#THANK YOU FOR THE ASK THOUGH i finally get to talk about my dunmer. i feel relief in my brain.

[ladytanithia]

WIP Wednesday - so I guess we're supposed to tag our friends on these? Still a Tumblr noob, sorry! let's see... @skyrim-forever, @gwilin-stay-winnin, @thequeenofthewinter, @mareenavee, @dirty-bosmer - I'd like to tag Topsy but he's been awfully busy lately...

Out of the Ashes, ch. 27

“The Dragonborn returns victorious,” Geldis cried when she descended the stairs, and by the tone of his voice, Miranja could tell he was bursting with pride.

Playing dumb, she said, “I defeated Alduin last year, Geldis. You’re behind the times.” She took a seat at the barstool next to Teldryn and ordered a Cyrodiilic brandy.

“I’m talking about the war over there, me gell,” Geldis scolded with a grin. “Heard you took out that racist bastard who was keeping our people in squalor in Windhelm.”

Miranja’s chest tightened, and she turned accusingly to Teldryn. “You told him?”

Teldryn held up his hands in a warding gesture. “He already knew. He asked me about the firsthand details, and I filled him in, but he already knew the general story.”

Miranja turned back to Geldis questioningly.

“This one’s on the house,” he told her, not pushing the brandy toward her across the counter but lifting it before her like a toast. “Gjalund told us when he brought supplies last week. Of course, being a Nord, he wasn’t very happy about it, but at least he doesn’t blame you in particular, and I daresay he’ll get over it. Very little will change in his life, but our people over there have hope now, thanks to you.”

“Gjalund and I had a little talk on the ship after we left Windhelm,” Miranja acknowledged. “He knows how terrible I feel about it, and that I truly wish it could have been different. I think it’ll be okay.”

“You feel bad about killing the man who was holding the Dunmer and Argonians back?”

Miranja cringed a little under Geldis’ indignant look, but she held her ground. “He was still one of my mother’s people. He wanted Skyrim to be free of the Aldmeri Dominion and for people to be able to freely worship Talos, but he was holding the Empire responsible for the ban, even though it would have happened sooner or later. I understand where he was coming from, I just didn’t agree with how he was going about everything.

“It’s a long story, Geldis, and I’m tired. Suffice it to say that he is one of very few people I’ve killed whose names I’ve known. They were all trying to kill me first, of course, but Ulfric…” She stopped herself from finishing the sentence, not sure if Geldis – who was usually open-minded – would think less of her if he knew that she had been intimate with Ulfric once. Only once, but it was enough. She took a large mouthful of her brandy and swallowed it in one gulp, and it occurred to her that her twisted friend hadn't judged her for sleeping with Ondolemar; he'd helped her reenact it.

Geldis didn’t need the rest of the sentence; he made some other assumption about how she would have finished it, and he reached out and took her free hand in both of his. “Of course, you’re tired, luv. I know you used your best judgment. I’m sorry it was difficult for you.”

Teldryn had remained silent during this exchange, but when Geldis took her hands, he reached over and squeezed her thigh briefly, then left his hand on her knee, caressing her comfortingly. He’d definitely gotten better at the comfort thing during their trip.

“I’m just glad the war is finally over,” Miranja said after shuddering from the burn of the brandy. “But now…” She glanced back and forth between her friends, hating to make her admission even though she was quite close to both of them. “I’m not entirely sure I know myself anymore. I have a lot to think about, and decisions to make about who I want to be from now on.”

[friesian]

*gently pats your arm* hello you're really cool and I love marwyd I wanted to know if I could give him a lil kiss on the cheek - @moonlit-grove

(Ps UHHH TES brainrot got spread to me do you play ESO if so pls.... tell me about bbys)

HELLO FRIEND!!! THANK YOU THANK YOU he is always spinning in my mind.

you may try to give him a kiss. he needs to be loved more. however i give you two warnings; 1. he cannot wrap his head around receiving affection and will probably try to parkour away. not elegantly mind you. he's about as nimble as a horse. which is VAGUELY nimble but also he's the broadside of a barn in terms of size. he'd just probably jump off from a 10 foot balcony and splat on the ground. he has Problems <3

2. his body oils/sweat/blood (you get the gist) is all VERY psychedelic in nature and is VERY potent as well. if you're lookin for a good trip give that man a kiss on the cheek (if he doesn't literally jump into the ocean from a bridge first.)

AND GOD. i need to play more ESO. i 100% have it and have MANY characters but i've mostly been playing morrowind and skyrim. i will give a tiny shout about my babies since i have to get it out of me. for morrowind. i have my dunmer/nerevarine Aros!! i don't have much of a personality for him yet, but i do think of him to be the type of guy to charge in with a sword and ask questions later. (how i've been playing the game since im scared of everything Getting Me). i started him as a bard but i have slowly somehow transformed him into a weird medium armor wearing two-hander sword knight LOL. he's very strong and charismatic. here's a WIP i have of him (right) with my good friend bo's nerevarine (left). by the way ordinator armor is FUCKING KILLING ME. however i love it so much, so it is worth it.

NOW FOR SKYRIM. FLYSHER. MY BABY BOY FLYSHER!!! (he's also in ESO but im gonna be talking about exclusively skyrim here) probably one of my second fav OCs after marwyd. he's my nightingale/thieves guild leader (maybe also dark brotherhood member?? still deciding on that one. we'll see.) and is very silent, and usually monotone. archer, acrobat, sneak thief, and rather good diplomatic talker when he has to be... however, he's got BAD luck. i mean bad. bad. BAD luck. he's known for 50/50 completion of contracts in terms of them being done right. usually known as 'the grey area' among the guild. he gets MUCH better later when he becomes a nightingale and has much better luck, but this doesn't ALWAYS help. he does have bouts of incredibly bad luck from time to time.

he may have also belonged to a certain dunmeri house in the past and is MAYBE desperately trying to escape his past. but that's all i'll let slip. for now.

also, i think a little bit of butt and body hair is fine on tumblr right? if not im about to find out the hard way LOL. i censored the actual bad bits already. but have my flysher reference i've been too scared to post because of the censors. i'll tag this nsfw-ish just in case tho.

[p-artsypants]

I’ll Handle This (12)

In Which Lila Learns about Skyrim

Ao3 | FF.net

Sorry for taking a bit with this chapter. It isn’t even very long. But I was in the hospital recovering from surgery. We’re coming up close to the end of the story, but there’s maybe two more chapters after this. 

(Psst this chapter has hints to the next story I’ll publish after this one...as long as my ideas don’t change lol)

--

Lila was fired. It was immediate when they found out. Everyone sat in class, the lecture normal and lulling everyone into a soft state of sedation. 

Then Lila screamed. The scream was the worst thing Marinette had ever heard. Immediately, everyone turned to look at her in horror. 

She started bawling. Huge gasping sobs of someone who’d been shot. 

“Lila?!” Miss Bustier gasped in shock and concern. “Are you okay?!” 

“I’m so sorry, Miss Bustier!” She wailed. “I just wanted to peek at my email and—and—Mr. Agreste fired me!” 

Plagg had to bite his tongue. He knew she was going to twist this somehow, but her sobbing was so beautiful to see. 

“Oh Lila, I’m so sorry. It hurts a lot to lose a job. Especially when they don’t tell you to your face. That’s no fair.” 

“He-he-he said that Marinette told him that I was making Adrien uncomfortable! She got me fired!” 

Gasps, all around. 

“What?!” Barked Marinette. “I had nothing to do with this!” Not exactly the truth...

“But that’s what Mr. Agreste said!” 

Plagg stood, placing his foot on the seat, the spurs on his cowboy boots ringing with the motion. He put his cowboy hat back on (since Mrs. Bustier had asked him to remove it for violating dress code...again.) “well now. Sounds like we got ourselves in a gosh darn pickle.” 

Nino snorted. 

“Adrien! You never said I made you uncomfortable! Marinette must have lied to your father!” 

He flicked the rim of his hat. “Now slow your roll there, Buckeroo. I know my old man, and even if Marinette was mentioned in his email, it’s likely that he just wanted to place the blame on someone else.” 

Yes, throw the old man under the bus. He still deserves it, even with whole hearted apologies. 

“But you know, I do feel awfully bad for you, Lila. Losing yer job and all. How’s about I make it up to ya? I’ll come sit by you for a while. Keep ya company and cheer you up. Cain’t have gettin’ all akumatized up in here, you reckon?” 

Not that Lila getting akumatized was even a concern anymore. But the world wouldn’t know about Hawkmoth’s surrender until Emilie’s fate was resolved. Adrien’s family deserved that much at least. 

“Oh Adrien!” Lila cried. “You really are such a wonderful friend. But I couldn’t bear to make you move on my behalf. You need to focus on your work.” 

“A cowboy needs to be exceptional at multitasking. That is, as long as Mrs. Brassiere is okay with it.” 

Miss Bustier pinched the bridge of her nose. Usually, she was a very calm and level-headed teacher, compassionate and understanding. But Adrien’s antics were stressing her out massively. “Yes, Adrien, I suppose it’s fine if you move to—what did you call me?”

“Much obliged, Madam. If’en you’ll excuse me...” 

Marinette watched with fascination as Plagg gathered up his materials and moved to the back of the class to sit next to Lila. Then she glanced in her purse, where Tikki and Adrien were hanging out. They both shrugged. 

Due to the retirement of Hawkmoth, Adrien was now allowed to spend time away from the Miraculous without consequence. Plagg assured him that once the final condition was met, no matter where he was, his soul would return to his body. 

So he spent the school day with Tikki, and the evenings with Marinette. It was a sweet deal, and it really gave Adrien the time to bond with her without school or akumas in the way. 

He had even spent the night with her the night before, curled up next to her on her pillow, and purring every time Marinette’s hand glanced his fur. 

Nino leaned back in his seat. “Do you know what he’s up to this time?” 

“No idea...but I am eager to see where this goes.” 

Nino shook his head with a shrug. Two nights ago, when Plagg was arrested, Nino gathered all the money in his savings and went down to the jail to bail him out. 

Only to find out he was already let go. 

So he went back home, and called Adrien’s phone relentlessly, hoping for an answer. 

Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, Chat Noir returned and explained that he was going home now, thanks for having him, he had to watch the mansion because his sort of repentant father was going to Tibet to resurrect his dead wife. 

Nino gave up on logic and understanding, and just made sure Plagg had everything he had brought. 

Now he would wait until the whole situation blew over, and hopefully Adrien himself, in his own body, would explain it all to him. Plagg seemed to oversimplify everything to the point it became vague. 

Marinette, on the other hand, was very curious to see where this was all going. After all, Adrien’s previous tactic of being nice to Lila hadn’t worked. So what was Plagg hoping to gain from the same approach?

Wrassle her with his randomly appointed cowboy charm? 

In science, two classes later, Plagg had elected to sit next to Lila still, despite her protests. 

Marinette was close enough now to hear what Plagg’s master plan was. 

“So there’s like several types of Mer, right? But not like mermaids. This has nothing to do with mermaids. These are mostly elves, but not all. So there’s Dunmer, right? Those are dark elves. And Bosmer, wood elves, and Altmer, high elves. The Falmer are snow elves, but they’re all twisted and savage, because of the Dwemer, which are dwarves!” 

Marinette snorted a bit too loudly, drawing attention from the teacher. 

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, is something funny?” 

“No ma’am, I had a tickle in my sinuses.” 

“Ah, I see. Anyways, as I was saying...” 

Lila always sat in the back of the class, despite her many alleged disabilities. This was probably to get away with the fact that she rarely paid attention during class. 

It was the ideal place for Plagg to harass her and not get caught. 

Poetry in motion. 

“So you get to pick what race you want to be, but you’re always the Dragonborn. Despite the description, you don’t look any different. So a Dragonborn is someone that can devour the souls of dragons so they don’t get resurrected by Alduin. Let me back up, Alduin is an evil dragon that used to rule the world, and he’s resurrecting dragons so he can take over. There’s another dragon though, named Paarthanax, and he’s a good guy. He helps out the Tongues on the Throat of the World. Or the greybeards. Some call them Tongues, but in the game they’re called Graybeards. And the tongues are the monks that teach you to shout. And different shouts teach you different things, right? The dragonborn and the tongues are the only ones that are supposed to know how to shout, but there’s this other dude named Ulfric Stormcloak, and he knows Unrelenting Force, that’s the Fus Ro Da shout I was talking about earlier? He used it to kill high king Torygg to start a war. Oh yeah, so there’s nine holds with Jarls, right—“ 

The day ended, and Lila stood quickly. “Well Adrien, thank you so much for keeping me company today. I’m feeling a lot better. You can move back up to your old spot tomorrow.” 

“Well, you shore are welcome, Pardner. But sittin here in the back has been mighty nice. I think I’ll stay! You don’t mind, do ya? It’s awfully fun to have you as company!” 

Lila’s eye twitched, but she was aware that most of the class was watching them. “Yeah. That’d be...great.” 

“Darn tootin’! Well, you look like you’re in a rush, don’t want to hold you up!” 

“See you tomorrow!” She chirped, before hurrying from the room. As she passed Marinette, a dark look came over her face. The look of someone seething with rage and hatred, but trying to hide it. 

Marinette would have been scared, if Lila hadn’t been dealing with Plagg instead. 

Marinette went home, Tikki and Adrien talking to her from her collar. 

“I don’t know. Plagg was successful with the first two tasks, but I don’t know how he’s going to turn Lila over to the good side.” Marinette mused. 

“I don’t know if he has to. The condition is to just get her to leave me alone. He said he was doing some Pavlovian Jedi mind trick on her.” 

“Well, I sure hope it works. Speaking of, where is Plagg?” 

Adrien’s ears flicked. “He left pretty suddenly after class. I didn’t see him go. Hopefully, he went back to the mansion.” 

“Do you want me to call him?” 

“No, I trust him. He’s got things under control.” 

“Glad to hear it! Ready for snack time?” 

“Oh heck yes!” 

—

Lila had to actively stop herself from stomping all the way home. Frustration rolled off of her in waves, and she mildly wondered why she hadn’t been akumatized yet. 

Adrien Agreste was the most annoying person she had ever met. And oblivious too! He never picked up on any of her subtle hints to get him to shut up! She really didn’t want to be rude, because his friendship looked great on her, but wow. No wonder he didn’t have any friends. No wonder Gabriel was so protective of him. If he wasn’t cute...his personality was like a wet sock. 

And he was weird. Weird mannerisms, weird speech pattern, just weird. Hopefully she could either get used to it, or Adrien would get a clue to stop being so obnoxious. 

Finally, she reached her apartment. 

“Home mom!” She called. 

There was laughter in the kitchen. Her mother had a guest. While not uncommon, there was just a hint of dread that hung in the air. 

Lila walked to the kitchen, only to see Adrien sitting at the table, talking to her mother! How?! How did he beat her here?! How did he know where she lived?! What the hell was he doing?!

“Adrien?” Lila gawked. 

He rubbed his head awkwardly. “Sorry for popping in uninvited. I just...I was worried about you! You’ve been akumatized twice, and I didn’t want it to happen again since you were fired.” 

Lila’s face paled as her mother gave her a stern look. 

“I think you’ve got some explaining to do, Missy. I didn’t know you were modeling. And you never told me about being akumatized!” 

