Daggerfall is split into four districts. South of the river lies the Trade District, north of the river, the Castle Town contains the city stables, Fighters and Mages Guild halls, the Daggerfall Mill, an inn, and a number of private residences. In the northwest lies the Harbor District. To the west sits Castle Daggerfall, home of King Casimir. South of the city lies another, less used, dock.

Luke gave his large Nord captain his orders, which were very few. Captain Orin knew the ship and knew the docks and what was needed on and from the docks better than Luke. He even knew the people as well as Luke, or almost as well. Ships and docks were the captain's business, where as it was only a means to an end for the rogue tailor. Luke owned the ship, but offered little demands of his captain. He was a ship owner, quite by accident, but he was not a sailor, and had no desire to be.

Luke met Marcy on the dock, who was arguing with someone over some wares they were trying to sell. She and Brin were his body guards, both just happened to be Redguard of Hammerfell, that he hired at different times. Marcy was dark of skin, and kept her hair in corn rows that hung to her shoulder in small braids. She appeared to be all Redguard, dark of skin and hair, where as Brin looked like he was not. Marcy was an inch or two taller than Luke, well muscled, with a serious face. Luke did not consider Marcy a pretty lady, but she also was not ugly. She was unique, of that Luke could say definitively. Brin, who was now Marcy's lover, was much lighter of skin than she was. He had the strong jaw and cheek line of a Redguard, but his hair was as fine as Luke's, and his eyes were green, where as Marcy's was a dark brown. Brin was the same height as Marcy, but very broad and well muscled. They were an intimidating pair, to say the least.
"What did you buy from him," Luke asked, as the man seemed to scuttle away quickly. Marcy almost laughed, seeing that Luke had chosen a walking stick quite carefully. He had three, all with golden, decorated heads. One of a lion head, another of an eagle head, and the other with a dragon head. Which he carried depended precisely on where he was. He said it was to avoid an incident as what occurred a few years back in Morrowind.
"Nothing, he was trying to sell me a copper worth of trinket for two gold," she replied, insuring she was saying it loud enough so that the would be merchant could hear, as well as anyone else around the dock.
"Where are we going, the Rosy Lion," Marcy finally asked, looking to Luke now.
"Nope," Luke said simply with a smile, and began walking. Marcy rolled her eyes, and followed, reminding herself that he did not ask for her to come along, so she could leave him to whatever flirtations he was involved in whenever she wanted.

The Hole in the Ground tavern was not really in the ground, though one may think they would fall through to the ground once inside. It was a small building near the southern docks, located in a more poverty stricken area of Daggerfall. You would never find it on a map, for many reasons, but the main reason would be that it was not always open. The owner, a small nervous man with some kind of skin disease that caused him to have bumps everywhere, did not always open the place for business. The tavern would be open for a few weeks, sometimes a few months, but then shut down without warning. Oh, he never missed a festival, nor a weekend that Daggerfall was, for some reason or another, packed, but you may find yourselves enjoying a jolly night out for little coin one night, and not even hardly able to tell which building was the tavern you patronized the next.
Marcy followed Luke in, and decided she wished she had stayed on the Black Wolf. It was a poorly lit place, dirty windows offering what little light they could. Marcy recognized some of the girls to be prostitutes, probably dockside prostitutes that enjoyed when the establishment was open, as a place to hang out. These were not like the *** that frequented the northern part of the city, or escorts as they liked to be called. They were not as expensive, and bedding them was like placing an even bet on your health.
"Luke," the barmaid said as he entered. She was different than the others. She was dressed well enough, and looked quite healthy. Very healthy, by Luke's standards. She wore an orange shirt under a black vest. Both items of clothing appeared to be doing it's best to hold her chest in, and seemed to be barely winning the battle.
"Henrietta," Luke said with a handsome smile, removing his hat and placing it on the bar, as well as leaning his walking stick. The sudden conversation brought the eyes of the women and the quietly drinking men their way, but only briefly. The other patrons went back to their gloomy activities soon enough.
"So what brings a scoundrel like you into a fine establishment like this," the barmaid asked, chuckling ever slightly. "Haven't seen you in over a year."
"Too true, the last I was through here you were shut down," Luke said.
The small talk was more than Marcy could stand, so she ordered apple cider and found her own seat, where she could watch Luke and the door, and leave her boss to his business. It was not that Luke cared if she stayed and joined in the conversation or not, it was that she really had no desire to hear it. That was not her business, her only business was to keep Luke safe, and safe she always kept him. She paid little mind to the giggling and laughing of the two, as he bought shots for them.

