#hood: kvatch

[spell-bloom]

charted my tes hood out in photoshop and this is what it should look like. the yellow is a raised up mesa.

now my biggest hurdle is actually loading up simcity4 ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[hannah-heartstrings]

Thiefguard snippet that'll hopefully be the beginning of a fic some day. For now I don't know where to go with it and think it's pretty cute on its own.

@druidx @babyblueetbaemonster @inkysqueed

---------

            Garrus tugged on his red silk cuff. This shirt was way too expensive for him, what was he even doing?

            As passerbys walked out of the inn he smiled nervously at them before glancing around the street.

            “She’s almost here,” a guard called down from the wall.

            “Thank you.” He attempted to smooth his hair but it was already pulled back into a low ponytail so he returned to fidgeting with his cuff.

            There came a loud creak of the gate opening.

            Gaze snapping to it, Garrus took in a deep breath, heart racing, nerves spiking.

            “Thank you!” chirped Lecrinn’s voice before she walked through the gate with a skip in her step and a smile that seemed to glow.

            Seeing her, his nerves calmed, held breath coming out a happy sigh.

            Seeing him, she stopped, smile dropping in surprise. “Garrus! You dressed up.”

            He frowned down at the fine clothes. “I know, I look ridiculous.”

            “No, you’re fine! You’re um,” she glanced away, cheeks reddening, “looking fine actually.”

            His eyes turned up, brows raising. Seeing her blush, he looked off with a grin and blush of his own.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Hero of Kvatch: Yo, where do you live?

Martin: I live in the hood.

Baurus: The hood? What hood do you live in?

Martin: Adulthood.

Martin: I live in adulthood and it freaking sucks. I'm trying to move.

[babyblueetbaemonster]

Wip Wednesday

Yes, of course. It's Wednesday. That's why I'm posting. Yes.

Tagged by @hannah-heartstrings <3 love you :3

Have a new wip for a change. It's a short one and more lay back. This is the story of why they call you Hero of Kvatch. Around 300 words.

The sun was setting. Sky was red like flames, startling the people of Kvatch. The gate had been closed for a while, but their fear hadn't gone. They all sit at the bottom of the mountain, waiting for the nightmare to end.

“It’s Captain Matius! They’re back!” Ilav pointed up. A small group of people were coming down.

“We lost Count Goldwine. This is indeed a dark day for all of us, but thanks to our hero, the Daedra has been slayed, and we have retaken our city.” Captain Matius presented someone to the crowds. An Altmer in a green robe, face covered under a hood. 

“Does our hero have a name?” Asked Martin. The mer was still looking down. He grabbed his arm, looked up once, and stared at the floor again. Everyone at the camp quieted down, then he finally spoke.

“I don't have a name.” The mer’s voice was shaky, “Just call me anything you like.”

Martin did not expect this answer. Strange, but every man- wait. Every mer's life was their own business. He could respect that.

“How about we call you… Daedra Slayer?” One of the guards suggested, then everyone joined the naming game.

“The Yellow Fury.”

“Oblivion Gatekeep.”

“Hero of Kvatch.”

“Savior of Nirn.” 

“Um... don't you think those titles sound… too grand…?” The mer asked meekly. Everyone quieted down again.

“How about Friend of Kvatch?” Martin gave him a warm smile. A pair of green eyes met Martin’s. He didn’t know what the mer was searching for, but in the end, the mer nodded.

“It’s settled, then. On behalf of all citizens of Kvatch, we thank you, Friend of Kvatch.” The crowd cheered.

The mysterious stranger wanted to keep his secrets, and that’s fine. Martin only hoped he understood their gratitude, and knew he would always be welcome here.

“I still think ‘Hero of Kvatch’ is better.” Said the Imperial Legion Soldier. Martin heard him mumble in the back, declaring he’d keep using that title. Rude, but Martin would respect that.

[wispstalk]

in which the hero of kvatch gets his ass whooped

Tanis opens the door to Grandmaster Jauffre’s quarters without knocking. In the time since his return from Lake Arrius, the two of them have engaged in a careful dance, avoiding any room the other occupies. It's for the best, considering how they snipe at each other. But there are only so many rooms in the temple.

“Irathi?” Jauffre looks up from his writing desk with a suspicious tilt to his head. “Is something wrong?”

“I came to tell you that I let Uriel die.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I stood there and watched the assassin open his throat and I didn’t lift a finger.”

A spasm of pain crosses the Grandmaster’s face. “Why?” he whispers.

“Because fuck him, that’s why.”

Jauffre’s eyes turn hard, and he opens his mouth as if to argue. Go on, Tanis urges silently. Challenge me, and I’ll tell you exactly what the Blight does to a body. I’ll tell you how the smugglers snuck past Uriel’s embargo to gouge the sick and starving. I’ll heap all my dead at your door.

But the Grandmaster calls his rage to heel in half a breath. When he speaks, his voice is as expressionless as ever. “Why are you still here, then?”

“I reckon when you’re born in a palace, and the first thing you learn about yourself is that the world belongs to you, it turns you into kind of a shit.” He jerks his head back, toward the great hall, where he knows without seeing that the priest is surely sitting by the fire, brow furrowed, nose in a book. “He didn’t have all that. So maybe he’ll be different.”

“Maybe so.” Jauffre twines his hands beneath his chin. “Or maybe we are cruel to pin all our hopes on him. He knows nothing of statecraft. Why would he?”

“You don’t pay me enough to care about that.”

“I don’t pay you at all, as you oft remind me. What was your intent in coming here?”

“I felt like pissing you off. I don’t like you. You don’t like me either. It doesn’t matter if we like each other or not, but if we’re going to work together, we’d best have it out.” He cracks a savage grin and pats the sword at his hip.

“I am an old man,” Jauffre replies. “I have spent my autumn years in the still and simple life of a monk. Surely you don’t need proof that you can best me.”

Jauffre makes his voice quavery, paper-thin. He does look old, suddenly, as if age has settled on him like a dusting of snow— his shoulders stooped, his hooded smile drawing up the wrinkles in his face, his bony hands dry-washing each other. As if Tanis hadn’t seen those same hands wielding an elegant sword at the priory, the economy of every strike. For all that he’d like to spit in the face of every Blade, he’s been itching for another demonstration of what it takes to become their Grandmaster.

“You’re a good liar,” he says.

“It comes with the job,” Jauffre says as he follows Tanis to the sparring yard.

[vivifriend]

WIP Wed... oh it's Thursday

:D Had a long day of staring at nothing yesterday so you get snippets today. I was tagged by @thequeenofthewinter and @pitiable-arisen. Thank you both! 💖

As it is, now Thursday, consider this a open tag to everyone who wants to share something. ^_^ Seriously, feel free to yell at me about what you're working on. I love discussing projects with people.

For my snippet we're pulling from 'Careful What You Wish For' again. (you know, the short 5k work so I could get to know Lewin's mother? That one? Yeah..., it's 25k. It'll probably be closer to 30k when I'm done with editing. Why I'm like this, I have no clue).

But have some writing:

By the time they rode into Evermore, Ileana hated all three of her brothers, and Edrien in equal measure. Swinging down from Ivy, she took a moment to lean against the mare and let feeling return to her legs. The last three days had seen the least amount of resting, and the greatest amount of snow. To top it off, she was tired, reeked of road dust and sweat, and a small skirmish with bandits had seen a hole torn in her favorite shirt.

Taking a long breath, letting the scent of horse and leather soothe her agitation, she plastered a smile on her face and turned toward the ugly building in front of them.

It was two stories, built of a light brown wood that hadn't seen a lick of whitewash or paint in what Ileana guessed was decades, the windows propped open by sticks, a thin layer of snow on the edges souring her hopes for a comfortable habitation.

And standing on the steps, watching them with the same keen eyed gaze Edrien sported, was an Orc woman in heavy steel armor, her arms crossed over her chest, a sneer on her face.

"Edrien. You promised me fighters. You brought mangy pups."

"Akgruhl! You would not believe how irritating it is to shepherd four siblings cross-country without them getting at each other's throats."