Adrien gasped. “Oh no! She didn’t tell you? I’m so sorry! I didn’t know that was a secret! I won’t say anymore!” 

“Any more?” Mrs. Rossi asked. “There’s more?” 

“Adrien.” Lila bit, in warning. 

“Well...I mean, you knew she was meeting with my father right? Something about being his muse?” 

Mrs. Rossi looked horrified. “What! You were talking to a grown adult man?! Were these visits supervised?!” 

Lila opened her mouth to answer, but Plagg beat her to it. “I don’t think so. Father is a very private person.” 

“Lila Giselle Rossi! You are sooo grounded! No offense to your father, Adrien, but meeting up with an adult man, unsupervised? And to what, be his muse? What does that even mean? It sounds gross!” 

“I swear nothing happened! He just wanted my opinion-”

“On what? What reason would he have to ask a 14 year old’s opinion?”

Plagg winced and looked at Lila. “I’m so sorry, Lila. I came here to help, but...” 

Lila shook with rage. Her mother was a complete pushover and believed everything she said. Now Adrien had sewn the seeds of distrust in her and she wouldn’t get away with any white lies ever again. 

“You’re dead,” She mouthed at Plagg. 

“Adrien, thank you for coming here and telling me all of this. I’m very grateful. But I think it’s best if you head home now. Lila has some chores to do.” 

“I understand, Madam Rossi. Again, I’m really sorry...I just wanted to help.” 

“Oh don’t worry, you did. This is for Lila’s own good.” 

He sheepishly looked to her. “See you tomorrow?” 

Her eye twitched. “Yeah.” 

And Plagg swiftly walked from the apartment, concealing his evil laughter until he got to the door. 

—

The next day at school, Marinette, along with Tikki and Adrien in her bag, arrived at school just a few minutes before the bell rang. 

Plagg was sitting at the front of the room, wearing a Pikachu onesie, and looking absolutely devastated. Nino sat next to him and had a hand over his face, doing his best to conceal whatever emotion he had. 

Everyone else in the room was avoiding them like they had the plague. 

Alya spotted her and came quickly, looping an arm through hers and escorting them out into the hall. “Girl, big news. I know you love Adrien, so this is going to be a blow. But here’s the thing...Lila told us this morning that Adrien came to her house yesterday and told her mom about her modeling job. Apparently, her mom didn’t want her working, and got upset that Lila lied. Adrien’s been insisting that it wasn’t on purpose, but everyone is kind of pissed at him anyway.” 

Marinette said nothing, but bit her lip. She knew that this absolutely was on purpose. 

“I’ll leave your actions up to you, but people are pretty mad at Adrien. Just letting you know.” 

“Who’s side are you taking?” 

Alya scoffed. “None. I’m staying out of this. Both people are in the right. Obviously Sunshine just wanted to prevent her from being akumatized. He was with her all day yesterday. It’s admirable, really.” 

“It is.” Marinette said with a smile. Though she was smiling for a completely different reason. There were no akumatizations anymore. Everyone was safe now. 

“We better get back in there, class will start soon.” 

So they returned. Miss Bustier was in, and ready to begin the lesson. 

Then Plagg raised his hand. 

“Yes Adrien?” 

“Before we start class, I want to say something.” 

“Go ahead, Adrien. The floor is yours.” 

He stood, and looked to Lila in the back of the room. “Lila, I know I apologized yesterday, but I’m really really sorry about outing you to your mom. I had no idea she didn’t know about your rendezvous with my father. I was just really scared that you were going to become akumatized, and I didn’t want that to happen. My friends are all important to me, and losing you would be like ripping out a piece of my heart. Could you ever forgive me?” 

Marinette glanced Nino’s face, which twitched to hide a smile. Then she looked at Lila, who looked calm, but her hands were balled into fists. 

After many breathless minutes, Lila smiled slightly. “I understand, Adrien. Of course you’re still my friend. I treasure you too! I’m sorry I got so mad.” 

“Hugs?” Plagg raised his arms. 

Lila could pretend to be happy and calm, but the paling of her skin could not be hidden. “Hugs!” 

Plagg brought her in for a squeeze, and the class ‘aww’ed at their make up. 

Except Nino, who let out the tiniest snort. 

Marinette flicked open her purse to look at Adrien. He mimed a gagging gesture back. 

And then Plagg took those last couple steps and joined Lila on her bench. No one tried to stop him. No one spoke up and said, “hey, maybe you should give her some space anyway.” 

They just all let poor, socially awkward Adrien push boundaries and take his seat. Because he had apologized so earnestly for trying to help. And she had forgiven him. So everything was fine now. 

Right?

As the lesson started, Marinette paid attention to the teacher. But occasionally, she’d hear the faintest whispers of Adrien’s voice (Plagg’s voice now). 

“...so it’s commonly believed that the Nord’s came from Atmora with Ysgramor, but they believe that they settled Skyrim, so they’re kind of racist to everyone else. But also, the Empire came in out of nowhere and tried to upheave their way of life, and even told them which Gods they were allowed to worship. High King Torygg was playing cordial with the Aldmeri Dominion, and some of the other Jarl’s didn’t like that. So Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Whiterun shouted him to death. Just like the Dragonborn can. Though it’s never explained why he knows how to do this. So this started a whole civil war…” 

Marinette chanced a glance behind her, and noticed that Lila had her head in her hands, and she looked absolutely miserable.

[talldarkandroguesome]

22nd of Hearthfire, Middas

I have never considered the Redoran to be a particular deceptive House. My respect for playing the game when few other Houses considered them capable.

Yet what they have done, even just that small contingent, is beyond mere reproach.

After I joined up with Naryu and Veya and learned more, it came out that Verya was actually Naryu’s apprentice.

I can see why. There is some personality resemblance between Veya and Naryu back in her younger days. I am sure that seeing a younger version of herself she was happy to take on the role of mentor.

All I can say is, I am glad that it is not me. Can you imagine? Me? With an apprentice?

Boethiah’s breasts and bullocks, what a disaster that would be!

All of that aside, it turns out that the group of Velothi I was warned off was not at all Velothi. They were not even Dunmer! More of those Khajiit mercenaries.

Veya explained that her brother was very close to the Velothi that had made their home in the same encampment. Suddenly things were beginning to make sense. 

So Veya’s brother was exiled for killing one of his mer, who was likely threatening the Velothi people. Honestly, he does sound as much of an upstanding mer as everyone says he is. At least someone in prominence is looking out for the Velothi. 

Well... was. I supposed he was somewhere else now.

So we decided to try and investigate, for as Veya explained, this was the Zainab camp and their yurts were still in place, even if the only people we saw were the Warclaw mercenaries.

I asked if Naryu and Veya had a plan and was told that as members of the Morag Tong, they were not allowed to get involved. No writ, no ability to start taking lives otherwise. Veya seemed particularly frustrated by this, so I reassured them that I would be their proxy and I would learn what I could and if lives needed to be taken, I would do so in their stead, still in our Prince’s name.

So they stayed out of sight and I went ahead and snuck into the camp.

It was far easier than expected, I rarely had to use my shadows at all and easily was able to slip between the tents and I was able to easily pluck Redoran orders to the Warclaws and even find one of the wise woman that had been held hostage.

She was able to verify that they were, in fact, Zainab. She also confirmed that Ulran had come to be with them once he was exiled for saving the life of several of the tribesmer.

When I asked what had happened to the rest of the tribe, she said that most of them had been rounded up and thrown into the mine for resisting captivity. One of the mercenaries had the key, but she told me where they kept their backup key in the board of a small table and I promised her by True Tribunal that I would do whatever I could to free her people and to kill those responsible. 

She thanked me and asked me to make sure that the leader in particular was made to pay.

With her blessing, I decided there was no more need to hold back and once I had the key securely in my possession, I slay every soul that lay between myself and the mine, taking special care to see that their leader was brought to justice.

I normally would have attempted to make it a more painful death, to share the suffering that he caused ninefold. Yet I was eager to free the Velothi prisoners and reunite Veya and Ulran. I figured if we were to get to the bottom of the Redoran conspiracy, he would be the key.

As I approached the mine, I overheard two of the mercenaries talking while I crept behind them, blades drawn. They had been given leave to dispose of everyone in the mine by the captain, who I can only assume meant the Redoran captain. I did not even spend the time to kill those two, merely hit them with poisoned needles and rushed on, now with the threat of death far greater, I needed to rescue everyone before the Warclaws succeeded.

As I opened the door to the mine, I could already smell smoke. I wrapped a cloth round my face as I ran, hurrying towards the smell. If I could save anyone at all, I was going to do so. I swore by Azura’s guiding stars that I would lay down as many of my lives as it took, if I could save even one soul.

Yet as I reached the back room of the mine, my heart sank. A cold, sick feeling settled in my throat as I gazed upon my failure.

So many lives. So many innocent lives.

And among the bodies, I could clearly make out the body of Ulran. We were too late.

The room was silent and still. the only sound was my own pulse thrumming in my ears.

Then I heard Veya asking Naryu about the smell, I turned, trying to stop them, even as I heard Naryu, in recognition of the same smell, trying to stop Veya from entering.

It was too late for that too. And she all too easily recognized her brother’s corpse.

Her heart-wrenching cries as she screamed for her brother to wake up were almost more than I could bear. I knew that feeling, too. And I could not help but be brought back to that Daedric ruin, the scent of fresh blood, Avon’s begging for us both to stop, Ervis’ body sliding off of my sword to the ground, eyes still glaring at me, wishing for my death.

I can imagine what it feels like to lose a brother you care so deeply for. To wish you could do something, anything to take it all back.

Naryu pulled me aside and we agreed that it was awful that Veya had to see all of this. And we wondered what it was that we could to help Veya get the answers that she certainly would need more now than ever.

Then I spotted a small object on the ground. It was some sort of small rock, but out of place with the stone of the mine. I picked it up and Naryu came to see what it was. She recognized it instantly as a Nord speaking stone, a sort of memory recording device. I had seen others, though of Dunmeri make, and as soon as she said as much, I realized how foolish I was not to have seen it at once.

Naryu activated it and an image of Ulran began to speak.

Even in his last moments, the one thing he wanted was to give his sister answers. It was exactly as an older brother should do. He explained that one of his soldiers had been harassing a group of Velothi, who rumor had it were being belligerent in town. When Ulran had told the man to stand down, the soldier had slayed one of the Velothi. When Ulran tried to reprimand him, he approached another of the Velothi, sword raised. In order to stop the slaying, he turned to the only option available to him, and killed his own man.

The repercussions of the action were that he was brought before the Council and exiled, even before having a chance to say farewell to Veya. He also said he suspected that he was set up by someone in the House, though he did not know who. The Velothi had taken him in, but then Captain Brivan had shown up with soldiers. He had made the recording just in case things happened. It was sadly prophetic of him to assume it may be his last message.

Veya was enraged. Partially from the grief of her brother being gone and part for the role her own House played in the affair. I agreed with her, as did Naryu, that he did not deserve to die. That he was a good man, upstanding, and followed his convictions to the end.

She cursed that quality if it was what got him killed and swore vengeance. I knew that rage and I knew what it could bring. If the Morag Tong were not allowed to involve themselves without a writ, surely this would be far worse. After all, the reason why myself and others of the Houses’ prominent families are generally barred admission, is because of the conflict of interest it poses. You cannot be impartial if you have loyalties or grudges with various Houses. This was clearly a personal grudge and one that the Morag Tong would not look lightly at.

Naryu cursed Ulran for putting so much pressure on Veya when she was already hurting, though she agreed that it seemed like a set up. I agreed.

We decided we needed to get to the bottom of things. Naryu cursed the fact that it meant going up against House Redoran without a writ to protect them. I said I understood, Redoran was the House my own was most closely connected with and if I was found to be working against them, it could start a House war between our closest ally.

Even still, I agreed to help. I had come this far and since I had failed to protect the majority of the Zainab tribe, the least I could do was to see that they were not blamed for some House scheme. I would protect them as best as I could from within the House political system. If I learned more about the rumors of a Nerevarine in the interim, that would be a bonus. 

We all headed back to the safe house and pondered our next move. Naryu suggested that we make sure that the Councilmer know the truth of his son’s death and we decided that it would be best for it to come written in Veya’s hand so that he would believe us.

Then, so that their safety could be maintained, I agreed to deliver the message to Councilor Eris. Naryu lent me some clothing she had in the Redguard style and I made liberal use of the veil. I padded out undergarments to make myself wider and hunched in my shoulders. I adapted my gait and slowed my movements, then slipped out.

I gave myself a slight limp and when I had finally convinced my way in to meet with the Councilor, I spoke with a slight lisp. I explained that I came with news of his children. It was enough to get his attention. He asked if his daughter had been found and I said the news concerned his son.

He seemed rather surprised, since he was under the impression his son was no longer on Vvardenfell at all. I broke the news gently that his son was killed in a raid by his own captain upon the Zainab camp. He found this hard to believe. So I gave him the letter from Veya and said she had sent me to bring it after she had seen it for herself and that I was to make sure he got the news.

Understandably, he was shaken as he read the contents and knew the handwriting to be Veya’s own.

He asked if I could do him a favor, which I agreed to. It took him a while to come to a decision, but after visibly wrestling with his options, he asked if I could make sure that Veya stayed away until everything settled down. That he would do his best to contain the chaos. He asked me to ensure that she was safe. He even paid me to do so.

I bowed formally and told him I would do my best and then I left. Ashur spotted me, seemed a bit surprised and then made a hand signal for me to meet up three blocks up ahead.  I made sure to go down an alley and turn invisible to make sure that no one was tracking me. I did not want to be followed and lead anyone back to the last remaining safety that Veya and Naryu possessed. Then, I removed my outer garments and tucked them round the stomach before going to meet Ashur just up the road.

After a brief conversation, it turns out that Naryu had a business matter to see to and that he was struggling to help comfort Veya and asked if I might be of assistance. I agreed and we headed back to the safe house. 

When we first arrived, it was clear how upset Veya was. Not just about her brother, but also about not being allowed to go with Naryu. It was worse than Ashur had said.

I sang a song which helped her to fall asleep. I know it will not last long, but when so many things have happened, sometimes even a short rest can be healing. I know she will wake soon and I need to be prepared, a rest will mean she will also have more energy. I just wish there was more that I could do for her. I will just have to try my best.

[lake-arrius-caverns]

Nerevarine Rising

Chapter 2: To Morrowind

summary Fahjoth's prison sentence comes to an end and he is released mere weeks after the loss of his twin, Ribyna. But his liberation isn't unconditional — at the whim of the Emperor he finds himself loaded onto a boat, with his stressful departure from the Imperial City exacerbated by the strange dreams he has been suffering.

content warnings none explicit for this chapter

tag list @boulderfall-cave , @padomaicocean (lmk if you’d like to be added!)

read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍

:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::

     —————————————————————————————

“Each Event is preceded by Prophecy. But without the Hero, there is no Event.” 

                                  - Zurin Arctus, the Underking

                                  ———————————————

“Fahjoth Vetharys?”

In the fog of exhaustion and sorrow that clouded his mind, Fahjoth hadn’t noticed the prison guards stopping outside his cell until they spoke his name. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re to come with us. Emperor’s orders.”

More orders from the Emperor himself...

