.

The sweat on the girl’s skin still glistened ever so, sparkling almost in the light of the cookfire. Suddenly in a whirl of impossible speed, Lamae walked along the support beam between two of the pillars, right over the bar. The wood was coarse and thin, but her steps were graceful and perfect and sure. Even at this angle, she couldn’t decide what to make of the girl.

“Why did you kill those men? I assume Molag Bal liked you because you do bad things. And yet, you used his holy weapon to murder those men. Do you believe that their souls are now consigned to oblivion to dwell with him there? If so, you are a fool. You’ve released them from the piss, shit and vomit that flows through the streets of this world. Rather merciful, wouldn’t you say?” She dropped down from the beam, landing as gracefully as a swan swoops upon a lake. “And spare me any of your misbegotten notions of protecting the firstborn of your god. You knew who I was, you said my name; and therefore, by process of commonsense, it is a safe assumption that you know I was not in any true danger. Thanks to wonders of personal perception, to me, you just did a very merciful, unbefitting act, killing those men.” Watching her from over her shoulder as Lamae made her way towards the counter, she chuckled, “Pathetic…”

Her steps were leisurely as she stepped around the bar and hefted the scraps of her meal up onto the counter; “But…since you know who I am…” The man’s skull divided easily between her glass-like nails. Curling her fingers around the bones and cartilage, the sounds of splintering bones were heard as she peeled back the man’s face. Her hands were almost gentle as she lifted the soaked organ from within the head.

Still dripping with the water of thought, she held the brain before her for only a moment before her fangs dug into the sickly sweet meat. Blood and juice sluiced down her chin, chewing and swallowing; her unnaturally long tongue licked up every drop, savoring each distinct, metallic taste.

Taking several steps towards the Champion, she held the brain out as an offering, a dangerously hard gleam to her eye: “I would like to know who you are...” Her whisper asserted she would not be denied.

STARRING:Lamae and Dredhwen | WORDS: 777 | OUTFIT:Clickie

[dredhwen .]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,5,true][atrb=style, background-color: #a32424; width: 450px; padding: 5px, bTable][cs=3] YOU WILL KNEEL BEFORE ME

[atrb=style, width: 145px;][atrb=valign,top] LAMAE/ LUKE SEVEN OH SIX DREDHWEN WISHES TO PROVE HERSELF (; OUTFIT HERE

[atrb=style, width: 265px;][atrb=valign,top] many fights she had won were usually bought with some sort of injury. the dunmer was a warrior, for sure, but a reckless and inexperienced one who lacked training and learned her tactics through rage alone. the anger she held in her body - in her soul - had always been the fuel when it came down to both obeying her master and fulfilling his wishes. of course, her rage was never truly controlled and dredhwen would often find herself losing the battle just simply because she let her arrogance take over. many times she had almost lost her life and not once had she learned her lesson; in her eyes, the prince of domination would always be by her side. as unlikely as it was, it was understandable that the girl believed so, having lived through many situations where almost anyone else would die - and not once becoming changed. the returned words that the vampire spoke were ones that very quickly ignited the fire within her that was her rage. if anyone else had spoken to her in such a manner, they would be dead by now; instead, she let the woman live. it was not because she was a vampire, dredhwen had finished off many of their kind; it was because of just who this vampire was. lamae beolfag - the first, the mother of vampires. upon becoming the champion of molag bal, dredhwen had read book after book on the prince, learning his history, his lore, all of the things he had done to cause an effect in this world. so it was not surprising that the dunmer knew just who this woman was and just how significant she was had been to her master. when the mosyer made a threat, dredhwen merely scoffed at her, "you think such threats frighten me?" she inquired before shaking her head and turning her gaze to the floor for a moment, "no. i do not fear pain nor death. losing my tongue would only be a burden when attempting to bring fear into my victims, though my looks can do more than what words can." her words were sure and true. it amused her, hearing lamae making verbal attacks at her in an attempt to cause her some sort of pain, "i killed those men, not out of mercy, but for my own pleasure. though, i'm sure if they did, by chance, make their way to oblivion, my master would not complain." she paused for a moment, lifting her gaze to the woman who was now jumping down from the beams of the roof, "as for myself being easy, i was. my parents gave me to him as a sacrifice." she replied before adjusting herself and straightening out her back, "he enjoyed me so much that he decided to make me his champion." dredhwen was no fool, she knew that there was a high chance lamae would laugh in her face at such a statement, but dredhwen honestly couldn't see any other reason as to why he did not change her. watching the vampire with caution, she inspected her every move. she was impressed by how easily the woman managed to scoop the brain out of the man's skull before she walked over to the dunmer and offered said brain to her. the champion eyed the brain for a moment before she held out her hands and allowed lamae to slide the organ into them. lifting her gaze to the woman's face, she never broke eye contact as she brought the brain to her lips and took a large bite from it. dredhwen had tasted blood before, many times; she usually attempted to try some before she ran from the scene of the crime. however, this brain was foreign to her; the blood was there but there were more tasted that she was not expecting, nor the texture. though, she kept it down with ease before she held the brain out back towards the vampire. the blood of the organ now coated the area around her lips and chin, dripping down her neck before she swallowed the chunk of meat. "i am dredhwen, champion of molag bal." she paused and shook her head, "and i am not your enemy."

[newclass=.track]height: 320px; -webkit-transition: 1s ease-in-out; -moz-transition: 1s ease-in-out; transition: 1s ease-in-out; overflow: hidden;[/newclass]
[newclass=.track:hover]height: 435px; -webkit-transition: 1s ease-in-out; -moz-transition: 1s
ease-in-out; transition: 1s ease-in-out;[/newclass]

[Lamae Beolfag .]

