#( stendarr is slowly coming around )

[endawn]

pax 🤝 leliana: god(s) talk to me

[throughtrialbyfire]

"Not so Nice Edition" ASK GAME TIME!!!! :D

Tell me about what ever OC you're currently dying to talk about. (And totally don't take into consideration I have the biggest soft spot for bean-plant-boy Athenath. I mean it. Any OC out of any of your works. We all have that one that is over-looked and we NEED to rant about. Now's the time. :3) Or if there's multiple, all the better ❤❤❤

Future

Midnight

Mistake

secret

OOOOOOOOOO i'm very very excited to answer these >:3c i have some characters including the trio i'd like to throw into these! this is gonna get very very long unfortunately HAAHKJFHGKHDFGJK

i answered for emeros, athenath, wyndrelis, talari, maxim, casirus, and syranel!

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

athenath - it's hard to explain how it would wind up, but if we're talking worst of all worst possible futures? the trio is going to meet the dark brotherhood at some point, and however that goes is still up in the air, but if we want to talk about possibilities, the worst outcome for him would be to lose himself as Listener to the Night Mother. a complete inversion of their devotion to Mara, and the isolation of self that would come from it. athenath is a good person at heart, but they don't believe it, and if they allowed himself to be entirely isolated into the role of Listener and lose touch with everyone around them, SOLELY focusing on their duties as an assassin? they'd lose everything, in a way. they're not aware this is even on the table, if he lets it be.

emeros - emeros is not an angry person, to be honest, but if he loses himself in something he's currently seeking throughout the story… i'm not going to spoil too much, but vengeance is an obsessive weed, and he's got to have the power to pluck it where it stands and burn the roots. he's more than capable of that, but there's going to come a point where he's not even certain he could if he wanted to. worst possible outcome is becoming someone he can no longer look in the mirror, someone he doesn't even know, and losing his connections to his friends through this. he's very aware this is a possibility, and he's going to fight it tooth and nail if he can.

wyndrelis - trying not to spoil too much (as it's both a plot point in the future of CotS and his backstory fic, "Bone of my Bone"), but if wyndrelis returned to a path he used to walk when he was in the College of Whispers, then there would be a very real possibility his own talents would be his undoing and complete destruction. he used to have a mentor who saw insane talent in him, and worked with him constantly and diligently. this mentor is the reason wyndrelis started down a path that could have destroyed him. power-seeking is a big problem for him, and he's aware this is a possibility, and shudders to think what would happen if the temptation to go back arose again.

midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

maxim - his home was in the city of winterhold, before the great collapse. all his friends, his family, his loved ones, all gone in the blink of an eye while he was away in dawnstar doing business as a bookseller. he does have nightmares about it, mostly about the "what ifs", what if he hadn't gone out the days before? what if he'd stayed home and done business locally? would he have been in the sea with them? would he have never become a scholar at winterhold, never a professor? when he cant sleep, he makes tea with a calming potion and sits by a window, drinking it slowly and trying to remind himself of the present moment.

casirus - his life as a former vigilant of stendarr still haunts him. he still keeps his amulet close. it means nothing to him anymore. he doesn't have nightmares, but he does lay awake thinking about his time there, what he did, the things he's responsible for. hunting down people for their beliefs, tormenting them for worshipping daedric princes, was he no better than the thalmor that prowl in pursuit of talos worshippers? he has a lot on his mind, and he tries to not let it eat him up. when he can't sleep, or when he wakes up and can't fall back to sleep, he'll grab his lute and head outside to the courtyard and spend time just strumming, returning to the basics, easy things he knows and won't take much thought. it keeps him grounded.

talari - guilt, mostly. she thinks that she should have been stronger, should have stayed with the Synod when the great war was starting, when they were gearing up to fight with the imperial battle mages against the aldmeri dominion. she left because her family had been loyal to the dominion for many years, and she didn't have the courage, in her mind, to fight her family. so, she often ponders the "what ifs" of this. sometimes, if she and deroth duskmire (a dominion defector) are awake at the same time on nights like these, they'll sit together in silence and read, or just talk a little, a sort of understanding with the other without words being needed.

mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?

athenath - i can't spoil it just yet, but there's a reason that athenath became a devotee to the goddess of compassion. she's the only one that he felt could give them absolution.

syranel - becoming a justiciar. he doesn't know its a mistake yet. he was already a low-ranking soldier for the dominion for many years (mostly just doing paperwork or guard duty) and when his talents were finally recognized and he could become a justiciar, he took it without thinking of the effect it would have. he's lost someone very, very close to him due to this decision, and while he thinks that this person was in the wrong, he'll come to realize one day that it was quite the opposite.

wyndrelis - he didn't check the enchantments properly on a staff one time, and it cost someone their life. he'll never really be able to fix it, but he's doing his best to move forward.

secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

athenath - he never wants anyone to see them for who they really are: some grieving, scared kid who had to grow up too fast. a lot of their fear comes out as having a temper.

emeros - that he thinks he's a coward, incapable of ever really making amends for some of the greatest mistakes (and in his mind, acts of cowardice or ignorance) of his life.

wyndrelis - he'd give anything for no one to know it was him who caused the clocktower fire in his home town, and he never, ever wants to tell anyone about it.

thank you so much for sending these!! i had a hell of a great time answering them <33

not-so-nice oc asks

[boarchasers]

Day 5

Prompt: Forgotten or Devotion

Haaki wasn't sure what he would find in the Sanctuary. Although he had not exactly kept up a steady correspondence with the Dark Brotherhood after shunning the order and fleeing any attempt to recall him, he was vaguely aware, through Trond's grossly exaggerated rumours and the occasional hint from Chira, before losing touch with her entirely, that some kind of incident had befallen the Falkreath sect. Combined with the lack of Silencers after him, he had hoped that might mean the end of his involvement with them.

Certainly something had happened here. The scorched walls left soot on his clothes as he stumbled down the steps, leaning against the side for support. Rubble filled a lot of the passageways. Interestingly, though, the stones and dust had been swept to one side on the main path, leaving a clear way through. Hopefully that had been done some time ago and the place would be empty today.

A drop of blood, his blood, soaked into the dirt as the wound in his arm spilled over.

'I told you to lead him here, not maim him.'

'He needed persuading--'

'Fetch some bandages.'

Haaki stopped, wincing as the jolt flashed pain into his ribs. Maybe the stag had been the better option. Regardless, he was committed now. The dagger weighed reassuringly at his side.

A Nord rounded the corner at the bottom of the steps, appearing out of the gloom and burnt, mangled masonry like a spectre. She wore dark armour, imprinted with the black hand, a nightmare walking. She also held bandages.

'Take these,' said the nightmare. 'Get you cleaned up.'

Haaki remained where he was. She sighed and climbed the steps. Haaki retreated upwards, away from her, and tripped over a fallen chunk of stone. Before he could scramble up the Nord had her arm around his and was hauling him to his feet, pushing the bandages into his hands. A small vial followed them. Seeing the look he gave it, and how close he was to flinging it on the floor, she sighed.

'It's not poison. That bite is probably infected, this is just something to clean it up.'

Slowly, deliberately, Haaki let the vial slip between his fingers. It didn't smash, which would have been far more satisfying, but it did bounce down the steps and roll into the darkness. The Nord folded her arms and leaned against the wall.

'Suit yourself. They told me you would be sulky.'

Finally Haaki broke his silence.

'Sulky? Pardon?'

'You heard me.' She grinned. 'I'm Bette, by the way. Will you at least put on the bandages?'

Haaki dropped those too, rolled up his sleeve, and concentrated. At least one good thing had come out of his regrettable time in Windhelm. His healing magic was weak and hesitant, made worse by the rising panic in his chest, and if the wound was infected it wouldn't help with that but it did the job, sealing over the bite wound -- however imperfectly -- and leaving only the smears of blood and a ragged scar behind. The pain began to fade, and with it his nerves. If the Brotherhood wanted him dead, his corpse would already be going cold by this point, so he was probably safe for the time being.

He met Bette's eyes. Had they passed in the street, he would have thought them friendly, comforting, a cheerful blue. It was easy to see why someone would trust eyes like that, right up until she slid the knife in.

'I thought you were gone from Falkreath,' he said. Bette shrugged.

'We're never gone for long.'

'What about the stag? Was that you?'

'That was Sjorik, one of our new recruits. A little unorthodox, but he gets the job done, and having a mark wandering around after he's supposed to have been killed confuses the guards wonderfully. The Speakers thought you in particular would appreciate his flair for the dramatic.' Before Haaki could question this, she went on, 'We wanted to bring you here. We hoped the rumours of necromancy in Bleak Hills Barrow might attract the attention of a good little Priest of Stendarr, and when that failed we decided to try more... direct methods of drawing you to us.'

'Why?'

'To test your devotion. To let you know that Sithis never forgets his children.'

Years of fear and panic and nights lying awake in a cold sweat seemed to hit Haaki at full force in a single moment. His legs quaked beneath him, and only his determination not to show any weakness in front of Bette kept him standing.

'I could kill you,' he managed. His voice sounded thin and dry. Bette was unperturbed.

'You could. Not very... merciful of you, though. For a priest.'

'How do you know about that?'

'Oh, we know. We know everything, Haaki Boar-Chaser.'

The sound of his full name, slipping out from between smug, curled lips, made Haaki shudder, not at the realisation of how few secrets he could keep from the Brotherhood, but at the thought of someone else who addressed him that way, in Windhelm, not very long and yet a lifetime ago. Maybe Bette knew about that as well. Her smile twisted further.

'Your oath of devotion to Sithis cannot simply be forgotten,' she said. 'You might put it aside, try to hide it, lie to others and to yourself, but it will always be there. You cannot escape Him when you are already His.'

Haaki wanted to ask, how do you know? How can you tell? Can you see my soul? Do you know where it is?

Stubborn pride overruled the questions. His whole body fixed itself in a rigor. Stiff. Unbending. A shield between his self and the world.

'Why don't you just kill me? I thought anyone who left the Brotherhood--'

'You haven't given away our secrets. See? You say you've left us, and yet you never told your brother, the guard, where we were. You still know the catechisms. You still carry an assassin's dagger.'

Suddenly the weight of the dagger felt much heavier. Haaki put a hand over it, fingers at the hilt.

'This isn't from you.'

'It belonged to one of us, aye? Someone you still think fondly of. Why else would you carry it with you? That's why we don't just kill you. We're assassins, Haaki, not murderers. For now, we have faith that our brother will return to us, one day, when he remembers his loyalties. After all, were we really so bad? We gave you a family, a home, and the justice you were desperate for.'

'That wasn't justice. It was vengeance.'

'Very profound, and I'd love to discuss the finer ethical points of our work with you, but as you can see--' she swept an arm around at the debris '--Sjorik and I already have a lot of cleaning to do, so I'd like to wrap this up. Are you going to embrace your fate and devote yourself once again to our Dread Father? Or will you continue to run?'

[lilmothiits]

🌈 & 👎 for the ask meme? whichever oc ye prefer

since u didnt pick the oc ill just go briefly for everyone thats on my poll

👎 Is there someone your OC can’t stand, despite them being on the same side or sharing basic values?

bee: for a while, that was engall. he was the "new person" at the time and made her feel like she was slowly being pushed out of her group. she got better after a while after some meditation and reflection. aside from him, she tends not to get along with some of the more "sons of skyrim" stormcloaks, not least because of how they treat her for being born

engall: strangely enough, engall doesnt really hate particular people. his hatred extends more to positions of power, and just an overall disdain for anyone outside of the brotherhood or his particular circle. back when he was a kid though he could list off any number of people and reasons he hated them and wanted to push them into a meat grinder

venel: oh theres loads of people she doesnt like despite having to get along with them. so many dunmer in morrowind are ASSES. same with everyone else actually. the people in power that shes had to woo to the nerevarine cause are Quite The Collection Of People

elegoth: ulfric, balgruuf, tullius, actually basically anyone when it comes to the civil war. he supports skyrims liberation but good god if some of these people are dense and insufferable. he hates thalmor supporters most of all, but given his backstory thats obvious

eldrys: okay heres a hilarious one. so hes a vigilant of stendarr. engall and his husband are vampire and werewolf respectively. he spends the entirety of the dawnguard questline with them. the irony was not lost on him either. this man has complicated feelings about them at the very least

az'hiri: she'll never forgive eláne for what he did to engall

shar'ja: queen ayrenne, strangely, despite being one of her Eyes. her demeanor and the company she keeps rubs him the wrong way, and he never goes out of his way to be around her

gwyneth: people who partake in society. she's a very singular survivalist type, as raised by her extremist parents. despite how much she has in common with everyone around her in society, she'd much prefer to be alone in a hand-build cabin with a couple of purebred, loyal hunting dogs. erandur can visit tho

skaris: the list goes on. his father, the priests, the guards of wherever he's holing up, etc. being a prince-turned-pauper brings out a violent hatred for everyone around you. its not fair!! right?

yrwe: he is INCREDIBLY suspicious of any and all humans. he's a snow elf, and to him they all look the same

alaiko: she's yet to find someone she really dislikes. i havent played her very far, but being regarded as a "very ugly khajiit" when she is neither ugly nor a khajiit doesnt leave a good taste in her mouth

nakai: most merchants. shes...how do you say...lets say a haggler? she starts at 0 and doesnt go up. shes not very popular at places of business, so i guess it's more the other way around

aevar: there's some folks in the skaal village he doesnt get along with maybe, but hes generally an easy-going guy. he's been through a lot, but its hard to rise him to actively dislike someone

🌈 Does your OC speak more than one language? If so, how many and which?

bee: yes! she speaks jel and cyrodiilic (english), jel natively

engall: yes! he speaks cyrodiilic (natively), ta'agra (fluent), and CSL (cyrodiilic sign language, fluent). he's also picked up a touch of nordic and dunmeris

venel: no. she's *learning* dunmeris, but she only fluently speaks cyrodiilic

elegoth: yes, he speaks aldmeris (native) and cyrodiilic (fluent)

eldrys: no, just cyrodiilic, touches of nordic as well

az'hiri: yes, she speaks ta'agra (native) and cyrodiilic (fluent). she's also teaching her wife and son cyrodiilic

shar'ja: yes, ta'agra (native), aldmeris (fluent), and cyrodiilic (conversational)

gwyneth: kind of? she speaks bretic natively and is reluctantly coming to learn cyrodiilic

skaris: of course! cyrodiilic is his native, but he's been given fine instruction in dunmeris (fluent), aldmeris(decent), bretic(ehh), and ald chimeris(passable)

yrwe: no, he speaks ald falmeris (natively) and only the absolute minimum cyrodiilic

alaiko: she's currently only fluent in nordic, bet she's learning cyrodiilic

nakai: yes, cyrodiilic (native) and nordic (fluent)

aevar: yes, skaal nordic (native) and cyrodiilic (passable)

[cheeseandstrawberrytartlover]

The Vigilants of Stendarr

([Description of] Gore Warning)

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

It was a boring day for Sheogorath. Well, it was going to stop being boring in a second, but for now it indeed was boring.