Fahjoth should have been surprised, but these days he barely felt anything other than morose. Ever since Ribyna was taken away, Fahjoth had felt as if someone had ripped off one of his own arms. Lost and in mourning, it had been hard to eat and even harder to sleep. 

And the precious few hours of sleep he managed to attain were plagued with nightmares — of burning, ashen wastelands, of rising crescent moons, of walking corpses and of demonic figures with gleaming scarlet eyes. 

So it was without protest that Fahjoth got to his feet, allowed his wrists to be restrained, and walked willingly and in silence alongside the prison guards, who escorted him out of the prison and away from the Imperial City itself. 

The procession was odd, but Fahjoth couldn’t care enough to question it. Maybe they had decided he was guilty after all, and it was time for him to follow his twin to whichever gallows they deigned to hang him from. 

Fahjoth almost smiled at the thought. 

Perhaps that would be a relief. 

                                  ———————————————

The dark haze dissipated, revealing a barren land under siege from a storm of dust and ash. Vivid red clouds churned overhead, bathing the scene in a vibrant crimson glow. A voice, wispy and echoing, was clear even over the howling of the wind. 

                 They have taken you from the Imperial City’s prison, 

                        first by carriage and now by boat, to the east. 

                                             To Morrowind.

Blackened trees, their branches naked and as sharp as spears, swayed and whipped in the wind, while jagged rocks stood fast and unyielding against the storm. 

                                   Fear not, for I am watchful.

The red skies suddenly vanished, replaced by heavy blue storm clouds that flashed with blinding light as thunder cracked and roared overhead. 

                                    You have been chosen.

The rain was deafening, almost as loud as the thunder as it smashed the water’s glassy surface and distorted the reflection of the moon and stars overhead, scattering shards of light into the darkness.

“Wake up. We’re here. Why are you shaking? Are you okay? ... Wake up!” 

When Fahjoth opened his eyes, it took a few seconds before he was able to fully register his surroundings. He was below the decks of a wooden boat, the walls and floors of which creaked as it rocked steadily on whatever body of water it was currently stationed. As he tried to process the confusing blur of images and voices that had composed his dreams — were they his dreams, or something else entirely? — he flinched as he finally noticed that he wasn’t alone. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” the stranger apologised. Fahjoth merely blinked; the last thing he had been expecting to wake up and see was a blatantly shirtless and very well-muscled Dunmer, but before he could even think of a response, his travel mate had grabbed his arm and was hauling Fahjoth to his feet. “Stand up... there you go. You were dreaming, by the looks of it. You’ve been out cold since we left the mainland. What's your name?”

“Uh— Fahjoth,” Fahjoth answered, feeling very slow and stupid as his head spun. The ache in his temples wasn’t helping matters at all, but the other Mer didn’t seem to be judging him. 

“Jiub,” the Dunmer, Jiub, introduced himself. He began to brush a few strands of straw from Fahjoth’s back and shoulders as he talked. “Well, not even last night's storm could wake you. I heard them say we've reached Morrowind, I'm sure they'll let us go." 

“I don’t even remember—“ Fahjoth started, only to freeze and falter as Jiub’s words sank in. “Morrowind?” he repeated, feeling a spark of recollection. “That’s what— did you hear her too?”

Jiub raised a scarred brow, and so Fahjoth continued. “There was a woman, I think, I heard her, and she said— she said we were going to Morrowind. And... something else...” The harder he tried to remember, the worse his headache got and he rubbed his forehead with frustration. The memories were trickling away faster than water from a cupped hand. 

“You must‘ve dreamt it,” Jiub said. “Whatever you were dreaming about, it looked intense.” He cut himself off abruptly as the sound of footsteps reached them, gradually growing louder as whoever they belonged to approached. “Quiet, here comes the guard. Just do what they ask of you and you’ll be alright.”

Fahjoth opened his mouth to reply, to stutter another question, to ask if Jiub had any idea what was going on — but Jiub raised a finger to his lips, signalling for quiet, and Fahjoth’s voice died in his throat. Instead he was silent as the guard, decked out in extravagant Imperial-style armour, led him above decks and out into the open air. 

Blinking in the sudden harsh daylight, with a fine drizzle hitting his face from the moment he stepped outside, Fahjoth was momentarily stunned. Though he hadn’t set foot here in many years, this land was unmistakable, with the sounds and visuals stirring memories that Fahjoth had long since forgotten he even had. Jiub was right; they had arrived in Morrowind. Where in Morrowind they were, Fahjoth wasn’t exactly sure. It wasn’t anywhere he could put a name to, but the terrain was familiar to what he remembered seeing while growing up — a whole sixteen or so years ago, before he and Ribyna had left for Cyrodiil. 

An echoing cry suddenly rent the air, and Fahjoth felt his heart jolt as more memories came flooding back, one by one. Turning his head towards the sound, he gasped as he spotted the unmistakable silhouette of a silt strider, barely visible through the misty wall of rain. He almost smiled; the nostalgia was hitting him in waves, and for a moment he was so overwhelmed that he completely forgot about his current predicament. That was, until he felt the manacles removed from his wrists by the guard, who then gave Fahjoth his instructions for where to go, pointing down to a building sitting near the shoreline. 

With Jiub’s words in mind Fahjoth walked down to the building, where a guard opened the door to let him in. Fahjoth was burning with questions; why was he in Morrowind? Had he been deported? What was going to happen to him now? The anxieties that came with facing the unknown began to niggle at the back of his mind, and it was with hesitation that Fahjoth crossed into the warm, dimly-lit office. 

He barely had time to survey his surroundings before an elderly man called him forward. “Over here, please,” he said, his gaze fixed on Fahjoth as he approached. “Welcome to the Seyda Neen Census and Excise Office. Now, you’ll have to be recorded before you’re officially released, and I need to confirm your identity as well. Are you ready?”

Can someone just tell me what the fuck is going on?! Fahjoth wanted to cry, but when he opened his mouth, what came out instead was a meek “Yes sir.” 

“Very good. Now, you have come to us from the Imperial City Prison, yes?”

“Yessir.”

“And you are Vetharys?”

“Yessir.”

“Fahjoth Vetharys, yes?”

“Yessir.”

Fahjoth’s brows twitched in bemusement as the man let out a sigh of obvious relief. “Thank the divines for that,” he huffed. “You wouldn’t believe the trouble we’ve had getting you here. Confusion and incompetence everywhere... No matter, you’re here now. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Vetharys, my name is Socucius Ergalla.” He held his hand out towards Fahjoth, who gave it a tentative shake with his own. “Alright, if you could just sign your name on that parchment there, I’ll get these papers stamped and we can finish processing you.” 

Fahjoth turned to look at the table with dread, where sure enough, a scrap of parchment and a quill sat waiting. The last thing he wanted to admit was how much trouble he had with reading and writing, especially when there was so much else going on that he was uncertain of. He wandered over, picked up the quill loosely in one hand and lowered it to the parchment, grimacing as he produced an ugly blot of ink and a completely illegible scribble. Hoping that it would suffice anyway, he placed the quill back inside the inkpot and faced Ergalla again. 

“Sir? Mr Ergalla?” he started, wringing his hands nervously. “I... I really don’t know what’s going on, or what I’m doing here. Nobody’s told me nothing.”

“Not to worry,” Ergalla replied heartily. “You‘ll be receiving a letter that should explain everything. Right.” He held out the papers he had been writing on to Fahjoth, who did not feel reassured in the slightest as he took them. “Take these to Sellus Gravius, just down the hall and in the next room. You can’t miss him. He’ll handle the rest for you.” 

With a forced smile and murmur of thanks, Fahjoth dipped his head and followed Ergalla’s directions, feeling the knot of worry in his stomach tighten and weigh more heavily than ever. Sure enough an Imperial was waiting for him, his expression surly as he watched Fahjoth come through the doorway. 

“Your papers,” he said, his voice as stern as his face as he held out his hand expectantly. Fahjoth handed them over without question, waiting as the guard briefly read over them. Then, seemingly satisfied, he spoke again. “Thank you. Word of your arrival only reached me yesterday. I am Sellus Gravius. I'm here to welcome you to Morrowind."

Morrowind... Fahjoth nodded his thanks, but he couldn’t hold his questions any longer. “Thanks... I... I don’t suppose you know what I’m doing here, d’you? I don’t have a clue why I was brought here, nobody’s explained anything to me.” 

Gravius’ expression was grim. “I’m afraid I don't know why you're here. Or why you were released from prison and shipped here. But I can tell you that, according to my instructions, the authorisation for your release came directly from Emperor Uriel Septim VII himself.” 

Fahjoth had to force himself to focus on Gravius following this bombshell, his mind whirling once again. “When you leave this office, you’re a free man,” Gravius continued. “But before you go, I have instructions on your duties. Instructions from the Emperor. So pay careful attention."

It was all too much to process. So not only was he now a free man, after years spent wasting away in prison, his release had been authorised by the Emperor himself? What would the Emperor stand to gain by personally releasing a nobody like him — to Morrowind, of all places? 

“I— it’s a lot to take in,” Fahjoth said, apologetic for his dazed state. He could only be thankful — and somewhat surprised — that Gravius was being so patient. 

“I understand. It's all very mysterious. But that's the way the Empire works. Silence. Secrecy. Let not the left hand know what the right hand is doing. Anyway.” He peered at Fahjoth with scrutiny. “Are you ready for your instructions?”

Swallowing, Fahjoth nodded. “I suppose so.” 

“Excellent.” Gravius turned his back on Fahjoth for a moment, standing before a nearby table. When he turned back again, he was holding a package and a roll of parchment. "This package came with the news of your arrival. Well— it actually came a few weeks ago, with the prisoner who was accidentally brought here before you. What a mess that was...” Before Fahjoth could inquire, Gravius continued on. “Anyway, you’re to take it to Caius Cosades, in the town of Balmora. Go to the South Wall Cornerclub, and ask for Caius Cosades — they'll know where to find him. Serve him as you would serve the Emperor himself. I also have a letter for you, and a disbursal to your name."

“A letter...?” Fahjoth’s heart sank as his eyes fell on the rolled-up parchment, and his cheeks burned as he was finally forced to come clean. “I... I can’t really read properly. Not very well, anyway.” 

“I see.” If Gravius was judging him, he hid it well. He passed the package to Fahjoth, then once his hands were free he took the parchment, unfurled it and lay it down on the nearest surface. He gestured for Fahjoth to stand beside him, and once he complied Gravius began to read aloud, trailing his finger over the words so that Fahjoth could keep up. 

          “Fahjoth Vetharys,

        You have been given these directions and a package of documents. Do not show them to anyone. Do not attempt to read the documents in the package. The package has been sealed, and your tampering will be discovered and punished.

        Follow these directions.

        Proceed to the town of Balmora in Vvardenfell District. Report to a man named Caius Cosades. He will be your superior and patron; you will follow his orders. His residence is not known, but ask at the cornerclub called "South Wall". People there will know where to find Caius Cosades. When you report to Caius Cosades, deliver the package of documents to him, and wait for further orders.

        Remember. You owe your life and freedom to the Emperor. Serve him well, and you will be rewarded. Betray him, and you will suffer the fate of all traitors.

        I have the Honor to prepare this at the direction of his Most Sovereign Majesty the Emperor Uriel Septim,

        Glabrio Bellienus

        Personal Secretary to the Emperor.”

Fahjoth tried his hardest to commit the instructions to memory, focusing on the most important parts with as much mental energy as he could muster in his confused state. He then took the parchment, thanking Gravius with a polite smile as he was given directions for how to get to Balmora. It felt odd, having to ask how to find his way to his own childhood hometown, but after spending so many years away from it, Fahjoth wouldn’t have the faintest idea of which way to go to get there. It was then time to leave. 

He headed out through the office doors and stood for a moment to gather his bearings in the dreary Seyda Neen afternoon, frowning as his hair and clothes were damp within less than a minute. The constant, fine rain still hadn’t eased off from earlier, and it was with confusion and great apprehension that Fahjoth began to make his way along the path that would take him back to Balmora. Despite a quiet excitement that churned in his chest at the prospect of seeing it again, he bore a heavy heart as well, knowing that it wouldn’t be the same without Ribyna there alongside him.

[razaks-wheel]

[In her research into Imperial-funded overhaul events, Meryse contacts the Nerevarine. This probably isn't canon. Unless]

3E 432

Meryse set up a sound wall around the projection room she had booked for the afternoon. She wished she could do this somewhere more private, like her own home, but even the "modern-style" projection that many mages made use of was still a little ways beyond her current skill level, and so she was stuck using a device at her local Mages Guild.

It was a dangerous game, she knew, doing research that could be considered anti-Imperial in an Imperial-funded facility, but she was fairly confident that she knew how to take the appropriate precautions. Besides, if the rumors could be trusted, the person she was going to be talking to was at least nominally considered a friend of the Empire, and so even if the projection could be tracked, she should be safe.

In their brief exchange of letters, they had provided each other with a pointer gem, a tiny crystal infused with a small amount of magicka, to make it possible to target each other with a projection. When the designated time came, Meryse placed Ildari's pointer gem in the device's slot and powered it up with a bit of her own magicka. She sat at the desk in the rune on the floor and set her notebook down in front of her while the device whooshed to life and sent its projection to what she imagined was a fabled mushroom tower all the way in Morrowind.

A few moments later, a translucent form appeared in front of her of a Dunmer woman with hair flopped to one side of her head. She had heard that the Nerevarine had been young, but she was still surprised to see that this mer barely looked older than she. Of course, it was hard to gauge an age from a projection, especially of a mer. Maybe she was older than she looked, or maybe Meryse was really just older than she felt.

As they exchanged introductions and pleasantries, Meryse noticed a ring on Ildari's finger decorated with Azuran symbology. She had heard of that ring, Moon-and-Star, in her studies when preparing for this meeting. It was said to give Nerevar, and only Nerevar, a substantial boon in interpersonal abilities. She wondered whether Ildari was wearing it for symbolic reasons, or if she was just as nervous to be interviewed by a stranger as Meryse was to be conducting the interview. Either way, Meryse wished she had a ring like that, though preferably one that wouldn't kill her.

"So, I'm studying some of the major events that the Empire has seemed to have a hand in, as part of a larger research project, and I wanted to talk to some of the key players in those events," Meryse said. "You were employed by the Emperor himself to fulfill your Nerevarine prophecies, correct?"

"Ah...not exactly," Ildari said. "The Emperor selected me, yes, and tried to get me into his service, but I never even ended up talking to the guy the Empire wanted me to go to."

"Oh," Meryse said, her pen hovering above her notes. "Can I ask why?"

"Someone intercepted me outside the Census and Excise office and gave me a better offer if I would take the orders they'd given me to his boss instead of the Imperial contact I was told to meet. His boss was on the council of House Telvanni, which I wanted to connect with anyway, being my ancestral House, and it gave me the option not to work for the Empire, so I took him up on it."

"And the Empire was fine with you not following their orders?"

"'Fine' would be a stretch." She laughed. "Let's just say that when I visit my mom in the Imperial City these days, I stay clear of Green Emperor Way. They probably know better than to mess with me, honestly, but I also know better than to dangle myself in front of them."

Well, that was a deviation. Maybe this was more dangerous than Meryse had anticipated, if this Ildari was less of a friend of the Empire than she had previously believed. On the other hand, it might mean that her answers would be more useful than she expected, as long as any of the questions she had prepared still applied. She probed her wards to make sure they were holding up, and then glanced down at her notebook to decide where to go next.