And the Gods wept for she is risen

She watched with intense eyes as the mouthful of meat slid down the girl’s throat, her skin shifting ever so slightly as her esophagus expanded to accommodate the foreign matter. Lamae watched for a visible sign of discomfort, any hint of retching her guts upon the floor.

Her lips spread into a wicked smirk when she found nothing. Letting the brain drop from her hands, hitting the floor after she’d already forgotten it, Lamae turned back towards the eviscerated remains of the innkeeper. Chest torn open, face pulled off, bones broken and skin split; a gleeful chuckle escaped her.

“Everyone and everything is my enemy, little raven. If you still suck on air the way I’m sure you sucked on Molag Bal, you and I will forever be on opposing sides of the field. But…” Glancing at the blood dripping from the Dunmer’s lips, Lamae sneered: “Well done, nonetheless.”

Her moth-eaten skirts swirled around her pale legs as she stepped towards the body. “Yol…” Her voice was soft as the word of power left her. No visible effect was seen until the body slowly began to sizzle and burn away, skin blackening to ash, bones cracking under the extreme, invisible heat. She could’ve shouted, and created an inferno, just another parlor trick to show the girl who she stood with.

But this time, Lamae simply felt less was more.

“So…” Walking around the slowly disintegrating body, observing her handiwork; she glanced at the girl: “What are you doing here? What does…” Sighing, Lamae closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember the name of the village; “Dawnstar contain that it would entice the His champion?” Her voice was acidic, but Lamae made sure to keep the counter between herself and the elven woman. Her eye’s locked onto the Mace for only a moment before drifting back to the woman’s face.

She doesn’t comprehend what it is she holds, does she? The power and the essence within that weapon?

“Well, it doesn’t matter what originally brought you here, it’s painfully obvious you were sent here by Him to make sure I was acclimatizing to be lucid once more; to be my envoy, at least for a little while. The meal mentioned something about a Civil War? Who wars in my land, and for what purpose? Why does the air carry the stink of elves like it never has before? And how long has Alduin flown the skies? How many days? Weeks? Months?” Tapping her nails against the mahogany counter in a neurotic rhythm, Lamae’s tone grew increasingly agitated as she asked her rapid-fire questions, whispering voice harried.

Infernal eyes flashing, Lamae leaned forward, posture radiating contained fury: “Well? Speak girl!”

STARRING:Lamae and Dredhwen | WORDS: 450 | OUTFIT: Clickie

[dredhwen .]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,5,true][atrb=style, background-color: #a32424; width: 450px; padding: 5px, bTable][cs=3] YOU WILL KNEEL BEFORE ME

[atrb=style, width: 145px;][atrb=valign,top] LAMAE/ LUKE FIVE OH EIGHT YAY! FINALLY GOT IT UP! OUTFIT HERE

[atrb=style, width: 265px;][atrb=valign,top] the words were meant to creat a sting that dredhwen felt nothing of. at every turn the woman seemed to wish to harm her but something was holding her back; dredhwen had not a clue as to what it could be, but she was glad of it. as much as the dunmer did not fear death, she wish for it to come later rather than sooner, that way she could do much more of her master's bidding. a smirk formed on her dark face as the woman spoke of hr sucking molag bal off; though she had done it in the past, every time it was forced upon her, though dredhwen liked to that way. it brought her great pleasure, being dominated by the prince of domination as well as dominating others in his name. it was sick and twisted, but dredhwen wouldn't have it any other way, "your words speak truth. his dick was divine in my mouth." she stated, holding a tone that told the immortal in front of her that she held no shame in her act. suddenly watching the body of the dead inn keeper sizzle and die away caused the champion's eyes to widen in shock and awe. she had head of the way of the voice and it's powers, but seeing it at work was a much different sight all together, "you have been to high hrothgar?" she questioned, looking at the woman with wide eyes, like a child impressed by the mundane, "could you teach me to do that?" she the question had slipped out and dredhwen was immediately ashamed of it. rarely did she ever show her true emotions, and immediately she looked down upon the ground and shook her head, "not that i need to learn such things." she stated before looking back up towards lamae. at her question of what she was doing here, dredhwen put her mace back in it's sheath before walking towards the bar, "i'm here because my master sent me. he showed me a target, but it was unclear." she explained, grabbing a bottle of mead from under the bar and popping the cork. lifting it to her lips, she took a large swig before taking a few steps back, listening ot lamae's words. they could be absolute truth or bullshit, dredhwen had yet to figure it out, "the war? something petty. it's between the imperial legion and the rebellion who call themselves the 'stormcloaks' seeing as they follow a man by the name of ulfric stormcloak." she took another swig of the mead, "as for the elven 'stink'..." she paused and gave the woman a look of displeasure, "it is because a group of altmer who call themselves the thalmor decided to take over skyrim, banning the warship of the nord's divine 'talos' and thus starting this whole rebellion." the elf spoke as though she gave no sympathies or cares towards the war, which was true, "as for alduin? i don't know who that is, though i'm assuming he is a dragon of some sort."

[newclass=.track]height: 320px; -webkit-transition: 1s ease-in-out; -moz-transition: 1s ease-in-out; transition: 1s ease-in-out; overflow: hidden;[/newclass]
[newclass=.track:hover]height: 435px; -webkit-transition: 1s ease-in-out; -moz-transition: 1s
ease-in-out; transition: 1s ease-in-out;[/newclass]