A Rude Entrance

     The tavern door thundered aside. Wind blew in briefly as a towering
redguard stomped through, then another. The first one quickly surveyed the
place, black eyes flicking over everyone and everything, and took up a
position in the center of the room. The second man stood by the door. In blew
a small man. Only his slightly hooked nose was visible under the deep hood.
Although he was short, he stood straight. Even with his features obscured, he
had an air of great age, but his movements were quick. A third man, a rather
plump Breton, entered close on the old man's heels and slammed shut the door
against the wind.
     Both redguards wore orchish full plate from head to toe. Not one strap
was out of place, and the green metal shone softly in the lamplight. The first
man had no sword or blade of any kind, but a great axe on his back the likes
of which none of the few patrons had ever seen, with its double head straight
and wide at the top and slowly tapering toward the shaft. At its other end was
a short spike. The axe was black. The second redguard had a broadsword at his
side, its keen blade naked and over-wide at its base. The breton was more
unassuming, with a blue and gold tunic over his ample girth and a narrow
staff capped with silver at both ends.
     The little man made a derisive snort and tugged back his hood. He shot a
sharp glance at the redguards.
     "You don't have to be so protective! There is no safer spot in all of
Tamriel with all these heroes here."
     For the first time, the man looked about the tavern for himself. he
frowned. Something wasn't right here. He furrowed his brow deeper. The lot
in this place were anything but adventures, let alone heroes. Only one or two
patrons had a weapon, and these were daggers, and judging by their make,
seemed more suitable for spearing food than spearing men. A few of the patrons
about the tables looked at the redguards and breton with fading interest. One
moved to a table a safer distance from them.
     The robed man couldn't keep confusion from his face. "Well, uh, they
must be here somewhere..."
     A vague expression of hope flickered across the lined features as he
rapped the nearest drinker with a gnarled cane he produced from under his
robe.
     "You there."
     The taverner looked up blankly.
     "Have you seen, perchance, a great dark elf, Balefire I believe his name
is? Or perhaps...oh, never mind." The taverner's blank look hadn't changed.
     What hope tried to clamber over his face turned right around and let deep
disappointment have a go. Disappointment easily scaled the hooked nose and
soon had the face in a firm grip.
     The old man faced the rest of the tavern. "Anyone? Right then. I have
traveled more than a hundred leagues to get here, and by any god you'd care
to mention, I'm going to get an answer!" His voice rose to a shout of
incredible volume. "And if I don't get an answer soon, K'tarin here-" he
indicated the redguard with the strange axe "-will be happy to loosen some
tongues! Has anyone's memory cleared yet?"
     The redguard gave a bemused look, then a smile slowly spread over his
ruddy features. He reached back to loosen his great weapon.

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Alduin dor Lammoth