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His lithe feet tapped agains the wet ground and the thunder in the distance. He blended well within the shadows, the old Abah’s Landing armor rattling with swords at his sides, foreign and unknown to Maul who didn’t even seem to want to talk to the foreigner. Out of fear or maybe because the sharp look towards the mercenary was laced with poison. His hips swayed a little too much and a mask flipped over his muzzle. His tail flicked behind him, bright red and white coated over it and faintly on the small amount of his forehead bare underneath the hood and mask.
Reach markings. Ancient. And very well known tags of Old markings around Skyrim, the new land he had recently traveled to. Almost tattoo’d rather than dyed into his black fur. They popped as if a nirnroot was bright purple. The way the khajiit carried himself despite his lithe figure was confident, in stride and it looked like he felt he no one could touch him. He strolled into the Bee and Barb, whipping back his waterlogged hood and ripping down the mouth guard. It revealed fluffed hair atop his head, looped in with silver was two dreaded pieces of fur, tufted ears pierced along the shell of his ear only on the right. He sat himself down at the bar, giving a sly, toothy grin to Keerava.
“You’re new around here.. what can I get you?”
“Any spiced mead?”
“I have what my husband makes. If it’s spiced mead you want you should try the Cliff Racer.”
The pint was placed in front of the thief, without a second thought he gulped it down. Eats folded back at the overly sweet taste. A hot meal was slid in front of him not too soon after. Talen-Jai’s eyes met the thief.
“You got Maven’s letter then? She sent me news to expect a Khajiit foreigner. I assume you’re him?”
Nothing but a brief nod as his muzzle was already being shoveled in with the charred fish. He assumed Maven slipped his favorite meal to the tavern keeper couple to keep him happy. Of course she had.
Anything to keep the foreigner, that’s taking over the Thieves Guild, happy.
Ri’fazdar did miss Abah’s Landing to be fair. He missed the hot sands and hated the chill of Skyrim. Especially the rain. His tail flickered behind him, scarfing down the hot meal, when was the last time he had a hot meal since his travel started? He definitely hadn’t in a while. His eyes flickered to his side, a ginger with a scruffy partial beard and a charming glint flickered in his eyes.
“Looks like you haven’t made an honest coin in your life, Lad.”
“And I bet I’ve made more dishonest coin than you ever could.” is snarky, a grin spreading his maw to reveal a missing tooth in his left molars. The surprise on the Nord’s face was priceless. ‘Faz could bet he never got that response. “I know who you are Brynjolf. Why don’t you just scurry along and let me enjoy a meal after my long journey?”
“I don’t know if you have Lad, not a lot can match up to me. It’s a lil scary you know my name without me saying it.. what’s your’s then? As a fair trade.”
He kept silent at that, the only sound of the other bar patrons and him shoveling fish into his muzzle.
“Not quite fair there, lad. A name for a name.”
“Giving someone even a name is a piece of info they can use against you. I suggest, Brynjolf, you don’t ask again.” this time the advice was next to the button clasp making a click. Clear of his motive if he continued to push.
“Alright Lad, I’ll get the name out of you eventually.”
With that he left him be, there was a little bit of agitation in his brow. Good. He should be pissed. No one can ask for his name and not expect his suspicion, it’s been like that since he got picked up by the Forsworn in Markarth when he was younger. He traveled to Elsweyr to find his parents, only to find out he only had a great grandfather who was the prophet who saved everyone from Molag Bal decades ago. And the second he hit Abah’s Landing, he was taken in by the Thieves guild. He made coin like he was a billionaire. After the death of his husband Silver-Claw, he thought it’d be wise for a fresh start.
And thank Rajhin. Maven Black-briar had sent him a letter detailed her failing Thieves Guild. Asking for his help if he felt suited to, if he felt good enough to do it. With a full belly and a buzz in his chest from the mixed liquor, he dropped a bag of septums on the bartop. It was probably enough to buy this place let alone count as a tip. He readjusted the mask over his max and hood over his ears. And back out into the rain he went.
He slinked under the stairs, standing near the entrance to the Ratway, leaning against it as he awaited his companion. Out from the shadows of the entrance stepped Mercer Frey. Grey hair and a scowl that could make a child cry.
