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Please LIKE or REBLOG this tiny promo if you’d be interested in interacting with an Altmer Mage who, through questionable means, became Thane of Falkreath. Elyon is a golden-tongued mage – an ambitious social climber with a chip on her shoulder, who will not hesitate to use her title or magic to get what she wants. You have been warned. OC / Multiship / Multiverse friendly.  AU friendly.  Dragon Age & Witcher 3 verses readily available and always willing to develop more.  Penned by Mari - Mun and Muse 21+ and ready and willing to plot and ship.

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I’ll be on @goldnveil getting the blog sorted out and setting up starters. I’ll deal with replies on Friday so don’t fret! This character has been bugging me for a while now and I really wanted to use Lena Heady’s face xD. 

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Please LIKE or REBLOG this tiny promo if you’d be interested in interacting with an Altmer Mage who, through questionable means, became Jarl of Falkreath. Elyon is a golden-tongued mage – an ambitious social climber with a chip on her shoulder, who will not hesitate to use her title or magic to get what she wants. You have been warned. OC / Multiship / Multiverse friendly.  AU friendly.  Dragon Age & Witcher 3 verses readily available and always willing to develop more.  Penned by Mari - Mun and Muse 21+ and ready and willing to plot and ship.

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Ashley Brehm

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Aware of the orc’s unspoken question, Saahana turned her gaze speculatively on him. Saahana had heard rumors of shady ruffians, and their tactics in reeling in unguarded travelers, and had no great desire to find out if they were true. But a subtle whiff of his scent told her that the man held no ill intent. And her beastblood never lied.

And he played and sang so beautifully...

Saahana looked down at her drink, to hide the flush that came to her cheeks. She was not quite used to large crowds. She very much preferred to spend the night under the stars and avoid the judgemental glares of the Nords that frequented every tavern she came across. It wasn’t spoken but her presence was unwanted. She didn’t belong here.

The stranger was not threatening, but he had a large, feral look that made him appear dangerous. He was neither pretty or ugly. In fact, Saahana was beginning to liken him to the giants that prowled the countryside. Lumbering. Strong.  Fiercesome. 

She looked up again and smiled. “I consider myself a nocturnal woman.”

Another smile and she held out a hand to shake. “My name is Saahana.” A night out would be a nice change of pace. 

“And you. I would have your name.”

@orcishbardbarian

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Monumental Cemetery of Staglieno, Genoa by  Jacqueline Poggi

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The same tavern wench stopped by with a small wash rag. The Nord woman gave her a broad smile, and offered to bring her more ale. It was possible she was responding to her good looks, Saahana thought, but more likely to the cut of her clothes.

The barmaid sensed money, either in tips or afterwork activities. Saahana shook her head and smiled at her affably. She had only just surreptitiously poured half her current goblet on the floor. Now the ale was starting to taste stale. The barmaid moved off with a saucy flick of her hips. Once, a long time ago, she might have interested her, but she was too preoccupied to be bothered with the wench.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she responded with a small smile. “I won’t be here long. Riften’s orphanage needed my services. One of the boys came down with the Pox “ Gods damn that old hag Gretel. The harpy had refused to spend coin on a proper physician and instead hired a hedge witch to tend to the child...Saahana was hardly a medicine woman but it had been her skill in alchemy that saved the boy’s life. 

She laughed and flipped her curly hair over her shoulder, eyes gleaming with something akin to playfulness. “But for you I’ll stay. You have a way with words, ser. Tell me, how many people lost their virtue to your drum?”

@orcishbardbarian

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Saahana stared into her mug of ale, careful not to look at the orc sat opposite least she offended him with an ill-favored look. He appeared to be just a grizzled warrior, battle-scarred with a drum, but his music abilities set him apart from his brethren (none could ever sing so sweetly as he did.)

The tavern, humble by the most generous of standards, was empty apart from the owner behind the bar and an old Nord dozing in the corner. The rest of the villagers were out working in the fields or the forests. Flimsy walls barely held the building upright and the wind found its way through gaps in the window frames. The gloom inside was chased back with worn nubs of candles, their flames wobbling in the breeze. The perfect place for a wandering witch.

Saahana risked a glance and nodded at his apology. “That’s alright,” she said and took another swig of her drink, relishing in the sharp taste that set her throat on fire. “You sang beautifully. Are you from the college?”

The woman was extremely respectful, which caught Kurg off-guard. People usually had little taste for Orcs in society. She was treating him like a ticking time bomb. “-nah,” he replied with a grunt as he gestured for a glass of wine. “-self-taught. When I was but a boy, I did travel briefly with a group known as The Nightingales. But they had trouble getting work with an Orc kiddo around. So I left t’save them the trouble,” when the wine arrived, large strong hands grasped the stem daintily, and he swirled the liquid in it’s glass, took a sniff and sipped it. 

“Mmf. Nothing compared to the Moon Elf wine,” he advised with another swirl of liquid “-not a bad night. The real crowd will be here tonight. You should come by then. I plan on playing some Orcish songs,”

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