Sheogorath was quietly sitting on his throne, fidgeting with his staff.

"Aaaand what is on the schedule today?"

Haskill looked at his master.

"Well, technically nothing, Milady."

The Daedric Prince huffed and crossed their arms. Suddenly she felt a stinging sensation in her side. Sheogorath closed their eyes and barely saw a group of mortals walking towards his palace.

Sheogorath whispered, "How did they come in here?"

Haskill inhaled and shrugged. Sheogorath rolled his eyes at his current position but was willing to wait for the brave adventurers that entered his realm. They closed their eyes again to try and locate the intruders but then they heard the doors open.

"Okay, they are fast. They apparently want to make short work of me, but you know how that ends," Sheogorath alluded.

He arose from his throne to greet the adventurers.

Before he could say anything, they drew their weapons and so did the palace guards. Sheogorath rolled his eyes and clapped.

"Well, what brings you four here? The fighters guild? The mages guild? Or maybe-"

The man in the heavy armor spoke up, "We are from the vigilants of Stendarr!"

Sheogorath tilted his head.

"The vigilants... of Stendarr?"

"We were founded after the Oblivion Crisis."

The Daedric Prince inhaled and took that in for a second.

"And so you destroy Daedra? All by yourself? You're going to get killed! Trust me on that one-"

The palace guards took a step forward. Sheogorath tuted at both of his palace guards and wagged his finger, "Girlies, protect my child. I will deal with them alone."

The vigilants looked at each other confused and the palace guards moved towards the nursery.

"A... child?"

"My child, to be exact. I gave birth to them."

That only intensified the confusion in the vigilants.

"Ah, I didn't even introduce myself! Where are my manners..."

Sheogorath bowed, "I am Sheogorath! Daedric Prince of Madness! Welcome, vigilants of Stendarr! I am guessing that you are here to destroy my physical form and I hate to burst your bubble, but..."

They held their staff forward and grinned, "That won't happen today! I advice you to leave."

The group readied themselves and Sheogorath shrugged playfully, "Let's not play so close to the nursery."

The man closest to Sheogorath raised his sword arm and charged towards Sheogorath only to end up in a pocket dimension that looked like an arena full of fog.

Sheogorath was to his right and to his left and behind and in front of him. There was a thick fog surrounding everything so he could only see his silhouette.

"Wh-What is this?!"

"Go ahead, kill me."

He looked around. Every Sheogorath was walking to towards him. He started shaking.

The young man insisted, "I will do my divine duty as a Vigilant of Stendarr!"

He grabbed his amulet and held it tightly before charging the Sheogorath behind him first.

He spun around and hit another with his sword. He also stabbed one in his chest, throwing them to the ground. As the man tried to remove his sword Sheogorath's voice sounded... feminine. He coughed up blood while dying. Daedra do not bleed like that.

"What...?"

"Hame... why...?"

The fog slowly lifted and he saw the face of his fellow vigilant who tried to grab his hand.

He fell backwards and landed on the ground. The only vigilant left crawled backwards from the sight of their murdered fellows.

"No!! Nonono!! Please! I didn't- I-"

Sheogorath laughed at the sight.

"See? I didn't even have to do anything! You did this all by yourself!"

Sheogorath stepped closer to the cowering vigilant. The man started to pray, "Stendarr, please."

The Daedric Prince touched his shoulder and whispered, "If Stendarr would be here, he wouldn't be able to save you or your friends. Look at me."

The vigilant slowly looked up and turned towards Sheogorath.

Haskill was keeping a low profile in the background just watching his master at work.

The Daedric Prince grabbed the chin of the vigilant and whispered, "Were they ever really your friends? Or were they just... the people you worked with?"

Sheogorath's eyes were boring a hole into the young vigilant's mind.

He was reminded of how he was an outcast from the other vigilants. His rage made him different. He had lost everything and they just wouldn't understand why he was always so angry. It was their fault.

It was their fault that they didn't understand. It was their fault that he was alone.

Tears streamed down his face.

"And why are you so angry, my dear vigilant?"

Suddenly he could see himself when he went home. He could see himself in the door frame of his home and past his own body was the murder scene of his wife and daughter.

"Nonono- They're-"

"Look closer."

Sheogorath's words were like caterpillars crawling into his ears and he could see clearer. Their daughter was tightly in the arms of her mother. There was blood all over the floor. The dead eyes of their loved ones drove him mad. Symbols were scratched into the wooden walls. They seemed like sunsets. A familiar image. The symbol of Mehrunes Dagon and his followers.

"It was their fault. That is the reason why you became a vigilant of Stendarr, isn't it? You were going to fight evil and yet everyone has failed you, my dear. They only wanted you for your strength, not your companionship. You trusted them and they threw your trust away as if it were the core of an apple. Everyone hates you. You're not welcome on Nirn. The only thing you need right now is love and that is not a thing you will get on Nirn, trust me."

Sheogorath gently woke up him up by squeezing his chin.

"And I can give you that love. Here you will be loved by all. Do you want to stay and be loved again?"

More tears streamed down his face and he finally admitted, "Yes.... I- I do want to be loved again."

The Daedric Prince removed his influence and pointed at the fresh corpses, "Then forgot them and let me help you." He gently gave him a hug and helped him get back on his feet. Leading him back into the palace through a portal was easy, he followed him perfectly without even looking up from the ground.

Haskill was already in the throne room and waited with a few palace guards. Sheogorath grinned and gave the ex-vigilant a pat on the back.

"Make him feel welcome, ladies!"

The man tried to walk to the palace guards but Sheogorath quickly stopped him.

"Let me get that for you..." Sheogorath emplored and ripped the amulet of Stendarr clean off, "There! Much better."

He tidied his clothing and gave him a kiss on the head before sending him away with the palace guards.

Haskill waited until the man was gone and expressed his admiration, "Excellent work, my Lord."

"I missed doing that," Sheogorath admitted and opened a portal to Nirn. She reached through it while holding the amulet of Stendarr and put her head through it as well.

It nearly immediately started raining and Sheogorath looked up.

"Awww, Stendarr... don't cry. This isn't the first and last time you will lose followers. Next time don't send them into my realm, got that?"

It thundered and Sheogorath let the amulet fall to the ground before going backwards and closing their portal.

Sheogorath walked back to their throne and slumped onto it while chuckling.

"What a day," Sheogorath sighed, excited for the next event to arise.

[highlifeboat]

My friend and I were talking about Harkon's boss fight earlier and how it kind of sucks that it only takes like 5 minutes to kill him. We said it would be better if you had to fight him in stages.

Once in his human form, because obviously that's his weakest form but he would/should have the confidence that he could take the Dragonborn and Serana out no problem with his sword and blood magic. You get him weak but just as you go to kill him he does his little bat teleport to Molag Bal's shrine.

Then the Vampire Lord form, where it's harder to hit him. He moves faster, and he teleports around. Basically the vanilla fight, but he gets more health. This is when the Bow comes in, blah blah blah, you hit him a few times when he hovers over the Shrine. We know the drill. You get him to his knees again but it's not quite over.

Then you get to the last stage, and Harkon isn't even Harkon by that point. He becomes some horrific merger of Molag Bal, a Vampire Lord, and himself. Because it's been Bal corrupting him this whole time, and he'll be damned if he's gonna let you win. And everything clicks for Serana, Harkon's obsession, the neglect, the abuse, it all started getting worse after they gave themselves to Bal, and he's slowly been corrupting Harkon's mind since. And now you're forced to face this abomination the size of a giant in a lengthy battle that you (obviously) eventually win.

And it all ends with half the Cathedral crumbling in on itself and burying the shrine. Harkon/Bal/Whatever he is turns to ash with a demonic scree and Serana is just silent for a while. You go back inside, Garan (or Isran) says his sympathies, you get an option to repair the shrine (but it changes to Stendarr or Auriel with the Dawnguard), and everything turns out okay. Sort of.

[arklay]

✝☺️⚠️ + ithreni

✝ : is your muse religious?

i'm gonna have to break this down into a few bits because although ithrenil is not devout, she does hold some belief, also at different times in her life, she has fallen in and out of belief. ithrenil was raised up in the jerall mountains in a shack away from the rest of civilisation. with her mother having the beast blood, and being one of the few families where it was hereditary, ithrenil had to learn to control it away from big cities. her mother was a bosmer who didn't adhere to the green pact, and she introduced ithrenil to the daedric prince, hircine, father of manbeasts and spirit of the hunt. she grew up believing her beast blood to be a gift, her mother teaching her that she had been blessed by the huntsman

after a while of trying to live on her own after her mother was killed by werewolf hunters, she was approached by the dark brotherhood when they noticed her sneak into a camp of hunters which i'm not sure when the silver hand were established or if they branched off of the vigil of stendarr, but these hunters would've been involved with them, she didn't shift into her beast form, preferring to quietly wipe out the whole camp and leave unseen. during her time with the dark brotherhood, she took to worshipping sithis, the dread father, and his bride, the night mother. this didn't last long however, her belief wavered as her guilt of the lives she took grew, she was the one who anonymously slipped the location of the cheydinhal sanctuary and it was raided while she fled the city

not having much knowledge of the nine divines, the other daedric princes, and the prophecy of the dragonborn, ithrenil was more than a little confused when people claimed that she was indeed the last dragonborn. she didn't care much for the title or the attention it brought, but after learning little pieces here and there of what it meant to be dragonborn, she understood the significance but still didn't believe it herself. slowly she began to learn more, mainly from farkas and her other shield-siblings, and although not a devout follower, she started to believe more in the nine divines

☺ : what is your muse's smile like? do they smile often?

if you didn't know ithrenil when she was comfortable around you, you'd think her mouth was stuck in a permanent scowl. she doesn't smile often and when she does it is typically just an upturn to the corners of her lips, unless of course you are farkas, then she grins from ear to ear when it is just the two of them alone

⚠ : how does your muse react to possibly dangerous situations? do they face them head-on, or do they plan out their actions first?

ithrenil is one to plan and then carry out said plan on her own, usually because she thinks others will mess it up. when it comes to dangerous situations, ithrenil is the first to take on the challenge, she enjoys the thrill that it brings which often shocks the people around her who have only ever seen her sitting back, quiet as can be, listening intently and letting others do the talking. she has confidence in her skills and is sometimes deemed as cocky because even if a situation is sprung on her with no time to plan, she executes it as though she has everything laid out already

random headcanon meme (ocs)

[padomaicocean]

Remain Vigilant

Yuzi has been on the road with her traveling companions for quite some time and they've finally made it to the city of Markarth. The city is strange and new but something appears to be lurking underneath. Questions grow and Yuzi needs answers.

Find it on AO3

"Finally, we made it— Markarth!" 

Yuzi fell to the ground and let out a purr, her feet sore from the long journey from Riften. 

Tiny-One didn't pause, walking past the dramatic Khajiit with Sterling in tow. Sylilron stopped next to his friend worriedly.  

"Yuzi, come on. Before they leave us behind."

Yuzi scrunched her face. "Ugh... But I don't want to! My feet hurt! Hey, do you think Tiny-One can make my feet not hurt?"

"I can cut them off." Tiny-One had stopped, whipping around to glare at the two stragglers. Sylilron straightened immediately, glancing down at Yuzi who had tensed before leaping back to her feet. 

The group resumed pace, approaching the Dwarven city’s large looming gates. Only time would tell if what they were looking for was here or not. 

-

Markarth was bustling, with people milling about as the group wandered in. Tiny-One kept pushing forward, the group trailing after her. Yuzi peered around the market curiously; the atmosphere here was much different than Riften's. While Riften remained gloomy and people wary of strangers, this city appeared as if the people didn’t even trust themselves, throwing looks at their friends and neighbours. 

"The rumour was that a Vigilant of Stendarr was here... But Markarth is large— where do you think we should start?" Sterling addressed the small group leader. 

Tiny-One pulled her hood up over her head, concealing her face before answering. "We split off and ask around. Meet back in the market at sun high." Her eyes flicked back to the three behind her. "Sylilron, be wary. This city is crawling with Thalmor, keep away from the Jarl's keep. Tsiyuzi, don't cause any trouble." She ended the sentence with a glare at Yuzi. 

Sylilron nodded, pulling his own hood over his head to better conceal his identity. 

Sterling glanced over at him before looking back to Tiny-One. "I'll ask around the Jarl's keep then. I'm sure they have some sort of information." 

Tiny-One nodded. "I'll handle the mine area, then. The mines here are attached to the prison so I should be able to get some underground information."

"I can handle the markets then... Unless, you'd like to, Yuzi." Sylilron smiled down at his friend softly. 

