That morning, Faulgor woke from his light slumber nearly an hour before dawn and slowly rose from the cot in his room. The room was nothing extravagant, housing a cot, at the foot which sat a wooden chest, as well as a wooden table with two chairs, and lastly the wooden dresser resting against the wall. All seemed to be still that morning, save for the occasional footsteps in the bar below. The most prominent sounds in the room were the pops of the Orc's back and shoulders as he stretched in his usual morning fashion. He walked over to the door and opened it enough for him to see the covered pot of freshly-boiled water the barmaid had left on the serving table by his room in the hallway, just as he had requested. The handles of the cast-iron pot were wrapped in cloth for convenience and Faulgor grasped them and pulled the pot into the room, setting it atop the small table, before immediately closing the door. Upon removing the lid, which lightly seared the callused tips of the Orc's fingers, Faulgor felt the warmth of the steam that brushed against his face and left a thin layer of moisture behind. He inhaled through his nose and noticed the aroma of scented oils that the barmaid decided to add for a personal touch. Honey. Honey with a hint of...lavender, he suspected and confirmed with another whiff, smiling a bit at the kind gesture. He removed the cloth rag from one of the handles and dipped it into the hot, scented water and proceeded to bathe himself with it.
After the thorough cleansing, Faulgor gathered his gear and armor and began preparing for the journey he knew was ahead of him and whomever decided to show up. Once he was fully dressed and geared, leaving only his helm which he once again tied to his belt, he went to the chest and removed the travelling pack he had stored, and stored within the pack were basic survival items. He'd have to remember to bring provisions from the kitchen, already prepared and packed most likely; the barmaid Sten had hired to manage the inn was very reliable, a quality of hers, among many others, that Faulgor had valued greatly.
It was about a quarter of an hour before dawn when the Orc exited his own room and entered that of the Nord drunkard from the night before. The Nord was snoring loudly and clearly still deep in sleep, though Faulgor needed him wide awake and stepped over to the far side of the cot. Reaching down, he grabbed the wooden frame and raised it, sending the Nord rolling and tumbling onto the floor. There was a loud thud as the man's head hit the hard wood followed by a low groan of pain coming from the fleshed bundle aside the cot. The Orc set the cot back down gently and walked over to the man on the floor. "You've got five minutes to be downstairs and ready to depart, and for every minute you go over I'll break one of your limbs. In short: be swift," he said sharply before exiting and making his way downstairs. As expected, there was a bag of provisions neatly packed and resting on the bar top which soon found itself nestled in the Orc's pack. Not long after, his ears perked up a bit as he heard the Nord slowly trudging down the steps. Without looking at the man, Faulgor greeted him quite unkindly. "Ah, so I see you decided against arriving late. How unfortunate," he added with foreboding tone. "C'mon, out the door. Can't keep the carriages waiting."
The Nord sighed heavily and headed out of the inn's doors, trying to keep out of arm's reach of the Orc. Faulgor donned and fastened his helm, adjusted it comfortably, then followed the Nord to the carriages, nodding to the Kahjiit traders along the road as they passed by. Once the pair reached their destination, Faulgor greeted the two Nord carriage drivers and opened one of the buggy's doors, gesturing for the drunkard to enter and the man didn't hesitate to comply. He stood and watched the road and thought quietly to himself, Now, to await the others...
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