#Thieves Guild OC

[oblivions-dawn]

𝐖𝐲𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐰𝐞; 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝

─[✦]─ ❝ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴘᴏssɪʙʟʏ ᴘᴀss ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴘᴘᴏʀᴛᴜɴɪᴛʏ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ғᴀɪʟ.❞ ─[✦]─

Age: 26-29 Pronouns: She/Her Gender: Female Sexuality: Polyamorous Pansexual Height: 6'2 Birthsign: The Tower Race: Altmer Class: Charmer/Whip-Thrasher Alliances: Thieves Guild of Riften Family: Sivrien - Father [alive]; Joriael - Mother [alive]; Elindil - Brother [alive]; Lyathel - Sister [alive]; Finnien - Brother [alive]; Rulve - Sister [alive] Love Interests: Karliah [romantic]; Sapphire [romantic/sexual]; Vex & Svana [previous]; Brynjolf [business]

For lore and extras, please peruse under the cut below!

𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐞;

Wynn was the third child born to an upper class family in Lillandril, who were rich due to their shipbuilding business. As a middle child, she was often overlooked by her parents and overshadowed by her older, more successful siblings. She had a cousin that she often played--and got into trouble--with. At a young age she had a tendency to steal jewellery from extended family members, a habit that she perfected over the years. Eventually, her mother tried to set her up with a high-ranking Thalmor Justicar, and Wynn realised that her previously enjoyed freedom was in jeopardy. In secret, she had a ship built and hired a crew, then took to the seas to become a pirate--and to live the free life she so desired. After many years sailing the ocean, Wynn was caught and jailed in Windhelm. Her first mate rescued her, only to inform her that her ship had been destroyed and her crew had disbanded. Disheartened by this news, Wynn went to Riften in search of refuge. After Wynn worked in Haelga's Bunkhouse for some months, her underhanded thieving had grabbed the attention of Brynjolf after Haelga complained. Now Wynn happily steals on behalf of the Thieves Guild--and gets paid for it, too.

𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐬;

❂ Wynnarwe makes an appearance in my sequel fanfiction, Breathless, in Chapter 6, The Gathering Storm, and Chapter 7, A Delicate Extraction. ❂ Her full name is Wynnarwe Elsinael ‘len Joriael Taena Anaelion ‘ata Sivrien Kaenoril Ranimare ‘cal Camahl-Thramire. ❂ Wynn had a brief love affair with Svana Fair-Shield, which earned her extreme disapproval from Haelga. Despite that, she still, occasionally, visited Svana--until the auburn informed Wynn that she and Ingun had unexpectedly become an item. ❂ She also slept with Brynjolf. For business reasons, of course. ❂ She typically uses her whip or whatever is on hand in the moment to fight if she has no other choice. This has led her to use silverware and even a stick in previous situations. ❂ Wynn owns a manor in Riften that has secret access to Shadowfoot Sanctum, which grants her a more discreet and direct entry into The Ragged Flagon. ❂ During discussions with Nocturnal, Wynn offered herself up as a consort rather than a guardian of the Skeleton Key after she dies. To everyone's surprise, the Daedric Prince found this amusing, and agreed. ❂ Wynn's flower crown has gold kanet flowers, juniper berries, and redwort flowers. ❂ She's ambidextrous--and incredibly proud of this fact. ❂ Wynn's eyes are akin to jaspilites. ❂ She's gone through the most character changes. She was originally blonde, then brunette, then blonde again. She also used to be named Aerwynn. ❂ She had a drink with Sanguine once. Although it was supposed to be A Night to Remember, she doesn't remember much at all--only the headache of a quest that followed. ❂ After Sapphire gifted her with a gem of the same name, Wynnarwe had Madesi craft an earring with it, which she wears all the time.

For information on other OCs, you can find them under Senu's Skyrim OCs! If you'd like to see fanart of Wynnarwe, browse her tag on my blog!

[yewphoric]

NEW OC!!

Well, not new, but this is the first time I've properly posted about her! And she's got a ref!

Ionya, often called Ionya the Fox for her stealth and cunning, is a fairly new member of the Thieves' Guild in Riften. She's an ex-pirate, but her origins beyond that, she refuses to speak on. However, she seems to have a vested interest in the Civil War conflict, despite claiming she's on neither side. She eventually rises to the rank of Guildmaster.