Yuzi shook her head. "I can handle the inn. It's not like anything bad is gonna happen." 

"This city is full of unrest," Tiny-One warned. "Be cautious and don't say too much. If people realize what we're here for, there will be trouble. Assume the walls have ears, understood?"

The group nodded before splitting off. Yuzi watched them all go before navigating her way to the inn. Tiny-One had mentioned the unrest and now, as she watched the people, she could see it. The citizens appeared to carry a certain tension in their faces. Watching each other as if none of them knew who they could trust. Her brow furrowed, and she turned away, making her way towards the inn. Whatever lurked in the city to cause such disquiet was not her problem to deal with.

The atmosphere didn't change once she reached the inn. Guests turned their heads to watch her enter, their eyes narrowed with suspicion. Yuzi paid them no mind as she approached the counter. She took a seat, waiting for the barkeep to address her. 

Her waiting paid off as he came over. The barkeep eyed her warily, grabbing a tankard. "What can I get for you?"

"Milk, please." She smiled, and the barkeep gave her a strange look but nonetheless poured her a glass, sliding it over. 

Yuzi took a sip, letting out a soft purr.

"Khajiit, I swear..." the barkeep muttered, turning away.

Yuzi glared at him, clearing her throat. He met her eyes, unwavering despite her clear anger. 

"I heard a rumour and was wondering if you could help clear up some of the details," Yuzi's tail lashed; as frustrating as the Nord's clear intolerance was, she couldn't cause trouble. 

"City is full of rumours," he replied. "You're gonna have to speak clearer, cat."

"I heard there's been strange people passing through lately." She snapped, holding back harsher words. She clenched her fists, the urge to start a scene brewing. /Next time I'm in Markarth... I'll show this guy./ 

The barkeep glared at her. "Only strange one passing through has been you. Strange that the guards even let you in. Who'd you bribe, cat?"

Yuzi's ear laid flat as she unclenched her fists, instead digging her claws into the wooden counter, gouging the wood. She slowly stood up, fur bristling as blood began to pound in her ears. "You son of a-"

"Yuzi!"

Yuzi's head snapped back as Sylilron hurried in. He grabbed her arm, giving her a worried look before turning to the barkeep. "I apologize for my friend. We'll be going now." He tossed some septims on to the counter before pulling Yuzi out onto the street. 

Yuzi ripped her arm out of his grasp. "How dare you? I could handle myself. I wasn't going to do anything!" 

Sylilron flinched, looking away from her. "Sorry... I- I know that. I just... I heard what he said and it's fine. I already got some information so- there was no point leaving you there. I was coming so we could head back together-"

Yuzi watched her friend stammer and sighed, shoulders dropping as her anger faded away. "No, it's fine, Syl. I was gonna do something that would've caused problems for Tiny-One. You were right to stop me. That guy just got under my skin." She dropped her gaze to her feet, ears flat to her head. 

Sylilron wrapped his arms around his friend tightly. "It's okay. Hey, we have time - let's wander around the city? Before we have to meet up with the others." He pulled away holding the Khajiit at arm's length. 

She nodded and Sylilron grasped one of her hands tightly, guiding her further into the city. 

"It's really pretty. It's cool how the people here adapted the old ruins to live in, you know." Sylilron spoke, guiding them up some of the stairs. "I never did come to Markarth back when I was forced along with the Thalmor. I actually didn't know they had a strong presence here until Tiny-One said something."

"Really? You never overheard anything from the Thalmor?"

Sylilron shook his head. "No, they were pretty careful about who was allowed to hear what. While their presence isn't a secret, maybe what they're doing here is." 

They continued to climb the steps of the city, coming to a stop near the temple of Dibella. 

"I heard in the market that despite the Thalmor being here, there's still a temple of Talos. Though it's not really frequented anymore. I guess it makes sense considering all things considered. Just odd they didn't repurpose it, you know." 

"Well, Tiny-One did call the city restless. With the civil war ongoing that might be why. Most cities have a few Stormcloaks sympathizers," Yuzi pointed out, gazing out over the city. 

Sylilron tightened his grip on Yuzi's hand. "Yeah, that's true..." 

"Did you find the information Tiny-One was looking for?" Yuzi changed the subject, eager to move to something less depressing. 

Sylilron nodded, "Actually I did. I overheard some people discussing a strange man hanging out around an old abandoned house. They didn't say if he was a Vigilant of Stendarr or not, but I think he might be our guy." 

Yuzi grinned, "That's great, since I hit a dead end. Maybe the other two can confirm it."

The sun had continued to rise, nearly reaching its peak and warming her fur. Yuzi looked over at Sylilron. "Let's hurry back, maybe we'll beat them there."

Sylilron nodded, walking with Yuzi back down the market. 

-

Tiny-One was already waiting by the time they made it back - the vampire leaned against a wall under an overhang, lurking in its shadow. She scowled at the people walking by before her gaze flicked over, landing on her companions. The two made it over quickly and stood next to her. 

"Don't say anything." Tiny-One spoke, cutting off Sylilron as he opened his mouth. His teeth clacked together as he snapped his jaw shut. 

Tiny-One gestured with her head over to where a guard was watching them, but kept her gaze locked forward. 

Yuzi glanced at the guard, confusion filling her head. Had they done something wrong? Had the innkeeper said something to give them trouble? 

Behind them, some giggles were heard. Sylilron turned his head, hand clenching tight on Yuzi's, and she winced before following his gaze. Sterling was speaking to a woman, a smirk on his lips. Yuzi's gaze flicked over to Sylilron. Her friend's brow was furrowed, his eyes flashing with envy, then hurt. He turned his head away, keeping his grip tight.  

Yuzi rubbed a thumb along the back of her friend's hand before slowly extracting hers. Irritation bubbled up inside her, and she whirled around to give Sterling hell. 

"Tsiyuzi, don't." 

She froze, glancing back at Tiny-One. Tiny-One stood up straight and walked away from Sylilron and Yuzi.

"Don't cause a scene. Come on, let's walk. Sterling already knows where to find us." Tiny-One said, turning and walking up the city path. 

Sylilron and Yuzi looked at each other before following after their small leader. 

Tiny-One acknowledged the guards as she walked past, locking eyes with them before she continued on into the city.

Soon the group ducked under some stairs, into a shadowed corridor. Tiny-One pressed open a door before sliding inside. Their steps echoed off the cobblestone as they descended the steps into an old temple. 

Yuzi let out a gasp as she took in her surroundings. Lit only by the muted amber glow of several candles stood a shrine to Talos. The statue loomed over them. The ground was covered with debris and litter. 

"You weren't kidding, Syl. There really was a temple still," Yuzi said, she was full of awe. She had seen shrines to the other Divines, but never one to Talos. 

"We can talk here - not many people come here, given that worship of Talos is outlawed." Tiny-One spoke, lowering her hood. Sylilron followed suit. 

Yuzi stiffened as the door creaked open behind them, spinning around before relaxing as Sterling appeared. He smiled softly at them all, dipping his head respectfully. 

"I apologize for the wait. I was still gathering some intel."

"More like wasting your time flirting," Yuzi muttered, giving him the stink eye. 

Sterling raised his brows. "Flirting gets results sometimes. You would do well to learn that."

She curled her lip. "Okay, pretty boy. Sounds like a load of shit to me." 

"Yuzi, please," Sylilron whispered, before smiling apologetically at their companion. Sterling met his gaze before shaking his head and looking to Tiny-One. 

"We need to be cautious. It seems that asking questions was enough to draw attention to ourselves," Tiny-One began. "The miners didn't know much about our Vigilant of Stendarr. In fact, they barely wanted to speak to me at all." She cupped her chin thoughtfully. "There's definitely something wrong with this town. I'm not sure how much has to do with him, though." 

"There wasn't much at the Keep, either. They seemed wary to speak to me at all," Sterling said, crossing his arms. 

"All that flirting and you got nothing? I thought you said flirting got results," Yuzi said smugly, smirking as the Breton glared at her. 

"Well, do you have anything to show for yourself?" he shot back. 

Yuzi's ears flattened to her head. "Well, no- but Syl did!" she was quick to retort, turning to Sylilron, who blinked in surprise.

"Oh! Yeah, I did actually. Uh, some folks in the market said a strange man was lingering around an abandoned house for a few days now. They weren't sure what he was up to but it sounds promising," Sylilron said, smiling nervously.

Tiny-One hummed. "Well it's the only lead we've got so I suppose we should follow it. I'd like to leave sooner rather than later, I don't like how the guards have been watching us." 

"Why are they watching us?" Yuzi asked. 

Tiny-One glanced over to Yuzi. "The city is pretty on edge most of the time. Markarth has a long history with the Forsworn who live outside the city. Now there's also the civil war. There's a reason why this temple wasn't destroyed - despite being loyal to the Empire there's a large population here that still worships Talos." She crossed her arms, tilting her head up. "Still, they seem even more on guard than they should be, all things considered..."

Tiny-One shook her head. "Well that doesn't matter, it's pretty early in the afternoon now. Perhaps we should rest at the inn before going to this abandoned house tonight. Did you happen to get a location, Sylilron?"

Sylilron nodded. "Yes I got it. I can take us there tonight."

Yuzi tensed at the mention of the inn, hunching in on herself. "Do we have to go to the inn?"

"What did you do?" Sterling smirked. "You really couldn't go 5 minutes without causing trouble, huh?"

"Shut up! It's not my fault, the innkeeper just..." She scowled at the ground, not meeting anyone's eyes. 

"Yuzi didn't do anything wrong. The innkeeper gave her a hard time earlier. I overheard when I got there." Sylilron was quick to defend his friend, laying his palm on her back softly. 

Sterling's gaze flicked to his hand, and then to Yuzi frowning. 

"It can't be helped." Tiny-One sighed, shaking her head. "We'll just stay here until nightfall. Are we in agreement?" 

Sterling curled his lip but nodded, while Yuzi and Sylilron sounded off their agreement. 

"Good, rest up. We have no idea what we will encounter." 

-

The city was quieter at night, Yuzi noticed. The only ones wandering around appeared to be them and the guards. They walked along the river that ran through the city. It turned out the abandoned house wasn't that far from where the temple was and they quickly came upon a man. 

Studying him from a distance, Tiny-One gave a nod. "That's him, the robes are common among the Vigilants of Stendarr. Let's go."

"Excuse me, sir!" Sterling called, walking ahead of the group. 

The man turned, studying the group before him. "Greetings, what brings you out so late?" 

Sterling smiled pleasantly. "We're simply enjoying the evening. It's rather lovely out, after all. What about yourself? It's rare to see a Vigilant of Stendarr around these parts of Skyrim."

The man nodded. "You would be correct. My name is Vigilant Tyranus, and I am investigating this house. Would you happen to know anything? Seen anyone enter or leave?" 

"Why do you ask?" Tiny-One cut in as she stepped forward. 

"We believe this house was used for Daedra worship. Evil rites and so forth."

Tiny-One nodded. "Do you happen to need any assistance?"

 "I was actually about to head on inside. It would be nice to have somebody to watch my back."

Tiny-One smiled. "We would be happy to assist you. Lead the way."

The group was guided into the house, which had clearly been abandoned for some time. Dust was layered thickly on every surface. Yuzi wrinkled her nose as she watched a spider descend from the ceiling. 

"As you can see-"

There was a loud thud and Yuzi whipped her hand around. Sylilron was covering his mouth in shock, taking a step back into the closed door. Sterling averted his gaze away from the scene. 

Tyranus lay on the floor, blood slowly flowing from his head. A large spike of ice had gone through his skull, protruding out of the eye socket in a grotesque display. 

Yuzi turned to Tiny-One with shock. Her hand was still glowing faintly, light blue and the air was tinged with cold. Her gaze was hardened and unwavering. She stepped over the body, her boot disturbing the growing pool of blood.

"Let's hurry. There should be a shrine around here somewhere."

The other three remained frozen and Yuzi slowly moved forward. "Why… Why did you kill him? He didn't do anything."

Tiny-One stopped and looked at them. "He didn't do anything yet. Remember, we're here looking for a Daedra. He wouldn't have been so friendly once he found out."

She began moving deeper into the house. Sylilron squeezed his eyes shut, taking a step forward. Sterling reached out to grab his hand, pulling him closer to himself and guiding him around the body deeper to follow after her. 

Yuzi stared at the corpse for a moment, then to Tiny-One's back as she moved forward. She shook her head, trailing after the group.

The deeper they went into the house, the atmosphere appeared to grow more oppressive. Sylilron hadn't let go of Sterling's hand, the Bosmer’s gaze directed at his feet. Sterling glanced at Sylilron, and continued along with him. 

"Kill her. Crush her bones. Tear at her flesh. You will kill. You will kill, or you will die."

Yuzi froze, her head whipping around, startled by the voice ringing through the house. Sylilron had jumped, gripping Sterling's hand tighter, leaning closer to the Breton. Tiny-One took pause, her gaze darkening. 

"Looks like we've found who we're looking for."

Yuzi ripped her gaze back to Tiny-One in shock. "Is this a normal Daedra? We shouldn't have killed that guy! He could've helped, he has experience with these things!" 

"Hardly," Tiny-One snapped. "This isn't my first rodeo with this particular Daedra. Just ignore the voices and follow me." 

Yuzi eyes followed warily after Tiny-One, only turning to meet Sylilron's eyes. The Bosmer looked equally wary as they continued after Tiny-One.

"Kill her. What if she does to you what she did to the Vigilant? Crush her." 

Yuzi winced, clenching her first tightly as she stepped forward. The voice seemed louder the further into the house they got. 

"Weak. Crush her before she crushes you." 

Yuzi stopped, her hand drifting to her bow, eyes becoming unfocused. Her fingers closed around her bow, slowly pulling it free. 

