#the imperial city dreams of thieves

[ctrl-lupin]

Character designer 1: This is ridiculous! How do they expect us to make Fujiko even hotter?!

Character designer 2: Hold my beer.

[morporkian-cryptid]

I have just rewatched "The Imperial City Dreams Of Thieves" (yes it's the fourth time. yes I'm aware that I may have a problem.) and it still cracks me up that, not only did Goemon immediately attempt to throw hands when he saw a guy who may or may not be Lupin - dude saw the slightest opportunity to try to skewer his boyfriend without consequences and he very literally JUMPED on it - not only that, but he CONTINUED to try to turn Lupin into human sashimi EVEN AFTER KNOWING THAT LUPIN WAS THE ONLY REAL ONE THERE. Lupin had already mentioned Goemon's missing Zantetsuken and thus proven that he couldn't be part of the computer simulation, and STILL Goemon tried to stab him with a broken sword. He didn't even have any particular beef with Lupin at the moment, Hell! for all we know they were on a romantic robbing-a-secret-lab date when they got yeeted into the simulation. No, he just decided to cut his boyfriend to bits for funsies. This man is completely unhinged, I stan him so hard.

Babygirl there is something deeply wrong with you 💕

[mamadovie]

May I request a Miraak and female reader where Miraak became obsessed with reader when he was still an apprentice dragon priest and she’s the daughter of a jarl or some noble?

Thank you!

𐙚 . . . MIRAAK.

A N: I love this idea, ngl. Also. The term 'obsessed' can be phrased in different ways. The literal term, or a watered down and romanticised version... So I hope I wrote this in the way you meant it to be.

A B O U T: Miraak just can't keep his eyes off you!

W A R N I N G S: None. Minor obsessive behaviour, but nothing crazy.

It all derived from an innocent crush, you must believe him. An infatuation, if you will, but yet innocent still.

He hadn't met someone like you before; he was always so preoccupied, too busy to look beyond the lense of knowledge. Until he made eyes on you, that it.

A simple morning, Skyrim's frosty air lingered like a papercut. His hands shivered under the worn gloves he had been gifted many years ago — he couldn't remember by who exactly. But he treasured them, nevertheless. His back stung with weariness from travel and his backpack.

It wasn't his first time in Windhelm, but it was his first time actually taking in the scenery. Bleak, as famously known. But still held an essence of wonder — cold and brilliant with so much history between its walls.

But who am I kidding? He wasn't looking at the walls or its history.

He was looking at you.

A noble; adorned in red silks, from Cyrodiil he wondered for a brief moment. Your hair: neat and styled professionally. Neck decorated with jewels, expensive jewels. You weren't just a simple noble, you were important. But that didn't matter. Not when your eyes met. By the Gods, how his heart rattled against his ribcage.

From that day forward, he found out as much as he could about you. You were a nobleperson from Cyrodiil, with an Imperial father and unknown mother. You were raised in wealth and love. Owning vineyards in the beautiful rural lands beside Skingrad, manors in the coastal city of Anvil. Travelling across the world, expanding business and hopefully meeting the one.

You didn't want an arranged marriage, he knew that. He read it in your diary. You left it on a bench in Riften, you really should be wary! Those pesky thieves could have snatched it... its a good job Miraak was there, watching, to help you... any weirdo could have read it!

He didn't pass it by hand, no way. He slid it under your door. He didn't want to he found.

For you to realise his face wasn't just a reoccurring dream, he was in fact a reality.

He never showed face, never said hello. He just watched and followed. But, he did make a deal with himself: once powerful, he will make you his. He knew your father wouldn't allow it.

Until then, he'll linger in the shadows, wanting.

[theblackbookofarkera]

Shan Ki’hi

Like a dream carved in jade and shadow, Shan Ki'hi sprawls across the heartland of the Tauxien Empire, a metropolis of such scale and grandeur that it defies mortal comprehension. Millions of souls dwell within its titanic walls, their lives played out beneath towers that pierce the clouds and above secrets that slumber in lightless depths. Here, in this vast monument to human ambition, the destiny of an empire is shaped daily by merchants and mystics, bureaucrats and assassins, priests and thieves.

The city's legendary walls rise like mountain ranges from the earth, their surfaces flecked with jade that catches sunlight and moonlight alike, creating an ethereal barrier between the mundane world and the realm of imperial power within. These ancient fortifications house secrets of their own – whispered tales speak of hidden chambers where jade soldiers stand in eternal formation, waiting for the empire's darkest hour to stir to life. Whether these stories are mere fantasy or prophecy, I cannot say, though I have seen things in the depths of night that give me pause.

At the city's heart stands the Palace of Spring & Autumn, perhaps the largest structure in all of Arkera. This sprawling complex of pavilions, courtyards, and gardens serves as both the seat of imperial power and a testament to human artifice. The palatial grounds stretch farther than the eye can see, each garden and building carefully positioned according to ancient geomantic principles. Within these walls, emperors have ruled, dynasties have fallen, and the fate of millions has been decided with the mere wave of a jade-ringed hand.

The Imperial Vaults, guarded by elite units of the million-strong Grand Army of Shan Ki'hi, house relics of such power and significance that merely speaking their names is forbidden. The army itself never ventures beyond the city walls, its sole purpose the protection of these treasures and the imperial seat – though some whisper this immense force serves another, darker purpose.

The Grand Tauxien Opera House rises like a gilded dream, its stages having witnessed performances that have driven audiences to ecstasy and madness in equal measure. Nearby stands the Imperial Tauxien Library, where forbidden knowledge is sealed away in rooms that haven't seen light in centuries, and the Central Imperial Bank, whose vaults are said to contain enough wealth to purchase kingdoms.

Below the city's magnificent surface lies another Shan Ki'hi – one of twisting tunnels and forgotten chambers. Beneath even the sewers, a network of pre-human passages winds through the earth, their walls carved with symbols that no living scholar can decipher. These ghoul-haunted depths harbor secrets from ages when humanity was young, and other, stranger beings ruled the earth. Few who venture into these lightless realms return, and those who do often bear signs of experiences that have stripped them of reason.