... That's what people canonically know about her. What we, as onlookers, get to know is that she's Ulfric's twin sister. They're no longer on speaking terms, to put it lightly. It may or may not have something to do with the fact she killed their father...

[babyblueetbaemonster]

Damn

[moodcrab]

Man that lives in an actual toilet says wealth is his business

[svkvba]

A dragonborn's Diary: Rune

(part 1)

[peony-plum]

[bforblitz]

wedding so good that three npcs are now broken and won’t stop congratulating you on your union

[star-streaks]

You legit can’t get me to leave Skyrim alone. We love Skyrim in this house

[titisorriso]

Brynjolf always makes some time in his schedule to listen to Grahzo-Rar's stories of his adventures with the Dragonborn. Doing some figure training and decided i want to expand my TES oc's stories a little bit more.

[thelurkershideout]

summerfest day 3!

ghost or hungry

Notes: I don't think this one needs warnings. This one was full of experiments for me I hope it works. I love these characters so much but I struggle to write them. Hope you like angst!

Brynjolf let out a deep sigh as he stepped from the silent Cistern into the rabble of the Flagon. It had been a while since he'd seen it this busy. Seemed like everyone in the Guild's fortunes were turning. Even if Mercer refused to see it.

He settled at the bar, sitting sideways to watch the card game at one of the nearby tables. It was good to see everyone enjoying these brighter days.

“I hear you're a Bard.” Thrynn’s voice cut through the noise, drawing his attention to the small table at the far end of the wooden platform that made up the majority of the tavern. Thrynn leaned across it, the tankard in his hand titled precariously as he tried to get Fjora to meet his eyes. She sat curled up on the chair, her knees serving as a support for the notebook she was writing in. She didn't look up.

“I was.”

“Never had a Bard in the Flagon.” His voice raised slightly. “Know any good drinking songs?”

“Not my specialty, and you seem to be doing just fine without one.”

Thrynn let out an obnoxiously loud and exaggerated laugh.

“Come on new blood! Give us a song!” He looked to the nearby tables for anyone to support his call for entertainment. Aside from Brynjolf, few seemed to notice.

“I don't perform for free.” Fjora’s writing stopped, “not that you could afford it anyway.”

“Are you that good?”

“The Jarl of Solitude wanted me to play at all her Palace events.”

“Oh, well look at fancy little –”

“Fjora!” Tonilia emerged from a back room holding what appeared to be some kind of bundle of cloth.

“I need your expertise.” She said, pushing past the busy tables towards them. Brynjolf, stifled a laugh in his drink as she nearly smacked her mysterious bundle against Viper's head.

“My expertise? You must be desperate,” Fjora looked up as Tonilia jostled Thrynn away from the table to place the parcel down. She quickly undid the twine holding it together, and began unwrapping it.

“Some meathead brought this to me last night,” the shine of green lacquer caught the candlelight. “He claimed it was one of a kind”

A beautiful green and gold lute sat on the table between the two women.

“How much did you pay for this?” Fjora stood, her gray eyes wide.

“How much is it worth?”

Fjora lifted the lute from the table. Turning it over in her hands she examined every inch of it. Running her hands along the neck. Gently strumming and tuning the strings. Thoroughly inspecting the decorative carvings. Her careful ministrations had begun to attract the attention of her fellow thieves.

“Well?” 

“First of all, every lute is one of a kind. Even two lutes made to be as identical as possible have differences, simply by virtue of being hand made.” She turned the lute over in her hands again.

“This one was made in Cyrodiil, it's a fairly common style.”

“So it's not worth the 600 gold I paid?”

“The paint color is a bit unusual. It doesn't seem to have ever been played. Pitty, the resonance of the wood is ex–”

“I don't care about the damn things life story, I want to know how much it's worth!”

“The most basic lute you could ever buy is typically 500 gold.” She ran her fingers across the swirls of golden vines. “The College operates on a system where you use the money you earn during your student performances to pay to keep the one provided to you.”

Brynjolf could see the frustration and irritation building in Tonilia’s eyes.

“This lute was probably intended to be a display piece, but would only fool someone who didn't know what they were looking at. It's a simple style dressed up with pretty paint. Its original buyer probably spent around 1000 on it, if the maker knew how to sell.”

Tonilia let out a sigh of relief, and sank into one of the chairs at the table.

