Tes the storm’s breaking (storm x nyte) escoliosis toracolumbar

Across the rich lapis waters of the Iliac Bay, the sun grew hateful. Days at sea, mired in ceaseless sheets of fog that ever threatened to culminate into a proper storm, the crew of the Storm-Breaker could only trust in their compass and their Captain. Each day grew hotter, to where Starkad had completely forsaken not only furs, but as much heavy clothing as he could. Instead, he worked the mooring of the Storm-Breaker in little more than his breeches and boots.

When the fog-wall broke, the golden band of Hammerfell glittered on the horizon, and the sun’s rays became as clawed fingers raking across flesh. The same dolor lumbar derecho blazing ball that burned over his homeland, but twice again as punishing, it seemed.


Starkad bit back a blasphemous oath, adjusting sail to the Captain’s command, and finding brief comfort in the breeze that swelled the sails overhead. Lazy waves rolled beneath them, a breed of blue Starkad had never seen nor imagined. Gulls and seahawks called and squabbled around the peaks of the Storm-Breaker’s mast, searching for a meal to plunder from the deck. Other ships with brilliantly-colored sails skittered across the water, some defying the wind with the coordinated sweeps of oars.

Again came the order for sails to be drawn as the Storm-Breaker drew into Sentinel’s harbor, overlooked by a towering lighthouse of pale stone, capped with a sloped dome of shining brass. Sweeping his sun-pinched gaze to the metropolis, he found many structures blazed like torches in the sunlight, their similarly domed roofs capped in an array of copper to gold, while the stonework itself was two-toned: sand-pale and earthen red, forming an architectural mosaic tapestry wherever he looked escoliosis leve.

The assault on the senses upon mooring at the Wayfarer’s Warf could not be understated. While the familiar harbor scents were present – salt air, fish, and sailor’s odor – the wind carried utterly alien smells of exotic spices and spirits, and the peculiar drone of foreign music all mingling together, dizzying. Rubbing the calloused heel of his palm against his good eye, Starkad shook out his frizzed mane as he helped lower the gangplank. Swarthy Redguard dockworkers took the other end que es rotoescoliosis lumbar, eyeing the odd-ball crew aboard such a plainly Nord vessel. Word of Ulfric’s victory, and his policies, had surely spread by now. Starkad remembered seeing a gaggle of Redguard folk on some sort of mission in Skyrim. He had assumed them emissaries, but perhaps they were something else. No matter. It wasn’t any business of his.

While Starkad joined the crew in the unloading of trade goods, leaving the dockmaster haggling to Lord Winterblade, he felt a prickle of unease through the blanketing sense of wonder. Setting down a barrel of Nord mead branded for market, Starkad swept his wintry gaze across the warf once again. Someone was watching them, he was sure. Chewing estenosis lumbar cirugia his lip in consternation, he turned to Khinada, partly curious how a creature so covered in fur could stand being in a place as sweltering as this. He’d heard tell of Elswyr’s own raking heat, but despite all his adventures, Starkad had never left the bosom of Skyrim before this journey.

"Khinada," he called in a rough whisper, "What say you to a jaunt to this… bazaar these Iliac-folk are gabbing about? We’ve gold to spend, and I have a mighty thirst," he said, pantomiming a mug in his hand. That was only part of it. He’d desired some time with Khinada away from the crew… and he really did need better clothing for the climates they would be suffering.

A silken shiver ran up the iron column of Starkad’s spine, his back straightening and and shoulders squaring as the Khajiit’s claws pinched his haunch. It smarted, sure, but it was pleasant as it was playful. Starkad’s weather-beaten face crinkled up in a coy grin, arm in arm with her, feeling those sly hands perched on his bicep. He could feel the escoliosis dorsolumbar dextroconvexa subtle shifts of Khinada’s weight through her languorous stride, something he appreciated given the sparsity of her dress. Treading casually from boardwalk to age-polished stone, they left the ship and sea breeze at their back.