Despite its ancient mysteries and imperial grandeur, Shan Ki'hi thrives as a living city. Its ports bustle with commerce from across Arkera, while its markets overflow with goods from lands both near and impossibly distant. The city's population spans all strata of society, from nobles whose lineages stretch back to the Quicksilver King, to beggars who make their homes in the shadows of palatial mansions.

"In Shan Ki'hi, every stone has a story, every shadow holds a secret, and every dream might be a memory of things yet to come." - Anonymous Imperial Scribe

The city houses countless institutions crucial to imperial governance: the Hall of Perfect Harmony where the imperial bureaucracy toils endlessly, the Temple of the Thirteen Emperors where Yazai priests perform rituals as old as the empire itself, and the Crimson Pavilion where the empire's spymasters weave webs of intrigue that stretch to the world's edges.

Notes from my wanderings:

I have observed that Shan Ki'hi seems to exist in multiple realms simultaneously – the mundane world of commerce and governance, the spiritual realm of imperial power and divine mandate, and something older and darker that pulses beneath the streets. In my countless years, I have visited this city many times, and each visit reveals new layers of mystery. The jade soldiers in their hidden chambers, the pre-human ruins in the depths, the whispered prophecies in the Opera House's highest galleries – all speak to powers and purposes beyond mortal understanding.

The Grand Army's million soldiers stand ready, yet I cannot help but wonder if their true purpose is not to keep threats out, but to keep something in. In the deepest watches of night, when the jade walls gleam with moonlight, one might hear sounds rising from those ancient tunnels – sounds that have no place in the world of men.

1

[elfgirl931]

Here's Talith Alvassun, sharp tongued bard extraordinaire!

Dramatic infodump below the cut:

- her surname comes from her father's clan (he was a Seldarine drow) and it means "moon" or "silvery light"

- Her father Alaun grew up on the surface and had never been to the Underdark. He was a traveling merchant but had a really great singing voice and would often get extra coin in taverns on his travels by playing his lute and singing.

- He was murdered by thieves in a Baldur's Gate alleyway when Talith was seven years old. She found his body when he didn't come home on time. She grew up on her own from there (her mother had died the previous year). Urchin background! (I apparently can't make an OC without parental trauma)

- Talith spent years homeless, scraping by and stealing what she could until she was picked up by a band of traveling minstrels/con artists. They came upon her fighting a couple of older kids over breaking her father's lute and she blasted them backwards with magic by accident. They were kind enough to her but made it clear that Talith would be of use to them or they'd turn her out. She got the best musical training from them as well as some less savory training

• Talith's mother Zebyre was a weaker drow, 3rd or 4th daughter and was constantly beaten down for acts of mercy towards animals. She was just as cold as other Lolth sworn drow but if she'd grown up in a better place she would have been a softer person. Secretly wanted to worship Eilistraee and longed to be free of her House.

- Zebyre's whole family was murdered in a coup from another House and she managed to escape although horribly injured. She crawled through the Underdark for days until a cave-in revealed a tiny sliver of light leading to the surface. She clawed her way out and nearly died from being exposed to the sun.

- Alaun found her by the side of the road on his travels. When he tried to help Zebyre, she tried to kill him (had no chance because she was ridiculously weakened) and then imperiously order him around in short order. He laughed at her and then tended her wounds, took her home, and over a very long time they fell in love and she left the ways of Lolth behind.

• Zebyre was kind of cold because of how she was raised but she did her best. She was always weak from the sun after spending her whole life in the underdark and got sick often. She never fully recovered from her injuries sustained in her escape and died when Talith was six.

- Her last delirious words to Talith were "You've got a silver tongue, my little moon. You sing like Eilistraee herself." (Talith's Dream Guardian is going to be her mom because I'm diabolical)

• Talith loves candlelit taverns at night. Her favorites are actually the seedy ones down by the docks because she loves sea shanties but they usually relegate her to playing the fiddle, lute, or hand drum. She'll take a fancy tavern in the upper city because theyre more likely to let her sing although it's not as much fun. It's hard to get work as a Drow sometimes but she's managed to build a small reputation over the years

• Her fighting style is NO U

• She learned early on that she wasn't very strong, pretty quick but others are quicker. So always make sure there's someone else to take the hits and make the strikes, she'll be there to lend magical support but works hard to not let herself be touched.

• This is selfishly why Talith stays with the party at first. She'd never admit it and is full of flattery for the others, but they're her human shields. She has an instinct to protect herself first because she hasn't been around anyone truly kind for a very long time.

[diary-of-a-madgod-in-training]

Strange Door

Three months ago I lost the love of my life. Martin sacrificed himself in order to save the world, and I will still hear people saying that he had no claim to the throne. Ocato was no help or consolation. Every time I spoke to him, he would either fret about the state of the Empire now that there were no Septims, or would talk to me about how brave and special Martin was as if he’d known him longer than I, or as if I wasn’t aware of how amazing he was.

On my last trip to the Imperial City, Ocato had given me the Imperial Dragon armor, which I had been refusing for months, but now wear daily as a tribute to my love’s cause and a reminder of his sacrifice. I hadn’t had a need for armor, especially since I had already done every mission, quest, and favor I had in my journal, but while I was there I had heard rumors of a Strange Door appearing just off the coast of Bravil.

I had made my way there, believing this to be a way to distract me from my grief. When I had arrived, I was mesmerized by the large mushrooms and unknown flora. They looked like nothing I had ever seen before.

The door itself was much more a portal, appearing to be a purple Oblivion Gate, but instead of jagged rocks and sharp stone, it was inside a large mouth that belonged to an enraged face, which was surrounded by two more, each depicting a different emotion.

The man who came out of the portal attacked my, giving my no choice but to kill him. After his head was removed from his shoulders, the portal began speaking. I recognized the voice. It’s the same one I’ve heard every night in my dreams since that little adventure in Border Watch, a week after Martins death.

Sheogorath welcomed me into the Shivering Isles, saying that he required assistance and it was lovely this time of year. I am writing this outside the portal, having decided to wait until morning to enter, despite the guards constant attempts to convince me otherwise.