“Took you long enough. Maven has been expecting you. Time to introduce you to the Guild.” he ducked back into the Cistern, ‘Faz chuffed, following suit behind the Guildmaster. His pawpads were quiet, soft. Even as they stepped over two bodies, bandits probably, and through the Ragged Flagon’s door a few more hallways after. It opened into the wide Cistern, pool of water in the middle, and a distant rabble across from it. A burly nord only nodded to Mercer as ‘Faz followed close behind. He spotted multiple people in leathers, and Mercer waved all of them into a back, false cabinet. Through another door and into yet another cistern.
This one reached higher, multiple alcoves, beds and chests along the outside. And in the middle a small bridged platform. There the red head stood, oh this was going to be good.
He stood in the middle, a hip popped and tail flickering behind him with a mischievous glint in his eye. Once everyone has settled around, Mercer gave a shout,
“Now everyone let’s welcome the guest Maven has warned me about prior to this. Ri’fazdar.” the breton spoke out, loud and ringing. The khajiit pulled down the leathered mask and flipped his hood off. It revealed his fluffed brownish black face, distantly under his eyes were a red and a white mark. A scar over his muzzle, and earrings flickering in the small moonlight provided through the above grate.
“He’s the Guildmaster of Abah’s Landing, down in the country of Hew’s Bane. Maven contacted him in order to help us in the Guild and fix out stroke of bad luck.” Mercer continued, the look on Brynjolf’s face was priceless. Like he hadn’t expected him to be who he was. His own thieves guild leathers were pristine, a specific type of brown and black that looked almost like his fur. It blended like a second skin and hugged like one too.
“How do we know he’s good?” shouted out a blond woman, her arms crossed and leaning against the entryway they had entered from.
‘Faz lifted up a paw, revealing a small gold purse. And from that, it tripled into 3.
“I swiped both you, Vex, the red-head and Mercer’s purses on the way in.” he tossed the purse back to Vex, then Brynjolf and then Mercer. “‘Faz was called for a reason. He’s here. I usually pull a lot more coin for my members due to Abah’s Landing being a Merchant capital for many lands. I’m only here to help. Not to cause trouble.”
The look on Vex’s face as she caught her coin purse was one of surprise and anger. How dare he do that to her? Was likely a thought she had.
“Fine. Don’t do that again unless you want to lose your fingers.” with that she waltzed out, a bald man shooting him a smile before following behind her.
“Now then lad, you pushed me away at the Bee and Barb like I wasn’t worth your time.” he spoke out, Mercer walking back to his desk after Vex had left.
“Because, you aren’t by your recruitment pitch.”
“Got a better one then?”
“I usually send Quen to do that. She’s quite good at sniffing out thieves. And then she makes them steal from a high class family. For me it was stealing the great Giovessen Skull of legend. Zaira was quite hospitable when I came back with it after running from a bunch of nords and crawling through catacombs.” the khajiit snorts, letting out a laugh at the memory.
“You seem fond of that. Why are you here anyway? No one comes volunteer their time like were some political sawaray for a criminal organization.” Brynjolf crosses his arms, staring back at the cat with curiosity in his eyes.
“Maybe I just wanted to go somewhere new.” he fires back, defensive. It was definitely something personal, and he wasn’t having the fact he did have something to hide. That he had a reason to even come here.
“I’ll take your answer, lad. But, I was told I’d be going with the new ‘guest’ on a job, more so to test your mettle. You saw the grand estate coming into Riften yeah?” Brynjolf begind to walk, him following next to him towards a bed and a chest.
“The little island? It looks more like a bandit outpost than an estate.” ‘Raz mentions, crossing his arms.
“This here’s your bed and chest. And yes, it looks like that because the little worm who works for Maven decided to cut her off. We’re going to go deal with him.” his hand gestures toward the two.
“Ah, a little cutthroat business for the lady.” he sits himself on the bed, kicking his boots off to reveal woolen socks. And then he unfastens the buckles of his leathers, letting his body breathe and the smell of warm sand and sweet vanilla bean waft out. For a Khajiit he carried a very potent smell. Even for other Khajiit.
“Aye, correct, get some rest. I’ll meet you by the rivers edge tomorrow night, lad. Don’t be late.” he turns in his heel, likely to go get a drink of mead.
His head hits the straw pillow, chuffing at the smell and without a second thought he’s conked out. Snoring and tail tip twitching underneath him. He feels a thick quilt flipped over him, he doesn’t know who exactly did it but it’s appreciated.