[center][b]10th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 205[/b][/center]

In a moment, the man was on his feet. He double-checked his belongings, not exactly trusting of the Stormcloaks to return everything to him. His blade was there, as was his crossbow and bolts. And it also looked like the rope and bear-trap parts in his backpack were all more or less accounted for as well. Good. He slung the backpack over his shoulder, about where the sword rested as well. It was a peculiar weapon, curved (though not to the same extent as those found in Hammerfell) and more narrow than the blades typically found in Skyrim or even most of Tamriel to be honest. A knowledgeable enough individual could identify it as an Akaviri sword, the kind only known to have been previously wielded by the Blades. But most people in Skyrim weren't that knowledgeable on the subject, so he was rarely ever questioned about the sword in question. The rest of his gear was far more common and didn't stick out as much, so there was nothing really curious about any of it.

"Hmm... where did he say to go?" the man muttered to himself, trying to recall a... conversation of sorts he had had while in the The Pit.

[center][b]A Couple Days Ago[/b][/center]

The door leading into The Pit burst open and a new prisoner was tossed in without a second thought, "You heard, the Captain, no food or water. Have fun, you filth!" the Prisoner in question pushed himself to his feet and moved to a corner of The Pit, sounding like he was muttering something under his breath. He plopped back back on the floor and leaned back against the circular wall. He could tell already this was going to be a long three days.

That's when he heard it. Humming? It sounded like humming of some kind, coming from the opposite side of the Pit where there was more shade hiding whomever it was sitting there. Soon the humming turned into... singing? "So feline and fair... from the sands of Elsweyr... and through our glistening stare... perfect sight!" whoever this person was he sounded way too upbeat for a prisoner in The Pit. The singing stopped and a feline figure leaned forward from the shadows to look curiously at his new cellmate. He then offered a fanged smile, "Greetings to you, Friend! J'Varga welcomes you to The Pit." he said in what sounded like almost too happy a tone. He also reeked of Skooma, which certainly explained a lot about his current disposition.

"Let me guess... possession of Skooma?" asked the new prisoner. A rhetorical question, since the smell answered it for him. Or so he thought it would, anyway.

"Whatever makes you think that?" asked the Cat with an innocent chuckle, "Oh right, the smell. It was not J'Varga's fault this time, he swears it! That Skooma was not for smoking but for medicinal purposes, honest!"

The man rolled his eyes. Apparently he was to be cellmates with a crazy Skooma addict. Great. A long three days, indeed.

"Why does no one believe J'Varga?" the Khajiit asked in a sad tone, "The Stormcloaks did not believe J'Varga either, locked J'Varga up in this cold, wet Pit." he sniffed, almost sounding like he was gonna cry. But then he suddenly perked right up again, "But enough about J'Varga, it is very impressive - what you did. Standing up for a stranger is a noble thing, but as you can see, such noble things land you here in The Pit - with J'Varga."

"Wait, what?" suddenly this Khajiit went from being a weirdo to someone the man was immediately suspicious of, "You're down here, how can you possibly know that?"

"Ah, that is what we Khajiit like to call a... Trade Secret, yes?" replied the feline, "Truly a shame though. J'Varga senses much fire in you, yet no worthy cause to put it toward. Such a waste of talent and passion... unless of course J'Varga knew of someone who would be very interested in meeting you."

"Sorry, not interested in buying Skooma."

"No no no, J'Varga was not talking about Skooma. J'Varga was talking about another good friend in search of people with a fire like yours. Well, okay, maybe J'Varga was referring to Skooma also at first, but-"

"Okay, I officially think you're crazy. Goodnight." said the Prisoner, not appearing to want to hear what the Khajiit had to say. Both prisoners eventually fell asleep. But unfortunately for the newcomer, tomorrow was another day. He'd still be stuck in there with the rambling Khajiit.

"Are, are you serious?" asked Justinian the night before he was to be released. By then, J'Varga had talked his ear off about someone in Windhelm named Free-Winter. At a certain point, he decided to hear the Cat out if only to shut him up... not that that actually made him shut up at all. He'd also given the Khajiit his name, well, his adopted name anyway.

"Would J'Varga ever lie to you, his good old friend Gungnir?" asked the Khajiit with a toothy grin, "When you get out, go to the place J'Varga described, and take the hidden stash. Use it to get yourself some food and the rest to hire a carriage. J'Varga's dear friend Brunwulf will be waiting for you in Windhelm."

"Right..." he honestly still didn't know what to make of this crazy cat. Was the craziness just an act? No, no, the smell of Skooma was too real. But still, it wasn't like Justinian currently had any other leads for work or the like, so going to Windhelm might not to be a terrible idea. Assuming he could keep up his full-blood Nord act, anyway. If he was ousted, especially in Windhelm? Then things might go badly. So he would just have to make sure that didn't happen, "Fine, fine, I'll hear this guy out I guess. Can't be worse than sticking around in Falkreath, anyway."

"Ah, J'Varga knew you would make the right choice!"