She tilted her head, braids sliding to the side. "Do I need to remind you of our trip from Kvatch to Taneth?"

"Please don't," he said, reaching a hand up to rest on the back of his neck. "In order, from oldest to youngest, we have Sorais, Theo, Karic, and Ileana."

"Have they had any training?"

"Some! I haven't shirked my duties that badly."

Ileana frowned, shaking her head. "Where can we put the horses?" she asked.

Akgruhl's expression softened slightly. "Good to think of your animals first. Edrien, how solid are these mounts?"

"They're good," he said. "Nary a spook."

"Define nary," she countered. "How were they two nights ago specifically?"

He grinned, Ileana giving him a slightly confused look. What does that matter?

"Sorais' horse, Coal here, got a little aggressive but settled after a few moments. Other than that, not even an ear flick."

Two nights ago Secunda was full. Was there trouble nearby? Or... werewolves? I don't remember hearing any howling.

Akgruhl rolled her shoulders back and came off the porch, heading toward Ileana. "How old are you?" she demanded.

"I turned eighteen two weeks ago," she responded. A day that normally would have been celebrated with feasting and dancing. She grimaced, burying her feelings of resentment.

"Uh-uh," Akgruhl snapped. "Don't bury your feelings," she ordered. "What we hunt preys on people who hide what they feel. Because it makes them vulnerable."

"How does hiding weaker emotions make you vulnerable?" Karic demanded, moving in close.

"Simple," a new voice called, a hooded and armored Khajiit rising into a crouch above them, before leaping off the roof, catching herself on tree branches before leaping the rest of the way to the ground. Her eyes glowed red in her hood, and Ileana took an involuntary step back, Ivy snorting her displeasure.

[coffee-4-dinner]

The Paladin and the Saint

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls - Oblivion

Scene: Hero of Kvatch kills Rufio at the Inn of Ill Omen

Hard rain battered the small wooden inn, tucked away along the forest roadside. Howling wind blew the squeaky, rusted old sign that hung by the door, a black raven and the words The Inn of Ill Omen carved carefully onto its face. 

A small figure, cloaked in thin gray wool, cut swiftly through the grass and up the cobblestone path towards the inn. Entering, the wind pushed the wooden door, slamming behind her with the loud clanging of a bell. 

“Hail!” A loud voice greeted her. An older man with thin blonde hair sat behind the counter in dingy light, smoking a pipe peacefully. He coughed as she approached, and squinted up at the guest. “Well I’ll be a spotted snow bear!” The man boomed. “A customer!” Kina flinched from the noise. He was the classic Nord- big, pale, and loud. Not unlike the snow bear, actually.

She kept her hood on, nervous eyes avoiding the man’s gaze. The less he saw her face, the better. “How much for a room?” Rain water dripped off curled black hair onto the countertop.

The innkeep coughed again, taking his feet down from the stool with a painful groan as he stood. “Oh, never grow old, lass. Ten Septims. I’ll throw in some bread and mead for three more.”

She silently passed over the gold coins, and he looked at her curiously. She was shivering intensely from the cold.

“Traveling alone, little miss? Off to the Imperial City I take it? Or is that where you’re heading from?” 

“Yes. Visiting family,” she said shortly, not clarifying which it was. 

The older man pushed a small pot of ink and quill towards her and she hesitated a short moment before scribbling a name into the heavy log book.

“Shouldn’t be traveling by yourself,” the man said kindly. “There’s brigands abound at every turn. But well, we got plenty of rooms, you can stay as long as you like! Don’t get too many guests all the way out here, as you can imagine…” He gave a wheezing, awkward chuckle when she didn't respond. “Ah, right well um, there's a room available right upstairs, first door on the left.”

The strange girl took the key from him wordlessly, her face expressionless, and swiftly headed up the stairs before he could engage her further in conversation.  

The innkeeper shook his head, settling back down. This place seemed to get no one but weirdos.

Closing and locking the door behind her, Kina leaned against it with a sigh, closing her eyes for a moment. Alone, hidden and safe away from the city at last. She needed some time to think. Peeling off her soaked clothes, she threw them carelessly to a pile on the floor, pulling on a dry cotton shirt. Tousling her hair with a towel, she squeezed out the rain. 

Feeling warmer already, she plopped down on the bed, crossing her legs as she rummaged through her pack. Withdrawing the Blade of Woe, she stared at the assassin’s gift, inspecting it clearly in the candlelight. 

She ran her finger delicately along the dagger's razor edge, admiring its fine forging, its intricate gold detailing on ebony metal. “Beautiful…” she whispered.

But this was madness. The Dark Brotherhood? Working as an assassin? Who was she fooling? You’re a horse thief and a street rat, a skooma slinger and a pottery painter. Nothing more, nothing less. Surviving in the Arena pit was just luck, it had only been a matter of time before she was faced with someone more than just another terrified slave. 

“You’re going to get yourself killed, you stupid little girl,” she whispered to herself. 

She couldn’t relax, tense and anxious, she paced the small barren room, barely even taking notice of her surroundings. Memories swam through her head of the Arena. The roaring crowd screamed in her ears, their stomping feet shaking the wooden benches of the colosseum. Cheering for death, demanding blood. The look on the first girl’s face, a mirror of her own terror. What choice did she have? But this isn’t the Arena. You can walk away. You don't have to kill him. The Arena was self-defense, forced and in tears. Fights for survival, and a kill for freedom. But this… This would be murder, true murder. Kina wrung her hands. She needed to go to the bathroom. How long would it be til she dare return to the Imperial City? How long would the guards look for her? All her belongings… still in her mother’s house on the Waterfront, unreachable. 

She took a deep inhale, giving a shaky long sigh. She tried not to feel the hangman’s noose close around her throat, or to imagine the planks beneath her splitting and giving way. If the guards caught her… Still, even death would be a blessing over being dragged back into that cage. That dim dungeon, with its nibbling squeaking rats. With that damn dunmer’s relentless, cruel mocking. And with them. With their rough laughter and dirty hands. She swallowed, feeling sick. She felt his calloused hand over her mouth again, the disgusting slimy wetness of forced tongues down her throat, their foul, hot liquored breath. She retched, stumbling to the dresser to shakily pour some dust filled, long sitting water, gulping it down. 

The girl put a hand to her forehead. And what about this stranger? This Dark Brotherhood assassin. Was he lying? Could she trust his words? If she ran, would he kill her? She trembled as she pressed her fist into her mouth. She was entirely trapped. She had no idea what to do. She had nowhere to go. Terrified and alone, she was a child lost deep in the forest. 

She stood there, still in the room for quite some time, listening to the rain fall quicken and hit her windows. 

Choose now. Choose the rest of your life. Run, and keep running. Keep stealing, keep scraping by bit by bit. Gutter rat, and that was all she would come to. End up hanged, or to die an old pauper, to be buried in the dirt with no coffin. 

For what? Honor? Innocence? Both had been stripped from her thoroughly. 

The assassin’s earlier words came to mind, his velvety voice a seductive purr in her ear. 

“Kill him. Innocence is life’s greatest illusion.”

This old man wasn’t innocent. Wanted for killing a young girl, he was in hiding from the law. The thought struck her for a moment. She and Rufio’s situations weren’t dissimilar. 

The guards had failed to find him, but clearly, somehow, the Dark Brotherhood had. She thought of Lucien Lachance’s description of the father- that he had been on his knees, begging him for justice. “Should I have denied him this justice, this peace?”

“No, no you shouldn’t have,” she whispered aloud. Rufio had plenty reason to deserve to die. 

Kina gazed at her reflection in the small, stained mirror propped up on the nightstand. The look in her pale blue eyes was not her own. 

“I’m sorry Mama,” she whispered to herself quietly. “I just don’t want to end up like you.”

She had decided before she’d known she had. This was inevitable, and not even she could stop this now. 

Alright.

She had to find Rufio. 

Making herself as presentable as possible in the limited, dirty clothes she had, she practiced a disarming smile in the mirror before heading downstairs. “Showtime,” she whispered to herself. “Right girl?” Just like old times. Men were easy to fool, she shouldn’t worry.