"So who is the woman," Henrietta asked, nodding over to Marcy who was acting as if she was paying them no mind.
Luke looked over to Marcy. She stood out in this place. Not because of her dress, because he stood out for that, but because of how she carried herself. Marcy sipped a shot of liqueur that he had bought her, holding the glass with her left hand, while the right hand dangled casually off the table, a mere inch from where the hilt of her short sword was.
"She is an employee, actually," Luke said. If Marcy heard him, she made no sign. Marcy always insisted she was not his employee, but that he was her client. There was a difference. Luke could not say exactly what that difference was, but he understood the intent of it. She even got Brin to calling him a client, though he "messed up" and called him boss more often than not.
"I was going to say, from the looks of her, you had best keep your hands off. I think any man would come back with a nub if they touched her, and not just a nubby hand," Henrietta said low so Marcy could not hear.
Luke looked to Henrietta and was about to explain that Marcy had a man that she let touch her quite often, but let it drop instead, and just nodded. Marcy would not care about her reputation of whether she liked men or not, and Luke saw no reason to defend it.
It was at this time that Luke watched two men enter, the very reason why he came to such an establishment. It was not by luck either, though the two had no idea.
The larger of the two men, Luke knew only as Duck, had walked in first. He was a mean looking man, looking to be some kind of cross between the large build of a Nord with the face of a Breton. He had a scar down one cheek that went all the way to his neck. He only had a long dagger in his belt, and Luke knew him to prefer fist to cuffs over knives.
Duck appeared to be the more intimidating of the two, but Luke knew the skinny dark elf behind him was the more dangerous. Razor Ralvel, as he was called, was cautious and shifty. He was known to cut throat a sleeping man, or woman, if the price was right. Ralvel had two daggers, both sheathed on his left side, that were always razor sharp.
Luke knew them, but they did not know the rogue.
"Henrietta, set us up with ale," Duck called a few stools down from Luke. Henrietta frowned only slightly, obviously not liking the two much, but did as she was bid. She served them, and returned to Luke and their conversation.
"Henrietta, another ale," Duck called with a smile, obviously not finished with his first, but not liking the attention being shown to the well dressed, handsome patron. "You can give the fancy pants a shot of liqueur, on me, and send him on his way."
Luke saw Marcy move, but caught her eye immediately. With hardly a movement of his head she knew he wanted her to stay out of it.
"Settle down Duck, he aint doing nothing to you," Henrietta said. "Razor, keep him under control."
That seemed to anger Duck, and brought only a grunt from the dark elf, as Henrietta placed another mug of ale on the counter. She then poured a shot for Luke, and brought it to him.
"I am sorry sugar, but I guess you best drink this and go. Duck is in a mood," she said loud enough for him to her, "Duck is always in a mood."
"You bet I am," was all Duck said, then went back to talking to the Dunmer.
Luke drank the whiskey down as Henrietta walked over to the other two. While she preferred the handsome man's company, she knew it would only anger Duck more. Luke was too pretty to see him pounded by the brute.
She was listening to the two talk about some job they had done, in a code that an adolescent could crack, when the shot glass came sliding down the bar and struck Duck's mug, sloshing his ale a bit. All three of them looked over to Luke, who looked back with the most handsome and friendly of smiles.
"I don't suppose I will be leaving just yet, but I thank you for the drink all the same," he said, to the great displeasure of Duck.

I like this story, Krist!
Please keep writing.

Akaviri wrote: »

I like this story, Krist!
Please keep writing.

Thank you very much!

Angelfire_Arisen wrote: »

Well done. Luke comes across to me as very polished and charming, but also very keen. Exactly as I picture a handsome rogue to be. The picture suits him, can't help but like him.

Thank you very much! Luke is an old character of mine, and I like him too, as odd as that sounds.