Yuzi yelped as lightning hit her hand. The bow clattered to the ground loudly. Tiny-One glared at her from ahead. 

"Are you really so weak as to fall for Daedra tricks?" Tiny-One snapped. "Keep your head, Tsiyuzi, or I will bind you where you stand."

Yuzi bent down to grab her bow, pulling it tightly to her chest. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little uneasy." 

"Just follow me, we'll be fine." 

As the group made it to the basement, Tiny-One looked around, before letting out a hum of approval. "Here we are."

The wall was open, a cave that opened deeper into the underground. The passageway was narrow, forcing the group to proceed single file down and deeper into the Earth. The air’s oppression was intense now, filling the ambience with an unseen hatred. Yuzi shuddered, glancing nervously around, until her eyes landed on a black shape in the distance. 

"An altar?"

"Yes, to Molag Bal," Tiny-One responded. Yuzi squeezed past Sylilron who reached for her. She waved him off and curiously approached the altar.

"A rusty mace? Weird." She stepped up to the altar, reaching for the mace slowly. 

"Tsiyuzi, do not-"

Sharp bars sprung up and Yuzi let out a shout. She covered her ears, crouching down to the ground. 

Tiny-One let out a sigh of frustration. "Tsiyuzi, you should know better than to go touching things you don't understand."

"I know!" Yuzi cried. "Just get me out of here!" She grabbed the bars of the cage, ears dropping. 

Sterling muffled a laugh at the sight and Sylilron elbowed him, cutting off the chuckles. "I'll get you out, Yuzi, just-" 

"Fool! Did you expect to leave here without paying some sort of price? I am Molag Bal, the Lord of Domination, weakling."

Yuzi stiffened, turning to the altar. Sylilron jumped, slipping behind Sterling who narrowed his eyes carefully. 

"Let her go," Tiny-One snapped. "We need information, Molag Bal, you can keep your stupid mace." 

"There is a price for my services, mortal, even for you. Information and freedom comes at a price."

Tiny-One clicked her tongue. "What sort of price?"

"A Daedric Lord has his enemies, and my rival Boethiah had her priest desecrate this altar. Left it here to decay. Until you came."

"I really don't care. Let the Khajiit go, and give me the information I want. We'll just destroy the altar should you refuse." Tiny-One was unfazed, Sylilron and Sterling watching her warily as she spoke back harshly to the Lord of Domination. 

"Fine, your companion will get the freedom your kind enjoys so much. The information I will not give so easily." 

The bars lowered quickly; Yuzi leapt to her feet and jumped to Sylilron, who reached for her and hugged her tightly. 

"What do you want for the information?" Tiny-One crossed her arms staring down at the altar. 

"I want submission. I want the priest who descreated my altar to bend his knee and give me his soul. He comes by to perform Boethiah's insulting rites at my altar, but he's been missing. Captured and bound. Left to rot. Save him. Let him perform his rite one more time. And when he does, we will be waiting for him."

"Do you know where he's located?" 

Sylilron and Yuzi looked at Tiny-One in surprise. She isn't seriously considering this, is she? 

"You mortals call it Hag Rock Redoubt. I await your return with the priest." 

Silence rang out in the small cave, before Tiny-One turned around. "Let's go, no point lingering around here."

"He wants us to kill someone else! You can't seriously be considering this!" Yuzi cried out, stumbling after Tiny-One as she guided the group out of the bowels of the house. 

"A Daedra worshipping priest. I think killing one of those is hardly an issue," Sterling said from the back. "We need information, so we don't have much of a choice."

"Uhm… you know, Yuzi and I tagged along, but will you tell us what it is you need information about? It's strange that only a Daedra can provide what you need," Sylilron said.

"We didn't tell you?" Sterling asked. "Well Tiny-One is best to explain…" 

As they came up to the entryway of the house, Yuzi glanced at the body that remained unmoved before looking back at Tiny-One. "I think it's time you told us what exactly it is we're doing," she said. 

Tiny-One paused and looked at the group before sighing softly. "Alright, I'll explain everything once we're on the road again. It's a long story - I hope you're ready to listen."

[bitchwhoreofastorm]

Chrysamere collides with Fearstruck with a crack like rolling thunder, shaking the arena and sending a sharp jolt along Boethiah's arm. Trinimac, it turns out, was not lying: Stendarr hits like a drunken Mehrunes Dagon taking a plummet out of a tall tower. Oh, Stendarr is not a clever opponent and he moves slowly, but Boethiah is already out of his element, fighting with a shield, and  it takes every ounce of concentration to manouveur around the slow cumbersome blows of Lorkhan's current-favorite warrior while grappling with his own unfamiliar weapons.

Not that this is a bad thing. Boethiah adores a challenge.

The arena's spectators cheer as Boethiah slips just out of Stendarr's reach. His forearm still vibrates beneath Fearstruck, but in his dominant hand his battle-axe is heavy and certain. No sooner has he righted himself, however, that Stendarr is marching towards him again-- Chrysamere raised above his head-- and Boethiah darts forwards this time, within the grasp of Stendarr's long arms, ramming his heavily-armoured shoulder into Stendarr's stomach. Adamantium sings on adamantium; Stendarr, with his high centre of gravity and his raised arms, is momentarily set off-balance. But this is only momentary. Stendarr is massive and wears armour thicker than tree-bark. At close range, Boethiah is limited.

A momentary advantage is an advantage nonetheless. In the split-second where Stendarr staggers, Boethiah pulls back and swings his dominant arm wide, offering as much range, as much momentum, for the battle-axe to swing towards his opponent in a wide arc, metal to cleave through armour--

"BOET-HI-AH!"

The most unexpected of voices rings out clear across the arena. Boethiah glances to the side--

And Chrysamere is brought down with unfathomable force across his chest.

.

..

...

"Oh, by Magnus, you've killed him."

"He can't be dead-- can he? We don't die."

"He's a puddle, look at him!"

"He's fine."

"He's discorporated!"

"Why accuse me? He said this was a fight to the--"

"Silence, all of you. He's fine.There's only one being in this world who can kill, and dear Stendarr is not that being."

A pair of warm hands cradle a vague memory of Boethiah's cheek. "Isn't that right, Boet-hi-Ah? Don't you know that you're alive?"

There was something in that voice that makes Boethiah, hardly sentient, nonetheless desperately want to agree. "I'm alive," he croaks. "I can tell because of the pain."

He hears laughter and pries his eyes open. He's lying in a conspicuous new crater in the centre of the arena, with a small crowd gathered around him. Stendarr stands above him, appearing quite sheepish and holding a bloody Chrysamere; Clavicus Vile is staring down at him with perfect horror; Trinimac, a short distance away, appears annoyingly amused. And just above him, cradling his head in their warm lap--

"You!" Boethiah cries, trying to jerk away.

"Me!" is Lorkhan's cheerful reply. His hands are strong on Boethiah's shoulders, and Boethiah hasn't the strength to fight him. "That was quite the fight."

"You called my name!"

"Yes, I did! I was trying to stop Stendarr from giving you a terrible thrashing. Alas, I was too late."  

"You bastard," Boethiah hisses, struggling to sit up, "Everything was fine until you showed up! I would have defeated him!"

Lorkhan only laughs at that. Boethiah's immediate impulse is to attack him, but he genuinely feels like he's been mauled by dragons, the pain is immense; he slumps against Lorkhan's chest instead, miserably permitting Lorkhan, still laughing, to cradle him.

"Go gentle on him, Lorkhan," Stendarr interjects gently. "I would've shown him mercy, if you hadn't, too, caught me off-guard."

"He doesn't deserve the mercy," Trinimac mutters, still with his distinctly amused smile.

"I wouldn't need the mercy," Boethiah hisses at Trinimac, his voice muffled by Lorkhan's skin-- his face has come to rest against Lorkhan's pleasantly-warm chest and he's in a little too much pain to pull away. "I would've won that fight, if not for this-- this accursed devil!"

The anuics exchange glances-- this is, perhaps, Boethiah's least-favourite place to be: surrounded by anuics-- but then Lorkhan laughs again, a pleasant chiming sound that Boethiah can feel more than he can hear, pressed up against his chest.

"I believe you," Lorkhan says to him fondly. "I think you should have a rematch."

"I will." Boethiah pauses. "Later. After I'm not... after... in a little while."

"We host Arenas all the time," Clavicus Vile chimes in, sidling over to Lorkhan. "You should come along! Boethiah's are star fighter, you know--"

"He likes getting beat up," Trinimac interjects.

"I like beating Trinimac up," Boethiah corrects him.

"--Anyway, we do wagers with pomegranates, it's great fun!" Clavicus Vile nods vigorously. "You should join. Come to the arena, bet on someone, earn a pomegranate fortune."

Somewhere deep in Lorkhan's chest, Boethiah hears the ghost of a sigh of content-- perhaps it's the pain addling his mind, but he thinks that he could get lost in the sounds within that chest, with its strong heartbeat and its whispers of excitement, its potent curiosity. He closes his eyes just in time to hear Lorkhan reply:

"Is that what you call this-- an arena? You have my interest! Yes, I'll come."

[askdusty]

I Can’t Forget It

It all begins with a knock on the door.

Dust answers, though frankly she’d much rather stay downstairs in the basement, out of the blasted heat. Who would have known Skyrim, of all places, could have such boiling summers? But leaving Haelga with the bottling, she heads upstairs and opens the door, offering a polite smile she’s offered a thousand times before.

It’s a strange sensation, a mingling of confusing memories that don’t quite fit up. Knowing this fear, this anger, and yet knowing it doesn’t fit in this time and yet it does – but her body knows, at least. Stiffening, eyes wide, then narrowing at the gleam of armour under midday sun. Hate uncurling in her chest like a snake at the amulet of a horn dangling around his neck.

“Good day, ma’am.” He doesn’t know, of course. His companion leans her weight on him, panting, her face red and tight, almost hissing heat. “My sister – we were patrolling, and she collapsed. I suspect heat stroke, but – “

“How dare you.”

A blink. “Excuse me?”

“How dare you come to my doorstep, seeking my help, after what you did. As though these people haven’t suffered enough – “

The woman just looks exhausted. The man makes a face, slowly shaking his head as sweat trickles down his brow. “Please, I don’t understand – “

“Diatribes on the Mercy of Stendarr, trying to convert the desperate, the grieving!” In the blistering air her words come out like shards of ice, crackling up her throat. Yes, she knows this anger, knows this righteous hatred even if it doesn’t quite make sense, but she has to protect these people. They came in droves from Morrowind in the Red Year, crossing the border into Cheydinhal and she has so little she can give, so many cases of Ash Lung to treat and yet – “Investigating for ‘heretic paraphernalia’, telling them Stendarr’s mercy doesn’t extend to Daedra worshippers – “

And they both look alarmed now, alarmed and confused as though they don’t remember what they did. Her shop, her home had been – is? - host to many of the sickest refugees in the crisis – so many hardly able to breathe, leaving her holding her own breath as though it is somehow offensive. Helpless, harmless, hopeless and yet the Vigil had come, promising aid if only those who might worship Daedra as they had in the old days, Azura and Boethia and Mephala, would denounce and repent…

She’s ranting, she knows it. But they deserve it. They deserve her rage, it’s all been too much, sleepless night after night and this is the very last offense she can take –

“Dust! What in Mara’s name are you raving about!?”

“These hypocrites, these fucking manipulative snakes – “ It’s only when Dust turns snarling, nearly shrieking, that she at last meets Haelga’s eyes.

Her apprentice. Her apprentice, here in Ivarstead, where she lives.

Not her home in Cheydinhal. Not the Red Year, when her shop was filled with homeless families coughing and gasping for air through the ash in their lungs.

Not then but now, two hundred years later and as tired as she was then.

She feels herself shrink, wither, feels all the anger drain out of her and leave her an empty husk. A glance to the Vigilants, exhausted now, but already Haelga’s bustling her way past, pushing her gently aside.

“I’m so sorry, please – my, eh, she’s not as young as she used t’be, gets things a little confused and this heat – “ A pointed look to Dust and Haelga ushers the pair in, getting them sat at the table. “Get all that armour off and I’ll get you a nice, cold drink, something t’take…”

Dust moves downstairs in a near trance, leaning her weight on the heavy cauldron she cleaned out last night. She waits until the noise upstairs, the quiet chatter and shuffles of movement, end with the slam of a door. Haelga’s heavy footfalls – she knows exactly when she’s at the bottom step, the familiar groan it gives

She knows. She knows this home, every nook and cranny knows it like she knows her own body, how could she forget?

She can hear Haelga’s anger behind her, the spitting fire to the ice she’d held in her chest, thawed now, empty now. “Y’want t’tell me what made you fly off on the Vigilants, of all people?”

Her hands squeeze the edge of the cauldron. She wants to sink into it, melt, vanish, cease.

“You’ve been acting like a fucking maniac! A – a madwoman! Forgetting everything, screaming at people, snapping at me like I’m a stranger when y’aren’t just sleeping the days away – Dust, this is more than just your age.” Half pleading, half scolding, Haelga’s voice twists harsh. “You need to stop being so gods-damned stubborn. We need to take you to a healer.”

But there’s no healer who can help her, is there? Her head swims, enough she would puke into the cauldron if she had anything to bring up. Instead she clings tighter still, white-knuckled under her gloves. No healer can see her, she can’t risk it. No healer could understand what she is, that maybe, just maybe…

She’s finally falling apart.

But what if it isn’t that?

These blank spots, the confusion and lapses in memory, it all brings her back years ago. In Markarth, in that little cell, seeing the faces of her father, her friends, her lovers, trapped and twisted and that man buried in their graveyard, the one the Thalmor killed, what if they’ve come back for her at last –

The fear grips her heart so acutely it shatters, splits her, her keen echoing in the cauldron as she sobs, as her shoulders tremble. Behind her Haelga goes still, breath caught. A step closer, then a whisper.