The old wooden stairs creaked as she came back down to the tavern’s first floor. A woman was here now, an older Redguard with bushy brown hair, knitting at a table by the fireplace. 

Plopping down casually on a stool at the bar, Kina struck up a casual conversation with the innkeep from earlier, who was now sweeping the room.

“Hey mister, can I get that mead now?”

He shrugged. “Sure, miss.” 

“So, what's the story behind the sign?” she asked as he brought it to her. “Maybe you’d have better business if you changed it.”

The innkeep laughed, a deep hearty sound from his round belly. “It's a horrible name for an inn, I know.” He had a strong Nordic accent, distinct from the Imperials in the city. “But I just can't bring myself to change it. Besides, I like the sign.”

“I do too, actually. I like the raven.” Kina took a swig of the mead. Sweet. She looked down at the glass bottle, peeling its label. Her stomach tightened. Would this be the last thing she tasted?

“What's your name, anyways?” she asked, looking up at him with an innocent, friendly smile. 

“Manheim. Manheim Maulhand, at your service my good lady,” he said good naturedly with a little bow. 

“Maulhand?” Kina raised a playful eyebrow. “You’re full of bad names.”

“Ah, on account of this twisted old stump.” The innkeep waved his left hand, a mangled and gnarled ugly thing. “Gift from my old dog. You never would have guessed it too, he was such a good old boy…never would have hurt a fly. I don't understand it.”

Hm. So he wasn’t Rufio. Just another old man. Kina looked around the empty inn, at the woman sitting by the hearth. She looked up, meeting Kina’s gaze for a moment and smiling timidly before dropping it.

“Who’s she? I was beginning to think I was the only one here,” Kina joked. 

“You are!” Manheim laughed. “Ain't nobody staying here. Well, ‘cept old Rufio. Minerva there lives up the hill. Says she got no place else to be though, comes ‘round a lot.” The innkeeper leaned a little close to her, a teasing twinkle in his eye. “I think the old gal is sweet on me.”

Kina smiled, but she barely heard a word past Rufio’s name. 

“Who’s Rufio?” She asked as casually as she could, her heart pounding as she took another swig of mead. 

“Bah, old codger. Been living here for a couple weeks now.” He leaned closer to the girl, lowering his voice. “If you ask me, he's hiding from something. But what do I care? He pays his tab.” 

Kina hesitated to ask further. She would surely arouse suspicion when Rufio turned up dead. Before she could decide whether to ask anymore questions, Manheim took off to the back of the bar, carrying a tub of dirty dishes whistling cheerfully to himself. 

Turning her attention to the Redguard woman, she waved hesitantly as they caught each other's eye, and the older woman nodded her over. 

“Hello stranger,” the woman called as Kina approached, taking a seat at her table. “We don't get many visitors around here. The only people that stay here are stragglers on the Green Road.”

Kina flashed a rather sheepish smile. “Yeah, so I’ve heard…must get pretty boring.”

“Oh honey you have no idea,” the woman said. “Makes things pretty lonely for me, if you know what I mean,” she added flirtatiously. “It's good to see a young face around, this inn has been cheerless far too long.” 

She introduced herself as Minerva, and it only took half a drink and a few honeyed words from Kina to have her spilling all of the personal business between Manheim and herself. 

“Say,” Kina interrupted her irritating, meaningless babble, learning forward over the table to focus Minerva’s attention. “I think Manheim said there was someone else here?” She blinked innocently. “What was his name, Rex? Riley?” 

“Oh you mean Rufio,” Minerva said, the disappointed change in her tone clearly indicating that she did not think highly of the absent tenant. 

“Oh yeah, Rufio. So what’s he like? Isn’t he any fun?” Kina added with a cheeky grin, playing along with Minerva’s desire for gossip.

“By the Nine, no dear. Oh, there’s not a lot to tell. He doesn't much like company, and spends most of his time in his room. So don’t expect a warm reception if you try to talk to that old bore,” Minerva sniffed. 

“Is he next to my room? I didn’t hear anyone else up there.” 

The Redguard shook her head, gesturing dismissively over to a small wooden hatch in the floor that Kina hadn’t even noticed before, half hidden behind some large barrels. “His room is downstairs. Manheim calls it the Private Quarters but it’s really just the basement.”

Bingo. 

Kina spent the rest of the hour entertaining Minerva and Manheim, laughing and smiling, but only half present. She had gotten all she had needed from them. Now they were just in the way. 

At last, Minerva, having had enough drink and drama for one night, hugged Kina goodbye in an all too familiar way, staggering home. Manheim shook his head, walking her home, then exchanged goodnights with his new tenant and retired himself.

Kina feigned going to sleep herself, waiting a good hour before silently creeping back down the stairs. All was dark and quiet. Good. 

Pulling the hatch up with some effort, she whispered a word of magic, fire sparking on her fingertips. She climbed down a ladder, and landed in a small dark cellar, lined with shelves of wine and bags of grain. A door on the opposite side beckoned her. Kina took a deep breath, then took the handle in her hand and turned. Locked, of course. Taking a knee to examine it, she withdrew a lockpick and made quick work of the amateur lock. 

And then there he was. Rufio. A sleeping figure on the bed, turned away from her. Easing the door shut behind her ever so carefully, Kina crept towards the bed with a practiced thieves footing, his snoring masking her footsteps. She withdrew the assassin’s gift, the Blade of Woe flashing in her hand. Coming to stand next to the bed, she looked down at him, examining his face. Yes, this was surely him. The old man hiding in the Inn’s basement. The man wanted for killing someone’s daughter. A Breton, wrinkled and thin, nothing but a ring of white hair clinging to his scalp.

Standing over the old man a minute too long, she found herself paralyzed, uncertain as a child’s first steps. If she shoved this metal into his throat, would he really die? Would he wake, scream, overpower her? Could she stab him in the head, or would the skull be too strong to break? Should she cover his mouth? Stab him in the eye? How much strength should she use? Would she feel the flesh tearing, the bone and blood through the blade? How many times would it take? Should she stab or slash? Would blood spurt all over her? Would her fingers slip on the blade? 

Overthinking will freeze you, she told herself. It was like thinking too hard about walking, the mechanics of it all, and suddenly finding yourself unable to take a step.

Just do it, do it. Whatever it takes, just get it done. Just make him dead.

Wiping off sweaty palms, she tightened her grip on the Blade of Woe. She lifted it above her head, ritualistic. A deep, shaky breath. 

It’s you or him. You or him. Choose. 

Down, the dagger plunged, the obsidian blade sinking into the old man’s soft flesh with ease like smooth butter. Rufio gasped, yellowed eyes bulging as he awoke in a panic, clutching a hand to his chest, bright red blood spreading across his linen shirt like a flower blooming. For a moment their eyes met and they stared at each other. Pushing his assailant away, he clumsily attempted to escape the bed. Sheets wrapped around his legs, tripping him to the ground. 

Managing to scramble up as Kina faltered, unsure what to do, he pressed his back to the wall, a hand held to his bleeding chest. 

"Who are you?” Rufio yelled. “What do you want? I ain't done nothin'!" 

“Shh!” Kina hissed, holding a finger to her lips. 

“Why, you…you’re not…are you? You’re just a girl…”

She stared at him. “Like the girl you killed, Rufio?”

“What? No, please. Please…I ain’t done nothin’” He repeated, a sure sign of the innocent. 

He was beginning to back away, palms held up. “Just go away.”

"Look, look, I can pay you, ok? More than whatever Claudius is paying.” Rufio said shakily, as Kina approached slowly. “Name your price, anything, really!”

Claudius. The employer who Lucien had refused to reveal. 

“You’re broke, Rufio. Everyone knows that. You’re on the run.”

"No, no I have gold! Hidden away, stacks of it!" He nodded eagerly, as if enthusiasm would help convince her. "I hid it, buried in the hills, just in case something like this happened. I'll give you all of it, I swear, you can have it all!"