"You were still initially set on your path by the Emperor, right? Do you know how he picked you?"

"Oh, Uriel absolutely orchestrated my involvement, even if I broke away the second I had the chance," Ildari said. "Certain entities have the ability to identify 'Heroes'—agents of prophecy. Gods can do it. I suspect Moth Priests can, too. Something about it being written in the Elder Scrolls. I assume an emperor has connections and probably makes it his business to keep tabs on any Heroes that pop up.

"Here's the thing, though: they did have to mess with my life to make it work. They killed my parents before I was old enough to remember them, because the prophecy said the Nerevarine has to have 'uncertain parents.' And they made up the charges that landed me in prison, because apparently being in prison is important to trigger the start of a prophecy, at least according to my friend Vivec. That tells me two things. First, they identified me as a Hero early on, long before the prophecies were actually set to be fulfilled. Second, they're willing to force a prophecy's conditions to be met, if it suits them."

"Wow, I...didn't realize they would go that far. Not that it's surprising, exactly. I guess I just didn't know they had the resources and the drive to act on prophecy so long before it's relevant."

She took a moment to consider the implications for her own research, and jotted a few notes down. She looked at her next question. It would sound strange, she knew, but Ildari seemed open-minded enough. Clearly, she was already aware of the implications of prophecy; she might not balk at a question about the nature of time and the aurbis.

"Did anything...strange happen while you were fulfilling your prophecies?" she asked. "I know that's broad. Anything that's hard to explain or understand, maybe relating to the flow of time?"

"That's very broad," Ildari agreed. "There was the part where I got all my memories back from my past seventeen incarnates' lives. That was strange and somewhat relates to the flow of time. But that's pretty specific to me. Probably not what you're looking for." With half a smile, she asked, "So, you're studying the Warp in the West?"

"Ah...yes," Meryse said with a nervous laugh.

"Don't buy the idea that it was a miracle from the Divines?"

"Not exactly," she said. "Not even a little bit, really. I want to figure out what really happened. Everyone sort of waves their hands around what happened, and no one seems to remember it. I do, sort of, but I was a kid, so no one believes me. I want to know what the Empire is hiding, and what else they might be hiding—who else they've hurt."

"Well, if you're looking for people the Empire has hurt, you've come to the right place," Ildari said dryly. "Be careful, though. The Empire doesn't always look kindly on its opponents, much less on people trying to uncover its secrets. I can say what I want, within reason, because quite frankly, I have power—both politically and in terms of combat ability. If you can't say the same, you should take care who you say these sorts of things to."

"Oh, I am careful, don't worry," she said. "I've got wards set up right now, I obscure my notes, and I keep my exact research questions largely to myself."

Ildari nodded. "That aside, though, you said you remember the Warp? The whole thing?"

"I remember three distinct days, when everyone talks about it being one or two. And when it was over, we were bending a knee to Uriel, and suddenly everyone was talking about the Nine like Talos had been there all along."

That seemed to interest Ildari. She paused, brow furrowed, and opened her mouth a few times as if to talk, but changing her mind each time.

After a few moments, she finally said, "I wonder if you're a Hero."

That was, somehow, not what Meryse was expecting.

"Me? I doubt it. I'm not strong or powerful or...special in any particular way, and I've never noticed the Empire messing with my life specifically, like you say they did with yours." She shrugged. "I'm just a mage, a researcher."

"So was I, before they shipped me off to Seyda Neen."

Meryse considered it for a moment longer. "I don't know. If that's all it is, it just feels like such a disappointing answer. And even if it is true, I still want to know how it happened. I guess I'll keep researching until I know better."

"Good idea. I'm sure there's plenty that the Empire is hiding; you being able to tell that they're hiding something is more of a compass than a solution," Ildari said. "Still, you might want to consider picking up some survival skills, maybe learn how to use a sword or armor, just in case you get tossed on an adventure without warning."

"Yeah, couldn't hurt," Meryse said. "Well, thank you for taking the time to talk to me. This has been...enlightening, really, even if not in the ways I expected." She added a small laugh at the end.

"Research is never boring, is it?" Ildari said. "I hope you find what you're looking for. And if you publish your work, I'd love to read it."

"I will be sure to send you a copy. Thanks again, Ildari." She waved awkwardly and disconnected the projection.

Once the projection device was back to its inert state and she had taken Ildari's pointer gem out of its slot, she glanced down at her notes one more time. There was not much there, but she still felt like she had learned a lot, and come out with more questions than she had entered with. Naturally.

She added one more note about picking up some new skills, and then passed an encryption spell over the page. When she was satisfied that her notes were sufficiently obscured from prying eyes, she closed her notebook, slipped it into her bag, lowered her wards, and headed back out into the Mages Guild as though her concept of the world had not just been shaken.

[dieuquilafait]

The Final Days of the Hero of Kvatch

Contains major spoilers!!!

Many years had passed since the Oblivion Crisis, but in the dream’s eye of the Hero of Kvatch, it was all happening for the first time. The dead, charred bodies of soldiers and civilians alike strewn in the street of the temple district, killed indiscriminately by daedra and even Mehrunes Dagon himself. Daedra in numbers she had never seen pouring from the great gate at Bruma as she slashed her way through to stop the siege machine, her body shuddering on the impact of weapons and spells. The Amulet of Kings resting on the accursed and unworthy neck of Mankar Camaron as she cut him down in his own Paradise.

The old Dunmer woman leaped from her bed, ready to defend the heir to the Septim throne with her life before her waking eyes finally cleared. She exhaled a slow, tired breath and lowered her fists. She rubbed her shoulders, aching from a night of thrashing in bed and dressed slowly. It was still far too early in the morning to truly start her day, but whenever she had these nightmares, and she found them growing more frequent of late, she would walk to the nearby chapel of Akatosh, which she herself had helped to rebuild.

She stepped out of her small home just as a watchman on a horse was passing  by, holding a torch aloft. “Everything alright ma’am?”

“Of course, Darmir. Just making my way to the chapel.” He nodded kindly.

“Stay safe.” He continued on his way and she smiled to herself. Young men like him always made her think of her son. He and a few of the other Blades would be coming by to visit that afternoon. She had planned to make them some sweet rolls, but that depended on the state of her arthritis.

She came to the chapel doors and slowly pushed one open to enter. The chapel was empty save for the priest, who was knelt in morning prayer before the Altar of The Nine. She approached the smaller Altar of Akatosh and carefully, but still not without pain, lowered herself to her knees there to pray. In recent years, she began to hear a distant, familiar voice calling to her and the whisper of a hand resting on her shoulder when she prayed here. She knew the voice and that its slow approach meant that her time was drawing near. She told no one, though. She saw no reason to worry those around her. This morning was no different. She heard his voice, as if submerged in water from across the room and felt the light brush of finger tips on her shoulder, lifting away her pain. She closed her eyes.

“I am grateful for your blessing and guidance,” she murmured. “I will see you again soon.” She prayed for several more minutes before gripping the edge of the altar and beginning the arduous process of lifting herself back to her feet. The priest, noticing her struggles, rushed over to help her up.

“Ma’am, please let someone know if you need help. I hate to see you like this.” She smiled.

“Thank you for your help, brother.” She patted his hand and walked towards the door. He watched her leave with pity, imagining how mighty she must have been in her youth.

She made her way home in the pale blue light of dawn. Her part of the city was still mostly quiet, but a few homes had lit candles and the sound of the slow, thumping footsteps of people barely awake.

At home, she rubbed her hands gently to assess their level of pain. There was none, and she glanced with a smile at the small stone statue of a roaring dragon with outstretched wings in the corner of her kitchen. She began to make dough for sweet rolls.

The rolls were nearly done when there came a knock at the door. She could hear the voices of a few men talking quietly on the step. She set aside the glaze for the nearly cooled pastries and hurried to the door. She threw it open to embrace her son. “My boy! How I missed you!” Martin Talos smiled sheepishly.

“It’s good to see you, Mama.” She stepped back, looking up at his face for a moment before glancing at the other two men, a Redguard and a Wood Elf, standing behind her son.

“Come in, come in! Introduce me to your fellow Blades while I finish the sweet rolls.” The three men followed the Hero of Kvatch inside and sat at her kitchen table, looking positively enormous compared to the small, round slab of wood between them. She poured each of them a glass of ale and listened to them talk as she iced the rolls. She served them and sat beside her son at the table. She listened to their conversation but didn’t speak often, merely enjoying their company. She was reminded fondly of her days as a knight sister of the Blades and her serene smile grew wider for a moment.

The afternoon passed quickly and soon it was time for Martin Talos’ fellows to find a place at the inn nearby. The Hero of Kvatch and her son bid them farewell for the night and she went to the spare room to ready her son’s bed. She returned to the kitchen shortly and sat at the table.

“Son, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Anything.”

“I would like you to accompany me to the Temple of the One in the Imperial City. I’m too old now to make the journey on my own.”

“Are you sure? You haven’t been in years. You said it’s too painful.”

“Yes. I’m sure. I feel called there, and it’s time I paid my old friend a visit.”

“Then I will. I’ll send the others back with the message to the grandmaster that I’ll be back later than expected and we can leave whenever you want. Just let me know when you’re ready.” She smiled and kissed his forehead.

“I am truly blessed to have such a good son. Get some rest now, I’d like to leave as soon as possible.” They both rose and he embraced his mother before retiring to his room. She quietly cleaned up the kitchen before going to bed herself.

In the morning, Martin Talos went off to the inn to give his message to his friends while his mother readied a small bag to take with her. He returned just in time to see her strapping her old katana from her days as a Blade round her waist.

“Mama, you don’t need to bring that. If we meet trouble along the way, I’ll protect you.”

“Don’t write me off as some defenseless old woman yet.” She smiled wryly.

“You’re not defenseless. If you’re in danger, you have a defense. Me.”

“Oh let me bring it. It’ll make me feel better.”

“If you insist. Are you ready?” She nodded and he picked up her bag. Together they walked outside and he helped her onto an old paint horse before lithely lifting himself onto his own.

They took the journey at a slow pace. What might have taken him alone a day at most took them three, but neither seemed to mind. They talked along the way, she recounting her stories of old and he sharing his new tales. They stayed at inns at night and ate well as a small family.

On their last night, the Hero of Kvatch had a nightmare. It was the same as always, but when she leaped out of bed and didn’t recognize her surroundings even when she became lucid, she screamed. Martin Talos was out of his bed in a flash.

“Mama, what’s the matter?! Are you hurt?” She stared at him for a moment, wide eyed, fists still at the ready. She lowered her hands gradually, exhaling through her nose.

“Yes... I’m... I’m fine.” She sat down on her bed, but her son’s concerned gaze was still on her. “Go back to bed.”

“No. I’m worried about you. Is there something I can do to help?”

“Pray with me.” He quickly sat beside her and took her hand, bowing his head. That familiar voice she heard was now closer than it had ever been, as if the speaker was at the end of the bed. She opened one eye to confirm that her son heard nothing. She closed her eye and felt a phantom touch on her shoulder. She slowly relaxed and kissed her son’s cheek. “Thank you.” He smiled and rose, returning to his own bed. She laid back down herself and went to sleep once more.

They arrived in the temple district around sunset the following day. With their horses stabled outside the gate, Martin Talos and his mother walked slowly towards the temple with the massive stone dragon protruding from its still shattered roof. The sunset bathed the dragon in a brilliant orange light, almost as if it was still a burning avatar. They entered the temple and the Hero of Kvatch walked forward to kneel before the dragon. Her son followed her.

“Let me help you.” She eyed him with a stern, motherly look.

“No, Martin Talos, I will do this myself.” He smiled good naturedly and kissed her forehead.

“Alright. just don’t hurt yourself.” She squeezed his hand lightly and slowly lowered herself to the ground, bending her aching body forward so her forehead touched the dragon’s inexplicably warm claw. Martin Talos stepped back, watching. In his eye, he only saw his mother kneeling, but in her soul’s eye, she saw something different. She felt a hand on her shoulder, but now it felt just as real and present as anything. She looked up to see a familiar man in priest’s robes, the Amulet of Kings at his throat.

“Martin...” He smiled kindly at her.

“My friend, Champion of Cyrodiil... come with me. Akatosh calls your name.” He offered her his hand and helped her soul to rise from her body. Together, they tread air into sacred ground, leaving the temple, the city, and the world behind them.

[leftenant-sinani]

Tales from Grudgewill - Love of Our Lord  Chapter 3

Third chapter is born, kamaraden, this time it will be a bit shorter. Do not worry, though, the next chapter will be so long, that i will even perhaps make two parts from it. As always, if there are some mistakes, i apologize deeply, but hopefully there wont be any. This time i took a different approach, so i want to warn you that there is mild gore and psychological torture included. Just so you know. It was originally meant to be just a simple short thing, but it got far longer than i expected, so i made it as chapter on its own, and you all at least will get to finally see Watcher in action for the first time. Anyhow, once again, thanks for the support and i also thank these wonderful people, thanks to them, this project is moving forward. I love you all.  @witharsenicsauce @avengercommander @myrddinderwydd @smixcom

Chapter III : An Answer

The Lord was sitting in front of his table, scribbling something on a sheet of paper, it looked like a poet. A very rough poet. Valnin knew that it's bad, he never had that poetic or writer's talent, he was good at talking to people, persuading them or even flirting. But writing? No, it was always very difficult for him to make at least something decent. He wasn't like his brother Anedran, who wrote series of books, not to mention they're pretty popular in Morrowind. He sighed, shifting in the chair to make himself comfortable. He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping that his parents were okay, since he heard that Vvardenfell wasn't really the safest place at the moment. Rumors about long forgotten Sixth House, The House Dagoth rising and such things. He found it more than worrisome and he really wanted to visit Vvardenfell, but he couldn't just leave his hut unwatched when this village is known to have a little guild of thieves. "Of all villages in Morrowind you could choose, and you chose the one with thieves, Trildyn." He told himself. He looked out of the window for a moment, watching those two moons glittering on the night sky, quietly praying to Azura for his parents to be safe. Once he finished the quiet prayer, he started to focus on the silence. It helped him to calm down, and clear his head of uncomfortable thoughts. He sighed yet again, this time it was a sigh of relief, as he felt somewhat better. He was starting to slowly fall asleep on the chair as it was getting really late for him. So he blew out the candle, took off the upper part of his clothes, and then fell into bed. He covered himself in the sheets, shifting into a comfortable sleeping position, and before he fell asleep, Valnin suddenly felt a familiar cold feeling, like there was someone... or perhaps something with him. It was so intense, that it sent shivers down his spine. He quickly got up, starting to scan the room... there was nothing. He then realized that maybe it was that uncomfortable cold wind. Valnin got to the window, and as he was about to close it, he took another long glance at the moons. It was truly beautiful sight, it was filling him with peace, he could watch it for hours. However, that feeling was shattered when he turned around. Valnin saw a dark figure standing in front of his bed, all he could see on it, was those piercing greenish eyes. It was the Watcher himself. That dark, cold feeling coming from him was filling the whole room. "Do you truly miss this life, I wonder?" The Watcher said. Valnin was just standing frozen on place, not capable of saying a single word. "Do you think that this would be better? Having a job as mercenary, risking your life for coin. And yet, you barely had for living. Is that the life you loved so much?" The Watcher asked him. Valnin wanted to reply, but something was keeping him from talking. "I know what you are about to say. We both know that it would be a lie. You keep forgetting that I can see your every move, hear your every thought, that I can sense your feelings. And right now... right now, you are feeling unsure and scared. You are asking yourself if this all is real." The dark man said in almost trance-like fashion. Valnin just looked into the floor for a while as he realized that this was probably all just a dream.... or was it? If it was, it felt way too real. "I am not going to asnwer any of your questions you have." The Watcher said coldly. He then continued in his speech "Besides one. Once you will get the answer, perhaps you will start appreciate your new life a little bit more.". And once he finished, everything went black.