“Dust – oh, Dust, please, come here, don’t – “

She’s in the solidity of her arms now, weeping like a child into her bosom as she holds her and soothes her.

She wants to leave. Tired, so tired. She aches all over, stings in her scars, her hip aches as though the Vigilant’s warhammer met it not centuries ago but mere years, years she’d had no right to and wouldn’t it just be easier…

She feels trapped in this shell, fighting it, feeling her spirit struggle for freedom, but the closest she comes for now is a dead faint, slumping into her apprentice’s arms.

                                                             ***

She’s slept the entire day. That much, she’s sure of. No way to tell in her basement bedroom, but it’s dark and cool and there’s a lit candle in the corner, shuddering with movement. Dust pulls herself up in the bed, sore and groggy, squinting until the silhouette in the corner becomes clear. Haelga’s looking up from her book, intense, but neutral.

“Hey.”

It takes a moment for her to dredge up enough spit to speak, mouth dry, tongue thick and stupid. “… Haelga.” The lack of a throb in her head is an almost piercing relief. She pulls the sheet up to her chest to cover herself as she sits up, feeling still half-dreamlike. “… I’m sorry.”

“S’alright. So am I.”

“I…” Only then does it sink in why she’s holding up the sheet at all, a trickle of cold realization. She’s been changed. It’s not modesty but fear that takes hold, breath sharp, eyes wide. “You – “

“You got sick on yourself – I doubt y’remember it. And you felt like you were running a fever, for a while. Then you got cold again.” She says it all softly, matter-of-factly. “Thought it best just t’get you clean and in bed.”

Silence reigns. She feels her scars prickle and sting, unable to cover them all at once – her neck and chest, her arms, the backs of her hands, not without diving back under the blankets which is becoming more and more tempting –

“I understand why you won’t go to a healer, now.”

A tight swallow. “Haelga…”

“It’s alright.” She puts the book down and stands with a groan, moving to instead sit on the edge of the bed. It creaks, sinking with her weight. “You don’t have t’explain. I’ve always thought there was something different about you, but it doesn’t matter.”

When Haelga reaches for her hand, she lets her have it. Strange – it’s been so long since she’s seen her bare hand curled in another’s like that. The scars seem irritated, red at the edges, her fist so small in the other woman’s palm. She meets her gaze again, trying to pull herself together as she feels like she’s fraying at the edges.

“… You said yourself, once. I have a lot of secrets to keep.”

“They’re not my business. You’re my employer.” Haelga’s stern, blocky face softens, eyes gentle. “… And my friend, Dust.”

“I’m terrified.” It comes out unbidden, leaving her blinking back hot tears of embarrassment. In an instant she’s being held, pulled close. Another sob chokes out of her strangled throat, shoulders quaking.

Haelga, wise beyond her years, doesn’t offer empty words of comfort. No ‘it’ll be alright’, or ‘it will pass.’ They’ve both healed too long, seen too many wither away to offer such platitudes.

They both know better than to hope. Her trapped in glimpses of the past, she unable to face the future, they cling to each other and the moment they’re in, as long as they can.

[daandov]

it's strange how often she's come across vampires during her travels. many go their whole lives without ever being in their presence , let alone being clued in that they're close by in the first place. should she think about it long enough , it could be something to do with the inherent draw to power most have. and yes , he's right , most she'd cut down without second thought ─── though not because she had the mentality of some stendarr cleric who balked at the sight of something remotely undead and sought to put it down without rhyme or reason. more often than not the vampires she'd come across were rather terse she was trying to snatch up a prized possession of theirs ;; she wasn't about to just let them kill her before bringing what she found back to her father.

which is the exact opposite of what pax had done. so far. kvatch's hero , for all intents and purposes , had been the only good experience if something close to a companion valvari has had. that isn't to say that this , what's in front of her right now , isn't a surprise. it is. quite so , in fact. and when she'd woken up in the middle of the night , seeing him gone and accidentally stumbling about what was in front of her , she wasn't without a striking of fear to the heart. it isn't about the absence of the fear , more that despite what she saw , she still saw pax in front of her. someone who had otherwise stood resolute beside her , no matter the deranged escapades she was dragging him along on. and that was worth something , wasn't it ??

the dragonborn kneels down into the bloody snow before him. similar eyes to his own trained on pax , ignoring the otherwise grotesque scene laid out between them. " one wrong move and my shouts could probably hurt you too without intending to do so. if you were in perpetual fear of me , you wouldn't have stuck around for so long with me i bet. " she knows it's a different scenario , she doesn't care. so what does that mean ?? what does that leave between them if they were both fearful of the other harming them ?? what keeps them traveling together other than some semblance of inherent trust ?? at her side , she casually pulls free a shortsword , slowly pressing it's flat side to the underside of his chin , lifting his head just a hair. " unless you want me to put you down right now. . . but that'd be such a pitiful ending to the great hero of kvatch , wouldn't you agree ?? "

 back was to her , form bent and trembling. a hunger most foul gripping his mind as blackened claws gripped rent flesh. flesh previously within the knight's own maw, but quickly dropped when his company revealed herself. shame is what caused him to recoil from her; to turn his back. shame and fear. fear of bringing her harm by his own sanguine hunger. a ravenous animal slave to most basic of instincts. vile beast, he expected to hear. blood sucker, leech, vermin, filth -- monster. words often hurled at such a wretched creature as he and he could not say they were without merit. stealing the life from others to restore a mocking semblance of own. an insult to arkay's rhythm and an offence to the boundless mercy of stendarr. a cruel prince's corrupting gift to mortals. his blood sowing strife upon all it touches. how could @daandov not be afraid ? how could valvari not scorn him ? how could she look upon his omission of truth and only find pity ? how could she....

“i’m not scared of you. and its sad that you seem scared of yourself.”

 no response was not forthcoming. blood seeped passed lips and cascaded down the pallid skin of his chin. clinging to the underneath and running length of neck before disappearing behind the collar of armor. a few errant drips striking upon the snow at his knees. words seemed to stun him like a thrown rock. partially exsanguinated quarry all but forgotten within his own grasp. how was he deserving of such understanding ? of sympathetic sorrow ? eyes holding a soft, candlelike glow were on her now. gaunt cheeks slowly filling out as dead body made do with what life essence it could take from what was eaten. expression muted before brows knitted and face fell; somber,

   ❝ -- you should be. ❞ voice low and holding a grating edge. yet, there was no threat carried in his tone. instead, it held a tinge of disbelief. who would walk into such a scene and not run ? to see a man rip the throat out of another like an animal and offer their sympathy ? to offer affirmation they did not see them for the abomination others would ? even knowing what scratched and festered with his chest ? within his soul ? a hunger most foul...❝ i could harm you despite not wishing to. such things are why i fear myself. fear what consumes me. why do you not also fear ? ❞

[happywitch416]

Chapter 6

By the time Magurn and Elena reached the Hall of Vigilants, the smoke had long blown away. The boat had taken them from Solitude to Dawnstar, the horses making the journey easy as the sun blazed overhead. Before the Hall were several tents and laughter rang out from before the occupants realized they had company. 

“Halt!” called a voice stronger than mountains, the Vigilants forming a half circle before them, pikes forward. “Who approaches the Hall?”

Elena sighed in relief. “Papa!” She slid off the back of her horse and ran to him. The big man wrapped his arms around her, his red hair whipping in the wind. She stepped from his embrace. “An apprentice came to the Temple with news that everyone was dead.”

Ranmeif shook his head. “Many of us were called to Stendarr’s work.” The amulet that hung on his chest glowed in the light. “The Keeper of the Vigil is gone, as is our history and knowledge.” She laid a comforting hand on his arm. He gave her hand a squeeze before approaching Magurn. He settled his fists on his hips, his enormous shoulders drawing back. “Still worshipping that Daedric Prince, orc?”

“Until my bones feed the Ashen Forge.” Ranmeif gave a roar of laughter before they slammed together, thumping each other’s backs, and exchanging cheerful insults. “Maga sends her love.”

Ranmeif shook his head. “Ah, that woman. She should know nothing will strike me down until I let it.” 

Magurn chuckled, giving his shoulder one more slap. The wind swirled around Elena’s legs, the grass bending and twisting towards the hill. She gave it a long glance before settling in at the fireside to exchange news and tales with her fathers and the bedraggled Vigilants. 

“We have some wounded.” Ranmeif waved a hand towards the largest tent. “Vampire attacks. They hit every night. We sent men to Dawnstar for horses, you probably passed them.”

“Where will you go from here?” Elena asked before taking a long drink of water. The time in the sun had warmed it but it was still better than nothing. 

“I have granddaughters in Solitude that need visiting I think.” He gave her a grin. “The others are going to Stendarr’s Beacon, maybe we will join up with the Dawnguard. Isran is a tough old bastard but he was right all along.”

“Not going to seek a quiet retirement in the Temple of Divines?” Magurn asked with a sly grin.

“Stendarr’s mercy, what is there to do there? Tend the sick?” His laughter made everyone in the camp smile. “Magurn, you know I can’t retire until I am laid beneath my shield. Priesthood is too boring, especially in that drafty keep.” He took a long drink before fixing his gaze back on Elena. “And you? Are you going back to Solitude?”

She shook her head. “Kyne calls.” 

He nodded, his face thoughtful. “Odara still cooped up in the Temple of Mara?” She nodded, her mind wincing at the lie. “That place is deader than a shrine of Arkay.”

“Oh.” She chuckled. “She has her ways.”

 Elena saw them off, after tightening straps for the injured and mixing potions from her stores that would get them back to Solitude. Magurn and Ranmeif made up the rear guard, waving to her until they dropped out of sight. She chirped to her horse, a lumbering bay named Arjax, and headed over the hill the wind kept pushing her towards. She rode in silence, the breeze losing its edge. The path she followed led up the mountain a way, the sun-bleached dirt had begun to show darker splotches. She dismounted and knelt to look closer. Dried blood. She dropped the reins, trusting the horse to follow her and bolt if there was trouble. The cave was barely a crack in the cliff, but ancient carvings traced its entrance. She took a deep breath and stepped into its shadow, letting the sun fall away behind her with one last ruffle of breeze.

The cavern inside was large, but after exploring enough caves and ruins she had learned to not let entrances deceive her, too many massive dwarven doors led to empty storerooms. She murmured a quick prayer, fingers rubbing against her amulet before she checked the string on her bow. Kynareth guide me. 

“These Vigilants” Elena swung her arrow point in the voice’s direction. “never know when to give up. I thought we'd taught them enough of a lesson at their hall.” She watched the man nudge the body with his foot. 

The other shook its head. “To come in here alone...a fool like all the rest of them.”

“He fought well enough though. Jeron and Bresoth were no match for him.” Her gaze flitted briefly towards the other fallen bodies and she pulled the drawstring back.

“Those two deserved what they got. Their arrogance had become insufferable.” The words died on his lips as the ebony arrow plunged into his neck with a gurgle. The other barely had time to turn before another arrow laid him to rest beside his companion. Elena picked her way across the cavern and sifted through all the belongings.

 She sighed when she got to the body that had been laying between them. The amulet of Stendarr was still giving a dull glow. “Poor dead bastard, why did you come here?” She left his belongings alone and arranged his body in quiet repose before murmuring. “Stendarr guide you in his mercy, Vigilant.”

The passage soon led to an even larger cavern, deep in the earth. She could well imagine the weight of years and dirt pressing upon her. Curious, monstrous statues lined the railings, all wings and claws. The elevated island in the center reminded her of the Nordic stone circles but this was different, it felt darker. She settled behind the railing to listen as a man belittled a prisoner.

The man spit from his knees. “I'll never tell you anything. My oath to Stendarr is stronger than any suffering you can inflict on me.”

He nodded. “I believe you, Vigilant. And I don't think you even know what you've found here. So, go and meet your beloved Stendarr.” He cut the man down and she grimaced, berating herself for not taking a shot. She shook her head to clear it as the other began to speak.

“Are you sure that was wise, Lokil? He still might have told us something. We haven't gotten anywhere ourselves with...”  

Lokil, she noted him, sharp and pale. “He knew nothing. He served his purpose by leading us to this place. Now it is up to us to bring Harkon the prize. And we will not return without it. Vingalmo and Orthjolf will make way for me after this.”

The other bowed slightly, the deference minimal. “Yes, of course Lokil.” There was a heavy pause, breath so thick she could cut it. “Do not forget who brought you news of the Vigilants' discovery.”

“I never forget who my friends are.” As they began to investigate the island, Lokil continued with what she could imagine to be a threatening smile. “Or my enemies.”

Elena crept down the stairs and onto the path to the island before firing her arrows. With a quick glance around, she stood from her crouch and ran lightly to Lokil’s corpse. He wore a strange insignia, it niggled at her mind as familiar, but she could not recall where she had seen it. “Hmm. Not some common thugs, are you then? But what were you doing here?”

She walked the stone circle, slowly spiraling inward as she examined the grooves in the floor, the braziers. At the center stood an empty pinnacle and she reached out to press the button in its center. She strangled the shout in her throat before gripping her bleeding hand to her chest. “Fine. Keep your secrets.” She winced and pulled a bottle from her belt, pouring the red liquid across her palm and grimaced as it sizzled and knitted the flesh back together. She glared at one of braziers before grabbing its handle with her good hand and dragging it through its groove. It stopped, jerking her to a stop with it. Flames shot from its bowl and a purple light formed a wall leading to the center. She grinned, laughing when she traced her fingers through the hum of magic. “Well. This won’t be so hard.”

It took some time, but she arranged the braziers until all were lit and the cavern glowed in the purple light. She moved back to the center and gingerly reached out for the button again. She half stumbled as the ground below her collapsed downward, the grooves becoming stair edges. She scampered down as a door opened and barely caught the falling woman before she hit the ground.