“So I didn't waste my money.”

“I'll give you 700 for it right now.” Her eyes stayed fixed on the lute.

“What!? You just said it was worth 1000!”

“I said the original buyer might have spent 1000. The instrument itself probably would have sold for 600 with a more simple paint job, and you won't find anyone willing to pay full price for a preowned instrument.” She smiled at Tonilia. “I would be doing you a favor.”

It seemed like the entire Flagon had become invested in this exchange.

“900.”

“750.” 

“850.”

“800, final offer.”

“Deal.”

The Flagon rumbled back to life as the two women exchanged coin, and continued to talk over drinks. Paid for by Tonilia, Brynjolf noted. The lute never left Fjora's hands. She continued turning it over, and fiddling with the strings as the evening went on. Slowly, people started to stumble off to bed. 

The first few notes sounded like rain. Brynjolf was drawn back to Fjora, sitting alone. He watched as her fingers seemed to dance along the strings. A strange familiar sadness eased into him, like it was sinking into a comfortable chair. 

I've heard some of the locals call her ‘the gray child.’ The voice of a dead man whispered from the depths of his memories. She clings to the corners of rooms. The Flagon seemed so empty. She won't talk to us, maybe she'll talk to you. The song's swell felt like it was going to rip his heart from his chest. I want to know what she knows.

A little girl with wide gray eyes; sitting alone, under the docks. That's your first job.

The song ended. The Flagon stayed silent. Brynjolf finished his drink.

“I thought you didn't perform for free?” Thrynn plopped himself down across from her. Fjora stood, gathering up her notebook and lute. Had her cheeks been red the whole time? Was it the drinks or him? 

“You alright Bryn?” The bouncer's large hand slapped against his shoulder. Brynjolf nearly dropped his tankard. 

“I'm fine.”

“You look like you just saw a ghost.” He turned his head following Brynjolf’s gaze, as Fjora brushed past them.

“I'm fine, Dirge. Just turning in for the night.”

[okeydokeylackey]

yeah you're not gonna have a single septim by the time they're done with you

and they're both wanted by the Thalmor oops

@berserkerrose's OCs, my tablet fought me for hours on this one and I'm too tried to type anything else

[wolfhertz]

Finished this like a week ago and totally thought I'd posted it already. Whoops

Just a redesign for my kleptomaniac babygirl Teyne. Love her sm

And yes, I ship her with Ondolemar because I love the preppy snob x snarky street rat dynamic. It's giving Lady and the Tramp and I can't resist.

[a-morningstar-120]

Selene: *Kicks the door down looking panicked*

Brynjolf : What did you do?

Selene: Nobody died.

Brynjolf : WHAT KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT?!

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Mercer Frey: *Murders Gallus, runs Karliah off, tries to kill other Guild members, robs the entire Guild blind, and nearly got away with it and the Eyes of the Falmer, too, if it weren't for those meddling Nightingales!*

Brynjolf: This isn’t very friendship is magic of you.

[moodcrab]

Fixing Skyrim's Daedric Quests

Introduction

Unlike my Oblivion character - a mere mortal who stumbled upon a shrine while lost in the wilderness, becomes somewhat obsessed with gaining the level requirement and collecting an offering, then undertakes the quest feeling like a dark god is testing their worthiness to be their champion - The Last Dragonborn has Daedric Princes falling over themselves to make them their champion straight out the gate. Level one? Who cares! No offering? No problem! Not my Summoning Day? We haven't cared about that since Morrowind! Literally told me to go fuck myself? Take the prize anyway Champ you've earned it!

Basically, much like factions, Skyrim shoves nearly all of the Daedric Quests in the player's face as soon as possible because they're widely considered to be the best and most rewarding by fans of the previous games. But the older games had them, to varying degrees, hidden away or locked behind mechanics, and Bethesda didn't want newer, more casual fans to miss them. In doing so the Princes and their cults lose that air of mystery and danger they once had.

On the other hand, it was nice to be doing something else entirely then have a surprise Daedric Quests blind side me, and it's not like the old Oblivion way was perfect. Find shrine, give offering, get quest for EVERY Prince? And just one quest and I'm the champion, dedicated my soul to your afterlife and all that jazz?

This series is going to try to maximise the good parts of Skyrim Daedric Quests, while bringing back some of the classic elements that it left out, starting with...