Valnin tried to slowly open his eyes, but they kept closing on their own. He felt weak, unable to move a single bit, yet he felt like he was being moved. As he regained consciousness, he quickly felt a strong headache, like something heavy had hitted him in his head. He could not see much as he had probably something on his face to prevent him from seeing. However, he overheard two people talking, both had male voices. "... but besides that, are we really sure that it's him we want to kill?" The first man said. "Yes, it is him. According to the description, the target should have Telvanni markings on the body, and this was the only one from the entire village who has them." The second one replied. The first one sighed "Was it really necessary to burn the whole village because of one cursed elf?". "We got paid to do it. Supposed to be message or something. I just hope the rest of our men did not run into any trouble, because i know them far too well." The second one said with slightly worried voice. "Still, why didn't we kill him right away if he is the real target?" The first one asked, most probably concerned judging by the way he talked. "The client said, that he will be the one who will kill him if he will survive the fire, so we are now delivering him." The second man replied. "This is all one big mess. I just hope we got rich payment." The first man sighed yet again. "Trust me that we got paid more than fairly. Once this is done, maybe we should-" Valnin lost his attention as he was fading all over again. He tried to stay awake, but he couldn't really resist, and before he realized it, his eyes closed and everything went black for a while again. Poor Valnin woke up violently as someone has punched him with a great force. Valnin felt how his nose broke, his heart racing, his vision slightly blurred and all he could hear was that uncomfortable humming in his ears. He then looked up on the person who punched him. He did recognize the person, it was another Dunmer he met on one mercenary job. "I assume you do know me, don't you?" The Dark Elf man said. Valnin just slowly nodded. "Good. Because I want my face to be the last thing you will see, you blazed bastard." The man said angrily, and without warning, he punched Valnin yet again. The man had a strength of two Nords, at least it felt like that. The humming was getting stronger, and so was the pain, Valnin just coughed as he wanted to speak "Listen... I am really sorry for what I-" he coughed again, this time it felt almost like someone was kicking him in his stomach, but he continued nevertheless "... for what I did to your brother, but I did not have much choice. I had a job, and he was in my way. He tried to kill me, so I had to defend myself.". That did not have any effect however, as the other Dark Elf continued to glare daggers into him "You being sorry will not bring them back. You just murdered him in cold blood!" he cried. Valnin then realized what Watcher meant with that answer... it was an answer to the question of what would happen if he wouldn't accept his offer that day. But he did not understand it, was it a dream that felt way too real? Or was it alternate reality, and once he get to the end, he will wake up in his castle again? He coughed once more, feeling that horrible pain. "And... what about that village?" Valnin asked. The man just stood there, still frowning "I told them to burn the village, hoping that you would die in fire. I also told them to bring you here if you would survive. At least I can kill you personally if anything.". "And what about those people your mercenaries killed? You made whole village burn for one life. Who is cold-blooded murderer then?" Valnin told him in serious voice. The Dunmer looked at him with an strange expression... something between sadness and anger "I always get what I want, Valnin. I always do. And I do not care if it will kill one person, or half of Morrowind. It is your fault after all, this all could've been prevented, if you did not kill my brother. Those people could've lived right now if you just would choose a different way, Valnin.". Valnin felt that this was one of those people, bloodthirsty fanatics, who wouldn't stop in front of anything just to get their revenge, even if it would kill them. He felt guilty about it all when the other Dunmer said it like that. "So what, you're just going to kill me?" Valnin asked with a bit of desperation in his voice. "What did you expect, Valnin? Do you think that the lives of those people that had to die because of you are enough for me? Wrong. At least it will be a message to those, who will try to cross my path again. That I am not a man to be trifled with. And your death will bring me inner peace." The man said in uptight voice. None of this made sense to Valnin... this person had to be mad or something. Was this dream getting exaggerated? Or was it even a dream? He wasn't sure with anything at the moment, if any of this was real. Maybe the truth was somewhere in the middle, as the pain felt real, but the surrounding did not. He felt like he was going insane... or was he already? Thousands of thoughts was going in his head, it was like a maze his mind couldn't get out of. But before he could think of anything else, he felt how the hand of the other Dunmer grabbed him by the chin. The looked into each other's eyes for a second, and within a matter of second, the man stabbed Valnin's left side of his neck. He wanted to scream out of agony, but all he could do, was mildly choking as blood was slowly coming into his mouth. He felt the end of the blade inside his throat, but that feeling was slowly going away when he started fading out from this hopefuly fictional world. He continued to choke, coughing out his own blood, but the other man didn't have enough, and he finished it by slitting Valnin's entire throat. Valnin's eyes were forced shut as he released his last breath... and everything blacked out for the final time.

The Lord woke up covered in sweat, all he could hear was his heavy breathing and the fast beating of his heart. He quickly roamed his neck with hand, expecting to feel a scar, yet nothing was there, it was without a single scar like nothing has happened at all. He would swear that he still felt it, but it was just an illusion. He tried to calm himself down for good few minutes and when he did, he could not fall asleep anymore as he was scared to death despite the fact it was still a night. "Damn you, Watcher." He said under his breath, even when he knew that he is probably going to regret it sooner or later.

This is the end of the chapter III, and i want to give you a little mind-boggling question... Do you think it was all just very bad nightmare... or perhaps an insane alternate reality?

[ongoingaccident-deleted]

I’ve been tagged for the OC interview by both the fantastic @hircines-meatloaf and the wonderful @wind-guide-us (much thanks to you both, this was fun!!!) and I have finally finally finally gotten around to actually doing it! Under the cut as always!

1. What’s your name?

Zanthe! And only Zanthe.

2. Do you know why you are named that?

No clue! I think ma said something about a warrior, but I’m not much of one, and she’s been gone for a while, so it’s a little late to ask her.

3. Are you single or taken?

Single... but not available.

4. Have any abilities or powers?

Not really. I’m good at hiding, I guess!

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

...Stop being a what?

6. What’s your eye color?

Red, in traditional Dunmer fashion.

7. How about your hair color?

As it currently is or as it would be without dye? Red and light brown, respectively.

8. Have any family members?

Not anymore! Or, well, none left that I know of.

9. Oh? How about any pets?

...I don’t think Armand would trust me with one if I did, to be honest.

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like.

Hmm... I guess I don’t like it when I burn my dinner. That’s always kind of a bummer.

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

I take things! I also like talking to people and making friends!

12. Have you hurt anyone in any way before?

I’ve hit a few people with my slingshot for sure, but nothing too serious. I avoid violence when I can.

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

By the Three, I wouldn’t ever! Well, maybe if they were trying to kill me, but not on purpose.

14. What kind of animal are you?

A Fox!

15. Name your worst habits?

Armand says I’m too trusting, but I don’t think that’s one. I pull on my hair when I’m bored and sometimes I chew my nails even when I know I shouldn’t. Oh, and I guess I take things sometimes!

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

The boss, of course! Even if I’ve never met him. And Armand!

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

I like a lot of people!

18. Do you go to school?

Nope! Never had the time or money, but I learned other things instead, like how to be very quiet and how to take things other people weren’t watching!

19. Ever want to marry and have any kids one day?

Uhhhhhh... I really don’t think Armand would let me have a kid. Besides, there’s too many other fun things to do! And I don’t think I’m really the marriage type.

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

Any what?

21. What are you most afraid of?

Failing my guild and making Armand regret the time he’s put into mentoring me. Oh, and messing up when I dye my hair and ending up with orange hair or something.

22. What do you usually wear?

Whatever I can scrounge up, but I prefer my leathers when they’re in a wearable condition. Which is... less often than I’d like.

23. What one food tempts you?

Sujamma!

24. Am I annoying you?

Why would you be?

25. Well, it’s still not over!

Okay!

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

I am, as Methredhel put it, “poor as dirt”. But high in happiness!

27. How many friends do you have?

A lot! Everyone in the guild has always been real nice to me, and so have the other people that live in the Waterfront. Even one or two of the guards... I have friends all over!

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

I love pie! Are you making some?

29. Favourite drink?

Sujamma!

30. What’s your favourite place?

Sitting on top of the north guard tower, but Captain Lex always scolds me when he finds me there. He’s real nice about it, though, so I don’t mind getting caught!

31. Are you interested in anyone?

I can’t tell you! Armand would be very upset if he found out.

32. That was a stupid question…

I agree!

33. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

In Lake Rumare! It’s not so bad if you know how to avoid the slaughterfish. I’ve never really swam in the ocean, though, so I guess I’d have to try it before I make serious judgements...

34. What’s your type?

I can’t tell you that either, it would give me away!

35. Any fetishes?

Any... what???

36. Camping indoors or outdoors?

...Does it even still count as camping if it’s indoors?

-

I really have to say thanks again for tagging me in this, I don’t write in first person very often and definitely not with this much emotion, so this was great practice! :) if you are at all interested in doing this, please consider yourself tagged!!!

[westernreach]

I’ve started a(nother) Fanfic

Guy’s, it’s pretty much just going to be a novelization of the ESO story lines with my Vestige, Nerevrim (aka Aranza Silyan) who is a Demi-Prince daughter of Nocturnal, and the pretty much adopted daughter of Sotha Sil. 

I have the prologue and the first two chapters done. I’m going to post the first chapter under the cut and if you guys actually like it I’ll continue posting them on here?

Honestly, this chapter is... kinda bad? Like, I’m not entirely happy with it, but you get to see a five year old roasting a God so I mean...

Chapter One - The Clockwork God

“Mistress Nerevrim,” Viriana called out to me. “Please get down from there.”

The Strike Talon had her hands on her hips as she looked up the tree. 

“But why, Viriana!” I called down from my perch. “I’m talking with the Crows!”

“Your mother would be very cross if you were to hurt yourself!”

“But I won’t!”

“You can’t know that, Mistress.” 

“Fine,” I pouted as I climbed down. 

The Talon sighed as I reached the ground. “Thank you. Now, let’s get you back to the Castle.” 

A grin stretched over my face as I looked up at the tall Daedra. “You’ll have to catch me first!” I cackled as I took off. 

“Nerevrim!”

I laughed as I sprinted across the murky terrain. 

“I will catch you eventually, Nerevrim!” Viriana called. “And when I do, you will regret running!”

I giggled and vaulted over a fallen tree. 

Suddenly, an idea came to me. 

If I can Shadow Walk back to the Castle, I’ll be safe!

I grinned at my master plan and quickly slipped into the shadows. 

Now, I had never Shadow Walked before this point. But a very important part of it, is to focus on your destination. 

I wasn’t focusing on the Castle.

Next thing I know, I’ve crashed on a bronze metal floor. 

“This isn’t the castle,” I muttered to myself as I pouted. 

“No, it is not.” 

I looked up and scrambled back. “You’re tall. Why are your arms are made of metal?” I asked the person in front of me. A Dunmer, like myself, it seemed. Though his hair was white and straight as opposed to my red curly mess, and he had a ridiculous bronze crown on. 

“I replaced them,” he told me. “How did you get here?”

“I shadow walked. Your crown is ugly. What is that beard thing?”

Apparently, he decided to ignore my questions. “Why did you shadow walk here?” 

I stopped. There was no way I was going to tell this ridiculously tall man with an equally ridiculous crown that I had made a mistake. Idea!

“I came to rob you!” I exclaimed and jumped up, nearly falling back down as I grew dizzy. His mouth twitched in the way adults mouths do when they think you’re amusing. I narrowed my eyes. 

“Indeed?” He asked. “Very well, then. I suppose you should know the name of the one you are endeavoring to rob. I am Sotha Sil. May I know your name?”

I nodded, still with my eyes narrowed. “I’m Nerevrim, Daughter of Nocturnal. Where am I?”

The tall man tilted his head. “You have come to rob me, but you do not know where you are?”

My eyes widened. Hole in my story! Quick! “I came to rob you. Not… wherever this is.”

He nodded. “I see, well, young Lady Nerevrim, would you happen to be hungry? You are looking a bit weak.”

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. “I suppose that would be okay…”

He smiled. “Right this way, young Lady.” 

I followed him out of the rooms door and through some winding halls. I noticed he had avoided any hallways with very bright lights, and instead stuck to the ones with more shadows.

Finally, we came upon another door that opened to… another empty room, but this one had tables with stuff in it! And a dispenser of… something on the wall. It had bowls, though. Sotha Sil grabbed one of them and filled it with whatever was in the dispenser, grabbed a spoon and set it on one of the tables with chairs. 

I quickly sat and shoveled a bite into my mouth. Mistake.

“This is gross,” I told him and wrinkled my nose. “What is it?”

“Nutrient paste,” he said.

“It’s disgusting. Do you not have any fruits, or vegetables? Or meats? Spices, surely, could make it at least edible.”

He looked at me blankly. “There is no sunlight here, only artificial lights.”

I rolled my eyes. “There was no sun in the Dwarf Cities, either! And so they made one. Ta-da! Problem solved!”

He looked at me oddly. “I see… Very well, you also had problems with my headpiece?”

“Yes!” I nodded, my ‘meal’ forgotten. “It covers most of your face, and the beard is just odd. Plus, the lens thing over your eye is really eerie. Are you trying to terrify everyone?”

“No…?”

“Then it’s not needed! Or, at least not permanent! I know of merchants who have one that flicks down when they need to look at very small details!”

“I see,” he said and nodded. “How are you feeling, now, young Lady Nerevrim?” 

“Better,” I shrugged, and he nodded once more.

“Very well, I believe that it is time for you to leave, you are welcome to return as long as you tell Aios why you are visiting.”

“Aios?” 

“Aios,” he pointed to a ghost like figure in the corner of the room. “Aios, say hello to the young Lady Nerevrim.”

"Beginning entity analysis. Entity exists outside known possipoints. Transitioning to general reception array. Hello."

“What are you?” I asked, staring at the figure in wonder. 

"I am Aios, the Automata Incarnum Overseer System. Master Sil created me to maintain and supervise the substrata operations of Clockwork City. This partition can provide answers to class-ten queries only. Thank you for your understanding."

“Class-ten queries only?” I wrinkled my nose in confusion. “What are those?”

“Those are questions about general things,” Sotha Sil said before Aios could answer. “Directions, weather, simple things like that.”

“Oh,” I nodded. “I should probably be getting back to the Castle.”

Sotha Sil nodded. “If you wish to return, remember to announce yourself to Aios when you appear.” 

I nodded and slipped into the shadows with a wave. This time, I appeared where I was supposed to. 

