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The Flaming Tavern - The Tales of Beor and Balgir

Started by Beor of Skyrim
Post #87990

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Faction & Race:
Ebonheart Pact (Nord)
The Tales of Beor and Balgir
Written by Balgir Winterborn and Beor Strong-Heart themselves

The Flaming Tavern

Loud banging was heard. The two companions stirred, even in their drunken state they heard the awfully loud noise. Beor and Balgir had hauled themselves up in the mead cellar of an inn down the road, leading south, over the Jerall Mountains and into Northern Cyrodiil. They were on yet another journey to take back their stuff from a sly wood elf thief, but in the mean time they had taken the time to pause and rest.

"Shhh...!" said Balgir after a moments ponder, with a slightly moronic look of concern on his face. Beor gazed back at him.

"... Uh oh." muttered the younger companion. "Whatsh are we gonna - hic - do?" Beor asked his older friend with a foolish grin on his face.

"Shhhh!" Balgir shushed again, spit flying from his mouth as his moronic face now displayed further concern. The banging was heard again, now louder.

"H-hello?! - I'm gonna have a look inside." said a deep, muted voice. The two friends, who sat with their backs against one of the mead barrels, heard a key entering the door and a lock turning. Balgirs face had his mouth wide open as he strained to listen. They heard a door swing open and heavy footsteps coming down the stairs, down into the cellar.

"There ai nobody - hic - down 'ere!" Beor called out. The heavy footsteps stopped. A moment passed. Balgir, with his mouth still wide open stared with amazement at Beor and slowly nodded - clearly impressed. "It worked ...!" Balgir whispered rather loudly. Beor nodded eagerly with acknowledgement. But a second later the footsteps were heard again, and they were coming awfully close. The feeling of euphoria quickly disappeared.

"Shors cock! We... we gotta go lad." Balgir slurred as he attempted to get up. He managed to get into a crawling position and started crouching away from Beor, taking his bottle of ale with him.

"Wait!" Beor hissed as he suddenly saw his companion leaving. The young Nord hauled himself up and stumbled towards the small table on the opposite of the small cellar. He nearly crashed into it as he reached it. He quickly grabbed a small keg. Shor knows I could use it, the intoxicated Beor thought to himself.

The footsteps had reached the end of the staircase and now a gigantic figure loomed over the young Nord who stood with a keg of mead in his hands. Beor slowly turned to where the figure stood next to him and gazed up into it's face. He let out a scream.

"Balgir! TROLL!" Beor cried, the next moment he was punched in the face, the blow knocked him off his feet and sent him sprawling across the floor. The keg had flown from his hands and the giant figure moved towards where Beor lay on the floor. As the drunk Nord tried to get up he was kicked in the gut. As he sank back to the floor in pain he was grabbed by the collar and dragged across the cellar floor, towards the staircase. Beor coughed and groaned in pain and nearly threw up. Everything was spinning around him.

"HELP! Balgir! It's taking me to it's lair!" the young Nord cried out desperately. The giant figure had an iron grip and Beor couldn't do anything to break free. Up the stairs they went and at the end they reached a door. The big figure pushed it open and as Beor looked up he was temporarily blinded by the bright light of a big hearthfire. The gigantic figure went through the doorway and entered the inn, still with Beor in it's firm grip.

Beor heard lots of clamor of Balgir downstairs, back in the cellar. The big, drunk Nord made a racket as he hurried after his friend who had just disappeared up the stairs with a massive figure dragging him along.

"Look what I found..." the big figure exclaimed in a deep voice towards whoever was in the inn, "found this young Nord here drinking our - " but the speech was interrupted by Balgir rushing up the stairs.

"I'M COMING FOR YOU BEOR!" Balgir came running through the doorway with a chair held high above his head. With a cry Balgir smashed the chair over the big figures head that had dragged Beor out of the cellar. With a grunt the figure collapsed to the ground next to Beor.

For the first time Balgir noticed his surroundings. He was standing in an inn, with a broken chair leg in each of his hands - and infront of him were bewildred visitors, at their respective tables - enjoying their beverage. The innkeeper was the most shocked of all. All eyes were on Balgir. It started to dawn on Balgir what was going and his mouth slowly fell open.

"Y-you - you... You knocked out my wife?" The inkeeper was beside himself as he stared at Balgir with a horrific gaze.

"... Oh... Shit..." Balgir muttered as he realised that he was in deep, deep trouble.

"GET HIM!" The innkeeper roared, his face was now flustered with rage. As one the visitors got up and started rolling up their sleeves and moving towards the big drunken Nord. Beor had already gotten up and figured that now was a good time to leave.

''Run lad! Run!" Balgir roared as he tossed away the two broken chair legs and made a break for it. The two started running towards the door of the inn but they were soon knocked off their feet by the angry visitors and inkeeper. As Beor wrestled the break free of the group, Balgir punched one of the drinkers in the face. Another grabbed him from behind and they both rolled over the floor. In between blows Beor could see Balgir getting smitten against one of the big four poles that surrounded the hearthfire.

As the big Nord fell he knocked over a barrel that probably contained a strong beverage for when it fell into the hearthfire the flames reached as high as the roof. The whole place was catching on fire! Beor kicked a brawler of him and punched another in the face and ran over to Balgir. As his friend helped him up Balgir saw the innkeeper pulling his own hair in terror.

"The inn! It's on FIRE!" the innkeeper cried. The flames spread abnormally quick, the thatch roof was now completely ablaze.

The rowdy brawlers and the tipsy visitors jumped through windows and ran out of the door to escape the fire.

"Argh! No!" the innkeeper cried as he tried to put out flames.

"Come on lad we gotta run!" Balgir said as he pushed Beor towards the excit. They made it for the door but something caught Balgirs eye. The older Nord stumbled towards a bottle of mead that was lying on the floor a few paces away.

"No! Leave it!" Beor roared as he jerked at his companions cloak. After a moments hesitation Balgir followed Beor outside. As they entered the cool night air and dashed into the night the innkeeper called after them in the doorway:

"Winterborn! You can't get away with this!" But the two companions paid no heed to these words for they were on their feet, running like dogs from a fire.

Clan leader of The Bromlokiir

Voth Ahkrin!
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