Part I - Namria

Quest A) A Taste of Death.

If you visit the Treasury House in Markarth you might overhear an argument between Brother Verulus and Thongvor Silver-Blood. This location change means you are unlikely to just run into this quest immediately as in vanilla, but also gives you a high chance of encountering it during The Forsworn Conspiracy, in which case it has the double benefit of acting as a kind of red herring in that quest and linking this quest with Markarth's corruption and secret society vibes.

Brother Verulus wants the city guard to stop their lockdown of the Halls of the Dead and to actually go in and deal with the draugr head on (in my alternative "Fixed" Skyrim the increased draugr population is connected with Alduin's return, who is raising his Dragon Priests to serve him, even within cities). Why doesn't he go pester the Jarl or the Captain about this, asks Thongvor, dismissively. Oh come on, don't act coy, we all know who really controls the guard in Markarth, why not let them do their job, replies Verulus. Thongvor counters that that would be a desecration of the Nordic dead, that guards putting them down like a pest would be dishonourable. What's more, perhaps if the glorious Nordic dead of the city weren't being tended to by a poncy Imperial Priest of Arkay instead of a proper old fashioned Orkey Shaman, maybe none of this would have happened. Verulus starts to lose his temper at this, and in anger implies that he knows that the draugr problem that plagues the other cities isn't the real issue here, that most of the ancient dead here are Reachfolk not Nord, and begins to demand a true explanation for being locked out but stops himself, he has said too much and leaves.

The quest begins by talking to Verulus who will ask you to investigate what's really going on in The Halls of the Dead. How you get in is up to you. If you're a sneaky type or a smooth talker you'll get in that way. You can also commit a crime to lure the guard away maybe. You could go find Thongvor who can be convinced to give you an alternative - take care of Verulus, but more on that later.

However you get into the Halls, on entering you start finding evidence of cannibalism, butchered bodies, cooking stations and so on. As you delve deeper you hear Eola, a Reachman Namira Devotee, goading and teasing you; "Not many would walk blindly into a crypt, smelling of steel and blood, but not fear... Don't you see what I am about down here in the dark? Is that disgust? Revulsion?... Or curiosity? Why don't you come deeper, and scratch that itch?" You can question her about who she is, what is her purpose here, why is Thongvor protecting her etc. but it will come down to convincing her to leave, killing her, or accepting her invitation to eat human flesh.

Now, IF you sided with Thongvor, the plan is to lie to Verulus to get him to follow you into the Halls of the Dead, this time you'll be confronted directly by Eola and Thongvor together. They intend to kill and eat you both and blame your deaths on Draugr. You can fight your way out and try to save Verulus, or you can prove yourself by killing Verulus yourself and tasting him by way of a test.

If you partake in cannibalism you will get a monologue from Eola about Namira, waxing poetic about the oldest god, The Black Fly, being the Daedric Prince of decay and squalor and all things ugly and repulsive... But also her significance to the Reachmen. To them she is the Spirit Queen who is the true god of death, not Arkay, the primal darkness that gives and takes life. You will gain the power to feast on a corps once a night or when underground, and unlock the second quest.

Quest B - A Guest for Dinner

The second quest will be even less obvious to the player and will hopefully take most people completely by surprise the first time it happens. The quest will only begin after the following criteria are met: You have used the lesser power to consume 10 or more corpses. You own a fully furnished player home. You spend the night there with either your spouse or a follower. When you sleep, a slow, loud, ominous knocking at the door awakens you.

At your door is a stranger in rags and a hideous face asking to come in. You can refuse or invite them to stay. Once inside they will take a seat at your table and ask what is being served for dinner. At this point your follower/spouse will be freaking out a little. You can offer food, like regular food, which will disappoint him and he'll leave. You can offer your spouse or follower as the meal and you'll have to attack them, the screen will darken for an gruesome audible muckbang. Or you can tell the Stranger he is on the menu, which will please him greatly and he will warn you against choking on him, depending on the disposition of your specific follower or spouse they will either join in or abandon you forever.

The Stranger, if he survives the night, will give you the Ring of Namira as thanks. If you ate him Eola, who incidentally will now double as a replacement spouse/follower, will arrive and give you the Ring. The Ring is a powerful reflect damage/magic ring, a unique enchantment in Skyrim.

[svkvba]

A dragonborn's Diary: Rune

(part 2)