"You're a liar, Rufio. A bad one."

“Oh, anything! Anything! Please, just let me live!" 

Kina hesitated. “What is Claudius’ full name?” She asked.

“W- what?” Rufio blinked, confused. “C- Claudius Arcadia.”

She was curious, suddenly. Kina cocked her head at him, her gaze cold.  “Apparently he’s in prison now, you know. For hiring the Dark Brotherhood, for performing the Black Sacrament.”

“Ye- yes, I've been reading the papers,” Rufio stuttered.

As usual, a brief jealous annoyance hit her. So he could read. Rich bastard.

“So do you feel guilty for that, or what?” The girl’s voice was flat, almost bored. 

“What? Do I- ? Guilt?” 

“Yeah, of course you don't. I don't think I will either, not really.” She said, adjusting her grip on the dagger and approaching him.

"No, wait! Please! I didn't mean to do it, you understand me?” Rufio cried. “She struggled! I... I told her to just stay still, but she wouldn't listen! I had no choice!"

The implication of Rufio’s words sunk into her, and Kina slowly turned to him, her teeth grit, lips twitching into a snarl, fury growing like fire in her stomach. 

“Oh yeah? You want to rape me too, you dirty old bastard?"

"It wasn't like that!" He cried. "I swear, I- I told her! She just wouldn't listen to me!"

"Well Rufio, for the first time in too long, I do have a choice. And I won't stay still either. I choose this! You fucking die!” 

She lunged, plunging the dagger deep into the man’s stomach, all the way to the hilt, growling in his face. Rufio choked, spitting out blood onto her shoulder. With Kina leaping back in disgust, the old man stumbled away from her, a hand held to his stomach, falling to the ground, he left a smeared handprint on the Inn walls. 

“Manheim!” Rufio called raspily, weakly. “Manheim!” His hand caught the legs of a nearby stool, knocking it over, the clattering loud in the night.

Suddenly, everything was real again. This was murder. Prison was real. A noose was real. He was never supposed to wake. Blood was getting everywhere. Everything was going so wrong.

Kina panicked, the adrenaline of rage morphing into fear. If Manheim heard him… She couldn't go back now, couldn't stop now. He had to die, quickly! Or it would be her head on the chopping block. Leaping on top of him, she put a hand over his mouth, and they struggled together. She stabbed him blindly, over and over.

His thrashing and his terror only made his heart pump faster. Blood spilled over, over his shirt, the bed sheet, the floor. Kina’s forearms and hands were slippery wet. Blood was all over her clothing, her hair and face. To her own shock and horror, she realized she was grinning widely, her eyes shining with glee, a wild crazed smile spreading over her face at the pure excitement, high off the rush of sadistic pleasure, the disbelief of the moment, caught up in the smell of blood like a hound. This was what freedom felt like, full power, with zero restraint. What pleasure to have someone completely at your mercy. She was flying.

As abruptly as it had began, the man was dead. 

Her heavy breathing was all that was left in the room. It was done. 

The passionate climax of the kill faded rapidly, leaving her cold. Numb, Kina stood up unsteadily, standing over Rufio and gazing around the room for a few dazed moments.

She needed to clean this up.

It was all she could think of now, how exposed she was. She needed to get out of this room, she couldn’t be seen here. What in Oblivion had she done? She was no killer, she had no idea how to get rid of a body, how to scrub a room spotless. You fool, you damned fool, you’ve signed your death warrant! 

Stumbling to the closet, she pulled shirts and linens blindly, falling back to the ground she attempted to soak the blood, already staining Manheim's cellar floor. She scrubbed harder and harder in vain, only spreading the red.

Her breath started to rise, anxiety brewing in her stomach. If she should faint...by the Nine, please do not let that happen. If she fainted now, it was all over. She might as well have taken her own life. Whatever you do, remain conscious. A killer didn’t have a single friend in the world, if anyone saw her- 

The door opened.

She spun around, certain her life was over.

“By the Nine!” Kina choked. “I thought… you… I mean, I thought…”

“Shh,” the tall man said, putting a finger to his lips. He walked over to her carefully, picking past the body, careful not to step in the blood. He smiled at her, an eerie sight.

And there she was, sitting in a pool of blood with wet curls, newborn infant killer. She looked up at him, wide eyed and lost. 

The assassin reached down and took her shaking hands in black leather gloves, bringing her up to her feet. “Well done,” he whispered. “Welcome to the family, Child of Sithis.”

“Hm,” the assassin said thoughtfully, a hand on his chin as he circled around the corpse, inspecting it. Torn up flesh, stab wounds all over his face, neck, chest, stomach, arms. Rufio was near unrecognizable. “Fear,” he proclaimed. “Rage. Manic, crazed, passionate. Amateur, but you’ll learn. Behold,” he said, casting an arm out to Rufio. “Your signature, young assassin. Your soul. Your art.”

“You…you do readings off blood? Like a seer off tea leaves?”

Lucien chuckled quite genuinely at that. “Alas, no. I leave the readings, crystal-gazing, and fortunes to the swindlers and scammers.” 

He cast a careless, disdainful glance to the dead man. “I’m surprised you didn’t just suffocate him. Old man like him, everyone would assume he died in his sleep.”

“Oh…” Kina looked down at her blood stained hands. Oh. “Of course, why didn't I think of that? Stupid.”

“Ah, but what’s the fun in that anyways, hm?”

Kina was not enjoying herself as much as the assassin was, a wave of nausea hitting her, she groaned, doubling over to place her hands on her knees.

“Breathe through your mouth. There you go. Don’t vomit, it's a waste of good food,” he smirked. “Have no shame, the first time of anything is always the most unwieldy, is it not?” 

She supposed that was the assassin’s idea of comforting. 

"What do I do now? With him, all this?" Kina gestured around the room, to Rufio, to the blood on the walls, herself.

"Nothing," Lucien said promptly. "Leave the body. Let the Guard find him. The Black Horse Courier will have material to print for days. Rumors will spread, and the people will know the Dark Brotherhood kept its word once again. That we succeeded where the Imperial Guard had failed them." A proud, arrogant smirk.

"We should leave then," she muttered. She tried to brush blood caked hands on her shirt, only to re-stain them. "I need to change." She moved towards the door.

“Stop. Aren't you forgetting something?”

She stared at the assassin blankly.

“The innkeep.”

Kina’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. No… Again? He wanted her to kill again, already? 

“He saw you.”

“Barely,” she lied, shifting uncomfortably. “And he said Rufio hardly ever comes up. By the time the innkeep finds him, I doubt he’ll even remember me.”

The assassin raised an eyebrow at her poor judgment. “This place doesn't see many guests. Let alone a young woman, traveling solo. He’ll remember you when the Guard comes knocking. Whether it's for Rufio, or for the runaway pit dog. Did you write your name in the ledger?”

She shook her head. “No, no of course not, I’m not stupid. I wrote a fake.”

"Hm. Even so, I would advise that you tear it out. Or else burn it. There are mages who can do magic with writing, you know. Change it, copy it. Perhaps even know who wrote it."

(Lucien kills Manheim, asks Kina if anyone else saw her here. She lies, sparing Minerva, at great risk to herself.) 

—---------------

(Kina tries to backtrack, is panicking, tries to convince Lucien she isnt cut out to be an assassin-)

“I saw your face,” Lucien said slyly. “When you killed Rufio. You were smiling. You loved it, the rush, the power, the complete and utter control. And you don't feel guilty,” he sneered. You’re afraid that you do. You're afraid of punishment. You think you should. Others want you to, simply because they are afraid of you, because they see it as a sign that you are a potential threat to them. It is a selfish reason. But you don't, because guilt is a tool of social control, its a lie, it doesn't exist! The moment you embrace that you are free. Accept yourself as you are, in whole. Only then will you have the life you long for, be the person you long to be.”

Every word was painfully honest, unspeakable truth, hitting her directly in the heart. Never had she felt so exposed, just as caught in the act now as she'd been when he had opened the door to Rufio's corpse. The assassin looked directly at her then, obsidian irises drinking her in. She almost felt a pull, as if being dragged into a void.