Hair dark as raven wings with simple braids framing her face and then her eyes were fluttering open, a deep glowing amber. “Uh. where is, who sent you here?” She pushed at her gently. 

Elena let her clamber to her feet, trying to catch her own breath as her heart thudded in her ears. “Were you expecting someone?”

“I was expecting someone like me, at least.”

Elena’s head cocked to the side. “What do you mean, like you?”

“Can’t you tell from just looking at me?” She shook her head, the woman’s amber eyes glowed with an inner light. She sighed before smiling, baring fangs. “A vampire.”

Elena was silent for a moment, seeing her wariness mirrored in the woman. “Well to be forthright, I was just at the Hall of Vigilants that your people burnt down.”

“That's not a name I know. Not fond of vampires, are they?” Elena shook her head and a small sigh escaped her as she eyed the bodies. “Well look. Kill me, you've killed one vampire. But if people are after me, there's something bigger going on. I can help you find out what that is.”

Elena held up her hands. “Wait. I am not here to kill you or anything else. I was here as a curiosity. As long as you don’t try to eat me, we’re good.” She nodded and Elena swore silently as the words tumbled out her mouth. “Why were you locked away in here? Is that normal?”

“That's...complicated.” She fidgeted.” And I'm not totally sure if I can trust you. But if you want to know the whole story, help me get back to my family's home.” She gave a small smile. “By the way, my name is Serana. Good to meet you.”

Elena gave her a grin. “Elena Songschild.” Her eyes narrowed on the object rising from her shoulder and Serana took a step back. “Is that an Elder Scroll?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes, it is, and it's mine.” Elena kept her hands quiet at her sides, making no movement. The tension in Serana’s body was palpable. But she sighed and continued. “It's...complicated. I can't really talk about it. I'm sorry.” More uneasiness, with a touch of regret, but Elena decided she looked tired more than anything else. Whatever it was, a burden rested on her and she did not envy it.

At her nod, Serana relaxed a bit. “I have a pack that you can borrow if you want.”

Serana chuckled. “Nothing can destroy an Elder Scroll. Worry more about protecting your hide and let me worry about my things.”

Elena shook her head and began climbing the steps, hiding her smile. “How long were you in there?”

“Good question. Hard to say. I... I can't really tell. I feel like it was a long time. Who is Skyrim's High King?”

A derisive huff of laughter left her.” That’s up for debate, actually.”

“Oh, wonderful.” She could hear the eyeroll. “A war of succession. Good to know the world didn't get boring while I was gone. Who are the contenders?”

“The Empire supports Elisif, but there are many in Skyrim loyal to Ulfric for no reason other than to spite the Empire.”

Serana cut her off. “Empire? What...what empire?”

Elena stopped in her tracks and turned to stare at her. “The...Empire. From Cyrodiil?” The last word came out a squeak.

Disbelief overtook her face. “Cyrodiil is the seat of an empire? I must have been gone longer than I thought. Definitely longer than we planned. Please, let's hurry. I need to get home, so I can figure out what's happened.”

“Where is that?”

“It's on an island near Solitude. Hopefully, we can find a boat to take us there. It's my family home. Not the most welcoming place, but depending on who's around, I'll be safe there.”

Elena started forward again only to stop in her tracks, the darkness little more than moving shadows. “Any chance you know how to get out of here?”

Serana shook her head, her gaze joining Elena’s search of the cavern. “You’re guess is as good as mine. This place looks pretty different from when I was locked away.” Elena’s eyes roved the dim cavern before she raised a hand, a breeze gently nipping at her fingers, before heading for the far corner with its carvings.  Serana perked up. “This feels right. I was starting to get worried."

"Well, Pa hasn’t led me wrong yet." Elena muttered quietly. At Serana’s look she shrugged. "He always says follow your gut or your partner's unless your guts disagree."

"What does he say then?"

"Disembowel them and read it in their entrails." Elena's grin widened at the shock that appeared on Serana's face momentarily. "He was raised in a stronghold, subtle isn't his thing. Although I am sure his time in the Legion did not help."

The light was blinding when Elena stepped from the cave, but she smiled at the deep breath Serana took. “It’s so good to breathe again. Even in this weather, it’s better than the cave.”

She chuckled, looping Arjax’s reins over her arm. The horse had not moved an inch. “This weather is wonderful. Solitude is between here and your home. Do you mind if we stop? I need to resupply. And I don’t know about you, but I would enjoy a good night’s rest.”

“I don’t need the sleep, but I would love to stop there.” Elena led the way to Dawnstar where she paid a small fishing boat an ungodly sum to take them to Solitude. Riding the Temple chartered ship with Magurn and Ranmeif would have been far more comfortable she grumbled, as she readjusted for the 100th time on the hard bench, but it would have been far harder to watch Serana smile every time the water sprayed through the air making rainbows, or her delight in the world around them. It would have been easier to ignore the changing currents in the winds, the icy cold sharp between the warmer breezes. Being a champion of Kyne was a glorious gift, but it didn’t make the winds of change easier to read.

A Warrior’s Heart Master List

[boarchasers]

Follower Dialogue: The Boar-Chasers

Original: [ghartokpadhome]

Copy and fill out with what your character’s dialogue would be if they were a Follower in the Elder Scrolls!

Hjolrin - hunter.

Initiating conversation:

“Aye?”

Exiting conversation:

“Huh.”

Asked to wait:

“Aye.”

Spoken to whilst waiting:

“Hm?” - Initiating conversation.

“Right.” - Asked to continue following.

“Uh...” - Conversation exited without being asked to follow.

Asked to move/interact:

“Uh huh.” - Command given.

“Uh, can’t do that.” / “Don’t think I can.” / “Can’t, sorry.” - Command denied.

“Done.” - Command completed.

Asked to trade items:

“Sure, I’ll carry that.”

Dismissed:

“Got work to do anyway. Travel safe.”

“Y’know where I’ll be. See you round.”

After dismissal:

“Found a good spot for elk... guess you’ve been doing something more exciting, though.”

“Finished with the day’s hunt. Need a hand?”

Combat

“Kyne guide me!”

"Hargh!”

“By Kyne!”

Other Dialogue (Specific cities, locations, situations, etc.)

"Been hunting in these parts for years... not much good at the fishing, though.” -Ambient dialogue around Riverwood.

“Wonder if Trond’s on duty.” -Passing a guard in Whiterun.

“Bad place. Nothing but criminals and lowlifes.” -Entering Windhelm.

“Never been here... heard a lot about it. Horker hunting’s s’posed to be good.” -Ambient dialogue in Dawnstar.

“‘Lo, Minnel.” -Ambient dialogue in Falkreath’s graveyard.

“Should’ve brought Haaki.” -Markarth stables if Vigilance is present.

“Bad luck to disturb the dead.” -Entering a Nordic tomb.

“Fine arrows.” -Entering the fletcher’s in Solitude.

“Better t’leave ‘em alone in future. Upsets the balance.” -After killing a Spriggan.

“Damned beasts!” -Encountering a bear.

“Ought to catch a boar. Seems appropriate.” -Ambient dialogue on Solstheim.

Trond - Whiterun guard.

Initiating conversation:

“Citizen.”

“Trouble?”

“What is it?”

“What do you need?”

“Everything’s in order.”

“Everything all right?”

“Yes?”

“Whatever you need.”

“I’d be a lot warmer and a lot happier with a bellyful of mead. Not that I’m hinting at anything, mind. Not me.”

“Hail.”

Exiting conversation:

“Watch the skies.”

“All right, then.”

“Ain’t no matter to me what I kill. Let them come.”

Asked to wait:

“You mean, just stand here and guard? Think I know how to do that, aye.”

“Sure. Gives me a chance to rest this knee.”

“That’s right, I’ll watch from behind. Far behind.”

“Might as well have stayed in Whiterun.”

Spoken to whilst waiting:

“Keeping my eyes open...” / “...eh? I’m awake!” / “You hear that? I swear there’s something out there, in the dark.” / “Nothing’s going to sneak up on me.” - Initiating conversation.

“Couldn’t manage without Trond the Mighty, huh?” / “Finally! This is what I’m here for!” - Asked to continue following.

“I’ll just stand here, then.” / “My cousin’s out fighting dragons, and what do I get? You.” - Conversation exited without being asked to follow.

Asked to move/interact:

“Trond do this, Trond do that. I mean... yes, sir.” / “Right away, sir.” - Command given.

“You’re looking for a fool if you want that.” / “Not even I can do the impossible.” / “You’re worse than the commander with these foolish orders. Don’t tell him I said that.” - Command denied.

“At your service.” - Command completed.

Asked to trade items:

“Lightly armoured means light on your feet. Remember that next time.”

“I find your hand in my pocket, I’m going to cut it off.”

“Don’t think you can barter with me like I’m one of those damned shopkeepers.”

Dismissed:

“Watch the skies, friend.”

“Could sure use a warm bed right about now...”

“I mostly deal with petty thievery and drunken brawls. This was a good change.”

After dismissal:

“Need a hand? Beats guard duty any day.”

“You know, for some reason, nobody ever believes me when I tell them that I used to be an adventurer like you.”

Combat

“By order of the Jarl, stop right there!” -Combat initiates.

“Pay with your blood!”

“Skyrim has no use for your kind!”

“Painful for you, annoying for me.” -When player receives a critical hit.

Other Dialogue (Specific cities, locations, situations, etc.)

[Insert all guard dialogue here.]

“Been here before, you know. No matter how often you clean it out, the scum keeps coming back.” -Entering White River Watch.

“Wonder if Hjoll’s around. We should find him and annoy him.” -Ambient dialogue around Riverwood.

“Visited Windhelm once. Wasn’t pleasant. Wasn’t fun at all. Do we have to go in?” -At Windhelm gates.

“Hey, Minnel. Keeping an eye on this lot? Good work.” -Ambient dialogue in Falkreath’s graveyard.

“Bloody Forsworn. Glad we don’t have to deal with them in Whiterun.” -Near a Forsworn redoubt.

“There’s something wrong with these guards. They don’t make them like they do at home.” -Inside Markarth.

“Don’t trust all this fancy magic. If these mages watched where they were throwing their fireballs, maybe they’d still have a bridge.” -Ambient dialogue in the College of Winterhold.

“I could have joined the Legion. If I wanted. Too good for ‘em, though, I was.” -Near Castle Dour or at an Imperial camp.

Haaki - priest/hunter; accompanied by dog companion.

Initiating conversation:

“Aye?”

“Well met, friend.”

“Dog, down!”

Exiting conversation:

“Safe travels.”

“Stendarr’s blessings upon you.”

“May the Divines watch over you.”

Asked to wait:

“Do I have to? Fine.”

“All right. Dog, sit.”

“Go slowly. Could be trouble ahead.”

Spoken to whilst waiting:

“Do you need me?” - Initiating conversation.

“Sure. Dog, heel.” / “Keep quiet.” - Asked to continue following.

“Why did you even bring me?” / “There are so many other things I could be doing right now...” - Conversation exited without being asked to follow.

Asked to move/interact:

“I don’t see why you can’t do it...” / “Sure.” - Command given.

“Um. How?” / “I... don’t think that’s possible.” - Command denied.

“Done.” - Command completed.

Asked to trade items:

“Sure, I can carry a bit more.”

“I’ll take it, if you don’t mind it getting covered in dog hair.”

Dismissed:

“Thanks, it’s been fun. I’ll head back to the farm if you need me.”

“You know where I’ll be. Come on, Dog.”

“Stendarr guide you, my friend.”

“Come and find me if you’re off on another adventure. Please. A man can only read so many books on the history of the Divines.”

After dismissal:

“Do you need me? Please say yes. I can’t take another book on theological philosophy.”

“Dog could do with some exercise. Ready to head out?”

Combat

“Stendarr have mercy on your soul!”

“Get’m, Dog!”

“By the Nine!”

“Damn it!”

Other Dialogue (Specific cities, locations, situations, etc.)

"If we see Trond, I’m leaving.” -Entering Whiterun.

“Can we visit the temple? Um, no reason. I just... need supplies.” -Outside the Temple of Kynareth.

"Look at that hound! Can we get one? Please?” -Passing the stables outside Markarth if Vigilance is present.

“Hjolrin’s been through here today. Wonder if he caught much?” -Ambient dialogue around Riverwood.

“The Dark Brotherhood has a sanctuary around here. Um, that’s what I heard, anyway. Better be careful.” -Ambient dialogue in Falkreath hold.

“I hate this place.” -Entering Windhelm.

“I’m not going down there. I’ll wait for you here.” -Player enters the Grey Quarter in Windhelm; triggers Haaki waiting.

“I guess I ought to visit Frithjofr while I’m here.” -Ambient dialogue outside Solitude.

“If one more person calls me a milk-drinker, I’ll... I’ll show them so much mercy they won’t know what hit them. And I definitely won’t set Dog on them.” -Inside a tavern.

“Bloody vigilants and their bloody halls. What’s wrong with a good old temple to Stendarr, without all the killing-everybody-who-looks-at-you-wrong?” -Hall of the Vigilant, pre-Dawnguard.

“Even they didn’t deserve this. Stendarr guide their souls.” -Hall of the Vigilant, post-Dawnguard.

“Bloody vigilants, coming here and... being vigilants.” -The Beacon of Stendarr.

“Sorry, Minnel. I didn’t bring any flowers today.” -Ambient dialogue in Falkreath’s graveyard.

“Used to be a Stormcloak. Didn’t enjoy it much. They spend all their time talking about how great they are and not enough dealing with the real threat. ...And they kept calling me a milk-drinker.” -At a Stormcloak camp.

“[Hums nervously.]” -At an Imperial camp.

“Bet you can’t steal one of their mammoths. Go on, I dare you.” -Entering a giant camp.

“Mind if we visit the south coast? Just thinking about... something.” -Arriving at Solstheim.