[tesbloodline]

From Out of the Flames

So I should maybe mention that I’m a creative writing major? I love writing all of these little drabbles. I have a couple ideas that I keep meaning to write - the first draft of this one was actually the oldest draft on this blog. :)

Anyway, this one is immediately post-Forgotten City. I’ve gone through about four drafts of how Meri takes it, and they seem to get more and more dramatic. And Meri finally develops a bit of sympathy for mortals other than her minions! It’s about time.

Words: 1,768

When Meri steps off of the lift with the man she was sent to retrieve, Marcurio knows something is very, very wrong at the first glance. She looks different. She is dressed in her full Dark Brotherhood leathers - a choice he still struggles to make peace with, but there in the sanctuary is the most peaceful she’s ever looked - with her favorite knives on her belt. That isn’t unusual, though she had entered the city in her mix-and-match “don’t pay attention to me” armor - something must have come up to convince her “Dark Brotherhood Assassin” was more pertinent than “Wandering Adventurer”.

No, the real problems are thus: her hair, her eyes, her face. Her hair is dirty and dusty, and pulled into a messy ponytail - her hair drapes below her shoulders, though when she went in an hour ago it brushed the nape of her neck when bound up. Her eyes are dull and flat, exhausted - more weary and lost than he has ever, ever, seen them - and yet never still, always darting from one place to the next in search of threats. Her face, upon closer inspection, is what gives him most pause; she bears three new scars, long and curved and fully healed. Somehow, though the method is beyond him, it has been more than an hour for her.

He glances around at the rest of the party, but it seems no-one else has reached the same conclusion despite noticing all the same details. Oh well. He can tell them later. For now, he watches Meri as the children crowd around her. She hugs each of them, too tight, for too long, and when her arms are empty her hands twitch as she tries not to gather them up again. All she says is, “Missed you, ducklings,” in a weary voice.

Meri endures Cassia’s thanks - and the look on her face says endure is the correct word. Then they leave, and Meri seems glad to put the hidden city to her back.

When they make camp for the evening, Meri sits at the very edge of the ring of light, her back to the fire, and will not be coaxed closer or turned around. They eat quickly, the children eager for sleep and Marcurio eager for an opportunity to speak to Meri alone.

When everyone is finished eating and the dishes are all gathered, water above the fire to boil, Lydia gathers the children and puts them to bed, promising a story. When she is done, she will clean the dishes. Meri normally handles the children, but they all know that she is in no state for it tonight - she has not moved from the edge of camp. Stenvar stands to take watch - he always takes the first shift.

With everyone else occupied, Marcurio takes the opportunity to approach his small employer. “Meri?”

Her entire body tenses - quite a feat, seeing how tense she already was. “Hey, Sparky.” Her voice is even, flat, empty.

He steps around her until he can see her face, but she will not meet his eyes. Something deep inside his chest burns, with pain or anger or both he cannot tell. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

That burning thing inside him snaps, and he is moving. He grabs her arm, yanks her from the ground, and drags her away from the camp. As they pass Stenvar, the man rolls his eyes at them and shoves a torch into Marcurio’s hand. Behind them, Lydia soothes the startled children, then resumes her story.

Meri protests, but there’s life in her voice for the first time since she returned from that cursed city, so he does not stop. Let her be furious with him - it is better than this silent hollowness. When they are out of earshot of camp, he releases her. “What’s wrong, Meri? Don’t lie to me.”

She freezes, hand half raised to shove him back, and tears well up in her eyes. She is focused on his face, head turned from the torch. For a long moment, she is still and silent, and then she begins to tremble. Tears pour down her cheeks unhindered and her breath comes in tiny, faltering gasps.

He props the torch against a rock and raises his hands, uncertain of what to do, but before he can make up his mind Meri slams into him with enough force to send them both to the ground. She clings to him, shaking violently and sobbing.

“Meri, what happened down there? Did someone hurt you?” He doubts it - she’s never been hurt before - but he has to ask.

She shakes her head against his shoulder, trying and failing to gather enough breath to speak.

“It was a time loop,” she finally whispers, and his blood runs cold. He knew it had been longer for her, but this... He wraps his arms around her and lets her cling and tremble and cry.

“How long?” he asks. Now his voice is rough too. He doesn’t want to think of her trapped down there alone for very long. Not his bright, bubbly boss who specifically hired him because she hates being on her own.

She presses even closer in search of comfort. “A few months? Half a year, maybe. I don’t know. I lost count of the cycles.”

She’s shaking now.

“I ended up... maybe fifteen years ago? It was bright. There were people living there - the same people there now, if you went down. But before I went through the door, it was dark and full of corpses. It was my job to stop it, that’s what the man in charge said, but I didn’t know how. It was the law. The Dwarves’ Law. ‘The many shall suffer for the sins of the one.’

“I... when I started looking around, I found the pieces of shiny, undamaged Dwemer armor. The city’s scholar said it would theoretically protect the wearer from the radiation under the city. I thought it was cool, but I didn’t need to go down there, so I wasn’t really concerned. Then I met this... this dying Vigilant of Stendarr, who said there was something evil in the tunnels.

“I thought that might be the cause, so I wanted to take a look. It’d been a few days, and I wanted to come home. But even I couldn’t get through without the full set. I found the gauntlets, the boots, and the helmet. But someone else found the chestpiece first, and he wouldn’t even let me buy it from him! But I needed the set. I... I took it from him. I took it from him, and I broke the law, and everyone died.

“The lights turned out and these centurions that were scattered around the city came to life, and there was fire and screaming and everyone died. They were so scared. And it was my fault. And I took the portal back, and everyone was alive again. But I couldn’t forget. I can still hear them screaming. I can still see the fires when I close  eyes. I can still feel the earth shake from the centurions’ footsteps, still smell the burning flesh. Sparky, they were so scared.

“And then I had to do it all again, and again, and again, and so many times I lost count. I tried so many different things, but nothing worked. There was this... thing, under the tunnels. It controlled the centurions, it made the law. And I didn’t have the words to talk it down. I didn’t know how to make it stop. Eventually, I thought I could scare it - take its helmet once and prove that I could and would kill it if it didn’t dismantle the law.

“And it worked, Sparky. I could have been done with it all on the third loop, but I was stupid! I didn’t think, I didn’t try everything, and it was all... all my fault.”

During her story, Meri’s voice had been steady, if pained. But as it draws to a close, the waver returns, and fresh tears spill down her cheeks.

This... as much as he hates her suffering, this is progress. That she is upset people died suggests she values their lives - that’s a step forward. But he has to know why.

“Meri,” he begins, tentative. He doesn’t want to upset her. “I know you’ve killed before, and you’ve done it without caring. This wasn’t your fault - it wasn’t, hush - so... I don’t mean to sound callous, but why do you care so much?”

Meri sniffles. “They were so scared, Sparky. When I kill people here, either they’re angry and trying to kill me, or they never see me coming. And back home, nobody really cared - usually not even the victim. But there... it was slow, inescapable, and painful, and they were terrified. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

Meri trembles violently and tries to stop her tears. It doesn’t work. Her arms tighten around his ribs as she breaks out in a fresh round of sobs. “Sparky, I want my Mama!”

His eyes widen, and his blood runs cold as the realization that Meri isn’t just short hits. He really, really doesn’t want to know, but... “Meri, how old are you?”

Meri, still sniffling, looks up at him with a spark of confusion behind the misery clouding her eyes. “A hundred and ninety, why?”

Of course it can’t be easy. It’s Meri. “And how does that compare to the mannish races?”

Realization lights her eyes, and she makes a little sound of understanding. “Mama thinks it’s like early forties for normal Dunmer, and somewhere in the early teens for the mannish races. Maybe fourteen?”

Marcurio hopes the sudden horror creeping up his spine isn’t visible on his face. Everything she’s done, everything she’s experienced - she’s just a little girl! No wonder she doesn’t have any problem dragging the children along with her,  she’s barely any older than them herself!

He hugs her tighter, tucking her under his arm, and lets her cry herself out. Only a few minutes later she falls asleep against his side, exhausted by her ordeal and the overwhelming force of her emotions. She’s small enough to carry back to camp, though the torch is a challenge to retrieve with his arms full.

He’ll tell the others later - they need to know that she’s only a child - but for now, he tucks her into her rarely-used bedroll and lets her sleep.

[kayanne369]

18th of Last Seed

I awoke early this day. Gerder and Ralof were discussing the situation at hand. It took me a few minutes to remember where I was, to be honest. I stayed relatively quiet throughout their conversation. I’m not sure why. I’ve always been more of a listener than a talker. Was always taught the value of listening. They both looked at me when the realised I was awake and smiled warmly. That hearty warm-blooded smile that Nords wear so well. Gerder offered me some breakfast. I still wasn’t very hungry but good manners would not let me refuse. It was not long after that Ralof brought up the topic that was likely on all our minds, but no-one wanted to say. Dragons. We had seen a dragon. We had been attacked by a dragon. We had survived an attack by a dragon. No others made it to the village that day so I can only assume that we were indeed the only survivors. This tiny village. A tiny village made up of farmers and craftsmen. It wouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in oblivion if a dragon decided to attack.

It was the man that finally called on me. I had by this point learned his name to be Hod. Odd name, but there we go. He asked me for a favour. A simple favour in all honesty. Go to Whiterun. Tell the Jarl about the dragons. Bring back reinforcements. A simple task really. I thought so at the time and I think so now. I don’t really wish to get too involved in whatever this god's forsaken land has gotten itself into. I’ve been hearing murmurings about some kind of civil war all day and quite frankly, I could care less about it. But these people were kind enough to take me in. Feed me and let me sleep. I honestly consider it my duty at this point to repay them in some way and since I have nothing in the way of material goods to give, a small favour seems like nothing. So, I agreed. If what I was told was correct, Whiterun was little more than half a day away. I did however with that Ralof would come with me. To keep me from getting lost if nothing else. Oh, well. All’s well that end’s well in this case.

Before I headed out, I thought it a good idea of collect some supplies, but as my bad luck would have it, I walked right into the middle of a blazing argument between the two proprietors. Something about bandits and a golden claw and the future of the shop depending on it and this Camilla girl insisting that she go an confront them like it wasn’t the stupidest idea ever thought up. Eventually, I agreed to go and retrieve the claw for them. Honestly, I feel taking down a few bandits would do me the world of good at the moment. I was about to leave when the door burst open, practically knocking me on off my feet. A young Nord walked in. Blonde hair tied back. Broad shoulders. A smile that could worm its way into any woman's heart. He didn’t even seem to notice me when he passed and strode confidently up to Camilla, presenting her with a makeshift bouquet of wildflowers. It would be rather charming if the fellow didn’t give off such an arrogant air about him. The two flirted playfully for a while. At the very least Camilla seemed to reciprocate his affections. I left in a quiet hurry just as the shop owner, who I took by his reaction was the young lady’s brother, decided to put a stop to this rather embarrassing display and showed the lad out.

He blew a kiss at the closed door and looked at me rather suspiciously. I snapped a quick “What?” at him and he offered a half-hearted smile.

“I haven’t seen you before” he said.

“No,” I said back, not really intending to talk to him.

“Are you new?” he asked, leaning slightly closer to me.

“I am.” I reached back for my dagger. I’d no intention of using it but I thought perhaps that if he saw it, it would dissuade him from conversing with me further.

“Not often we get a Dunmer around here. Are you a friend of Faendal?”

I looked at him, questioningly. There was an almost hopeful anticipation in his voice. I fought back the urge to tell him that I had no idea who this Faendal character was, and answered with a quiet shake of my head. He seemed almost anxious at this, rubbing his arms and avoiding my eyes.

“Oh, I see. Um…well, in that case, do you think you’d like to meet him?”

I gave him a very odd look and took several steps back. He must have seen the seriousness in my expression for he gave a sigh and slumped over the railing. He offered a passing attempt at an apology and out of brazenness or stupidity, our right confessed that he hoped I’d be a suitable partner for this Bosmer chap that he’d apparently been in something of a love feud with Sven for the fair Camilla’s affections.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter,” he said to no-one in particular. “They’re just friends after all.”

I couldn’t stop myself from scoffing.

“Of course. And when ever has a close friendship developed into feelings of love.”

Not entirely sure why I said that. Maybe just to get a rise out of him. Maybe I actually felt sorry for the twit. Either way, he gave me a look of utter disdain and then almost immediately relented and agreed. He looked at me rather sheepishly and asked if I could do him a quick favour, after which he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it over to me.

“Listen. I know this is none of your concern really, but could you deliver this to Camilla. Tell her it’s from Faendal?”

I shot him another look but took the paper from him anyway. I’d no desire get involved in this foolishness. I had things to do. I didn’t have time to be dealing with some silly love triangle. But on the other hand. I relented that it might be nice to play matchmaker for a time. At least this is what I told myself. In truth, I think I just wanted to read what this young whelp had written. Pure nosiness. I will not try and pretend it was anything but. However, given the nature of the letter he gave me, I’m quite glad I made that decision. The letter I held in my hand was full of toxicities so vile I doubt the young man had any real awareness about its severity. The long and short of it was a statement that the difference in race between the two meant that Faendal and our dear Camilla could never be together. This was bad enough. But it was not what enraged me so. The letter mentioned the Aldmeri Dominion. Made very dangerous accusations. This was a Nord village. It doesn’t take a genius to understand the uneasy relationship these people have with my kind. Somehow, this Faendal had slipped through the cracks of prejudice and set up a life here for himself. If there was even the slightest hint that he was connected with the Thalmor I shudder to think what would happen to him. And this was the letter he wished me to deliver? A letter that could ruin a man’s life. A man I had never met? Over some girl?

What a sickening thing to do. Honestly, the fact that I’m rather sure Sven was nothing but ignorant about how damaging this could be was the only thing preventing me from sticking my dagger through his neck…that and his mother was literally sitting a few feet away from me. I took the letter and decided that I’d probably better tell this Faendal character what was going on. If this idiot was willing to say something like this, then it was likely something Faendal would have to look out for.

I actually found him relatively quickly. I’d passed by him before but we had never talked until now. He was tall for a Bosmer. Dark eyes. Long white hair pulled back in a high ponytail. He looked at me and smiled. Can’t deny there was an earnest charm about him. Perhaps it was just nice to see one of my own, but I wouldn’t fault Camilla for having an interest in him. His demeanour changed however when I showed him the letter. His body visually tensed up and he clutched the letter in his hand. Obviously, I was not overreacting when I considered how damaging this could be to him. He peered over to me and gave me a quick smile, silently thanking me for telling him. We were silent for a moment before he suddenly perked up and pulled me over to a large tree stump. He took out a piece of paper and without uttering a word began scribbling on it with a piece of charcoal. It took me a few seconds to figure out what he was doing but when I did, I couldn’t help but giggle. What he was writing was a letter in return. A taste of the bard’s own medicine. Nothing as potentially life-destroying as the one Sven had made for him, but one that if delivered to a certain young woman, would not hold him in good favour. Still makes me laugh. I almost feel sorry for the boy.

Oh well. To cut a long story short, Sven’s prospects of romancing Camilla are now significantly lower than before. However, both Faendal and I recognised the danger before us. Sven was obviously willing to tell egregious lies in order to get him out of the way. I doubt there is any real malice intended with him. Just stupidity. But stupidity is as dangerous as anything. In any regard, I suggest that Faendal accompany me to retrieve the golden claw that seemed to mean so much to the fair imperial. Perhaps if he returns it to her instead of me, he could gain favour. I can’t believe I’m giving this so much though. I truly did intend not to get involved in this. On the other hand, I also intended that this journal would be a factual account of important matters and we see how well that turned out.