"I see you now, Child."

[nine-blessed-hero]

Yoinking an open tag from @bretongirlwrites

I'm on a little bit of a K'Rin kick, so I'll do this for her. (I know this is supposed to be a Skyrim thing, but IMO most of the questions are generic enough I can make it about Oblivion)

Favourite tavern

Rin doesn't drink (ignoring that one time in Aleswell), and with a Guild chapter in each town she rarely needs to use an inn's bed.

But at a push, she'd say the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn. It's cosy, clean, and Mariana Ancharia runs a respectable business.

Favourite drink

Some kind of fruit juice (apple, blackberry, tomato) or small beer (a la what IRL medieval peasants would have drunk).

Travelling companion

None. After the events during the Knights of the Nine, Rin cannot stand the idea of losing anyone else like that.

When Raminus mentions it might be beneficial for the apprentice wizards to accompany her, she baulks at the idea of dragging one into danger - if Geimund, a trained warrior, didn't survive, then what hope for an untrained welp?

This also hits home when she meets the Adoring Fan. She's unnecessarily rude to him in an attempt to dissuade him from following her.

Wealthy or not

As a skilled alchemist, Rin has a healthy income (when time allows), however most of her income goes to keeping her enchanted items charged or feeding the poor. I'd put her on the lower end of comfortable.

Worships the aedra or the daedra

Aedra, with a primary focus on Mara, and secondary focuses on Zenithar and Stendarr. Part of this is how she was raised, but part of this is after a lot of self-reflection during the Knights of the Nine pilgrimages she performs.

Biggest fear

That she's met her biological parents... and killed one or both in self-defence. There is nothing to indicate who they were, she might even only be half-redguard. Rin has no idea. The first time she was attacked at a camp by a redguard woman, Rin had nightmares about it for ages, the "what if" sending her into a nosedive.

Pet peeves

When people are unduly rude to beggars. In her early days, she was too timid to do anything about them but made up for other people's rudeness by pressing food, medicines and money into the beggar's hands. As she gained fame, Rin became bolder about confronting these types of people.

Do they like being Hero of Kvatch/ Champion of Cyrodiil?

She is ambivalent about both titles.

Jauffre asked her to do a task; that task entailed closing an Oblivion Gate, so she did so. It's nothing really to make a fuss about, but people will do so regardless of what she wants, so she may as well be gracious about it.

Similarly, she isn't keen on being Champion, but she understands duty; and her duty is to support Ocato and the Elder Council in their efforts to rebuild Cyrodiil. Her thoughts are always with the common folk, keeping peace and remaining compassionate to their issues; literally being their champion. She thinks that's what Martin would have wanted.

Favourite faction

Perhaps surprisingly, it's the Thieves Guild. She strongly admires the Grey Fox's commitment to protecting the poor of each city and his "robin hood" approach to thievery.

An object of sentimental value

I've struggled with this question a lot. I've kept plenty of knickknacks from my playthrough, but none of what I've kept has seemed like something Rin would keep. And she has nothing to tie her to her old life either, except the house in Bravil.

I may come up with something later, but for now, I'll say she's too practical, and not sentimental enough to keep a specific item.

Hobbies

"Hob-bee? Hobb- No. Nope, sorry. Is that Ayleidoon?" Rin is too serious for her own good. Her "hobbies" include doing alchemy, running through her martial practice, and chatting with her fellow Blades.

Favourite city

She still retains a lot of love for her home of Bravil, but it's Anvil that has her heart. It's warm, the scenery (when she takes time to explore it properly) is beautiful, the food outstanding, and the people friendly. It's restive and tranquil; an easy place to love.

(But between you, me, and the walls, her favourite place in Cyrodiil is the West Weald)

Tagging: I don't know anyone who hasn't done this yet, so if anyone fancies it - you're tagged.

[sylvienerevarine]

Tell me some facts about your TES oc blorbos, I’m interested to know about them :D

thank you for this ask and I sincerely hope you won't regret it! Here is some interesting info about each of the girls.

Sylvie, the Nerevarine

Immediately after the events of Morrowind, Sylvie was pretty much one of the most powerful people in the province. She ran the Mages' Guild, House Telvanni, the Thieves' Guild, and the Thirsk Mead Hall, and figured she was well placed to solve all of Morrowind's problems. Unfortunately, this didn't exactly pan out as hoped, because Morrowind is full of stick-in-the-mud weirdos. After a couple of years, and especially after she got married and had her daughter Falura, Sylvie became more reclusive and retired from a lot of her official responsibilities. She wound up spending her days either hiding out on Solstheim with the family or going on expeditions, which accounts for everyone during the Oblivion Crisis going "has anyone seen the Nerevarine lately? Is she in Akavir? What's her deal these days?"

Sacha Llervu, the Hero of Kvatch

Like her sister Falura, Sacha was kidnapped by bandits and sold into slavery as a child. She wound up as a farm worker on the mainland side of Morrowind before escaping as a teenager. Her goal was always to track down her sister and buy her freedom, but before that could happen, she got caught running a gambling scam on the border with Cyrodiil and got tossed in prison. We all know what happened next!

Sacha is definitely the least "good" of my heroines. Sylvie's kind of a trashy party girl, but she's also a bit of a Robin Hood type and has a good heart. Sophrine's known far and wide as the Nicest Woman in Skyrim. Meanwhile, Sacha's perfectly capable of being nice and helpful, but her way of coping with her best friend turning into a dragon statue was Joining the Damn Assassin Mob. Oh, and becoming the Goddess of Madness. But that's actually a good move on her part.

Sophrine Aulette, the Last Dragonborn

Pretty much no one, upon first meeting Sophrine, actually believes she's a Dragonborn, because she's 5'3" and dresses like a medieval kindergarten teacher. She can't really blame them for this. I have a LOT of feelings about how discovering she's part dragon and a prophesied warrior really messes with everything Sophrine ever thought she knew about herself, but I'll save that for the story I'm writing about her...

Sophrine's dad's family pretty much runs her hometown, which is how she learned all her useful skills. Her dad taught her to cook and run a business; her uncle who's a blacksmith taught her about making and repairing things; her grandma taught her the basics of magic. She's a talented girl! She's had an existential crisis every single day since entering Skyrim!

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

In a way the whole "Izuku is the Dragonborn" fic would need to leave most of the backstory of Izuku the 4-14 years old dragon slayer on luck or Inko doing all the work while Izuku is, like, put in a position of safety (he still needs to eat dragon souls tho, same for Miraaks... How would that work even?) So I might need to move things around a bit.

Basically here's the backstory on all major shit:

Helgen: Inko and Izuku run away with Hadvar. They are not scheduled for execution because, you know, Hadvar might not go out of his way for a stranger but there is a small kid involved, younger than his cousin dammit, way younger than your usual Stormcloak Child Soldier Conscript from Dawnstar (an actual canon thing believe it or not) so he puts his foot down. In the keep Hadvar does most of the work obviously, even if Inko does, in her desperation, cut down people getting dangerously close to Izuku. She is a better lockpick than she expected, especially with her Quirk, and Izuku in his curiosity ends up pawing off the book and a strange, mysterious ring inside the Mage's cell. They then go to Riverwood with Hadvar, where they are directed to both Farengar and the College for matters regarding magical space travel, so to speak.

Riverwood: However, they are pennyless and alone in a foreign world, so Inko tries first to make money by working at the local lumber mill as she sends a courier to Whiterun for the Dragon Thing. Assume we are playing with my modded version of the game, which means Riverwood is currently the home of one Triss Merigold from the Witcher. She is also spacially displaced as of late, and is searching for Yennefer, Ciri and Geralt, with whom she jumped into this reality before getting lost from them. Dorthe and Frodnar will direct the small Izuku to her, since Dorthe is the one "babysitting" Izuku while his mother works so he's playing with the slightly older kids. Basically, they know she is a mage of some sort since she showed them some sort of light show, and Inko still needs to make money if she wants to leave with the proper equipment so they can't even go to Farengarym yet.

