Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24123288-20150321160853/@comment-3293219-20150325110051

(Meanwhile in Arrie land...

Oh and this is waaaay longer than I originally intended it to be, so, sorry about that.)

At the Bannered Mare, Arrietty sat alone at her table, taking a quick swig of the local flavour before wincing and putting it back down again, it was way too strong.

It felt strange being here, being the only Breton in a Nordic tavern that is. She was so different to the Nords, in height and attitude and so, they didn't give her much attention. Though this was, in many ways, a positive thing, drinking alone was never fun for her.

"Excuse me, miss?"

This prompted the Breton to look up, catching the eye of a young Nord. A blonde man, with hair like wheat, with soft facial features and an open neck shirt that displayed his quite magnificent chest.

Hmm... Perhaps tonight won't be such a shitty night after all... Arrie thought, leaning forward and resting her chin in her palms.

"Yes, sir?" She asked, glancing to the chair opposite as his hand wrapped around the back of it and he slowly pulled it back a little.

"Are you using this chair?" He asked, somewhat confused by her reaction, though he was in a tavern, so she was probably drunk.

Arrietty's smile soon faded as she saw his entourage of giggling nord girls and stock, loud mouthed assholes, who were yelling at the young man to hurry up, since he was missing out on some quality conversation.

"Oh... N-No... Take it..." She replied, sounding a little bitterer than she originally intended to. She sighed heavily and folded her arms, looking off to her right as she did so...

"By all means..."

The Nord smiled to her and nodded graciously, wrapping his strong hands around it as he carried it away, returning to the loathsome sound of joy and laughter.

''Urgh... Bugger this...''

With that decision, Arrie stood up and pushed her table away and left the room, leaving her ale to fester.

Screw that place...

Midnight
The Breton wandered the outer wall, looking for something to do as she awaited sunrise. She knew that she needed to procure a weapon at one point and now was the perfect time to do it.

There were plenty of farms around, lax security and sickles galore! Now, all that she needed was an opportunity, it would be wise to avoid making enemies in this town as they may be here for a while...

The night time air was cold, like Markarth, not too cold that it was unbearable but cold enough that she was thankful for her warm clothes. She then remembered that she never thanked Aratius for them but then again, they may not have even belonged to him in the first place...

The trickling of the river was somewhat comforting to Arrietty, as it reminded her of home. There was a river that ran by her house, where she had sat many a day, dunking the household's clothes, until she got bored and inevitably swung the clothes around, like a mace until her father came out and backhanded her for being so stupid.

As the thought of stupidity crossed Arrietty's mind, she noticed a small farm house, just up ahead. The thing that stood out about it was that it had a tool shed, which probably contained an abundance of farming equipment.

Knowing the intelligence of the average farmer, Arrietty had a feeling that the lock would be pretty easy to pick. Hell, she could force it, if she wanted to but no, don't want to risk breaking it and causing more distress than she originally intended.

The Breton crept over and glanced from side to side before drawing her lock picking set from her back pocket, fumbling about with the many little hooks as she tried to figure out which one was which...

"C'mon you..." She paused, looking up to the shed's handle...

She looked up and saw nothing, looked down and, again, saw nothing...

Much to her confusion...

You‘re shitting me...

The Breton pushed the door and it slowly opened, revealing that the shed was in fact never locked. Arrie just stared into the darkness of the tool shed, with a look of despair as she sighed heavily, expressing her exasperation as she stepped inside and began to fumble around...

Well, these people probably deserved it anyway... She thought, hoping to comfort herself and sponge the guilt. She quickly grabbed at the sickles and turned back, rushing out of the shed, stopping to turn back once more and shutting the door, for all the good that it would do...

Arrie had unfortunately underestimated how strong the foundations of the piles of tools inside actually were and so, as a result, shutting the door caused them to collapse to the ground, emitting an almost defining 'clattering' sound as they did.

Shit!

The Breton made a run for it, running along the wall, so that its shadow would protect her as she made a break for the road. It was at the end of this wall, that she came face to face with the owner of the farm, a balding Nord man, with a large nose and an underbite, who did not look too happy...

"Thief!" He yelled, throwing a punch at the Breton, a large, clumsy swing that she quickly ducked and was able to rush to his side, to prepare for his next attack.

"Yeah? Well if you'd invested some gold in a padlock, this wouldn't have happened, ya cheap bastard!" Arrie snapped at him, though that probably wasn't true as she could have picked the lock, still the point still stood...

The farmer wasn't interested in listening to any advice, regarding the security of his farm, instead, he threw another overarm punch at her. This time, rather than dodge the attack, she lifted her sickle and wrapped it around his forearm, deflecting the blow.

He attempted another blow, which Arrie skilfully deflected before hopping back, raising her arms.

"Look! I'll buy the damn things off of you, if it means this much! Just stop this!"

Sadly, this farmer didn't seem interested in bartering and continued to go for her. Arrie knew that this would only end with her death or his, if she stuck around. No one deserved to die here, not even the idiot who didn't keep his tool shed locked up at night.

