Pemeni, the Swordswoman (Redguard, Female)

Pemeni had been in Skyrim less than a day. Already the frost was accumulating on her steel plate.

Frigid stuff, colder even than it had been in Bruma, glacial compared to the climes the Redguard was accustomed to.

The call to adventure had taken Pemeni out of her birthplace in the Alik'r Desert almost before she was a woman. The drive to explore Tamriel, right wrongs and slay monsters. She had done all this for a time, eventually ending up in Cyrodiil, the heart of the Empire. Like many adventurers and warriors of the noble persuasion, it hadn't been long until the Fighter's Guild recruited her. The work had agreed with Pemeni, putting her strength to use for the good of all. For three years she had carried her sword in service of the guild, gaining the rank of Swordswoman and becoming known from Chorrol to Cheydinhal as a warrior of virtue and reliability.

So it was that she had been contracted to deal with Lavinia Faustus. Pemeni had heard her story. A noblewoman turned vampire, the taste of blood had agreed with her so much, she had gathered others to her side and slaked her thirst across the central province.

Pemeni had followed the drained husks, the exsanguinated bodies eventually leading her to clash with Lavinia and her acolytes in a ruined fortress outside of Bruma. Lavinia had been cocky as her thralls and fellows set on Pemeni, telling the Redguard she would savour every drop of her warm blood.

She had been less cocky when Pemeni's sword proved true, and her shield and armour proved to much for the vampire's fangs and blades. Years of training and experience fueling her, Pemeni had routed any who came at her, until only Lavinia remained.

The Imperial was arrogant, and nearly savage in her lust for blood, but she was hardly a fool. She had fled, north, into Skyrim and the snow.

And Pemeni had followed her.

True, the Guild had little to no authority or respect in the north. The Nords preferred their own way. And Pemeni had never once set foot in Skyrim before today, but she wasn't the type to let these things stop her. Not when her contract remained unfulfilled.

Pemeni had lost the trail at some point in the southern reaches of Skyrim. Falkreath Hold, the only other traveller she had passed had told her it was.

Heading into the town of Falkreath, Pemeni resolved to ask around, do what she could to pick up the vampire's trail. Lavinia would have stopped too, if only to feed. Her disease gave her great power, but it was also a great weakness. Lavinia was crafty, charming and beautiful. Pemeni resolved to be on her guard in this strange and unfamiliar land.

The sun was setting. Her body ached and shivered. She longed for meat and drink. These were only a handful of the reasons Pemeni resolved to enter the local tavern, a spot named the Dead Man's Drink, a title as cheerful as Falkreath itself.

Renting a room from the older Imperial who ran the tavern, Pemeni stowed her heavy armour then returned to the main hall.

The hall was warm and agreeable, the pleasant singing of a golden-haired Breton bard putting Pemeni's mind at ease. After the sinister chill of Lavinia's lair and the weather of Skyrim, this could have been a Count's castle.

Pemeni ate. Some grilled chicken, a few carrots and a delectable apple pie, all with a couple of bottles of the Nords' mead. A curious and (to Pemeni) exotic mixture. Like the people, the food was simple and hearty.

With her hunger sated, her thirst slaked and a pleasant buzz from the mead she had drank, Pemeni's thoughts turned to another physical need.

It had been days since the Redguard had made love, and what she had witnessed at Lavinia's lair made the thought of finding a warm body to hold her close rather appealing.

She had no doubt she would be able to attract a mate. At twenty six summers, with a sphere of dark, frizzy hair and a toned, full figure, Pemeni was the picture of a strong Redguard warrior. Additionally, if the people here were anything like the Nords she had lain with in Cyrodiil, they were direct and to the point, even in matters of love and lust.

Pemeni cast an eye across the tavern, looking for a suitable partner.

The bard would more than suffice. Golden haired and honey tongued, he stood a little shorter than most Nords or Imperials, and even Pemeni herself. Though she knew not to discount him on that. The children of High Rock could be surprising. And not, Pemeni smiled inwardly, just in terms of magical ability.

There was also Narri, the serving girl who had brought Pemeni her food. The Redguard went to bed with women less often than men, solely as a matter of preference, but she couldn't deny she found the Nord girl fetching. She wore her fiery hair short, but with braids, and wore a serving wench outfit that left little to the imagination.

Pemeni mulled her next move.