This allows us to 1) Set up the Triss Merigold X Midoriya Inko endgame and NO I AM NOR FUCKING STUTTERING and 2) Give Inko a competent bodyguard of sorts before she actually does get used to the unforgiving land of Skyrim and starts giving people heart attacks with her Quirk.

Of the Major Guilds:

Companions: Inko Joins as a way to make money for Izuku. With the mercenary work she manages to buy the house in Whiterun, so now Izuku can be left in a safe location, with "Aunt" Lydia as his babysitter. Whiterun Shenanigans ensue with Izuku befriending Lucia and Lars. Also Braith but, like, after lots of character development. Lucia is obviously the first to be adopted.

Inko is the one who becomes a werewolf and the Harbinger in the end, Izuku is not involved in this Storyline outside of some encounters with "Aunt" Aela and "Uncles" Vilkas and Farkas. Inko renounces her condition in the end.

College of Winterhold: They move to winterhold together since Farengar can't help them. Izuku is actually a quick study, as exemplified to that one spell book he found in helgen that thought him within seconds how to shoot lightning from his hands, much to his mother's worry. He ends up killing a bandit in self defense that way when he's barely 5. It was either do that or let them get to his mom.

Anyway, Inko is enrolled, but so is Izuku, the two now living on College Grounds. Triss is also there as an honorary lecturer. Anyway, Whe most of the adventuring is still done by Inko, is Izuku who receives the visit of the Psijic Order and, ultimately, he is the one to kill Ancano and close the eye of Magnus. Inko becomes Archmage still, even if she tries her hardest to have Toldfir step up instead.

The way Izuku kills Ancano is actually more based on guile than actual magical prowess. He is the only one not paralyzed in the boss fight, so what he does, is grab one of J'Zargo experimental Scrolls, summon a Skeleton Minion (Oblivion spell he was recently taught so to have someone protecting him in times of crisis), and then run with it against Ancano, too busy as he is being a megalomaniac, suicide bombing himself. He survives, but only thanks to the Restoration Professor quick intervention as Ancano dies and the paralysis falters.

Restoration magic did save the day in the end.

J'Zargo, who is usually aloof and snarky over his experiments, is actually horrified his rival's son almost got killed because of him, so he pledges he will do everything in his power to find a way to help them with their issue. He is a great magician after all, and his class is one of the brightest to date, they can find a way out for them.

Dragon War: Since all they can do now is wait for the College, Inko returns to Whiterun with Izuku and Triss, but on the way the watchtower is attacked, Mirmulmir is slain, and Izuku absorbs his dragon soul. This jumpstarts the events of Skyrim, with Izuku and Inko having to go on a pilgrimage to High Hrothgar to better understand what is happening to her son, who is now terrified of talking least he blew his mother apart with his voice.

A 5 years old kid makes a poor warrior, so the Greybeard offer to train him for his destiny, but Inko refuses. They don't need her son to kill dragons, just to eat their souls, so what she can do, is do the actual dragon slaying, and then have Izuku eat the souls. This still forces her to bring Izuku on her adventures, which isn't ideal, but only the dragon related ones. Izuku still learns the shouts of unrelenting force and whirlwind sprint as well as Dragonrend, but is Inko the one wielding the blade.

As a side note, Paarthurnax, for once not having to deal with a 4th era Nord, can finally give the unadulterated lore of the order rather than the imperialized, akatosh centric one, which leads Izuku to grow interested in Kyne, Warrior-Widow of Shor, for how much she reminds him of his mom.

Anyway, Inko is the one doing most of the stuff, Paarthurnax isn't killed, and Izuku gets two dragon buddies, one a wise and aging mentor war criminal, the other a brash and snarky red dragon he can call with his voice.

Izuku and Inko go both to Sovengarde. Inko meets back Kodlak, but also Ysgramor, who she now recognizes as a war criminal bastard, and she is the one dealing the killing blow on Alduin. Inko, Breath of Kyne, is the one sand in the songs now, the mother of the dragonborn who delivered them from evil.

Thieves Guild: Inko also does it all, but is the start of Izuku's involvement with Daedras. Inko takes the pledge to Nocturnal, so her soul is now bound to her realm, but is her son that catches the Prince's eye. Inko also tries to reform the guild back to its old robin hood ways, with divergent results.

Explorer Guild: This is the Legacy of the Dragonborn Mod. Inko founds the explorers guild and moves to the now bigger home in the Museum in Solitude. Proudspire manor has been bought by Yennefer, now advisor to Queen Elisif, who thanks to her influence has grown more confident. Girlboss helping Girlboss prosper and all that. She lives there with husband and daughter, and there's a reunion with Triss. Usual angst about "is she going to leave me? Are our adventures over?" But Triss stays because she cares about Inko and shit.

Anyway, inko is the one doing most of the stuff here too, but she now has a big enough home to adopt more than just Lucia.

She adopts every orphan, as well as Sissel and Britte in Rorikstead after murdering their abusive father. She then kills Grelod in Riften, so to also be able to adopt the orphans at the orphanage. To do so, she catches the attention of the Dark Brotherhood since she just stolen their contact. She of course adopts Aventus Aretino too.

Dark Brotherhood: All Inko. Unlike thieves guild, Izuku isn't even aware she's doing this, since he's back in Solitude with his new siblings.

Princes:

Izuku does Sheogorath. He's playing in the streets with his siblings and the other Solitude kids, when he finds Sheogorath abandoned follower. So he sneaks in the blue palace, gets to the forbidden wing, and meets Sheogorath, the Hero of Kvatch. Does his quest since it's a pretty easy quest even for a 5 years old kid, and then gets the Wabbajack in exchange.

Inko does Sanguine. The sham marriage is actually to Triss this time, which leads to more angst obviously.

Inko also does Vaermina (destroying the staff), Dagon (Destroying the Razor), Hircine (Gets the Ring), Malacath, Namira (Saves the priest and kills the cannibals), Molag Bal (Just... Never completes his quest and leaves the bastard hanging), Boethia (sacrifices one of the two racist dudes in Windhelm after trucking him into following her), Azura (Uncorrupted Star) and Peryte.

Izuku finds Meridia's Beacon but it's Inko who does the quest.

Izuku is the one meeting Barbas and they have "A boy and his dog" adventures together before he manages to bring him back to Clavicus Vile and convince him to take him back without needing to do his quest. He gets the Mask as a Result, but also a dog in the form of Styx, the spectral wolf, another mod.

Izuku does Mephala, pretty early on too. He befriends Baalgruf's bastard son while still living in Whiterun, who tells him about the whispering door, and after a couple of deceptions he gets the blade. He never charges it tho.

While is Inko the one getting the Ogma Infinium, she can't open it, and is Izuku the one opening it and gaining the boost in knowledge, as well as becoming Herma Mora champion.

Dawnguard and Dragonborn are also done by Inko, but is Midoriya who is sent to Apocrypha when she opens a black book. There he has a odd "Older Sibling trying to murder Younger Sibling" relationship with Miraak, and is ultimately forced to see him get killed by Herma Mora. Aunt Serana becomes a permanent fixture in the house.

Bard College is done by Inko but Izuku is also part of the college now.

Most quests are done by Inko, but the misc quests that require either speech or guile are done by Izuku, especially if they involve children. This includes stuff like paying for Erik the Slayer armor in Rorikstead, or cheering up that girl in Solitude whose uncle was executed for aiding in regicide.

Speaking of which:

Civil War: Inko does it obviously, and she sides with the empire, because 1) Hadvar, 2) Baalgruf, and 3) Elisif.

And also because she went to Windhelm one time to stop a serial killer and gods she couldn't believe how racist those fuckers were.

Modded followers are obviously Inigo, Lucien and Shirley Curry, to name a few.

Forgotten City is done by Inko, Izuku is not even in the time loop. Project AHO is done by Inko and ends with her freeing the slaves and murdering every single slaver in the settlement. Most modded quest mods are done by her honestly.

