Dayolin Jarvis's Story

Dayolin walked to the the city gates. The bandits who asked him to pay a fee were so rude, they got blood on his shoes. They took a fireball but he quickly restored it with a rabbits soul. The gates were as large as ever though they were guarded especially heavily. "What do you want Dunmer?" The guard asked. "I just want to speak to Ulfric...or one of his war ministers. I have a proposition that may bring them a victory." The guard let him in.

The Nords always hated his kind, Talos knows why. The people all around him glared, at him. Surly the Nords would be happy to see a Dunmer mage? Of course not, none of them were open minded to new ideas. Dayolin still casually walked into the inn in the center of town. Walking in he headed straight to the innkeeper for a drink. "Four bottles of Black Briar mead." He looked at the other Nords in the inn. "Make that five." He placed down 125 septims before sitting at a table. Looking around the inn he saw three who were certainly not any local. A Redguard, an Argonian, and an Imperial. Drinking alone was, well of course, lonely and certainly these people were traveling alone.

"Imperial." he addressed the black haired woman. "How be it in Skyrim so far from your home? How about a drink, you look stressed?" Dayolin asked as he pushed of bottle of the expensive mead to the other side of the table.

Morgana looked at the Dunmer, he seemed to be inviting her over. Morgana stood and approached him, she sat across from him. Looking at the bottle and spinning it with her finger. "I'm Isolde Nirol, you are?" She introduced herself."And where do you think my home is?" She asked, scratching her neck. She took a sip of the mead and hid her distaste for the bitter. 'Would have much preferred Alto Wine, but Beggars can't be choosers.' She thought silently to herself.

While Talen-Shei was eating a Dunmer and an Imperial also entered the dining hall. What an odd display of diversity for a Stormcloak city, the most racist one in the whole of Skyrim no less.

It wasn't soon before he had unwelcome company. The Redguard woman came and sat at the other side of the table, bringing a bottle of wine with her. He hoped the conversation wouldn't have to last long, he had important business to attend to.

"Hey Argonian, what brings you to Windhelm? It's strange to see your kind around these parts, no offence meant."
"I'm here on business." Talen-Shei replied, "Galmar Stone-Fist wants someone other than a blundering idiot with a warhammer in the Stormcloak ranks, so he hired me."
He took a swig from his pint before speaking again. This woman didn't seem to mind the fact he was an Argonian, that was certainly a start.
"Redguards aren't particularly common around here either, what brings you to Windhelm?"

"The Imperial City. Must be nice this time of year, though I haven't gone there for many years." Dayolin told her. Looking around the bar he spotted the Argonian and Redguard speaking to each other as well as a Bosmer. He was siting away from the Nords of coarse, maybe he was a mead drinker to. "Bosmer" He said across the room. "Why not have a drink over hear with a fellow elf?"

Morgana laughed. "The Imperial city was never my home, at least it never felt like it." She replied. "The North is my home now." She told him. She followed her gaze to the bosmer. "Is Ulfric getting desperate?" She turned back to the Dunmer. "What did you say your name was again?"

"How do you know I'm not a mage?" She looked around, making sure no one was listening in. "I may even be a necromancer." She took another sip of the mead. "How long until Nords realise magic is a more effective weapon than any blade." She looked to the window and could see Palace of Kings. "It's kind of beautiful in the snow."

"Heh. I don't know about that. The blades I summon are pretty nice." He said jokingly. "So tell me. If you were necromancer, what type would you be?" That was always what it came down to. If he ever met one that created black soul gems he would gladly strike them down without hesitation. The Empire made it illegal for a reason and who knows what happened to the souls once they were in Soul Cairn. Dayolin looked outside the window. The snow was like all snow, being here means that he was eventually going to spill imperial blood on.

Morgana raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I don't quite understand your question." She looked back at him. "You're a conjurer? Interesting." She then felt the sleep grip her and she yawned. "Oh, I do apologise." She blinked and looked at the Dunmer. "I may have to call it a night. Goodnight." She told him as she rose from her seat and rented a room. The Nord didn't want to let an Imperial have it but Morgana was paying more than the asking price for the room. Once in the room, Morgana shut the door and stripped down to her undergarments and climbed into the bed, pulling the furs over her body.

After the the imperial left Dayolin was alone. The Bosmer rejected his offer, instead choosing to be a loner. What was there to do? Dayolin had not been tired as the training from the Blades broke the habit of long sleeps out of him. He looked through his side bags to see how many soul gems he had left. Two common and one greater. Might as well finish that scroll that he had been working on, then head outside the walls to find an animal soul to replenish his amount of gems.

Walking through the woods he saw torch light. Odd, who could be traveling at this time of night. Still in the bushes he saw them. Thalmor Justiciars. They apparently had no idea he was there, but he would never pass up a chance to kill a Justiciar. Once they passed within three quarters distance of himself he tossed a fireball at the leading Justiciar. They scattered with what looked like the leader lying face first in the snow. The others scattered to the trees still not knowing where their attack was. Dayolin took out a scroll that contained a more powerful summoning. In a moment he summoned a Draugr Scourge Lord in his line of sight behind the trees. Dayolin commanded it to attack the Justiciar to his opposite side. While it fought the Thalmor, losing by the looks of it though buying time none the least, Dayolin threw a chain lightning bolt at the Justiciar at his right flank. It hit both of them but the enemy threw an ice spike that nearly drilled through his head. He returned the Thalmor's spell with an ice spear that killed on impact. Quickly he drank a a low grade magica potion before focusing on the last one. Then it hit. The last Thalmor killed his Drauger and threw a lightning bolt at Dayolin's side. He shot an ice spike at his deeply injured foe, killing him when it hit.

The lightning caused some bleeding and drained much of the little magica that he had left. Dayolin searched through the bodies only to find one weak healing potion. He drank it greedily, but it did little for the wound. Plopping on the ground he felt pissed that he only had enough magica to close the wound. This would not have happened if he took more potions with him. He would survive for now, the wound posed no threat as long as he didn't push himself too far. The battle most likely cause commotion to any on the out side of the wall. He was close to the walls so maybe somebody would hear him if he cried for help. "Help! Somebody! Help!" It hurt intensely to speak in such a loud voice. He hoped somebody would come soon.