“Let’s chase a boar! Hah.” -Ambient dialogue on Solstheim.

[theskaldsagas]

Inigo and I finally reached the hold of Haafingar. We made our way down toward Dragon Bridge (after clearing out a bandit fort that had been set up as an ambush point for weary travelers - as we passed I had a bad feeling and tried to avoid them, but then I saw one of the Khajiit caravans getting ambushed and felt I needed to help); turns out there's a nice small town at the crossroads before you reach Dragonbridge - it held a blacksmith, where I sold many of the things I liberated from the bandits that had been weighing me and my horses' saddlebags down. The smith seemed glad of the coin, if not the interruption to his work, which he resumed even despite the pouring rain outside. What a dedicated man, eh?

On the way out of this small town I even discovered a brewery - Frost something-or-other Brewery. They make mead with snowberries which was interesting; Inigo and I needed to get out of the rain and warm ourselves, so we went inside the brewery and even tried some of the mead.

I quite enjoyed it, but Inigo seemed indifferent; it was just alcohol to him it seems.

On the way back out, warmed up and warm-feeling, a woman in the fields answered some of my questions about the mead and tasked me with delivering a small keg of it to Winterhold. Seeing as I'm heading back there after our adventures in the hold of Haafingar, I agreed and placed the keg in my horses' saddlebags, for now. Seems quite fitting to sell something so warming in such a cold place as Winterhold. It will be a nice change of pace when I go back there.

After that we crossed the crossroads and rode through Dragonbridge, where we took a short rest at the inn, the Four Shields. I even decided to perform at the inn, though there were not many patrons in at that hour - spell tomes are expensive and I am in much need of the septims!

After that short stop we rode our horses to Solitude, leaving our mounts at the stables and combined farm - called Katla's Farm. Inigo had to chase after me then because I caught sight of the beautiful view from the docks - and the sight of Solitude itself, up on the rock. I must have run through the docks and across the bridge a few times, just enjoying the view.

Finally we went into the city proper, where we were greeted by an execution.

As a Nord and believer in Talos, but as one that is still a loyal citizen of the Empire - or as loyal as a believer can be, I had mixed feelings on this man Roggvir's death.

In the end, I felt at least I could bear witness and pray to Stendarr for mercy on his soul. After everyone had left the stage of this gruesome sight, I went and retrieved his Talos amulet. I'm not sure what possessed me then, other then that I felt someone who appreciates it's meaning and believes in Talos should have it. That it should not have been disposed of so easily.

After this, Inigo and I went to the notice board by the inn to collect some paying odd jobs to do. We also went by the Bards College, a place both Inigo and I wished to go to and honestly the main reason we came to Solitude.

I also spoke to a local war vet now beggar who asked me to get his helmet back. I said I would see what I could do.

After shopping - and I must say this is one thing Solitude does well, it has many great shops - I stopped in at the clothing shop, one of its only like in Skyrim. I was asked in a not so nice way by one of the High Elf shopkeepers there to model this outfit for Elenwen, current Jarl and possibly future High Queen, of Solitude. If I had not been on my way to the Blue Palace anyway (to speak to Falk Firebeard about some local kidnappings I'd heard of from the notice board) and if I hadn't have looked so wonderful in the outfit I wouldn't have done it. But that's how it was so I did.

I was paid well by the High Elf lady and I received a nice outfit to perform songs in for my trouble.

While I was there I heard tell of some trouble at Wolfskull Cave back by Dragonbridge. It sounded of a magical nature and being the curious type I am about these things, I volunteered to go.

But before that Inigo and I relaxed at the Winking Skeever, the local inn, and I performed for the crowded place in my new outfit. It was wonderful and I was paid well. I seem to slowly be getting better at writing songs, it seems! The crowd really seemed to enjoy it.

After that I enjoyed some of the local Spiced Wine and my dinner and went off to sleep.

The next morning Inigo and I left Solitude to complete some various tasks assigned to us. Of course on the way to Dragonbridge, a Nether Dragon began circling us. That's what I get for leaving so early at 5 am - these things love to use the darkness for cover, after all!

It fell quickly between Inigo, myself, and even a female Mercenary in heavy Orcish armor with a bald head who slung Fireballs at the Dovah with the speed of one long practiced. Quite a sight to behold, that was. Toward the tail end the beast swung toward a hidden Stormcloak camp in the woods by the road, and that was when two of them joined in with arrows and sword and shield to help out. I may have sides in both stances of this civil war, but I must say having two of the fiercest fighters in Skyrim on my side was a good feeling, though one of my kinsmen made his way to Sovngarde during the battle. May his soul enjoy the everlasting celebrations of this fight between soldier and dragon!

After the battle was won, the remaining Stormcloak made his way back to the camp which I took the liberty of following him to. I haven't picked a side yet as I mentioned, so they welcomed me to sell the loot from the dragon to their smith and rest a minute by the fire (I tire easily these days - this is due to a type of magic casting I'm currently studying. It lets me cast spells with no Magicka cost so long as I go into a trance before I sleep and attune myself to certain energies; though this casting gets stronger as my magical talent does, it's still limited to a certain number of times to use it before I tire and must rely on other methods to defend myself. Someday I hope this type of casting can bring my kinsmen back to casting spells again without worry; but first I must master it myself, or retire this method and move on - for now I stick to the latter).

During this interlude I borrowed their Alchemy Table and brewed a few simple health potions and a few more complex magicka poisons - the latter having proven to be most useful in the past against enemy mages, who we would be facing shortly.

At long last I made my way to Wolfskull Cave where I found a strange mix of necromancers and draugr. Some of which even fought each other before I was spotted by either one.

Toward the end I stumbled upon a ritual of sorts - and I could feel in my gut that it was dark magic. Inigo and I defeated the necromancers before they could finish the ritual, but not before I caught a glimpse of a female figure floating above the indoor tower where the mages were gathered. As we were finishing the last of them I heard the figure say, "I will not be bound!" and seemingly dissipate. This of course coincided with the defeat of the mage leading the ritual however, so whether this was the spirit they were attempting to raise refusing to play along or elsewise I'm unsure. I get the feeling this won't be the last I hear of these necromancers nor this spirit..

After exiting Wolfskull Cave, we went down toward the shoreline behind Solitude proper - this was where the kidnapped farmers were last seen. I tracked bloodstains to a cave full of Hagravens and found a note on one of the farmers bodies; apparently the fools were hoping to find treasure in this cave. I say fools because they came unarmored with nothing more than a woodsmans' axe to gain this treasure.

On the way back to Solitude, Inigo and I found the next body - in the middle of the road. I can imagine what happened here was a fight between the two for the "treasure". Still, I found one last note directing them to a cave closer to Morthal than Solitude.

On the way toward Morthal, a snowstorm started up. It was so bad I could hardly see the road in front of me, even with my lantern. I tried to go by foot to see better, but the snow had piled up so much it slowed me down more, so we went on horseback slowly, but carefully.

We were attacked by bandits and wolves - hoping to take us unaware in the storm I assume. Quickly dispatched; we took a break to warm up at the bandits fire and continued onward, but by then the snowstorm had worsened.

I find the road toward Morthal by luck, though that seemed to be the end of said luck. I finally realize we will have to break camp or stumble around blind though, so I search for a flat piece of land - and Frost, my horse, gets lost as well.

We end up so lost that I ride straight into the Temple of Meridia - which I was purposefully avoiding. I've never trusted or liked Daedric princes much and I never intended to take this one back it's beacon.

I know this is our location because Meridia speaks to me in such a way that I can not block out her voice.

Thinking I will return this beacon and be done with the whole thing - and also thinking she lead me here knowing I did not wish to do her bidding - Inigo and I hop off our horses and I go up the steps to her statue.

I place the beacon - only to be teleported up thousands of feet into the sky. I scream for Inigo but he looks on helplessly.

I come face to face with the glowing light that claims Meridia's name and she tells me her task: and lets me know she will kill me if I don't do it. Looking down, I grudgingly agree.

She lets me down unharmed and, after claiming the Word Wall next to her statue, Inigo and I tether the horses and enter the Temple.

As we make our way in, Inigo quips, "I hope the reward is worth it. This is quite a task Meridia has assigned us."

I laughingly agree. May that make it worth our while.

So we fulfill this task and during it we enter onto a platform of sorts that looks down onto the shoreline and trees of Solitude proper. Inigo points out the view and I take a moment to etch it into my mind; he's right, it's beautiful, and so I include it (and some etchings of Inigo and myself of course!) above, with an etching of the inside of the Temple for good measure, where I sat upon one of the thrones with Inigo and we laughed about her holiness.

It helped soothe my ego a bit - and the Herbane's Courage set I received was a nice touch, though I felt sorrow and pity finding a Legionaries' body on that platform. I wish I could have buried him. I left a blue mountain flower as a token of thanks instead.

I fear no Daedric princes. I am just wary of them. This man is a good example as to why - there were no enemies on this platform. What killed him if not Meridia? Who can know the inner workings of princes, after all?

Finally by the skin of our teeth (and the help of those poisons I brewed at the Stormcloak camp as well as a Flame Atronach to burn up his undead minions), we defeated Malkoran - and his shade.

Meridia teleported me out of the Temple after that, and back into the sky, where she tried to convince me to be her Champion.

I refused, but said I'd enjoy the sword.

When I came back down from Her Holiness, that was when I saw she'd teleported me out, but not Inigo. Thankfully we have a spell from a crazy old mage to use for that! So I teleported him myself.

He wasn't thrilled to say the least and asked me where I'd gone - I sighed and with a grimace, pointed to the Statue of Meridia above us. He calmed down after that.

The snowstorm has at least died down some, but not enough to go as far as we need. Inigo and I, pulling out the map, made a plan: we'd stop in at Solitude for the night, update our taskmasters on what had happened, possibly collect coin for some of the completed jobs and make our way onward to finish the rest of them after re-stocking a bit.

So, this is where I leave off - in Solitude, at the Winking Skeever.

Soon enough I will have to dismiss Inigo for a time. I dread to do it, but I need to complete the last task the Greybeards assigned me as Dragonborn and for this I feel I need to do it alone. As Dragonborn.

Inigo has his own destiny.

This is another reason I took us to Haafingar Hold and Solitude; I thought we'd enjoy the Bards' College and some local adventuring before I send him off with that crazy old mage in the mountains for a time.

Though I offered to let Inigo stay at my place or even to take over my Riften house, Honeyside. I rarely use Honeyside now that I have Breezehome; I'd have gladly gifted it to him. After all in an odd way it was with his help I made the coin to buy Honeyside.

But he refused, saying even he needs his space. He said it in his trademark Inigo way, completely non-offensively, but I still was a bit hurt. Not to mention I will worry every second he's with that old hermit mage.

But I suppose he can defend himself, and it won't be for long.

Well, on toward Morthal and a few last tasks in Haafingar Hold before then.

Saga

[mirrorfae]

Ransom Saga - 3

1 / 2 / You Are Here / 4 / 5 / 6

All was darkness and cold.  Thane had never been so cold.

He curled up, trying to open his eyes, and then realized foggily that something was wrong.  He’d heard of dragons who had a difficult time waking up, but he’d never been one of them.  He should be up and around already-

He couldn’t curl up all the way.  Thane shifted, heard the clank of chains, and forced his eyes open in alarm.

Gray stone walls greeted him.  They weren’t the gray stone of his room in the Shaded Palace, either - much too smooth and regular for that.  And the chains latching around his body and limbs told him he was in trouble.

Thane tried to stand and course fire through his body, enough to melt the metal chains.  A shout of alarm came from outside the stone room.  Thane looked to the side, only now noticing the barred window high in the wall-

And then water splashed through it, drenching him and successfully quenching any attempt at fire.  Thane hissed and writhed away from the wet as much as he could.

At least his mind was clearer now, less fogged by whatever drug he’d been given.  Thane struggled to his feet, the heavy chains hindering him, and looked around the cell.

It was definitely a cell.  The only light came in through the barred window, and it was dim, like they were underground.  The chains were affixed to the wall in such a way that Thane knew at one glance that getting them out would be difficult if not impossible.  The shackles around his wings and body, too, were far too tight and heavy to try getting off except by fire.  The fact that his scales were absolutely soaked quenched that possibility, though, and Thane gritted his teeth.

How had he been captured?  All he remembered was flying, and then he was here.  Had he fallen asleep in midair?  Was this-

A familiar voice grated outside.  Thane’s entire body stiffened.  That voice was tied up with his worst assignment, with the one where he’d nearly been captured and had to go to ground for a year.  Had he been so stupidly unlucky as to fall asleep above that very same clan?

A hidden door swung open, revealing that the window was in the middle of it.  Thane looked up at a proud Ridgeback female.

Yep.  Definitely the same clan.

“Assassin lowlife,” the Ridgeback growled.  Thane raised his chin and met her gaze.

“You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?”

It was meant to put at least a little bit of doubt in her.  The Ridgeback just looked down at him with amusement.  Thane silently cursed.

“Looks like I’ve got you in chains,” she said.  “You were the one that tried to kill Blackwhite, you bastard.  And it looks like you’ve risen.”

A chill ran through Thane’s blood as a Pearlcatcher guard stepped up behind the Ridgeback, holding out Thane’s red cloak.  It was ripped and torn.

“A Majesty,” the Ridgeback hummed.

Nobody was supposed to know about the Majesties.  The Night Court wasn’t supposed to exist in the minds of most dragons.  Finding out about it was either an invitation to join or a death sentence, no other option.  If this Ridgeback knew-

Was there a spy in the Court? Thane wondered.  One of the Majesties?  No, probably a Highness, or a few courtiers.  They would have to be found.  He’d have to-

“Courtiers aren’t rescued,” the Ridgeback said, cutting off Thane’s thoughts.  He did not like the way she was leering.  “But Majesties, oh, Majesties are rescued.  Which are you?  The King of Fools?”