Izuku obviously keeps himself up to date with his magical studies, which means around 8-10 years old he moves back to winterhold, still waiting for a way home, so J'Zargo can study him to reverse engineer his quirk, and he can learn more spells. Most of his siblings are almost of age by now too, and his mother has started calming down in her worry, since she trusts her old coursemates and teacher to keek Izuku safe...

Ok, no, she trusts Onmund and Toldfir to keep Izuku safe, in this order, but it's still more people she would trust if he started living with any of her other guilds.

Anyway, can't think of much else.

[spell-bloom]

brooo that dunmer on sims 2 is so fricking GOOOOD!!!!! What skin and eyes did you use for them?????

Thank you !! Skin is from this set (Moon & Star by LavenderLight), and eyes are here (Sk-eye-rim eyes by tulipfera) :]

[hannah-heartstrings]

16 for the writing asks

16. Who was your favorite character to write?

Lecrinn! I have loved writing my Robin Hood Hero of Kvatch so much. 'Cause she's funny and chaotic, but she also has a lot of fears and self doubts which leaves a lot of room for angst and hurt/comfort; and being an outcast to society who shares my worldviews leaves a lot of room for me to throw political shade.

Plus she's part of a found family and is a mutually pining idiot, two of my favorite tropes. I hadn't put this together until this ask but she's a combination of all my favorite things to write. I guess it's no wonder that every time the Oblivion hyperfixation faded I ended up right back because I missed her.

Art by @arimabari

[robotslenderman]

Dark Brotherhood Notes: Elam Drals

Master post

Has been at the Gold Coast Sanctuary since it was established, “more years than I care to remember.” It’s possible he might have been at the Kvatch Sanctuary when it collapsed. He may have watched Astara grow up.

Patronising, facetious and droll. Enjoys making fun of others. “Are you sure Astara told you to talk to me? Wouldn’t want you get in trouble on your first day in the Sanctuary.”

He does not make fun of others behind their backs. Not once does he make any of his jokes at someone else’s expense — only yours, and from what we can see, only to your face.

Hates it when people repeat what he says, he finds it irritating.

Passive-aggressive. When you ask Elam about himself, he says, “I’m flattered. No, no, that’s not the right word… uncomfortable? Yes, that’s it.”

He finds “the brooding type” a “bore.”

Like Tanek, Elam doesn’t expect the Vestige to last a week.

Elam jokes about how he’s “not much to look at” and to “get used to this face, because you’ll see a lot of it.” He wears a mask that hides most of his features and a hood even indoors. Is it possible he has scarring he doesn’t like to show? Does he have anxiety issues that wearing a mask makes him feel more at ease about? Does he get cold that he likes his head to be covered? WHO KNOWS

Elam once killed someone for a jester in Stormhaven that “couldn’t take a joke.”

Elam hints that he’s watched his fair share of initiates cark it. “Some recruits believe joining the Dark Brotherhood imbues them with an otherworldly protection. The smarter ones remember we’re all still flesh and blood. Be the latter, Initiate.”

Elam indicates that there might be a lot more members of the Dark Brotherhood at the Gold Coast Sanctuary than we actually see — at one point he says “our new recruits seem obsessed with the notion that the Black Dragon is one of us.” … What new recruits, exactly? Only possible answer to that is they’re all off-screen, but no other DB NPC gives any indication of this being a thing.

Unlike Venom, Elam believes in the Wrath of Sithis.

Elam notes that anyone who leaves the Dark Brotherhood is murdered for it.

Loves to reminesce about his previous contracts, and talk about food. Like, 50% of the things he talks about is food and the other 50% are his old contracts. Has Old Man energy.

[corduroy-creates]

Hey, look! A more detailed version of last week's drawing!

So yeah, after recreating Arielle and Erem like, three times now, I think I've finally reached a design I'm happy with. Some aspects of it may change in the future (like the staff maybe) but I think I'll stick with this Erem will be posted next week!

Okay, Very Long Detailed Description Time:

Arielle is wearing sections of the Dragon Bone armor - the gorget, pauldrons, rerebrace, and gauntlets (shoulder and arm area), the faulds (hips), and the poleyns, greaves, and sabatons (Legs and Feet (yes, I did have to look all those up)). She's wearing a cotton tunic (what the hood is connected to, like a medieval hoodie!), gambeson, a chainmail shirt (Mithril, gifted to her by Scath. It was his when he was the Hero of Kvatch), and Mages Robes cut down to a better length for an adventurer (Probably containing an enchantment that boosts her magic, haven't decided on what yet).

She also has a staff of Chain Lightning and a sheath for it (the belt across her chest. This is also why her staff may change, probably to the dragon-shaped one that it's supposed to be in-game, then it can also be a whack-em-stick if her magic runs out).

Arielle is also proficient in Conjuration and uses a Conjured Sword, along with two companions, a Flame Atronach and a Deadra.

[wispstalk]

"Oh!" Coradri leans at a perilous angle to point out the watchtower window. "There's his magelight. What are we wagering?"

"The Ruby Throne."

"Nah, you lost that on Sundas when we played bar luvahr, remember?"

"Ah, so I did. It's changed hands so many times I've lost track." Martin rubs at his jaw, thinking. He hasn't a halfpenny to his name – hasn't since Kvatch, in fact – so parceling out the White-Gold Tower has become their habit. "Council seat?"

"Ooh, Councillor Coradri has a nice ring to it. Deal. And if you win, I'll give up the palace gardens." 

When the gears of the heavy wooden gate groan to life, Coradri flails out an arm and shouts to Arcturus, "No! Not yet!"

In the yellow candlelight from the western tower, Martin can just make out the Blade's wave of acknowledgement. 

The commotion halts. Soon comes the soft crush of footsteps in the fresh wild snow, the red glow of Tanis's magelight spilling on the drifts, and the man himself trundles up on his snowshoes, returned from his week at the Arcane University. 

"What gives?" calls the Hero of Kvatch. "S'just me. Let me in."

"What's the password?" Coradri shouts down.

"Oh, it's uh...." He snaps his fingers as if to spark up his recall. "Piss off, I think."

Beside him, Coradri lets out a sharp short laugh, a victory crow. Martin groans; he'd been certain the man would reply with some obscure insult in a foreign tongue. 

"Damn you, Tan, you can stay down there and freeze. You've just cost me the gardens," he calls down.

"What?" The man below them shakes his head and leans on his hiking staff. "You two scuttleheads ought to be looking behind you instead of toying with me."

Martin smiles. "Why, so some ruffian can sneak through to the safety of our fortress?"

In the faint light, Martin can just see the lopsided grin, the careless shrug of his shoulders. "Fine. Your loss."

He glances over his shoulder. Nothing but the quiet sleeping temple, braziers illuminating the courtyard in pockets of subdued glow. Secunda coyly slipping from behind a veil of clouds, the silent still arms of the mountains and the black sky beyond–

And ribbons of ghostly green light, twisting across the heavens like eels.

"Woah," Coradri whispers beside him, then shouts over to Arcturus: "All right, you can let him in now!"

The gates creak open, heavy boots echo off the stone steps. Tanis drops his gear with a heavy thud at the threshold of the watchtower room.

A broad grin and cold-flushed cheeks greet them as he lowers the wolf-trimmed hood of his cloak. He sweeps Coradri into a bear hug, lifting her from the floor, then folds Martin against his chest and cards his fingers through Martin's hair.

Time later to hear of dangers on the roads, Oblivion gates sighted and closed, gossip from the city, the spellcraft he learned, the oddities he found to haul back. For now Tanis slings an arm over their shoulders, bundling them together against the bitter chill, and they crane their necks up to see the North's grand display.

"I didn't know you could see the aurora this far south," Martin comments.

"Me neither," Tanis replies.

"They're so pretty. Imagine the show they must be getting up in Skyrim," Coradri says.

They all speak softly, awestruck, so as not to detract from the sky's stately performance.

"I saw them out on the Sea of Ghosts once," Tanis says. "Running poppy-tar and skooma from Dawnstar to Jehanna. Hard seas out there, where the ice sheets are, but that night the water was smooth as a looking glass. It was like..."