I see no reason not to, as there is nothing holding me here anymore. The Knights of the Nine no longer need me, as all of the artifacts have been recovered. There are no more Arena battles for me to fight in after I became the Arenas Grand Champion, Dragonheart. The Dark Brotherhood has been wiped from Cyrodiil by my own hand. The Thieves Guild has no more Grey Fox now that the cowl is no longer cursed. The Fighters and Mages Guilds run fine without me. And all of the Counts and Elder Council members treat me either like a glass vase that could break at any moment, or like a stain they can’t remove.

This plane isn’t my home anymore, not without him, so I will go through the portal and see what Sheogorath wishes from me.

- Velentius Cosades

[stargazeraldroth]

Skyrimverse: Character Summaries

It's been a while since I've posted actual content. I don't know if this would qualify as actual content, but it's... something. I'm a big fan of Skyrim and started playing it again recently, and it made me remember that I do have an AU for it. Yippeeeeeee.

The only reason Ink is a woman in this AU is because he needs to be a Daughter of Coldharbour for the plot.

Frisk: A native Nord of Skyrim who was born in the city of Helgen. They are believed to be the Last Dragonborn, destined to slay the fearsome Alduin and put an end to the threat posed by dragons. They are the Thane of Whiterun and a disciple of the Greybeards, and they live in Breezehome within Whiterun's main city.

Blue: A native Nord of Skyrim who was born in Riften. He was one of the soldiers of Whiterun before being assigned as Frisk's housecarl, and follows the Dragonborn everywhere unless otherwise dismissed.

Cross: A Nord who was born and raised in Skyrim. He was enlisted in the Imperial Legion during the Great War, but withdrew from the army following the signing of the White-Gold Concordat due to physical and psychological trauma. After receiving treatment at the Temple of the Divines, he became a traveling mercenary and did odd jobs until he came to Whiterun, which is where he was introduced to the Companions. After rising in their ranks, he became a member of the inner circle and was given lycanthropy, eventually becoming the Harbinger of the Companions as well. He resides in the living quarters of Jorrvaskr with the other Companions.

Nightmare: A powerful Altmer mage who hails from the Summerset Isles. As one of the sons of a powerful and noble family, he has a significant amount of inheritance; the reasons for his presence in Skyrim and his enrollment in the College of Winterhold are unknown to everyone except for those in his family. He became the Arch-Mage of the College following the previous one's demise, has slain the Dragon Priest known as Morokei, and recovered both the Eye of Magnus and the Staff of Magnus. He is known to have connections to both the Dark Brotherhood and the Thieves Guild.

Dream: An Altmer who hails from the Summerset Isles. Following his arrival in Skyrim, he and his twin went their separate ways, and Dream became involved with the Thieves Guild in Riften. Through his connections with the Guild and the Black-Briars, his was able to become a Thane of Riften, and purchased the Honeyside estate for himself. He leads a double-life in Riften, balancing his identity as a nobleman and a Master thief. Following the former leader's betrayal, Dream became the new Guildmaster, and he is also a devoted Nightingale of Nocturnal. He struggles with alcoholism and a Skooma addiction, and he has several encounters with Cross.

Killer: A Dunmer who fled from the mainland of Morrowind to the island of Solstheim. During his youth, he and his mother lived with one of his uncles who made unwanted advances towards her, so he killed him. As a result of his murder, Killer had to flee Solstheim, being a stowaway on a ship to Windhelm. He eventually found himself in trouble with the Dark Brotherhood due to accidentally killing one of their targets, but was officially recruited to the group of assassins, and was appointed as the Night Mother's Listener. He resides in the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary just outside of Dawnstar, and holds the responsibility of conveying the Night Mother's words and heeding her orders.

Dust: A Khajiit who was originally part of a traveling caravan, serving as one of the guards for the merchants. During one of their travels, they were ambushed by a group of bandits, and Dust just barely survived the attack. When he went to the Jarl for help, he was turned away, leading him to resort to handling it on his own. The Dark Brotherhood noticed his sheer bloodlust and knack for killing, and he was recruited to the faction, becoming one of the upper members.

Horror: An Orc who originally lived in Largashbur, an Orc stronghold located southwest of Lake Honrich. It is generally unknown how he was recruited to the Dark Brotherhood and he himself doesn't fully remember, since it was so long ago. During one of his missions in Markarth, he came into contact with the Coven of Namira, and became a cannibal. He was given the Ring of Namira by the Daedric Prince herself, and has a tendency to take bites out of his victims. He spared a young Bosmer named Aliza, who he took back to the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary and has been raising ever since.

Ink: An ancient, pure-blood vampire. She is known as one of the "Daughters of Coldharbour" and plays a crucial role in an ancient prophecy that foretells the eternal shrouding of the Sun. She was sealed away by her own mother to protect her from her father's madness, remaining in Dimhollow Crypt from the mid-late Second Era until she was found by Error. Ink has a very strained relationship with her parents and while she doesn't regret the power her vampirism has given her, she regrets how it tore her family apart. She is married to Error.

Error: A Redguard who accepted vampirisin from Clan Volkihar. He was originally a member of the Vigilants of Stendarr, having been taken in by the faction after his mother was killed, but he was never invested in their beliefs or ideals. Instead, he was fascinated by stories of Daedra and the Daedric Princes, habits that worried his fellow Vigilants. After the attack on the Hall of the Vigilant, Error was directed to the newly reformed Dawnguard, and was temporarily enlisted. During his mission to Dimhollow Crypt, he met Ink and escorted her back to Castle Volkihar, where he was offered the power of the vampire lord as payment for bringing her home. He accepted. Later, after thwarting the ancient prophecy and killing Ink's father, Error took over as the leader of Clan Volkihar and is actively seeking to destroy the Dawnguard. He is married to Ink.

[queerloquial]

1, 4, 7, 12, 19, 24, 27, and 32, for,,,, all of your characters :3c

[TES OC Ask Meme] gee, thanks nerd, 5 characters with 8 questions each -_- this took weeks to finish!

What era(s) is your OC from?

Ettie Jurard is 2nd era (ESO), Fihrah and Andraste are 3rd (Morrowind and Oblivion), & Maur Stormcrown and Filirin Ice-Veins are 4th (Skyrim)

How old is your OC? Is their age typical for their race, or are they an outlier?