He agreed and we set out towards Whiterun. I wish I can say something more interesting happened on the way, but alas, it was a perfectly calm and uneventful journey. We chatted together, mainly about Camilla. The fool truly does seem to love her. I told him about what happened at Helgan. He seemed dubious, like I had been remembering things wrong or that perhaps I was playing a trick on him. This aside, we travelled silently and by the time we reached the city, it was near midnight. Too late to talk to the Jarl now. He will be asleep. Everyone will be asleep. All we can really do is hope to the eight that Riverwood will be safe from those beats for one more night. We decided to spend the night in an inn. I believe it’s called the Bannered Mare. It’s a hearty place. Rough and warm like a tight embrace. I do love these Nord customs.

Just before we turned int for the night, Faendal took my arm and looked dead into my eyes.

“Did you really see a dragon?”

“I did more than see it.”

He let me go. His eyes were worried, but I could not quite place at what specifically. His home perhaps. His lady love back in Riverwood. The prospect of possibly facing one. I don’t know, for he retired before I could ask. I will in the morning.  

[soulstealer1987]

Arc 5, Chapter 7

Ziist Grozein

Gallus realizes far too late that something's gone wrong, and to the surprise of absolutely no one, immediately begins to panic. I mean, who wouldn't? (Also, brief cameo from the Listener in this AU! It's not exactly hard to guess who she is, considering. This won't be the last y'all see of her or the Dark Brotherhood, either.)

Crossposted from AO3. Masterpost is here.

Arc 5: Shadows of the Past

Arc 5, Chapter 6 ~ Arc 5, Chapter 8

Gallus begins to suspect something’s gone horribly wrong when he awakens alone. There’s no sign of Karliah, nothing to suggest she’s returned, and it’s with this hollow finality that he begins to fear that she may not have gotten out at all. He doesn’t want to believe it, but if she isn’t back…

What if…

What if she’s…

No, Gallus tells himself. She’s not dead. She can’t be dead. She’s probably just laying low to avoid the guards. She’s probably fine.

Even as he thinks this, he can’t keep himself from worrying, and he tries. He soon finds himself pacing the length of the room anxiously, glancing at the door every time he thinks he hears something, which is… fairly often.

Eventually, he’s had enough. He grabs his gear, leaving the room with a particularly not lived-in appearance, and heads out.

A quick glance at the door, propped open for some reason or another, reveals the faint early morning light of just after dawn. Relief floods Gallus, because if it’s this early, then Karliah probably just isn’t back yet. It certainly explains why he doesn’t feel rested in the least—the stars were already beginning to fade when he’d slipped back in. So, with at least some measure of confidence, Gallus heads over to the innkeeper.

“The woman who was with me earlier, have you seen her?” He asks. The innkeeper shrugs.

“Not lately,” he says. That alone makes Gallus’ heart sink. “Hey, lad… are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah,” Gallus lies, although he’s really not sure what prompted the question. “Why?”

“Because you haven’t come out of there for over a day. I won’t ask what you were doing the night before, but it must have been exhausting if you were asleep all that time.”

The illusion of things being remotely okay shatters with that, and Gallus says, faintly, “Yeah, it was.”

Truth be told, he’s still exhausted, but at the moment he’s got a slightly more pressing issue. Karliah hasn’t been here in some time, since…

“It’s... Sundas, then?”

“Yeah.”

...since Fredas night, which was when they left for the Museum. He hasn’t seen her since early Loredas morning, when it was still dark out.

Don’t wait for me, she’d said.

I’ll be fine, she’d said.

Gallus is beginning to fear that wherever she is, she most certainly is not fine. Otherwise, she’d be here now. The smart thing to do would be to leave Markarth now. To leave without her. He has the rubbings of Calcelmo’s notes, he could just head back to Enthir now and be done with it. But without her?

He hates himself for even thinking of the possibility.

Leaving without Karliah isn’t an option, not if she’s still somewhere in the city, and not if she’s—if she’s not—Gallus’ gut twists uncomfortably at the mere thought of leaving her behind. He has to believe she’s alive, and that she’s somewhere in Markarth.

The prison immediately crosses his mind, and it’s with some horror that he excuses himself and heads out into the city.

We can’t risk being caught, Karliah had said. No one’s ever escaped Cidhna Mine, and while normally I’d be pretty confident that we could, this is Cidhna Mine we’re talking about.

Gallus doesn’t go there immediately, because that would be assuming close to the worst. Instead, he ducks behind a stone column and pulls on the mage robes over his armor. It’ll look a little odd, but as long as no one looks too closely—and he’s pretty sure he can pull off the haughty mage impression, he just needs to avoid Calcelmo himself—he’ll be fine.

What stops him in his tracks, then, is that the robes still smell distinctly like her. Unbidden, an image of her grinning mischievously appears in his mind. Gallus blinks hard, and finds he’s gripping one of the sleeves like a sort of lifeline. He forces himself to let go, to mask his true emotions with physical composure, and to continue.

I’ll find you, he promises himself. And when I do, I’ll tell you the truth about how I feel. I’ll finally tell you that I…

I don’t need my memories to know I’m in love with you, and I—

Gods, please be alright.

“Here for the Dwemer Museum?” The lone guard at the door asks. Gallus nods quickly. Not for the first time, he’s incredibly glad that it’s not unheard of for mages to wear hooded robes. In all honesty, it’s actually rather common. “Can’t let you in, there’s been a break-in and Calcelmo’s still trying to figure out what was taken.”

Gallus manages to look remarkably surprised, and asks, “There was a break-in? Did you catch the one responsible?”

“Well, there were at least two. I was chasing one—almost caught her, too, but she was fast . Gone the instant she was out the door. Shouldn’t be telling you this, of course—”

“I heard nothing.”

“You heard nothing,” the guard agrees. “Now, if you want to speak with Calcelmo, you’ll have to wait. He’s in there somewhere, but his nephew’s somewhere that-a-ways. Nice lad.”

“I’ll come back later,” Gallus says. He almost thanks the guard for his time, but remembers just in time that he’s playing the part of a presumptuous scholar. It would be suspicious to thank the guard, so he doesn’t.

As he walks off, it’s with some confusion, and more questions than answers. Evidently, Karliah hadn’t gotten caught on her way out, because that guard wasn’t lying. He’s sure of that. But if she didn’t get caught immediately...

...then where is she?

(Gods, he hopes she’s alright, although at this point he’ll settle for alive.)

Before anything else, he stops back in the inn, on the off chance Karliah’s returned. She hasn’t, and Gallus doubts he’s imagining the sympathetic looks from the innkeeper himself. He can’t wait any longer, though—so it’s with that in mind that he sets off for Cidhna Mine. He doesn’t have a plan, which in retrospect may not be the best idea on his part.

On the one hand, Gallus doesn’t know where else Karliah could be, if not Cidhna Mine. (Well, there’s one other option, but he doesn’t want to think about that possibility.) On the other hand, he doesn’t know Markarth very well, and there’s a crowd gathered around the entrance of the tallest building in the city. It’s a tower of some sort, and Gallus slips into the crowd naturally.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Someone asks beside him. It takes Gallus a moment to realize that someone’s talking to him, and when he does he shrugs.

“No,” Gallus says faintly. “You have any idea?”

The man who’s spoken is a reddish-haired Breton that’s significantly shorter than Gallus and looks suspiciously like he wouldn’t be able to hold his own in a fight. He’s got odd, distinctive-looking warpaint slathered across his features, but that doesn’t keep Gallus’ attention for more than a moment, not once he begins speaking again.

“Rumors. Military officer was killed, and people are saying the Dark Brotherhood was involved. But get this—he was plotting to kill the Emperor himself! You think maybe the Dark Brotherhood got tired of him, offed him themselves?”

Gallus shrugs. At the moment, he’s only half paying attention, but that’s about to change.

“Half the guards witnessed him arguing with a Dunmer woman, apparently, before she stabbed him,” the man continues, and Gallus is suddenly far more interested in him than in trying to see over the crowd. “I heard they actually caught her. That’s a first, huh?”

For his part, Gallus is too shocked to answer for a good few moments. Eventually, he manages to choke out, “How did they know she was the assassin?”

“Not a lot of Dunmer women in the area, my friend. It wasn’t hard to track her down, especially when she was skulking about in the night regardless.”

They think Karliah is…

Oh gods.

“Fair enough,” Gallus says eventually, but the other man isn’t done.

“Of course, that’s what they’re saying. You know what I think? I think… oh, I think you dropped this. Some kind of note. Looks important.”

The man offers him a crumpled-up piece of paper.

“No, I didn’t,” Gallus says slowly, only to receive a shrug.

“I figure you’ll have a better chance of finding who did drop this than I will. Be seeing you.”

With that, the other man shoves it into his grasp and leaves, and Gallus cautiously unfolds the paper. He soon finds a very, very hastily written note, so hastily written that it takes him a bit to decipher the lone sentence scrawled across it.

Meet me at the Shrine of Talos.

He finds himself squinting suspiciously at the man’s backside, because this is too much of a coincidence for it to not be from him. Also, needless to say, Gallus hadn’t actually dropped the note himself.

Even so, it turns out the Shrine of Talos isn’t far, so he goes in. He’s not remotely surprised to find the man from earlier standing there.

“I would have continued this near the Guard Tower,” he says apologetically, “but if I’m right I can’t risk anyone else overhearing. You’re an outsider, dangerous-looking, a little too interested in things. You’ll do.”

“For what.”

“This is going to sound crazy,” he grins sheepishly, “but there’s a conspiracy going on here, and it’s gone on long enough. I’m sorry to drag you into Markarth’s problems, but after this…”

Alright, so Gallus has inadvertently wound up involved with someone’s far-fetched conspiracy theories, which likely won’t end well. Conspiracy theories rarely do. Barring that, he might know something about Karliah, or have some idea of how to get her out.

“Before you led me here,” Gallus says slowly, “you were going to say something about what you thought. And is this really the safest place? Considering…”

“Safest, no, but it’s leagues better than the street. I’m Eltrys, by the way. If you were wondering.”

He wasn’t, actually, although it’s good to be able to put a name to the face of this quite paranoid individual. Gallus briefly considers offering his name in turn—that’s clearly what Eltrys is hoping for—but on the other hand, does he really want to be linked with this man’s conspiracy theories?

“Keep going,” he says. “I’m here for answers.” Currently, he can’t be bothered to be polite—Eltrys is starting to get on his nerves here, and it doesn’t help that he’s already on edge because of Karliah being nowhere to be found (and possibly in Cidhna Mine). Eltrys, fortunately, isn’t at all deterred—even if he isn’t any less insufferable.

“You’re not the only one that wants them. I want them, everyone else in this damn city wants them. A few days ago, a man went crazy in the market, killed a woman. Everyone knew he was a Forsworn agent. Guards did nothing, except clean up the mess.”

Gallus would think Eltrys is crazy, except that he was there. He and Karliah both were, it happened just after they arrived. The man in question had screamed something about the Forsworn before being killed as well. Come to think of it, the guards had seemed awfully nonchalant about the whole thing, which they wouldn’t, unless…

Unless they’d been expecting it. Maybe Eltrys is actually onto something, as skeptical as Gallus finds himself.

“Go on.”

“Then, what happened yesterday. They say it was the Dark Brotherhood, but I’m skeptical. The Dark Brotherhood wouldn’t have gotten caught, and while I don’t know how yet, I’m thinking there’s got to be someone that benefitted from his death. From both of their deaths.”

“What happened to the woman they said killed him?” Gallus asks, hoping desperately that it’s not what he fears it is.

“Cidhna Mine, probably. They didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Gallus couldn’t hide his visible relief if he tried. Cidhna Mine… isn’t good, but it’s a lot better than the alternative. It’s still bad, though.

“Friend of yours?” Eltrys asks.

“I was hoping not, but,” he winces. “Considering that I can’t find her anywhere, and as you said there aren’t a lot of Dunmer in Markarth…”

“So they’ve framed your friend for murder? Damn. This sort of thing’s been going on for years, but lately it’s been getting worse. That’s why I needed to meet with you in private—we really can’t risk being overheard, not if there’s a conspiracy going on.”

Reluctantly, Gallus nods. He’s really too tired for this, but it’ll be worth it. He can catch up on his sleep once he and Karliah are out of Markarth.

[therunawayscamp]

What became of Mr Casethar and the author, Mr Vilayn.

We did, for a while. We didn’t touch each other on board, at all, whatsoever, so all those rumours about my arse are utterly false and I’ll thank you to stop spreading them Oran.

Maybe we touched a bit. Not what Oran and half the crew think, though, I’m not that stupid. Things only ever went that far during shore leave when the captain was still aboard the Scamp. But the thing is… I don’t know. Whenever I was doing anything, running the watch, reporting to the captain, helping with chores, whatever, I’d be thinking of Casethar, and the thought of him wouldn’t go away until I’d seen him. If I put off visiting him in the galley then when I finally did see him, it wouldn’t be enough, I’d have to touch him as well, and if I put off that because the captain was nearby I’d have to kiss him for it to stop. Casethar, I mean. Not the captain. The point is, you see where this is going. It drove me insane. Mad God on deck, to be sure. It only worked for a short time, as well. Give it two bells and I’d be thinking about him again.

It was my fault when it all went wrong. There are only so many excuses a mer can make for disappearing into the galley when he’s supposed to be overseeing the watch. I think the captain was suspicious that I was stealing supplies for a while. He kept asking me for things he knew I kept in my pockets, like my telescope and my quill, probably in the hopes that I would scatter incriminating biscuit crumbs over the deck and we could laugh the whole thing away. That, of course, never happened, and the longer he went without an explanation the unhappier he was. His running of the ship became stricter, and his punishments for not keeping up with the new regime became harsher. I like to be efficient and punctual myself

but being so distracted by Casethar, even I had trouble meeting the captain’s requirements by the time we set a course for home a few months later.

I was lingering in the galley one day, not doing anything incriminating thank you Oran, just chatting with Casethar about the cornerclub he planned on running with his share of the plunder while I watched him cook. The watch change wasn’t due for five minutes. Nobody was making a nuisance of themselves. We had nothing to worry about – just us, the warmth from the hidden fire, and the smell of smoked scrib jerky rising from the copper pan. It was like one of those days where the wind is right, the ship is gliding over the water, there isn’t another sail in sight, and the crew can have a make and mend day to unwind. A piece of quiet snatched out of time. It would have been perfect had the captain not crept into the galley himself.

The captain never visits the galley except for his routine inspections before we sail and before we dock. He has far more important matters to concern himself with than food preparation, such as ensuring the brig doesn’t run into rocks and drown us all, minor things like that. When I came down I had been certain he was occupied with Mr Drasonval, discussing a point of contention in the ship’s log. He must have known, or suspected, what he would find, and that was me stood behind Casethar with my head on his shoulder, arms around his waist, laughing into his ear over a joke he’d just made.

There is no need to go into the details of my subsequent interview in the captain’s quarters. The crew heard it all anyway, R'khan shouted so loud. The sum of it was that, as per his Articles, both Casethar and I would lose half our pay, and one of us would leave the captain’s service permanently. R'khan was not prepared to dismiss his first mate – in his words, because he wanted the pleasure of killing me and making it look like an accident. Casethar would be gone when we returned to Blacklight.