"Oh well... I tried!" She concluded, with a dismissive shrug before ducking again and making a dash to her left, where she immediately came face to face with the loving kiss of a steel shovel.

She didn't hear the 'pang' sound as the shovel head went smacking, straight into her face. All that she heard was the farmers laughing as she came to, seeing the elderly Nord looking down on her, with his equally as charming wife, still holding her shovel.

Arrietty tried to say something as everything slowly came back to her, her vision, her brain...

It was all so... Blurry and fuzzy...

She attempted to say something but it just came out as a confused moan, like she was going to vomit. She couldn't move anything as she was too dazed and could only watch as the elderly Nord woman rushed over to her and pointed her fat, sausage-like fingers in Arrie's face.

"Ha! Gotcha, filthy thief!"

"Y-Yeah! Got her!" Her simple husband added, mimicking her actions, since he lacked the wit necessary to do his own.

"W-Wurgh..." Arrietty groaned, trying to form a word that may give her a chance of being spared from... Whatever these two weirdoes were planning...

"No! You people steal from us! Steal tools! We want end!" The simple Nord man barked at her, though it was all just noise to Arrietty, since the man had few teeth to pronounce his words with...

"P-Purgh..." Arrietty slurred, getting the farmers to look at each other and shake their heads in disgust before turning back to their victim.

"We want justice!" The wife proclaimed, lifting the shovel up and getting ready to strike it down on Arrie, who couldn't respond meaningfully, only open her eyes in shock as she regained a little more consciousness.

"You want to spend the rest of your lives rotting in a dungeon?" A voice called out, resulting in 'justice' being adjourned as the two farmers looked over to the road and looked at the man, who had addressed them.

"Because that's the only ‘’justice’’ that I see for you..."

To Arrietty, this sounded like a bunch of echoes, from the sounds of things, the man was a guard but he didn't 'chink' as he walked, suggesting that he wasn’t wearing the uniform...

Off duty, perhaps? Or some other kind of law enforcer?

"Who you!?" The Elderly man snapped, somewhat angered by the interference.

"Someone with an interest in 'justice' friend, a protector of it in fact." He replied, being suspiciously vague...

"We all know that taking the law into your own hands isn't 'justice,' at least not out here... Among the Orcs? Maybe... But this isn't Orsinium." He concluded, stopping to look down at the broken burglar, frowning a little as he saw the condition of her face.

Her left eye and the area surrounding it was purple, going on black, it did ‘’’not’’’ look pretty…

"Now... this, this is not justice." He replied, slowly pacing around the two farmers, not showing much fear of retaliation. The man was a young, Imperial, with nicely kept brown hair, wearing some ordinary looking leather armour.

However, Arrietty couldn't exactly see the details of it, so it could be a uniform but he looked more like a common thug than a guard or a soldier... Well, besides the fact that he was clean and took good care of himself, obviously...

"In fact, I'd go as far as to call this assault." He finished, resting his hands on the farmer's shoulders as he looked down on the beaten Breton.

"She steal! She steal from us!" The Nord man protested, stomping his foot like a child, being told that he couldn’t have his own way.

"Yes, I saw... But ‘’’no’’’ life is worth two sickles my friend, especially that of a misguided youth, who may have just lost her way." He said, quickly stepping in front of the two of them and looking back over to the farmer and his wife.

"You on the other hand, should know better, now shouldn't you?"

There was a silence as the two farmers were scolded like children, looking to each other in shame as the Imperial turned back to Arrietty and gently scooped her up in his arms.

"Now, this leaves me in quite a precarious position...

You see, if you press charges against the girl, I have to mention that you tried to beat her to death with a shovel, after she surrendered. However, I could quite easily lie about the whole thing and say that she ran into a tree." The Imperial explained, giving them an offer that they couldn't refuse as the two of them were repeat offenders in various acts of assault, at taverns and even in the Whiterun market place.

They could even face the death penalty for this...

"What about sickle?" The farmer's wife grunted, nodding to the curved blade, that was still held tightly in Arrie's hand, prompting the Imperial to roll his eyes as he placed her down on the ground and began to count out some coins.

"I'll have to impound it as evidence but allow me to compensate you for it... Two fold." He replied, handing them several coins, obviously giving them too much as sickles were worth a gold or two at most here and nothing back in Cyrodiil. Ten gold would be enough to get them both drunk enough on cheap ale that they'd forget this whole mess had ever happened...

The wife took the gold, seeing it as an even trade, as simple as they were, they knew when they were on top of a situation and this was much better than prison... or the axe.

The Imperial gave them a respectful nod and a smile before leaving them, bidding them farewell as he carried Arrietty off, back to the city...

Morning
Arrietty awoke in her bed, at the Bannered Mare as the blaring radiation from the morning light hit her face and caused her to wince. The sun wasn't hot but it was incredibly bright, blindingly so.

The Breton rolled over, so that her back was facing it, burying her bruised face in the pillow and shunning it out as she tried to sleep the shovel to the face off.