Ettie is 100% High Rock Breton, so in my personal Tamriel that puts her life expectancy around 120-130. She died roughly around 100, having spent much of her life as a wandering templar, and refusing to give up the habit even after retiring to what was meant to be a twilight period of quieter service in a an abbey in Stormhaven (this, naturally, is what ended in her running across the Worm Cult and getting sacrificed to begin with)

Fihrah is a Redguard-Dunmer Technically-Breton, so if all works out well he'll make it to about 90 or so. As it stands, he's like 20, but will say he's 25

Andraste is a Reachfolk Breton, and accustomed to a semi-nomadic life in the craggy Druadach Mountains along the southwest edge of Skyrim. At best he'd be looking at 60 or 70, though with the wave of bad luck that swept over his clan, he feels lucky to be approaching 50 (spoiler: he doesn't make it to 50)

Maur is mostly of High Rock Breton descent, though one grandparent is a Bosmer, so her prospects as a mortal would be somewhere in the 140 area, especially had she stayed in Skingrad. Alas, she was needed elsewhere, and through years of awakening and then strengthening her dragon soul, crested over 240 before she decided she'd seen enough and let her dragon have full control of their soul again. During the events of Skyrim she's 18-turning-19

Filirin is a Nord through and through (wow, see, I *am* capable of making non-Breton characters!), so as a human he's looking at 65-75. When he joins the companions he's vaguely 30. Idk I'll figure it out

What province does your OC currently live in?

Ettie doesn't technically live anywhere. She doesn't live at all, in fact; bit of a technical necessity as a shard of Stendarr

Fihrah is currently in Morrowind, and beyond that, I have no idea. I'm still getting started in the game tbh

Andraste technically owned a shitty little Riverfront District shack in the Imperial City, Cyrodiil, though he much preferred to live on the road and mostly left the shack to the use of the Thieves' Guild and the beggars they employed. One could perhaps say he currently lives in Aetherius :>

Maur owned Lakeview Manor in central-south Skyrim as her primary residence, though also had the rights to houses in each of the other holds. Like Andraste, she used these for Guild purposes

Filirin is quite content to live out of Jorrvaskr in Whiterun, Skyrim

Which different provinces has your OC visited? If they haven’t visited any others, do they have a particular place they’d like to go?

Ettie's been everywhere, man. Everywhere. All across Tamriel, several Daedric planes, several Aetherial planes... the work of the god of mercy is never done

Fihrah was probably born somewhere in Cyrodiil, and would have lived there for the first part of his life before whatever alleged criminal incident got him shipped off to Morrowind. Maybe he has half a dream of traveling to the Alik'r Desert someday, see the other half of his heritage now that he's had a taste of Dunmer culture

Andraste lived on the edges of High Rock and Skyrim, and once left alone wandered south into Cyrodiil. He's never been anywhere else, and didn't particularly want to, for the most part. Briefly he entertained daydreams of 'what if Martin, as emperor, needs to travel; surely I'd be at his side as a Blade, yes?', but, :)

Maur was born in western High Rock, actually, before she and her older brother were sent to their aunt and uncle in Cyrodiil. After the events of Skyrim, she takes up as a wandering mercenary, venturing into the edges of Vvardenfell, the Alik'r, returning to High Rock, even catching a ship to Pellitine (though always careful to avoid setting foot in Cyrodiil again; no telling whether the Guild still intended to make good on her blood price)

Filirin was born in Skyrim, raised in Skyrim, and if he has his way he'll die in Skyrim

How easily does your OC make friends?

Ettie, even before mantling, had a bit of a... a capybara vibe, one might say. You know that tumblr post about how capybaras get along with a lot of other animals because they're just kinda naturally calming (which I've never bothered to fact check, it occurs to me as I write this post)? She's like that. Has a calm, even voice and a warming smile for everyone she meets. She's got ride-or-dies all across Tamriel

Fihrah does not. Fihrah has the "how the Fuck does interpersonal interaction work" autism, so he's great at solo jobs but flounders in social settings, especially now that he's in a new province where he doesn't have coin to throw into buying rounds (and/or companionship-by-the-hour) at the nearest tavern

Andraste really does not. He was liked well enough in his clan, made a name for himself as a forward scout, but without the structure of Reachfolk life he feels lost, and so settles for putting everything of himself into whatever the job at hand is. No socializing, no chatting with employers further than the job details, nothing... at least, until he has to escort Martin to Weynon Priory (which takes far longer than it reasonably should because he has a strong distrust of roads and so insisted on trekking through the wilderness). Over the course of Oblivion's events, they become what Andraste would consider very close (and outsiders would say "they sure are standing in the same room, huh"), though even he doesn't realize just how miserable he really was living alone until Martin is gone

Maur's friends are all people she paid to be there. She (and her brother) grew up ostracized and bullied for being part-elven; she was, after all, born only eight years after the end of the Great War, and many humans in Cyrodiil harbored grudges against elves for the acts of the Aldmeri Dominion. Bretons simply got lumped in by virtue of being not-fully-human. Her teenage years living on the street and then as a pet didn't do any favors to her ability to socialize, so as a free adult, all she knows is hiring mercenaries and sex workers

Filirin is perhaps a bit too friendly. Very trusting, both in others and in his own ability to adapt to and extract himself from unsavory situations. He takes people at their word, and largely is content that way, though it doesn't do much to help the sting of shame when someone has to inform him that once again he has severely misjudged another's intentions

What moral boundaries does your OC have? Have they ever crossed them? What happened?

Ettie and Filirin are on the "good guys" end of the spectrum. One because she's a TES-flavor paladin and mantling the god of mercy, one because he's lived his entire life on his ancestral homestead and was raised to be an honest, gods-fearing Nord boy. By virtue of being player characters, they naturally end up in situations that push or break their self-imposed limits. Ettie greatly dislikes killing, but frequently has to burn through an alarming number of cultists serving various daedric princes. Filirin I'm thinking is deeply averse to desecrating corpses, including by looting, which will be fun to play in the game full of draugr ruins!

