[b]"Aye, I'm not from Orsinium. I figured that you might have come from Morrowind, like me."[/b] Malakaus finished off his mug of brandy but dind't go back to get a new one. [b]"Looking at you reminded me of home. Came from a stronghold to the north. Small place, remote, but we survived. Even way back when Red Mountain exploded, my people lived on. A bit of dust and sand wasn't going to stop us. I left that life behind though, stronghold life get's monotonous."[/b] Malakaus drank from his mug again before remembering that it was empty. So he kept talking to the Dark Elf. [b]"So where'd you get you skills at fighting from? I doubt that Mede-wannabe brought much trouble to himself. You got the skills of a someone who's killed at least a hundred men."[/b] Malakaus had to admit, he liked sharing his tales of battle. It was rather boastful, sure, but how could he just keep that stuff to himself? But his honor demanded that before he went about his tales, he had to listen to someone else first.