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Belroth opens his room door, lets Aadvar in, and sits down on the soft fur-skin bed. After Aadvar closes the door, Belroth asks "So, before we get down to the important stuff, I still don't know you're name. I'm Belroth; what's yours?"
"Not here. Not now. Come up to my room. We'll speak there." Belroth downs the last of his mead and stands up, slightly knocking the table. He then continued up to his room, and waited for the wounded man to follow.
"That wound.....That could of only be inflicted by- I can't say his name here. Too many spies." Belroth picked up a knocked over seat from the ground and sat down. "Two more meads over here, waitress!"
His conversation interrupted, Belroth gets up from his table and walks over to this strange man. "Is everything alright?" ask Belroth, hoping to find out why he came running in.
"Hello, traveler. What business do you have with me. Do I owe you money or somethin?" Downing the last of his drink, Belroth put down his glass, waiting from an answer from the stranger.
(OOC: I haven't posted here before, tell me if I need to do something first)
Belroth strolls into the bar, looking for a place to sit down. Once he finds one, he sits down, and orders some ale. He know's that he's too young, but he looks much older than he actually is.
I have though up a bit of a story line for a roleplay.
In the land of Skyrim, lies two "famous" guilds; the theives guild, and the dark brotherhood. Pft. Everyone forget the real masters of assassination. The what-used-to-be legendary "Assassin's Mead" has been cast away. But now we're back...