Motes of dust and sand puffed up with every step, passers-by moving around the odd couple with curt exclamations in all manner of tongues. The bazaar, thankfully, was not difficult to find. It was the beating heart of commotion, greater than the inns and brothels lining the warf. In shadows cast by the Sentinel Bridge, great awnings of scarlet spread on either side, the kaleidoscopic quilt-patch spread of innumerable tents and stalls laid out beneath. Criers and hecklers jibbered and barked, camels groaned beneath highly-stacked wares.

"By Talos, I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew…" Starkad breathed into Khinada’s fur-tufted ear, a hand adjusting his bulging coinpurse to his escoliosis dorsolumbar izquierda front, fitting snugly beside the hilt of his dagger. Shifting his arm, Starkad ran a calloused palm down the curve of Khinada’s supple spine, fingers gripping softly, feeling the faint shifts and curves of lean muscle beneath her pelt.

"As much as I adore this attire of yours, I think we both need some better clothes. I’m not inclined to share these sights with all the world," Starkad said, repaying Khinada’s earlier kiss with one of his own, placed behind her ear. "and my lily-pale arse will fry if kept in this wicked sun overlong." He smiled, wolfish. Peering over his shoulder, still feeling the weight of unseen eyes between his shoulder blades. Shrugging uncomfortably at the phantasmal pressure, Starkad brushed the hilt of his dagger with a thumb.

They dolor lumbar embarazo primeras semanas couldn’t stay still for too long, unless that someone decided to put a blade there instead of a glare. Keeping his python of an arm wrapped protectively around the Khajiit’s back, he continued to walk with Khinada through the milling crowd of dusky faces. Starkad managed to find himself a vendor with a linen tunic large enough for him.

"It was for an orsimer caravan guard, but the alik’r swallowed him whole," the merchant had said. The tunic was undyed, embroidered with red braiding at the low collar and knee-length hem. He exchanged coin without ceremony, also receiving a striped burgundy-and-blue sash and a cotton bolt of fabric the merchant called a ghutrah, to be worn like a scarf and hood as protection from sand and sun.

"What do you think?" Starkad asked with a glance to Khinada, rolling the too-short sleeves up past his elbows. The merchant, a local redguard man whose hair had turned from black to iron with years, looked between the two, his walnut eyes measuring like scales, and uncanny with a trader’s shrewd genius.

Already, his wrinkled fingers pawed preparacion del paciente para una radiografia de columna lumbosacra through his wares once again, rummaging for more he could sell the outsiders. He had noticed their swollen purses before he ever noted their closeness. Closenness that he could lean on while propositioning some finer wares. He laid out silks, velvets, and patterned linens. The nord had proven himself to be shrewdly practical, and placed before him a suede jerkin. Nords loved their animal hide, after all.

Odd looks escoliosis lumbar izquierda tratamiento and off-color comments were nothing new to Khinada, she had grown use to it throughout her time in Skyrim. It was more for their being together, or rather a shining example of a son of Skyrim being arm and arm with a Khajiit, than it was for her merely being what she was. But being the Khajiit she was, Khinada simply made light of it with a false huff. “One would think that these people would have seen a Nord before.” Flashing a toothy grin at her own jest, she rubbed her soft cheek against his muscled shoulder and purred as they ventured deeper into the marketplace.

The Khajiit could feel the tension in Starkad’s body, but she was not yet sure if there was a more sinister cause to his trepidation. Hoping to ease his mind, she placed a reassuring hand against his broad, bare chest before they arrived at a vender stall that, by no small miracle, had a tunic in his size. Her amber eyes twinkled with amusement as she watched him try out the new garments. The garments didn’t look bad on him, but with his pale complexion and daunting stature, he still looked incredibly out of place, even dressed in more appropriate attire.