It was a nightmare. Casethar wasn’t all I lost at that point: I lost the brig, too. The crew were too busy whispering and sniggering to show proper respect towards their superior officer. The captain wouldn’t talk to me except to issue orders. I was entirely alone on a vessel which suddenly wasn’t my home any more, after decades of service, after I had cared for her and loved her as much as I did Casethar. It led to a sort of numbness. I would leave my cabin, plod up on deck, and run through the motions of the watch. When the bell rang for its end I would run through the motions of the hand over, plod below decks and shut myself in my cabin. Life became a series of cold, stormy days in the Sea of Ghosts and dark, lonely nights in my bunk.

Matters didn’t improve when we arrived in Blacklight. I saw to the unloading of the brig, as I always do, but I didn’t go to the Spear and Shields for our traditional send-off. I couldn’t. At that point I never wanted to see any of the crew again, especially not the captain and especially not Casethar, having ruined his chance of a real profit and killed his hopes to start his own business. I stumped off to sit on the headland and watch the other ships sailing into and out of port until the sun went down, whereupon I sat on the headland and watched the darkness instead, which was about as satisfying, by which I mean not at all.

Obviously the story doesn't end there. It ends, really, with the hand blanketing mine in the darkness, the Dunmer who sat down beside me, the shoulder I leaned my head against. It ends with our rushed, private marriage a few days later, attended by the two of us, the priest, and not many others. It ends with a new-found knowledge that whatever happened and whoever disapproved, Casethar and I had said we would make it work, and we meant that promise. We meant every word. I told the captain as much the day Mr Azareth informed me he was planning to sail again and had requested my company, and he said -- well, what he actually said was,

‘I wasn’t going to mention the bloody cook, Vi, but since you brought it up, I wish you all the best. Can we get back to work?’

After that things were as they had always been between us.

Casethar and I were joined by Hazil about ten years ago now. I love Hazil in a different way and just as much. I have never been happier than when I have the two of them for company. We said we would make it work, and we did, and we do, and we will.

[talldarkandroguesome]

7th of First Seed, Sundas

Nabine tells me that she is going to need to put on a bit of a performance in order to get Urtisa’s informants to believe that she is capable. Therefore, I am to become inebriated, be seduced by her, and have her steal something of value of mine.

All in all a very simple task. The issue is finding something that would be valuable to those she needs to impress, but also not something that Urtisa and her informants could potentially use against the House.

I had thought a signet ring or an official House seal, but those can be used for far too many nefarious purposes. I thought jewelry would be the most obvious sort of item though.

Going through what I had, we settled on a pendant which had the image of Almalexia on one side and the Indoril wings upon the other. Clearly a symbol that you are a high ranking member of the House, but not something that could be used by anyone for anything that might cause true damage.

So I went to the Temple to check on how things were coming with Kuna’s acceptance. So far they are still checking records, so I simply spent time, seemingly praying and meeting with others, before I headed out, under the pretense of frustration, to a small tavern between the Temple and home. It is a small place, mostly used for nobles to meet up with contacts outside of the main taverns further downtown. It has a quieter atmosphere, and rooms that can be rented for private negotiations. The owner even has a posted policy that she will not sell anyone the ability to eavesdrop on your private room, but she is not responsible should someone manage to do so anyhow. It is very difficult, given the way the place is set up, to overhear what is happening in another room. I would imagine you would have to plan far in advance to succeed.

With the stage set, I began to drink heavily. Nabine slipped inside not too long after I ordered my second bottle, but she kept to a table by the door and stayed to herself until after I had moved onto my third bottle.

I stood up to get the attention of the proprietor, and with a carefully placed choreography, tripped over my own chair leg, spilling the contents of my purse.

Nabine came over to help me gather the coins.

I looked up at her and told her how beautiful she was. It was not an act in that moment, for truly she remains the most beautiful woman I have ever met. She flirted back with me in a very feminine manner, not at all her usual self. I invited her to my table and bought her a bottle of rotmeth.

We spent a while talking, just loud enough to be heard by anyone else who might be in the place and looking to overhear. We spoke of little. In truth, most of it was me asking her questions about Valenwood and telling her how beautiful she was. By the time an hour of this had passed, we became more and more libidinous in our conversation, our chairs next to one another, our hands beginning to roam.

The barkeep asked if we would like to take our bottles to a private room and after looking to her and receiving a nod, I thanked the mer and asked for the finest room he had.

It was a simple enough set up: a fine carpet, a simple chandelier, and a pile of cushions. A small cabinet on the wall contained blankets and towels, with a basin and small pitcher of water atop. Just enough for whatever sort of business you might have to attend to.

Of course, we enjoyed the privacy and made sure to use the room well. I told her how much I enjoyed her playing a part with me.

She told me that she liked the sneaking around and putting on a part well enough, but that she did not like the fake submissive role. I told her that I did not find it attractive on her compared to her true personality and I saw a small amount of relief cross her face.

I kissed her and reassured her that, once Urtisa was taken care of, we would have little reason to ever have to put her into such a situation again, lest she decided she wanted to do it herself.

She smacked my rear and told me that she was going to give me a good punishment for being so cheeky with her and that I better not like it.

I told her that I could not make such a promise.

When the evening drew late, I gave her the pendant, kissed her, and told her I would meet her back at home later in the night. She told me it was better not to make a scene and to simply pretend I was so drunk I forgot all about the necklace. Then she left.

I laid down on the cushions once more and polished off the end of her rotmeth. I knew I would need to seem truly intoxicated, so I remained in the room, drinking and contemplating the best ways to kill my wife.

There was a rapping at the door and I closed my eyes, relaxed my body, and let my breaths become slow and even.

After several minutes, the door opened and I heard someone enter. They called out several times to me before I grumbled and muttered something about scrib jelly.

They left and soon two mer were there lifting me up and gently rousing me. They asked me for my identity and where I was staying and then called a carriage to come retrieve me and take me home.

Cheerz was waiting when the carriage arrived and had a couple of servants help me to walk inside and up to my room. Then someone with a healer’s background came to ensure I had not been poisoned or otherwise harmed in any way.

I also heard, though a while later, some argument between Cheerz and one of the Ordinators about how I should not have been left to my own devices. The Ordinator tried to assure Cheerz that Ordinators at the Temple were supposed to have taken over my watch and that she did not know how I had come to be unsupervised.

I should have been more careful about making sure to create a scene over bucking my guards at the Temple, but there is nothing for it now.

I stayed in bed and had the girls run in to wake me up. I feigned a minor hangover, but generally was excited to see them. Kuna had much to say about Dunmer history and says that she no longer wishes to be a princess, but rather, the next Mother Morrowind.

Already I could see that Nabine is going to want my head for this, but it was hard not to find joy in seeing your daughter take on such a strong role model. Rejecting the role of princess for that of a living god. One cannot say that Kuna is not a driven girl. She certainly has lofty expectations.

She asked me if she could have a blade like Hopesfire and take lessons to use it. I told her it would be up to her mother whether or not that was acceptable.

Nabine returned after the girls were in bed, but said that the rouse had been a shining success. They had sent someone to follow her and had seen how deftly she was able to seduce and manipulate me. They were impressed.

I told her that I was grateful and asked how much more time she thought they might need before we set our plans into motion. She told me she needed more time now that she had their trust, just to make sure that they did not turn suspicious. I agreed.

We talked about Kuna’s new future aspiration. Nabine was not pleased that Kuna had been taught about a religious figure, but said that at least it was a powerful woman and a god which Kuna looked to emulate.

I said I would talk to Mother about the lessons, but Nabine said that it would be best just to let them continue for now and that there would be time enough for comparative historical understanding later.

I slept well, still a little tipsy as Nabine and I laid down to sleep. And, with no morning obligations, since the Council is spending the day making their final determination about if I will become the direct heir to uncle Urnel or not, Nabine and I were able to sleep in a little bit. At least, we slept in until the girls came in to jump on us. Cariel has taken to climbing the bed posts and then dropping down from her feet into the bed. Kuna prefers a running leap. At least Cariel is still small, but Kuna is too big to do this without an elbow or a knee hitting a soft spot. I swear, I have bruises from every morning she has done it.

Today the whole family is going to go for a ride in the countryside. Nabine will have to make a short detour to meet up with a contact, but we have already set up ways for her to slip away and slip back undetected.

How wonderful it is to actually spend time with my family.

[okase]

So tell me more of the TES OCs/Elder Scrolls versions of charas you have! Where do they live or like to go? How do they make a living? What are some of their noteworthy skills or talents? And if you've answered this before, you can ignore me; I just may not know because my net is slow and cannot tumbl most of the time. Hahaha

I have not ignored you, friend! I’m just slow as friggin’ molasses and busy/tired all the time to boot

So far with TES OCs, I have Nera(of course), Iala, and Zelah(Zeela), along with their various relations both new and old. Though in a strong sense, they’ve already become characters of their own and my idiot self should have renamed them lmao

But first of course, we have Nera. Nera is… a lot more stable, in this setting, though still a bit morally dubious. Just significantly less murderous and more thievery dubious this time around.

Whereas turian!Nera had a lovely(read: horrendously abusive) upbringing under Narrok,  khajiit!Nera was actually raised by her parents, Ranara and N'eroh, down in Falkreath and its surrounding areas. Her early life was a lot more chill, almost normal in most ways, and though she still learned various martial skills at a young age (Hand-to-hand and archery from her father, and some sweet swordsmanship from her mother) it was in a much more supportive, healthy manner that left Nera skilled without the detriment of being raised to be a gun like turian!Nera was.

If anything, her upbringing was pretty lax, almost too lax, with Rana and N'eroh being wanderers from Hammerfell and Elsweyr, respectively, who put most emphasis on freedom and seeing what the world had to offer over most things. Eventually, it came to inevitable point at 15 where Nera got the traveling bug herself, and that’s when she left her home to travel the rest of Skyrim, going to Riften, Windhelm, Winterhold, and Dawnstar until eventually settling semi-permanently in Solitude.

She stayed for a few years in Riften, where she found out she needed money which then lead to finding out she was pretty dang good at breaking into places and obtaining items of value. What started out as “Hey kid you’re pretty dang good at this” turned into “I can make a living doing this, holy shit”. And she did. Nera became great at both obtaining items and making sure they got into the hands of the “right” people. She even had a brief stint with the Thieves’ Guild, though at the end of her time in Riften, decided she didn’t quite fit in and preferred doing things her own way that didn’t involve so many shakedowns.

From there, she left for Windhelm, making further contacts among residents of all sorts, from Argonian dockworkers to Khajiit caravaneers to the occasional Nord merchant, using swift hands and a lot of sweet talk to make everyone happy. Or at least, most people happy. She still had occasional run-ins with the law, which made some guards unhappy, but more importantly she had a run-in with Narrok Ironhand, an influential Nord businessman, who seemed okay at first but turned out to have cargo Nera wanted no part of. She relieved him of said cargo and fled town. From there she went all along the northern and central parts of Skyrim, from Winterhold to Windhelm to Morthal to Dawnstar, and eventually she ended up in Solitude. Solitude, she liked, and it was there that she stayed for many years until she met our dear Fenir, who very clearly swept her off her feet and eventually moved to Anvil in Cyrodiil to live happily ever after with hellspawn and shenanigans.

(Jk, they fled to Cyrodiil to get away from Narrok and actually traveled for years until the twins happened. Then they stayed at Skingraad and traveled again when Brynne and Illaren were grown. Haven’t established much beyond that yet.)

And yeah. Nera continues to use her skills as a charismatic thief, a businesswoman, occasionally a mercenary and whatever else she needs to be to make a living. She’s good at sneaking about, she’s good at archery, good at dual-wielding a sword/dagger combo. Good at swindling, good at talking her way out of situations and making people happy. Also decent, then pretty good with Illusion magic. She is a cat lady of many talents.

Her son, Illaren, is definitely of a more magical persuasion, and is the closest thing to a pure mage that I have. While he can wield a sword with strength and precision, and he has his charm where it counts, he’s without a doubt a more scholarly sort overall. Always learning, always wanting to find and analyze the secrets of the universe. It gets him into trouble more than once, but beyond that it remains to be seen what he’ll get up to.

@greyfen can tell you more about his sister, Brynne.

I can tell you more about Iala, though. Like Illaren, Iala is also a scholarly sort, though she tends to take a more hands-on approach because she’s in her sixties and has long ago lost any sort of apprehension towards going into scary old ruins. She’s terrifying and out of fucks to give about anything that doesn’t involve discovery and weird experiments.

Iala had a pretty humble beginning, though, being born to fairly ordinary parents in Daggerfall. Her altmer mom was a mercenary, while her bosmer mom was a local alchemist/healer. Iala seemed to pick up from both of them yet also delved her own path, showing an interest in magic and technology fairly early on. Her parents arranged for her to have a tutor immediately, and said tutor, a Breton wizard by the name of Charlemund Wickcroft was happy to have her and have her excel.

He was just the first(if major) step in Iala’s education though, as the bosmer ended up going almost quite literally all around Tamriel to further her skills. From Daggerfall she went to Alinor, and from Alinor to the College of Whispers, and finally briefly to the College of Winterhold before she decided she was only going to learn more by going to the source.

The source was, of course, the various ruins and mystical objects scattered throughout Tamriel. The Ayelied and Dwemer ruins in particular caught her interest, and from there she studied both on her own and with others for decades before publishing a series of books on her observations and theoretical new applications of old technology. She made quite a profit from both valuable trinkets she found and said books, eventually allowing her to go from a simple traveling hermit lifestyle to that of a luxury witch hermit lifestyle. Still not satisfied, though, she continues to explore and experiment, seeing how far she can go and what boundaries she can push before old age decides it might be brave enough to claim her.

If I were to simplify her skills into a list, I’d say she was good with the arcane of all sorts, reverse-engineering and engineering of technology both magical and not, and not giving a fuck about looking death in the face as long as its FOR SCIENCE. Also, she was born under the sign of the Atronach and is capable of absorbing magic as well. Very hand for magical items that wanna kill her lmao. but yeah. SCIENCE

Finally we have Zelah, a dunmer Morag Tong assassin who essentially Mass Effect Zeela had she gone down a darker path. Unlike her quarian counterpart, Zelah was orphaned at a pretty young age and thus didn’t have much of a family to raise her, instead being raised by a Morag Tong agent and their various contacts. The guild, in essence, became her family, and she’s remained fervently loyal to it since, even as it stands as a shadow of what it once was.

I’ve yet to plan out her journey beyond that aside from the fact that Talsin, another Morag Tong assassin, is family to her and that they likely travel beyond Morrowind for reasons currently unknown. Skill-wise, she’s still retains her old information broker talents from Mass Effect: She’s good at lying, she can be manipulative, and she’s very good at finding out other peoples’ business. Unlike her counterpart, however, she’s also much more physically-adept, being an expert in poisons and knife-throwing combined with cloak and dagger tactics. She’s a master at getting people before they know she’s coming- whether she’s smiling in front of their face or coming out from the shadows.

And I think that’s it for now! I’m sorry for the fact that I seemed to have rambled instead of just straight up answering your questions but like…. Its fine, right? You learned more about them, and that’s good, right? Right. Totally right.

Thanks again for asking about my fools!