Prologue: Bakes-with-Cinnamon
My Very Own Tavern
<Private Knowledge. Your character would not know this unless they were directly involved or have been told it IC.>
Extract from a letter from Bakes-with-Cinnamon addressed to Nurtures-the-Bees, proofread by Aestaril beforehand
Dear Mother,
The news I have for you today ought to be fresh dew on your scales: I have a tavern of my own now! Well, it wasn't always 'my own'. I became its owner - as well as a council member of a newly assembled team - in the span of a few hours. May my inkwell prove full enough for me to recount the whole tale for you.
I had received a job offer from a rather interesting woman. You would approve of her; she as determination and muscle that make her strong, even against the roughest of enemies. Kind of like you do! Her name is Zeldava, and she wanted a caterer for a huge tavern. It looked extravagant, and had two levels to it! The grounds were so big that her friends had to guide me to her. That was when we realized the front door was locked, so we searched elsewhere in the grounds for her.
That was when we smelled it. I was not very fond of the place anyways, mother. It looked beautiful, but it was in the middle of dry lands! The sun was drying my scales, with few places to cool off. And the air... it reeked of blood. We found Zeldava, fortunately, looking like she had not bled enough to be the source of the smell. She had fended off pirates, mother! Many, against herself! Truly brave, like that time you protected me from the angry wasps I accidentally upset. And just like you, she was still standing, albeit wounded, praise everything. But we had to run away. In doing so I managed to see the bodies of a few pirates, and goodness me - I was glad I brought my trusty shovel, in case more came. I despise getting blood on my scales, but at least it would not be my own.
Once we were safe, with Zeldava's wounds tended to, I asked where we were headed next. She fished out a bloodstained parchment. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, it seemed. We were heading right to the source of the river of pirates. A watery cavern. With a tavern!
This is where the waters get somewhat... murky. There were pirates, and I learned quickly to simply knock them unconscious with the shovel, giving them the chance to wake up in a jail cell with a splitting headache. Then there were daedra and abominations, as some spellcaster flung magical stones that brought them into this cavern. We took them down, as a team, four of us together! These other two, a man with a staff and another with blades, were equally adept in fighting the hordes. Aestaril, who wielded the staff, flung many icy attacks. Valtire, the one with the blades... well it is quite obvious what he did. But he wears a mask as he does so! Sure, it protects his face, but how does he see and attack so precisely? I will not lose my scales wondering.
Even after dispatching of the evil mage, we soon realized that this was just the beginning of a problem that would soon spread throughout Tamriel. If some pirates could accomplish this, what about the gangs who are magically adept? People would be summoning monsters to terrorize their foes! As such, we agreed we would form a band of people to handle these monstrosities. We four would make up the council, and recruit new blades and wits alike to venture forth and protect all people. We are a small number now, but may our group's scales stay moist, and our numbers grow like rainwater in a pail!
Of course, I will be the chef in this group, but perhaps I will learn a little about fighting and research while I am here! Stretch the tail a little and expand my repertoire!
I will let you know our group name once we have one. Then, you can let us know if anybody back home needs help!
Stay moist!
Your loving son,
Bakes-with-Cinnamon