With a bright smile, she laughed. “It suits you, Starkad…” She lowered her voice then, leaning into him, “and if you do happen to fry that fine pale arse, Khinada is sure to have a salve for that.” Winking, she laughed again, giving his jaw a playful pat before eyeing the new wares the vendor had been busy pulling out to display for them. She perused the dazzelingly hued fabrics, letting estenosis lumbar soluciones her fingertips gingerly sample their feels; lingering on a deep green silk that was quite striking. But the Khajiit knew from her experience in the caravans that silks were not the best fabrics for travel and, in truth, it would be no small shame for such fine fabric to be ruined with sweat and dust.

Practiced hands continued to riffle through the fabrics and garments until they brushed a familiar feel. Seizing it, she withdrew hernia discal lumbar tratamiento fisioterapia a simple wrap-dress and held it out before herself to examine before drawing it closer to gauge the fit. It was spun of soft cotton and was a faded lilac hue that seemed to somehow bring out more of the golden tones in her eyes and oranges of her coat. When she pulled it on, it hung to just above her ankles and fell over her lithe curves modestly with the barest hint of suggested promise.

As she tied the garment in place, the merchant’s hands skillfully appeared in her view offering a lovely belt of slightly darker purple fabric and brass rings to complete the look. With a soft chuckle, she thanked him and tied it loosely around her waist so that it hugged the top of her hips, letting the excess of the ends hang freely to one side. She gave herself an appraising once over before looking back to her Nordic lover. “Too much?”

"The storybook pirate look suits me, eh? Excellent," Starkad said with a rough, burbling laugh beneath the soft, teasing touch of Khinada’s hand. Her sultry whispers caressed his reddening ears in soft gossamer tones, her whiskers twitching against his cheek. Starkad tightened his jaw to keep from nipping the Khajiit on the ear. &quot hernia de disco lumbar sintomas;I’ll never say no to those healing hands," he purred. Clearing his throat, Starkad hooked his thumbs on his broad belt, brushing a thumb against the etched pommel of his dagger as he looked past Khinada in search of his source of unease.

His stormy blue eyes swept the milling crowd of dusky faces and vibrant swatches of color, expecting the flash of naked steel or the whistle enfermedades lumbares of an arrow in flight, but seeing nothing. Perhaps he had grown overly defensive, possibly paranoid, but given all that he’d been through in recent years, Starkad saw it as a means of survival. It wasn’t until after the Barrow that Starkad thought of doing more than surviving. He had money for the first time in a long while, and in no modest quantity. To make a life without wanting he would need a fair bit more, but he already had something that could turn a hunter’s hovel into a palace. Glancing to Khinada at her prompting, Starkad swept his hungry gaze from the tips of her claws to the tufted ends of her ears, to the flicking end of her tail.

"You look like you should be held up on a divan with a cup of chilled wine," he said appreciatively. In her new attire, even without opulent jewelry, she had the bearing of an affluent merchant. An especially exotic demeanor that Starkad hadn’t appreciated when Khinada was previously clad in Skyrim furs and leathers. He nibbled his lip as he gave her another second once-over, nodding. "You wear it extremely radiografia de columna lumbar ap y lateral well."

A smile pulled at her dark lips as the skin beneath the velvet fur of her cheeks took on a soft blush of red. There was no way she would ever tire of the looks he gave her, positively primal and predatory but also fiercely and jealously protective. Using her best honey-coated voice, she gave a warm chuckle and offered a surprisingly skilled imitation of such an affluent persona. “Now that is a fine idea, indeed.” Slipping her arm through his to delicately rest her clawed hand atop his wrist, she continued. “Come, my sweet, let us see if such fitting accomodations can be found.” Prompting him to move with a supple shifting of her weight, she guided them away while still managing to keep a pace back in a manner that implied being escorted for her own safety.

Once away from the merchant’s table, she rested her silken cheek against his muscular arm and breathed in the scent of him, purring ever so softly. Though they were both more than capable of handing themselves in their own right, his mere presence filled her to brimming with a warmth and security the likes of which she had not felt since her days within her family’s caravan. It was in these simple moments that she knew in the depths of her heart that she would follow him to the ends of Tamriel and back if he were dolor lumbar bajo to ask it of her.