Fihrah is middle of the road. He'd Like to be a law-abiding citizen- and preferably regarded as heroic- but circumstances demand otherwise, and he ends up doing a lot more sketchy shit than he wants to acknowledge in order to get from one day to the next.

Andraste and Maur gave up on conventional morality long ago. Pure survival mode. Andraste's primary boundary is that he hates being given orders, especially when it's to do somebody else's dirty work, while Maur spent just enough time around Guild thieves to adopt the philosophy of having standards for who gets stolen from.

Your OC runs into some bandits on the road. Does your OC comply with their demands, fight them off, flee the area, or etc.?

Ettie talks them down. If they don't listen to mortal reason, a flare of aedric influence in the vein of "these are not the droids you're looking for" does the trick. Exception: if the bandits lead with violence, especially against any non-combatants she's traveling with, there's no wasting time with words

Fihrah probably just complies unless it's like, one, *maybe* two bandits, and they have to look like he can reasonable take them on

Andraste starts with trying to ignore and nonverbally threaten them away, but has no qualms defending himself

Maur sorts out whether they're just, like, some desperate scrap accosting travelers for pocket change or Legit Bandits. Group 1 gets coin and a "go home, kid", group 2 gets taken care of as quickly as possible. She's got shit to do- everyone and their mother's asking her for help! There's no time to waste on petty fucks like these!

Filirin honestly probably flees, albeit to see if the nearest town has a bounty out on them + to hire a mercenary or two to make sure the job gets done

A guard has confronted your OC, suspecting that they’ve broken the law in some way. What offense is your OC most likely to be accused of? Did they actually do it?

Ettie has to be a case of mistaken identity. She has never committed a crime in her life, death, or second life

Fihrah, again, only knows how to socialize via partying, so chances are he's getting pinned for public drunkenness and/or disturbing the peace

Andraste has an inherently sketchy look to him; reclusive, somewhat haggard, coming into town solely to sell goods of dubious acquisition. He could be accused of anything the good citizens of Cyrodiil can think of to get him out of their view as quickly as possible. He is also a Guild thief, technically speaking, but he actually doesn't do a lot of theft when not specifically ordered to (and/or when seeking to get his due payment from employers who thought to change the terms of their agreements)

Maur, from a young age, was habitually breaking locks. Sometimes to get at interesting goods (such as her village's beekeeper's honey storage shed), sometimes just to see how fast she could figure out the puzzle before her. As an adult, she works for the Thieves' Guild, so naturally there's a certain reputation that follows her

Filirin... I'm honestly not sure yet. His original concept was another 'not willingly breaking any laws' type, but maybe when I get into v2 in my next Skyrim run he'll be a little sketchier. A smuggler maybe? Think Hawke at the start of Dragon Age 2, taking on grunt work to support their family

[the-boar-queen]

The Story of Syl'vizeeri Castus, my Daggerfall Agent OC

This is a story that got gradually pieced together from long sessions in Daggerfall and chatting with friends. It's a little unpolished, but I'm still proud of how it came out! It's a little slapped together from memory, but i still had lot of fun. I also tried explaining how my Khajiit even got into the Emporer's service in the first place.

===

Syl'vizeeri Castus, a Khajiit of the Cathay-Raht form, began her life as the daughter of a traveling merchant in a Caravan. At 6 years of age, she had already begun to learn the ways of her culture, of trading, of the holy moons, and a bit of thievery. Despite her mother's best efforts to try keeping her daughter away from the life of a thief, her Uncle Sweettooth (another Khajiit of the caravan) felt it important to… teach her some important business tips. After all, what better way to get gold than from a wealthy and inattentive stranger's pouch?

One night, passing through the Imperial province of Cyrodiil, on their way to barter in the Imperial City, the caravan was attacked by a group of bandits. Now, the Caravaners were no strangers to dealing with ruffians, but these were something from a nightmare. Their flesh was rotting, with clear signs of fatal wounds, gangrene, and decay. No matter how many wounds they took, they just kept coming. A horrid Necromancer was controlling these corpses. A demon of a man, he wasn't just morbidly interested in the dark arts, he REVELED in the power.

In the chaos of the fight, Sylvie's mother took a moment to throw her child down the hill off the road. The last thing Syl'vizeeri remembers of this fight is the cries and shouts of her merchant family. She ran for what seemed like years. The yells got quieter, and the hills gave way to a valley. Soon, she saw it. The White-Gold tower, the very heart of the Empire. She ran, she ran, and she ran more until her legs felt like they were going to give out from under her. Crying, and gasping, she just barely was able to stumble the light of a lantern just before the bridge into the city. Before passing out, she heard the pounding footsteps of an Imperial Guard rushing to her.

When she awoke, she was in a guardhouse surrounded by men and women in glistening armor. She was asked about everything she knew. As more memories flooded, she began to cry as she relayed everything she knew. Try as the Imperials might, the caravan was long gone, blood but no bodies to be seen. From her story, the work of a Necromancer was unmistakable, but they were long gone. Sylvie, doomed to be an orphan with no way back home, was the subject of debate among the guards. Everyone felt bad, but no one wanted to suddenly have a child to take care of, let alone a thieving Khajiit, in some of the guards' minds. However, it just took one guard to show mercy. This was the same man who found her that night, Alexius Castus.

Him and his wife raised that girl as if she were their own. As Sylvie grew older, she lived as a normal Imperial citizen, and found her place among the people, eventually showing an aptitude for weaponry, mostly thanks to her new father. She became a blacksmith's apprentice in her teens and soon showed her raw skill with the forging arts.

Her life was stable, she was safe and fairly happy, but she still had a rage burning in her heart and it was rare to not have a night where she didn't dream of that horrible attack on her caravan… While working the forge just outside of her Master's smithing shop, she overheard a conversation.

Undead attacks were on the rise again, and they were coming from the same area as before. Sylvie felt the rage burn in her heart that day, she wanted to kill that filth. She devised a plan, one she felt a slight bit of guilt over, but it had to be done. She wrote down a fake order for a steel sword and fulfilled it herself. By the end of the day, with no sign of the "customer" who ordered it, the Master Smith locked it up in the shop and called it a day. That night, using a small bit of metal she shaped into a rough lockpick, Sylvie broke into the shop, took her sword, and snuck away from the city into the night. Operating from memory alone, and some familiarity with the countryside, she made her way to the place she last remembered.