He trails off, circling a hand through the air as if beckoning the right words. Above them, the sinuous lights, dancing through the star-sprent sky to a cosmic song not meant for mortal ears, defying his attempt to pin them down. 

"Well, you see them," he finally concludes with a laugh. "They're not really like anything else in the world, are they?" 

[padomaicocean]

Coldharbour Bound - One

Life in the Dark Brotherhood was fine, the jobs were good and Tiny-One had her family. A new job sends Tiny-One somewhere she never thought she would go, and would be the beginning to something bigger.

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A Nord stands alone in his home, while outside a blizzard rages on. His head is reeling after finding his wife lying prone on a blood covered floor in front of their fireplace. He shuts his eyes tightly as he hears a very deliberate crash behind him. He doesn't address the new body in the room, refusing to face his would-be killer.

"Not going to beg for your life?"

He shuts his eyes, straightening up and turning his head. "Why should I have any words for the likes of you?"

The intruder is covered in dark scales, a hood pulled over her head. She flips a knife in her clawed hand and inspects the blade. "Well that's fine. I don't care either way." She rises to her feet, sheathing her blade. She begins soundlessly stepping forward.

The Nord turns fully and draws a sword, making an attempt to attack the assassin; but he quickly freezes in place, eyes wide with surprise.

The Argonian lowers her hand, the frosty hue disappearing slowly. The Nord crashes to the ground, a spike of ice protruding out of his stomach. He gasps, eyes pointed up and searching. Bright yellow eyes gaze back down at him, watching as his breath quickly slows and the life fades away.

She turns back towards the window, where the storm rages on. She easily pries it open and leaps out into the cold night.

She lands in the snow soundlessly, standing up straight. She can hear voices from out in the dark storm and she stands still, waiting.

"Oi! Tiny-One!"

"Be quiet," she snaps at the approaching Nord. He gives her a goofy grin in response, and the Argonian rolls her eyes as she trudges forward.

"Did he give you trouble? The woman screamed like a pig." The Nord began to chat animatedly about the elimination of their target.

The targets had been some Nord nobles from Western Skyrim. They owned an estate a fair distance from Solitude; fairly standard target for the Dark Brotherhood, and a rather simple one. The two assassins were able to get in and out without any issue. Surprisingly, they had little in the way of guards, and the Argonian had been able to take those out simply and out of sight with a quick spell.

"No trouble," she answers. "Ugh, it's so fucking cold. How in Oblivion do you Nords live like this?"

The long haired Nord gives a booming laugh and slaps the small Argonian on the back. She wasn't expecting it, as she jerks forward and falls into the snow.

"Oops!"

"Kor!" She sits up right away, scowling at him and shivering. He offers his hand and she begrudgingly takes it, grumbling whilst getting to her feet. She brushes off the snow, shooting him a scathing glare as she stomps forward. "Let's hurry up! I wanna get back to the inn sooner rather than later."

"And Kor thought he was impatient!" he taunts her. The Argonian leaps forward to yank on his long tresses but he manages to get out of the way.

"I'm not impatient! I just don't want to freeze to death, unlike you bloody Nords!" She chose to ignore his laughs continuing forward. "And be quiet! In case you've forgotten, we're supposed to be stealthy."

Kor shakes his head, laughing and fading into a soft chuckle. "There is no one around. We will be fine. The storm is keeping everyone away."

"Maybe we should take a hint. I wanna get back to Solitude before this shit gets any worse." Tiny-One grumbles, continuing to trudge forward through the snow, with Kor following on her heels.

----

Tiny-One and Kor slip into the city of Solitude unnoticed. The thick snow obscuring them from sight as they make their way through the city to reach the shady inn they were staying at.

Kor pushes open the creaky door and Tiny-One slips in ahead of him, leading him up the stairs and into the room they were staying in for the evening. The Argonian pulled off her hood and gave a shiver, quickly flicking a flame at the small fireplace in the room.

"Let's rest and head out in the morning," she began. "We've been fairly busy with contracts recently, so hopefully there’s something new by the time we’re back.”

The Nord snorts. "Kor thinks we deserve a break. Haven't had any time to settle "

Tiny-One scowls at her companion "Well-"

There was a tapping on the glass window of their room. Kor's hand quickly moved to the dagger at his hip and sparks began to come off Tiny-One's fingertips. There was a tapping again and a soft caw. Slowly, the two assassins began to relax. Tiny-One began walking over to the window, prying it open. A raven hops closer, before flying into the room and landing on the table. It began to peck at the table, keeping the two assassins attention on it..

Kor approached the raven while Tiny-One pulled the window closed. He removed a letter strapped to the bird's leg.

Tiny-One walked over, watching Kor's face as he scowled, thrusting the letter out at her. She let out a snort at his pout, taking the letter with one clawed hand. She scanned through the contents and let out a hum.

"Well. A new job already, and I don't have to put up with your racket this time." Tiny-One rolled the letter back up. The raven let out a caw and she reached a hand out to scratch the bird’s head. "Flying all the way here through this storm." She smiled softly.

Kor heaved a sigh. "Kor will get the next one." He reached into his bag to pull out some seeds for the needy raven. "When will you leave?"

Tiny-One took a seat in the chair. "The morning. The Matron wants me to finish this job as soon as possible. It sounds like things are getting messy in Kvatch..."

Kor nodded. "The Akatosh priests. Sounds like they are stirring up trouble. Have no worries, Kor can hold down the fort while you enjoy your contract."

Tiny-One rolled her eyes. "It's work, not a vacation, Kor. It sounds like you'll be getting plenty of fun at home dealing with that religion."

Kor snorted. "Unless they make us hide. Kor thinks we should meet them head on but the Matron might demand differently."

"Better cautious than dead," Tiny-One pointed out. She held out her hand and the raven hopped to her wrist. Standing up she returns to the window, pulling it open again. The raven hops off with a caw, flying off into the blizzard.

Kor leaned back into the chair. "Take the bed, Little Sister. Kor will keep watch for you."

Tiny-One narrowed her eyes. "You also have a big day, you know."

Kor waved her off. "Kor can take a day to relax before heading home. Kor needs to grab some gifts for Hildegard before heading home anyways."

"The Matron will not take kindly to that," Tiny-One pointed out, heading over to the bed. She sat down gently. "I do appreciate the thought though." She moved, laying curled on her side. As exhaustion slowly seeped into her bones, she closed her eyes, drifting off at last.

---

The storm had blown over by morning, the gentle light of the sunrise filtering through the window. Tiny-One sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her boots onto her feet. She stood up, grabbing a robe and pulling it over her shoulders, obscuring her face with the hood.

Across the room Kor stretched in the chair, crossing his arms. "Have a safe journey, little sister."

Tiny-One looked over at him. "Have a safe trip home, Brother." She dipped her head, opening the door and slipping out.

She exited the inn, stepping out into the sunlight; the city of Solitude was slowly coming to life. Shops began to set up, with some already dealing with business. Tiny-One remained in the shadows, slowly approaching the main gate and slipping out. She approached the stable, a tired stablehand cleaning out the manure and dirty hay before business truly began.

"Excuse me," Tiny-One began, startling the stablehand as he dropped the shovel, hastily grabbing it before spinning to look at her. She smiled at him. "I am here to pick up my mount. I left him here yesterday."

The stablehand nodded. "Uh yea, the, uh, big bay that was boarded yesterday?" He waved her in to follow him.

"That's the one." She nodded, following him. They came deeper into the stables, stopping in front of a stall. A large bay horse snorted, the horse approaching the stall door, snuffling against Tiny-One’s shoulder.

Tiny-One snorted, reaching into her satchel to pull out gold. She placed it in the stablehand's hand. "Thank you."

He nodded, slowly wandering off while Tiny-One began to tack the horse up. She guided the large gelding out of the stable and, once secured outside, she mounted the horse, and guided him out into Skyrim's wilderness. The sun continued its climb into the sky, and Tiny-One urged the horse into a steady gallop, heading further East in hope to reach Davon's Watch as quickly as possible.