As the sun peeked over the city walls, Alim stirred from within his bed. It was a simple cot of linen and cushioning, but when one was enjoying a sleep it felt like a veritable cloud. He gave a stretch that caused a groan to reverberate out of his throat. Once he had his wits about him, he briefly wondered how people woke up at a decent hour with such high walls blocking the sun. 

He pulled off his covers and stepped onto the ground, before laying back down along his back on the wooden floor. The bare spellsword lifted his knees up, feet and back still on the ground and he began to do his daily stretches, pulling each knee to his chest one after the other, and then twisting his body slowly. He heard his back giving a few satisfying 'cracks' as he stretched. He still had to maintain his old back injury from when he was a child, having fallen from a roof. He made [i]sure[/i] that did not stop him from the adventuring life.

Once he felt limber, the dashing mixed breed slipped on the loose fitting pants and multiple colored sash belts of his mother's people, followed by a breton's linen shirt, covered by chainmail, similarly covered up by a fashionable adventurer's top. Along his shoulders was a handsome cloak that carried varied items and hid his sword that he strapped to his center belt. Grabbing his cloak, he flung it about so it draped across his torso in a rakishly charming fashion. 

The common room down below seemed normal enough. Alim gave the Innkeeper a nod of greetings and ordered some quick breakfast. He plopped down at one of the tables and awaited his food. Alim was a bit too mellow at the moment to flirt, but the waitress who brought his food gave him an interested smile he recognized. Politely smiling back, he began eating his quick meal of ham and grapes, along with some fine well-water. Wine would be for later if he felt the mood fit, for no one knew what the day would bring, after all. 

He had no idea how right he would be. 

The world he stepped out of the Inn to face was one of shadows and fear. It took him a moment to have the inclination to gaze up at the cloudy sky, only for his eyes to widen in surprise and cold fear as he saw the vast ships that blotted out the sun. So taken aback was he, that he uttered. "By the nine..." aloud, despite the desanctification of Talos as a God. Alim had made friends with a monk in the north that had claimed Akatosh himself had said to worship the 'nine.' Alim was not one to betray the Dragon God. 

In fact, he could use Talos and Akatosh at this moment for strength and wisdom. For he saw the Dwemer descending. Behind him, the waitress that had fluttered her lashes at him gasped, her body halfway out the door, having come out to give Alim his change. She dropped the septims, along with her mug and tray onto the porch. 

"Go back inside. Bar the doors." Alim said, speaking with a honed calm. He drew his sword in one fluid motion, ever ready. He wasn't necessarily the best soldier, but he had been in far too many dangerous situations, and he was a capable warrior and duelist. He knew how to keep his cool, even when staring at a race the bastard swore was extinct, riding in magical flotillas in the sky. 

"Oh, this is going to ruin my day. I can already tell." He quipped, and his instincts told him he would have a chance to live if he remained mobile rather than stationary. An ordinary citizen should stay indoors, but he trusted his sword and spells over wooden doors anyday. 

It was within the streets of the Imperial City, having given the Dwemer a runaround and clashing swords with a few constructs before he ran into something interesting.