The hills were familiar but silent. She walked with bated breath, heart pounding. She didn't hear anything… but a smell was on the wind. Blood. She followed it and found a small farm getting attacked. Shambling undead were marching out of the small farmhouse, and to Sylvie's terror, she spotted some rotting Khajiit among the horde. She crouched in the bushes, trying to hide as best she could. Waiting to see if she could find the man causing this… and there he was, across the way from her, on the other side of the horde… A pale man, corpselike in his own right.

Sylvie skirted around the trees, using every bit of nature she could to conceal her movement. Soon, she was right behind the Demon. Her nose was burning as the smell of decay became stronger than she could bear. She froze, terrified. All it would take now is to run at him and end him with a well-placed slice. What if he caught me? What if he already knows I'm here and is just playing with me? Sylvie couldn't move as hard as she tried… She just watched for a while as the horde took everything they could, including… a mother and child! From the house came 2 undead carrying the limp body of a woman and a screaming boy.

Sylvie couldn't wait any longer and she rushed in. Her footsteps seemingly thunderous against the ground… But the Necromancer didn't turn, nor even notice until it was too late, as the shuffle and moans of his horde were too loud. In a single swing, Sylvie sliced the man's head clean off.

The hoard fell, the curse placed on them killed along with the beast that controlled them. Sylvie helped the mother and child as best she could, bringing a guard hailed from a night patrol from the road. Sylvie left quietly, unable to bear the stench any longer.

The next morning, there was a murmur buzzing throughout the city.

The Necromancer had been slayed! Who did it? The guards? No! I heard from a friend that he was already dead when they got there! Then who? Not the farmers? No! They were saved? If not the guards, then who? I heard it was a Khajiit. A Khajiit? Yes, I heard he ran down and got some guards before leaving himself. Himself? I heard it was a girl!

The rumors grew rapidly that day. Sylvie exhaustedly trying to keep up with her apprentice duties as she had no sleep from the night before.

Eyes burning as she sleepily worked on an axe head, she heard a voice ask her name. It was an Imperial guard captain. She was interrogated about where she was last night and she proudly admitted that she did it.

Yes, I stole the sword and yes I broke curfew and YES i killed a necromancer.

She was scolded, of course, especially once her dad got there, but then came the congratulations. The deed she did, the bravery she demonstrated, it couldn't be ignored. She had the heart of a fighter… no, a WARRIOR.

She was offered a place in the guards for training with the promise of perhaps becoming a palace guard! She grew in talent and strength as the years passed. She learned of blades, of magic. She devoted her skills to might, healing, and destruction of unholy creatures. One evening, after much hard work and training, she got a summon from the Emporer himself! Her fur rose on the back of her neck…This is a momentous occasion… What could he possibly want from her? And so late in the day?

===

And that's just the backstory that slowly cropped up in bits in pieces, not even the actual tales from the game XD Syl'vizeeri was my longest playthrough and I kind of got attached to her.

[notfspurejam]

Lupin and Goemon getting back from “The Imperial City Dreams” and finally reuniting Jigen himself (not Major Hongo).

[ctrl-lupin]

what is it about this kind of hat that makes them look good on anyone

[dailyadventureprompts]

So a character idea I had was a warlock to the genius loci of a large city, unfortunately for various reasons it unfortunately never came together; however I would be dead chuffed to see what you would do with that premise.

Settlement: Ma’ralis, of the Drowned Towers

A past built on war, a present on sand, and a future on the unknown

Setup:  Born out of  centuries old devastation, the spires and bridges that make up the dune straddling city-state of Ma’ralis were once the palaces and aqueducts of a great imperial capital, buried under a typhoon of sand after an act of divine wrath. Now famed for its mercenaries and merchant princes, Ma’ralis now sits at the center of a network of former tributary states, and acts as a stop for every caravan that passes through the desert. 

Few Ma’rali claim decent from those god-scorned tyrants of old, instead tracing their lineage to clever travelers and fortune hunters who found vast stores of wealth buried just under the sand, both in horded imperial treasure and secret springs fed by the city’s old cisterns. While this does form the basis of the Ma’rali reputation as dauntless explores and traders, some other dismiss the group as mere “Jackals”, thinking of them as thieves, cheats, and graverobbers who did nothing to earn their prosperity. 

Owing no allegiance to no one sovereign or court, the Ma’Rali are organized into combination clan/buisness enterprises called Manses, taken from the fact that each collectively dwells in one of the great Drowned Towers in the ancient city, using it as their personal storehouse and fortress.  Cuturally the Ma’rali mingle with just about every people they trade with, but pay tribute to an ancestral god of wind, who they honor by strining great banners between their tower homes. 

Adventure Hooks: 

After pulling a significant haul (regardless whether it comes from a desolate ruin or well guarded manorhouse), the party awake to find that someone has slipped into their accommodations from the night and stolen the choicest of their prizes, leaving behind a small clay animal figurine in its place. Asking about, this is known as the calling card of the so called “Prince of Jackals”, a Rakish Ma’rali trader who embraces his people’s disreputable moniker as a taunt to those he swindles. If they can resist going on a warpath to retrieve their stolen loot, the party may realize they are being goaded into picking a fight with the trader clan, likely by someone who would benefit from their conflict. Working with the Prince to reveal this provocateur may gain the party a strong ally, and perhaps even an invitation to join the Manse of the Jackle should they acquit themselves well. 

While folk have been delving the ruined towers for ages, a tale persists among the Ma’rali of passages that lead down into the heart of the old imperial city, of palaces and vaults and temples not fully flooded by sand, and the ancient secrets that have dwelt there untouched ever since. Of course, these stories also tell of sorrow wracked spirits and shadowy things that dwell in the darkness, maddened by centuries beneath the crushing sand and desperate to find a way out. 

