Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5583506-20160602184114/@comment-25828117-20160602233833

"That is all of them." Evantierre said in a relieved tone.

"The finest wine from the abbeys in Glenumbra"

The Nord to whom the priest was talking twirled his bushy moustache as if some of the strong fruity scent had remained stuck just under his nostrils, but he seemed pleased.

Evantierre Larouche was a priest from Daggerfall that had been tasked with the deliverance of fine Bretonny abbey wine to the capital of Skyrim. In doing so, he actively combated the famous generalisation that Nords drank nothing but their own meads and ales. And while most commoners would say their alcoholic beverages were the best, Solitude high society proved quite "Western" in its appetites.

Larouche had ridden the lonely road all by himself in his carriage with the casks. These casks now stood at the side of the King's Road in Solitude, waiting to be carried inside.

"Tell your King that the abbey was pleased to do business with the throne. And may he walk into the light of the eight divines." Evantierre nodded as they concluded business.

At the same time he had noticed the arrival of a rich dark elf noble of sorts at the other side of the road. The man seemed out of place, perhaps a man from Mournhold? Or what is left of it anyways. The priest couldn't help but pity the elves. They have had to endure hard times of late, and though they would most likely spit on him for his "foolish" believes, Evantierre felt it was his duty to help those down on their luck.

As the Nord provided due payment his servants came out to help roll the casks inside for storage. When the pouch of gold dropped into his hands Evantierre made a humble gesture of gratitude. This would go to helping the poor, wherever they were. Now, business was formally concluded and the Breton would go to wherever the cathedral needed him to be. But not just yet since Evantierre felt a very basic urge come up.

"Forgive me, but would you be so kind as to led me use your facilities, friend?" He smiled at the Nord, hoping he'd understand.

The man understood alright and a broad grin appeared across his face.

"No, you cannot."

That came out of nowhere Evantierre thought. Was this some elaborate Nordic idea of a joke?

"It's NINE divines, strawback. Our business is concluded." And with that blunt final statement the tall man went inside leaving the Breton and his full bladder to suffer massive blue balls in the middle of the road.

The urge became worse when Larouche could hear the water rush through the sewers underneath him, he had to go! Now! Quickly he took to The Investigators Headquarters and knocked on the large wooden door.

"Hello! Anybody!"