<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/jUqUgLA.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Kreios<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Traveling Riften; Before Mistveil Keep.<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Ranging from midnight to current time<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Freya; Ilya; Open<br/><br/>It was a little past midnight when Kreios came upon Riften, his arms and armor still clean; his path seeming to have gone about in relative peace. If someone looked closely enough, they may see the slight tears here in there in his clothing that hinted at more. They may notice the strange coppery smell of his breathe, or even the way his eyes seemed calmer tonight then they usually ever were. They may get a glimpse at how his journey to this cursed place had really gone.<br/><br/>The companion had been on his way here from Whiterun; a long trip filled with treachery, Giants, bandits and all number of foul creatures. With his skills he could avoid the majority of them, but the Draugr on the road. They were a different story, especially when clashing with the bandits he'd come across as well. He didn't want it to take long, and considering it was a week from the full moon's rise; he just let everything go. For the first time in five years, the companion had willing let out the beats upon his foes. And for the first time in five years, he felt his bloodlust was actually sated.<br/><br/>Staring at the back door entrance to the black briar meadery, Kreios contemplated the thoughts with a darker sense of humor. A small smirk crossed the Nord's lips then and he approached the door quietly, his cloak and cowl concealing him as he tried not to let the mail of his armor jingle too much. Soft steps lead him toward the door, and of course it was unlocked; just as he always remembered. The guards at the front always tried to charge a 'tax', and while he knew his title as companion could easily get him in; well this entrance was just more fun. Pushing the door open quietly, the companion made his way inside. All around him the smell of honey wafted, the scent alone making him glad he'd chosen this route.<br/><br/>Kreios continued his trek from there, navigating the narrow corridors easily from memory. He already knew where every sentry would be posted, and soon he found himself toward the exit into town. As always, there was a single person taking watch; his back to the hall Kreios was moving through. The companion slowed his steps upon the sight, inching closer to the man until the fire of the torch beside him illuminated his half concealed face. Another step caused his skyforged mail to jingle, but the Werewolve's first shot out before the man could even turn to look. Rising with the blow, Kreios drove his fist into the side of the man's turning head. The temple shot made a sickening crack, leaving the man stumbling in delirium before he crumpled to the ground.<br/><br/>Kreios's smirk turned into a smile at that, and he rose to his full height before nonchalantly stepping over the unconscious waif. The opening of a single door was all it took then, and he found himself back in the city of sin. The vices of many crossed his senses all at once, but he ignored them all as he began to stroll through the planked walkways that lead from the docks area to the market place. He knew he was supposed to find another clue for his contact near mistveil keep. He was uncertain why Vilkas agreed to this ridiculous job in the first place, it was a scavenger hunt; and a matter of Draugr. Sure, the situation was different; but that didn't mean a circle member was needed.<br/><br/>The Companion managed to put that aside as he closed in on the Bee and Bard, once again looking at the establishment and what life it had. How lively Riften was, even after dark was perhaps it's only redeeming feature. He watched the people play at their games. The gambling, the drinking, the flirtatious winks and caresses of young lovers. The drinking... That sight had him yearning for a stiff bottle of nordic mead, and he thought to those he still had in his pack. Return gifts from his shiledsiblings, but he wouldn't touch them yet. Not till he was at the spot to wait for his clue. So with that, he walked past the Bee and Bard and onward to the Markets.<br/><br/>The same lively feeling perpetuated them as well. Even entertainers were pouncing about, peddlers plying their trade; some with arms and goods, others with sin and flesh. He didn't partake in any of the four, just browsed all that was for sale briefly before continuing on to his objective. He passed the remaining streets, walked along the bridges, and before long he found himself wandering into the district that housed the infamous keep. He gazed it from afar, striding to a wall where he slumped down like a drunken beggar. He was positioned in such a way that his heavy cloak concealed most of his raiment, and the only thing giving away his true status was the magnificent hilt and pommel of his sword extending from the back gap between his cowl and cloak.<br/><br/>Now, it was simply a waiting game; so with that thought Kreios pulled a bottle from his pack. He brought the ceramic tip to his lips for a cool drink, letting his blue eyes close for a moment as the cold fire rushed down to the pits of his stomach.<em>That hit the spot.</em>The nord thought as a smile crept upon his lips, and yet another swig was taken. Perhaps this wait wouldn't be so bad after all. It was a thought, and one that excited the Nord as he wiped hi forearm across his lips.<br/><br/>That thought kept the Companion going, and after some time he was brought from a half sleep by the peculiar sound of metal thudding stone. His eyes opened, and he seen the strangest, and absolute craziest, Argonian leading some foul contraption about the streets. He gauged the tall reptilian for a bit, and that's when he noticed the wounds cluttering his form. They weren't what you'd expect from a typical encounter on the road; these were the wounds of something stronger then any man had a right to be. He figured a troll from the bruising, but other areas hinted at steel being drawn.<em>Well, Vilkas said I'd know it when I seen it.</em>He thought tersely, and rose from the wall with only a slight stagger.<br/><br/>Quickly placing the bottle back in his well worn pack, the Companion approached the reptilian cautiously as he eyed the wound.<strong>"Looks like ye have a stark bruise or two? Any tales about how it happened.?"</strong>He questioned with a grin, though his voice played out low. Low, but intense; soft spoken, but booming at the same time. It was something the Greybeards had taught him, to be in control of the voice so it did not control you. A few more steps took him closer to the Argonian, though he kept his gait slow and steady so the copious amount of mead didn't send him off balance before he had time to regulate his movements.<br/><br/><strong>"Regardless, I can mend em for ya? Saying ye wanted them to be."</strong>Kreios mentioned the last part with a shrug. He wasn't given a code word for the contact, or who would clue him into their presence. Just that something would be here; something that stood out. This certainly stood out more then anything else, so the mistake seemed like an obvious choice to him. The nord glanced at his contraption of a mount again, and a smirk crossed his lips at the thought of how riding the thing into battle might be.<strong>"Another point to mention."</strong>He started with his second bit, blue eyes coming up to meet the Argonian's.<strong>"What in oblivion is that thing?"</strong>The question probably hadn't come off as friendly as he hoped, but he was tipsy; and in his<em>sober</em>defence, it would have made a companion laugh.