Traveling through Ma’ralis, the party encounter a misfortunate young woman named Namyia, who offers to be their guide through the settlement’s twisted geography and politics. Haunted and a bit twitchy, the party eventually learn from some scornful locals ( jerks) that Namyia was once the daughter of a prosperous clan but ran away from home after she went mad.  To hear their guide tell it, she was driven out by her superstitious family, frightened when she began to hear statues talk and seeing ghosts walking about their tower, or waking up from fitful dreams choking on mouthfuls of sand. Half believing the hurtful taunts that hound her, Namyia has no idea that she has been marked by the spirit of the city itself, a bond that could be cultivated should she have the right encouragement and mentoring, granting access to all the city’s most ancient secrets. 

[rockislandadultreads]

AAPI Authors: Fantasy Picks to Check out

A Thousand Steps into Night by Traci Chee

In the realm of Awara, where gods, monsters, and humans exist side by side, Miuko is an ordinary girl resigned to a safe, if uneventful, existence as an innkeeper’s daughter. But when Miuko is cursed and begins to transform into a demon with a deadly touch, she embarks on a quest to reverse the curse and return to her normal life. Aided by a thieving magpie spirit and continuously thwarted by a demon prince, Miuko must outfox tricksters, escape demon hunters, and negotiate with feral gods if she wants to make it home again. But with her transformation comes power and freedom she never even dreamed of, and she’ll have to decide if saving her soul is worth trying to cram herself back into an ordinary life that no longer fits her… and perhaps never did.

A Magic Steeped in Poison by Judy I. Lin

I used to look at my hands with pride. Now all I can think is, "These are the hands that buried my mother." For Ning, the only thing worse than losing her mother is knowing that it's her own fault. She was the one who unknowingly brewed the poison tea that killed her—the poison tea that now threatens to also take her sister, Shu. When Ning hears of a competition to find the kingdom's greatest shennong-shi—masters of the ancient and magical art of tea-making—she travels to the imperial city to compete. The winner will receive a favor from the princess, which may be Ning's only chance to save her sister's life. But between the backstabbing competitors, bloody court politics, and a mysterious (and handsome) boy with a shocking secret, Ning might actually be the one in more danger.

Gods of Want: Stories by K-Ming Chang

In “Auntland,” a steady stream of aunts adjust to American life by sneaking surreptitious kisses from women at temple, buying tubs of vanilla ice cream to prepare for citizenship tests, and hatching plans to name their daughter “Dog.” In “The Chorus of Dead Cousins,” ghost-cousins cross space, seas, and skies to haunt their live-cousin, wife to a storm-chaser. In “Xífù,” a mother-in-law tortures a wife in increasingly unsuccessful attempts to rid the house of her. In “Mariela,” two girls explore one another’s bodies for the first time in the belly of a plastic shark while in “Virginia Slims,” a woman from a cigarette ad comes to life. And in “Resident Aliens,” a former slaughterhouse serves as a residence to a series of widows, each harboring her own calamitous secrets. With each tale, K-Ming Chang gives us her own take on a surrealism that mixes myth and migration, corporeality and ghostliness, queerness and the quotidian. Stunningly told in her feminist fabulist style, these are uncanny stories peeling back greater questions of power and memory.

The Spear Cuts Through Water by Simon Jimenez

The people suffer under the centuries-long rule of the Moon Throne. The royal family—the despotic emperor and his monstrous sons, the Three Terrors—hold the countryside in their choking grip. They bleed the land and oppress the citizens with the frightful powers they inherited from the god locked under their palace. But that god cannot be contained forever. With the aid of Jun, a guard broken by his guilt-stricken past, and Keema, an outcast fighting for his future, the god escapes from her royal captivity and flees from her own children, the triplet Terrors who would drag her back to her unholy prison. And so it is that she embarks with her young companions on a five-day pilgrimage in search of freedom—and a way to end the Moon Throne forever. The journey ahead will be more dangerous than any of them could have imagined. Both a sweeping adventure story and an intimate exploration of identity, legacy, and belonging, The Spear Cuts Through Water is an ambitious and profound saga that will transport and transform you—and is like nothing you’ve ever read before.

[dalishious]

DA:O and DA:2 Loading Screen Texts

“The Andrastian Chantry believes that if the Chant of Light--first written by the prophet Andraste--can be spread to all four corners of the world, the Maker will forgive humankind for their sins.”

“Dwarves have no formal religion, instead venerating the Paragons--those of their ancestors who have contributed in some meaningful way to society.”

“The second elven homeland, the Dales, fell to an Exalted March called on the “heathens” not long after the end of the Second Blight--almost 700 years ago.”

“There have been four Blights in total; the last ended four hundred years ago at the Battle of Ayesleigh. Humanity mistakenly believed the darkspawn were permanently defeated there.”

“The Grey Wardens were once exiled from Ferelden for conspiring to overthrow the king. They were permitted to return twenty years ago by King Maric, Cailan’s father.”

“At the Battle of River Dane, Loghain Mac Tir became known as a hero when he and his men finally drove the forces of the Orlesian Empire out of Ferelden after more than 80 years of occupation.”

“The Grey Wardens were once known for the griffon mounts on which they flew into battle. The griffon numbers waned after the last Blight, finally disappearing completely 200 years ago.”

“Grey Wardens possess the Right of Conscription: they may draft anyone into their ranks without question, from prince to lowly commoner. This is not always done without consequence, however.”

“The dwarven kingdom once encompassed 12 great thaigs spread across Thedas, joined by the underground Deep Roads. Only two remain: Orzammar and Kal Sharok.”

“An elven alienage is a city quarter where elves live, often poor and walled off from the rest, rampant with crime and strife.”

“In their first homeland, Arlathan, elves were immortal and possessed an advanced culture and language. After a millennium of slavery and poverty they lost it all, and even the Dalish have only reclaimed but a little.”

“The Orlesians conquered Ferelden in 8:24 Blessed, beginning a long and brutal rule that ended only 30 years ago. Most Fereldans still remember that time vividly.”

“King Cailan Theirin assumed the throne five years ago upon the death of his father, marrying Lady Anora Mac Tir--daughter of Teyrn Loghain--exactly one month later.”

