Bound in Factions

The Stormcloaks have defeated the Empire, Ulfric taking his place as the High King, Skyrim has never been the same. Chaos has abound. Racism, more war and more violence grip Skyrim to the point where it burns. Therefore the factions of Skyrim must bind together, to save what they have left of their precious home land. But dispute between the factions is sure to break out, one way or another.

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6. Ragged Flagons (I)

Riften. South-east part of Skyrim, leaning on the border of Cyrodiil and Morrowind. This city is known for its dealings in fishery, sitting at the eastern end of Lake Honrich, which bustles with salmon and trout. It is also known for its delicious mead, known as Black-Briar mead, now sold all across Skyrim after the civil war. With other competing meadaries out of the way, the Black-Briars swooped in and managed to gain ownership of each and every single one. Riften has remained rich and prosperous during the war, but Riften still has a festering reputation. 
Deep down in the Ratway, straight below Riften, lies an organisation that has mastered the arts of staying unseen and unheard as pockets are robbed and houses broken into. The Thieves Guild. The guild has started to crawl its way up from the pits of despair and ill-fortune, and has once again started to gain a fear through Skyrim, ever since they're new leader took hold. 

The Ragged Flagon. A tavern that anyone who doesn't know how to use a dagger or their fists should never venture into. It is not an average tavern, with only the criminals and smugglers of Skyrim come to to drink, be merry and scheme. Three figures were sat in the tavern, two men and a women, in garish blue, leather armour with straps and pouches dotted around them. One of the men was bald and had a groaning voice that sounded like he had a constant cold. He turned to the woman next to him; a young girl with rather short, white-blonde hair. 

"Listen, Vex." he said to her with a slight shiver. "Do you ever see a beau'iful young lady like you, ever having something with an old man like me?" 
The woman smiled at him. 

"Ohh, of course I do Delvin," she expressed cheerfully back to him, but her voice soon turned bitter and sour like a lemon. "when you're dead and I'm dancing on your grave." she spat. Delvin shrunk back into his shell and spoke nothing more. 
The third and final man chuckled from the corner, away from the other two as he smoked a pipe from under his hood. "Stop trying Delvin. Vex is a stubborn bitch, I tell ya." he giggled as he lifted up his hood. He had long, red-ish hair with a thick accent on his tongue. 

"If you don't shut your mouth, Brynjolf," Vex snapped at him, "I'll shove that pipe down your throat." 

"I'm kidding, lass!" he laughed, leaning back him his chair. "I think you two would be very happy together." he teased further. Vex clenched her fist, all the while, Delvin was still silent like a mouse. 

The silence soon fell after a man in a hood and cloak marched through the Ragged Flagon's doors, his head lowered. The Ragged Flagon all of a sudden turned to him and a quiet rested on everyone's shoulders. Brynjolf leaned forward on his chair and raised up to meet the figure.

"Can I help you lad?" he asked. The figure did not lift his head, but merely stopped in his tracks.

"I'm looking for Noctus the argonian." he delivered, "An important message is to be given to him." 
Brynjolf held out his hand. 

"I'll deliver it to him." he proposed, but the hooded man walked past him. 

"No, I must deliver to him myself. Take me to him." 
Brynjolf rolled his eyes and followed after him. 

The two walked towards a large wooden door, right at the back of the Ragged Flagon. 

"You first." the hooded man spoke. Brynjolf huffed and opened it, the door squeaked and creaked open. Behind it, the Ragged Flagon Cistern, the main gathering place for the Thieves Guild. In the centre, there was a large pedestal that split into four directions over a shallow pool of water. Banners hung from the walls, chests brimming with gold and thieves chatting to one another with greedy smiles.
In one corner of the room, sat a table infront of a shelf that was stacked high with precious items and trophies. In the chair, a figure sat whilst reading a book that masked their face. Their feet were propped up on the table, a giant claw on the inner toes like a raptor.
Brynjolf and the hooded figure walked up to him, and Brynjolf muttered oh so quietly. 

"Boss. Man here to give you a message." 

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