There was no point.  She had him in chains and she didn’t know his name, so she could know his title.  Thane smiled.

“The King of Blades, actually,” he said mildly.  “Would you like to know why?”

“Because that’ll be what’s going into the rest of your Court,” the Ridgeback snarled.

Thane had to make a physical effort not to flinch.  The Ridgeback was suddenly menacing, stepping forward and glowering down at Thane. With an effort, he stood his ground, resisting the instinct to tie himself into a knot - as if he could with these chains.

“Whoever comes to rescue you will die,” the Ridgeback promised.  “And whoever doesn’t, you’ll tell us who they are and what clan they live in. You’re a Majesty; you know these things.”

He did, it was true.  He knew the names and locations of every courtier, every informant, every Highness in their vast network.  Thane felt his tail begin twitching.

“And what makes you think I’ll betray my Court?” he asked, dropping all pretenses of cheer, making his voice low and dangerous.  The Ridgeback snarled a laugh.

“What makes you think you won’t?”

She stepped back, and another dragon stepped forward - a Wildclaw this time.  One with a tray of cruel-looking blades held in his claws.  Thane watched them, itching to get his hands on one and carve his way out of this cell.

“Stendarr had his tongue cut out by his previous clan,” the Ridgeback said.  The Wildclaw - Stendarr - nodded and set the tray down in a wall niche that Thane hadn’t noticed before.

“He learned his art well, though,” the Ridgeback continued, as Stendarr ran his claws over the hilts of the knives, taking his time in selecting one.  “He has other ways of communicating.  I wonder how long it’ll be before you talk?”

“When the Gladekeeper and Plaguebringer ally together,” Thane snarled, trying to hide the tremor of fear.  Stendarr paused and selected his knife.

It was a cruel thing, curved and jagged along the edge, and the glint in Stendarr’s eyes when he looked at Thane with it grasped in his claws made Thane actually afraid for the first time in years.  The Ridgeback laughed.

“Then I expect the Wilds and Boneyard will soon be at peace,” she said.  Then she walked out.  Thane flinched at the slam of his cell door, and did his best not to lower himself to the ground protectively as Stendarr stood over him.

“You know, I’m sure we could find a use for you in the Court,” he began. Stendarr hissed.  Thane made a show of growling right back.

Unfortunately, that growl turned into a scream as soon as Stendarr’s knife made its first cut.

After a few sessions, Thane lost track of the time.

They’d cast Aid or Regeneration on him just to make sure he didn’t bleed out, but barely enough to let him live, keeping him perpetually exhausted and in pain.  The Ridgeback brought him food infrequently, but it was barely ever enough to keep him alive, things that Thane would never eat normally.  Thane’s world had narrowed to just the blood-splashed cell and occasionally to the taunts of the Ridgeback and Stendarr’s knives.

He could put those knives to much better use, Thane thought wearily as he woke again, not even bothering to lift his head.  The chains felt heavier than anything on his limbs.  He didn’t want to move, or think, or do anything but pray that cell door stayed closed.

His mind turned, slowly, to thoughts of his fellow Majesties.  Deities, he’d kill anyone for the plush warmth of his cape over his body right now.  Was the King of Plots watching him right now?

Thane turned his eyes up to the air, searching as if he could see a physical sign of the King of Plots’ scrying.  Of course, there was none.  He flicked his tongue out to wet his lips.

“Plots,” he rasped, just in case.  “If you could hurry up-”

Someone banged on his cell door.  Thane flinched.

“Shut it, Majesty!” the guard outside snapped.  Thane gritted his teeth.  Right.  He was a Majesty.  The King of Blades could endure torture by blades, right?

Whispers ran outside his cell, footsteps on the stone, and Thane strained his ears for any sign that it was Stendarr or the Ridgeback.  His momentary bravery flagged.  How could he endure another session at the points of those cruel knives?

But his cell door didn’t open, the Ridgeback’s silhouette didn’t fill the frame, Stendarr’s silence didn’t quench all hope in his cell.  There were just whispers.  Thane forced himself upright, his chains clanking with movement.

“Shadow,” his guard murmured.  “Heard- terrible…. Shade-worship…”

The plot to kill the priest was still going, then.  Thane’s heart leapt that the Court was still continuing business, but then sank again.  If the other Majesties were occupied with such an important contract, they likely wouldn’t rescue him until it was over, right?

“Stop gossiping,” the Ridgeback snapped, and icy dread ran through Thane’s veins.

The locks on his cell door clicked.  The Ridgeback’s silhouette filled the frame as she stepped in, slid a tray of disgusting food to rest just outside of Thane’s reach, and sneered.

“Ready to be a good little king yet?” she mocked.  Thane forced a smile.

“Can the Shadowbringer fly in the daytime yet?”

“You will talk,” the Ridgeback snarled.  Was she losing her patience?  Thane felt a tiny glimmer of hope run like warmth through his wrecked body.

“An interesting theory,” he said, emulating the King of Secrets’ tone when he was talking to hatchlings.  The Ridgeback lunged forward.  Pain lanced across Thane’s face, lashing his eye, as her claws ripped open one of Stendarr’s old wounds.

Thane screamed.

The Ridgeback cursed him out thoroughly, gave him a choice insult about turning him into a mind-controlled puppet and using him to kill the entire Court (and she said he was the evil one), then left Thane with a clawstrike across his face, a half-blind eye, and hunger gnawing in his stomach.  Thane hissed listlessly and squirmed in his chains.

It took him far too long to nudge the tray into a reasonable distance, and Thane knocked over the glass of water while he was at it.  He cursed under his breath as it spilled across the floor and mixed with the dried blood there.

A scrap of paper had been under the glass.  Thane narrowed his eyes, then gently grasped the lip of the tray with his teeth (it was close enough now that he could) and brought it closer.

To any other dragon, the note would look like a hatchling’s bad drawing.  Thane deciphered the King of Secrets’ personal code without much thought.

Don’t drink the water.  And then, under that message, the familiar drawing of a black crown.

Thane smiled a very different smile than the one he’d given the Ridgeback.

[adrift-in-writing]

Arise from Ashes: Chapter 1

Wow, it’s almost been a couple of months since I’ve written a proper chapter set-up for Skyrim. I’ve been slacking hard. Really gotta think about trying out some stuff. Anyway...

We move on from Theresa and move onward to the adult life of Freya, the Fallen Valkyrie. At this point in time she is known only as Diana, and has been recently inducted into the Vigils of Stendarr for about two months.

_________________________

Searching for these warlocks proved to be no easy task, Diana had thought to herself. After several hours of searching, her group of Vigilants had finally reached Hob’s Fall Cave. The body of a decaying woman laid frozen stiff near the entrance from the countless days - perhaps years - she spent there.

The Vigils marched forward with their torches and armed with maces. Inside, several warlocks and their skeleton minions were on their guard. They were waiting in anticipation that their days would be numbered. It reeked of death and decrepit corpses, to which some of the vigils felt nauseated by.

Bony clacking came out from the shadows. A small group of raised undead had emerged, and were dispatched quickly by the fellow Vigils. They descended deeper into the cave, tackling nothing but skeletal warriors along the way. As soon as Diana’s group had hit the ground floor, the bridges and ladders connecting to the ground had been destroyed. Mocking laughter erupted around the echoing caves, particularly an old man’s laugh.

“Fools! Welcome to your death!” The words bellowed outwards into the cave. All around the outer rim of the ground floor, the army of skeletons slowly marched towards the Vigils. No matter how much Diana and her group fought, it would be rendered moot as the skeletons would reform again and again.

One by one, the Vigilants were slaughtered and became overwhelmed by the forces the warlocks had put up. The last one standing - still fighting to her last breath - was Diana. Though at this point, it became pointless to resist the inevitably of death. The skeletal warriors surrounded her, and just as she was ready to accept her fate, her aggressors had permanently crumbled into bone-dust. She crumpled onto the ground and writhed in pain, for a sword had impaled her abdomen before they crumbled.

A blinding white light flashed at the top level, followed by dead and decapitated warlocks falling to the ground floor. As she laid there, bleeding out, she could faintly see a small group of winged women descending down. Indistinctly, their voices mixed together and it was hard for Diana to focus. Could this be it, then? Could this be the moment she’d go to Sovngarde?

The pressure in her abdomen was released and gradually, Diana was lifted up into the air. Her vision blurred and she couldn’t focus on what was in front of her, but it did appear that her saviors were examining the wound. The lone Vigil had blacked out before the examination could be finished.

It was warm, despite what Diana initially thought when death took her. Or at least, that’s what she assumed. When she moved her fingers, she felt refined fur underneath her and a soft pillow on her head to rest. A crackling fire and the smell of delectable food enveloped the air. Some women were talking whilst Diana slowly arose up, groaning in pain at the wound that had been inflicted earlier.

She was not in her Vigilant robes. Rather, she was cautiously wrapped in medical bandages. It covered her breasts and delicates while remaining modest, save for the blood in the middle of her abdominal area. Her hair had been brought down as well, as it delicately flowed down to her shoulders. One of the winged women had entered into the room to a still disoriented Diana, and then quickly alerted the rest of her group. “She’s up! And you said we’d have lost ‘er!”

More women stepped into the bedroom. A total of six winged girls stood inside the room as Diana rubbed her eyes and startled herself. She wrapped her blankets over her body in defense. “Where in Oblivion am I? Who are you, and what do you want?”

Much to the surprise of the women, they looked at each other. “I told ye she lost her memories! Didn’t someone keep ‘em in a locket somewhere?”

While two women fumbled about to find said locket, Diana kept still while the rest approached her slowly. “Relax, lass. You’re safe, thank Odyn for that.”

“Um...okay. But who’s this Odyn you speak of?” Diana tilted her head out of confusion. Truly, this was a strange group of people.

One of the women had then found the locket and it contained a golden glow inside. Out of the six, the one who looked like the leader stepped forward, letting the glow hum a little before she took a look at her fellow sister on the bed. With a flick of her wrist, a large pint of ale appeared on a clean glass. It was filled with strong alcohol, and the contents of the vial was poured in. The winged leader then offered it out to Diana.

“Drink, sister. It’ll help you.” Her voice resonated out and it sounded reassuring.

Diana however was not going to buy it. She reluctantly took a look at the drink and backed off. “Not until you explain to me what’s happening. I’m not your sister, and by the Eight I don’t know what you just did!”

A quick chuckle emitted out of the woman. “You wouldn’t believe it even if we told ya, Freya. Just drink.”

“Who is Freya? My name’s Diana! Please, just let me go and I’ll be on my way.” At this point, the lone Vigil shook her head and began standing up. Almost immediately, two of the more well-built women forced her to sit back down. She sighed and grumbled. They weren’t going to let her go, and everything right now just seemed like a crazy nightmare.

“Not in the mood for ale. Yup, I am a milkdrinker. Now let me go.”

The two well-built winged women turned their heads back to their leader, still holding the ale. Without saying anything, the leader nodded, and followed up by stepping in real close to Diana.

Her mouth was forcefully opened up. No amount of resisting could make her close it until she drank the contents of the alcohol. She could hear the calming voice of the leader speak out to her. “Didn’t want to do this, lass, but ye forced our hands.”

Diana choked on the contents of the alcohol. She resisted drinking it, even if it meant spilling into her bandages and burning her wound. Though, strangely, as bits of alcohol passed through her, the more submissive she was to drinking more of it. Even more strangely however was the fact the alcohol was not yet drained despite heavy gallons dropping onto the floor.

As the women finished, Diana coughed violently and quivered once it had subsided. She took some time to collect her breath, though once finished, her soft blue eyes turned to a shade of bright gold before shimmering down to a brownish orange. It felt difficult to move all of a sudden, so she simply turned her head on her pillow. “If it isn’t Brunnhilde and the Valkyrja.” She chuckled and groaned at the sudden burst of pain coming down to her midsection.

Her coughing had reopened up her wound. Freya sucked the air in through her teeth and tried to get more comfortable. Slowly, the memories of Freya began overlapping with the memories of Diana. Eventually the two had merged and it disappointed the wounded woman. “Odyn stripped me of Asgardian blood as well, I see...”

Briefly, she sighed and grumbled while her sisters talked amongst themselves, until Brunnhilde sat on the bed. “Rest now, lass, and tomorrow it’ll probably heal up. She found that perhaps the contents of what she poured didn’t kick in fully yet. Then, she addressed the more serious matter of Freya being stranded down in Skyrim. “Allfather didn’t exile ye. ‘Twas the Trickster.”

The wounded woman furrowed her eyebrows. “Loki? You jest. Why me of all people?” She began to protest and tried standing up again to no avail. Her wound was too great, and moving at any rate would cause it to open even further. She seethed in pain and gripped her abdomen. It leaked out blood again and was beginning to soak through the fresh bandages. “Why have you forsaken me, Odyn...?” 

Most if not all of the Valkyrja shook their heads without knowing what the Trickster’s intentions were. Nobody ever knew. Another sigh. Freya repositioned herself so that she was comfortable in her bed again. “Ye need to keep your strength up, lest ye perish, Freya. An’ don’t worry, some of us are gonna stay behind and watch over you.”

She snickered and rolled her eyes. “Watch over me? As far as I’m concerned I lived alone all my life. Besides, there’s no reason for it.”

This is where Brunnhilde had a forced laugh. “Ah, Freya. Always headstrong, yet never realizing you’re never alone. To answer your question...we’re here to train you again.” Freya raised her eyebrow and brushed off the notion, but Brunnhilde shook her head and gave a smug smile. “Ye really think we weren’t watching you slaughter endless draugr with flaws in your technique? Think again, lass.”

With that, the leader of the Valkyrja clapped her hands once. “Right. Training begins when ye get better and you can take a few hits. Give or take...2 days. Rest now.”