Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25828117-20150115220122/@comment-25828117-20150117140059

The Tavern on the waterfront that the Nord had entered was not at all someplace you could call "posh". A mostly lime and wooden corner club with a merry band of musicians playing a whimsy tune while a lovely Redguard dancer with perfect hips in soft hammerfellian silks danced around with her tambourine, tapping along with the music. The air was murky and smelled of dried barley and cheap pipe tobacco.

The barman, was a rather chummy imperial with a little circle beard and a rather bald head, his hair however, seemed to just have migrated to his arms and chest as thick hairs sprouted on his bare forearms and through the loosely done tunic.

As the Nord asked for his drink and some juicy gossip he rubbed his paws off on the dirty apron hanging under his beerbelly.

"An Ale? Haha, sure." The man took a bottle from underneath the bar and shoved it infront of the Nord on the splintery counter.

"As far as rumours go..." He scratched his bald head.

"Well... There was that priest, "corrected" in Skingrad apparently" The Imperial said and used finger quotes when he mentioned the word: corrected. It was obvious that he meant: killed. But it was important not to use that word in a place of leisure and drink. That's not why people came here.