“The Circle of Magi was formed by the Chantry to keep a watchful eye over the mages. According to the Chant of Light, magic is meant to serve man and never to rule over him.”

“Templars are warriors that exist to monitor mages and hunt down those that go rogue from the Circle of Magi. They have the ability to disrupt magic and drain mana from their adversaries.”

“The Korcari Wilds extends far to the south of Ferelden, stretching into an uncharted frozen wasteland. It is a dangerous place, supposedly filled with witches, barbarians, and monsters.”

“The Circle of Magi's tower, standing off the shore of Lake Calenhad, precedes the mages themselves. It was built by the Avvar a thousand years ago, before being conquered by the Tevinter Imperium.”

“The ancient Tevinter Imperium, ruled by the magisters and powerful blood magic, once spread over all of Thedas. Many of its ruins still remain in Ferelden even today.”

“The Fade is a dream realm where the spirits of all beings but dwarves go when they sleep. Only mages remain conscious once there, but others can “awaken” if they are trapped there unwillingly.”

“The Fade is the realm of hungry demons that constantly seek to pass through the Veil into the land of the living. Those that succeed will try to possess a body, living or dead.”

“Demons are drawn to mages, and should they ever succeed in possessing one they transform them into an abomination--a terrifying and intelligent monster with access to great magical powers.”

“Demons primarily come in five varieties, based on the part of the living psyche that they feed from. From weakest to strongest they are rage, hunger, sloth, desire, and pride.”

“Not all spirits of the Fade are evil things. Some are beings of compassion, fortitude, and justice. They have little interest in crossing the Veil unless summoned, however, and thus are far less known than demons.”

“Ferelden has existed as a nation since the fabled King Calenhad, the Silver Knight, united the warring Alamarri teyrns almost 400 years ago.”

“The Qunari landed on the northern island of Par Vollen three centuries ago, coming from an unknown land far off to the east across the Amaranthine Ocean. They began a war to conquer Thedas almost immediately, one that ended in a truce after more than 150 years of fighting.”

“According to the Chantry calendar, every hundred years is an age--named at the end of the last age according to omens discerned that year. The Dragon Age is the ninth since the ascension of the first Divine of the Chantry.”

“Dragons were once worshipped by the ancient Tevinter Imperium, and existed in number until the Nevarran dragon hunters brought them to the brink of extinction. They only reappeared at the beginning of the Dragon Age, giving the age its namesake.”

“Those that survive the darkspawn taint eventually become “ghouls,” their minds corrupted and twisted to seek out and serve the darkspawn until eventually they die in anguish or disappear underground forever.

“Without an Archdemon to lead them to the surface, the darkspawn remain below in the Deep Roads, battling the dwarves. Few—save for the Grey Wardens—know anything about them.”

“The ancient mining tunnels beneath Hightown and Lowtown now form the city's sewers, as well as the slum known as Darktown. Residents refer to these tunnels collectively as the Undercity.”

“People from the Free Marches are called “Marchers,” but usually only by outsiders. A citizen of Kirkwall thinks of himself as being from the city first and the Free Marches second.”

“The Fifth Blight began in 9:30 Dragon and lasted only a year before the Archdemon was slain. The Hero of Ferelden spared the world from the ravages of another war against the darkspawn.”

“There are fourteen Circles of Magi in Thedas, excluding those in the Tevinter Imperium. The Circle at the Gallows in Kirkwall is one of two in the Free Marches and is the center of templar power in the East.”

“Kirkwall was once part of the Tevinter Imperium and the center of its slave trade. Slaves worked the quarries until they revolted more than 900 years ago.”

“The Qunari live on Par Vollen, an island nation in the tropical northern climes. Some believe they originally came from elsewhere, since they weren't seen in Thedas until 300 years ago.”

“The Qunari invaded mainland Thedas 200 years ago, and were driven back during the New Exalted Marches. The Llomerryn Accord in 7:84 Storm established an armistice between the Qunari and every nation except the Tevinter Imperium.”

“The raiders who plague the waters of the Waking Sea and the Amaranthine Ocean are based out of the chaotic Rivaini city of Llomerryn.”

“Although the slave trade is legal only in the Tevinter Imperium, their slavers are present almost everywhere. They prey on elves and the poor, bringing victims back to the Imperium to sell to magisters and shady foreigners.”

“The largest guild of thieves in Kirkwall calls itself the Coterie. Although the association is very informal, the Coterie is vicious against anyone who looks like competition.”

“The Gallows sits in a harbor that was carved through the cliffs by magic to allow ships to dock in the middle of Lowtown.”

““The Twins” is the local name for the two great Tevinter statues that flank the entrance to Kirkwall’s harbor. They are not merely for show: a massive chain net can be raised between them and the fortified lighthouse.”

“Kirkwall’s Lowtown once held the city's slaves. Individual sections could be closed off in the event of a rebellion, and the winding streets were designed to discourage slaves from attempting to organize.”

“Both the Viscount’s Keep and the chantry were built by the dwarves. They were originally intended to house the city’s magister overlords, back at the height of Imperial rule.”

“The Free Marches is not a single nation, but an alliance of independent city-states. Kirkwall, Starkhaven, and Tantervale are the largest.”

“Kirkwall has been ruled by a viscount since the Orlesian Empire installed one as governor in 7:60 Storm. The city retained the title even after it rebelled against foreign rule.”

“Kirkwall’s less illustrious residents assemble at the Hanged Man. The tavern's feature dish is its stew, made from a different mystery meat each morning.”

“Kirkwall was built almost entirely through slave labor. Part of the city was once a quarry, worked by thousands upon thousands of slaves. Massive quantities of jet stone were carved straight out of the rock face, eventually creating the pit that is now Lowtown, as well as the city’s broad harbor.”

“Kirkwall has had numerous dragon sightings, but they are generally peasant exaggerations. One “imminent high dragon flight” turned out to be an emaciated drake in a pained rage caused by passing a Griffon Helm.”

“Kirkwall declared the common nug a noxious vermin in 5:20 Exalted over fears that the animals carried the Blight. The extermination became known as the Battle of the Squealing Plains. It is not spoken of in polite company.”

“Don't play cards with Qunari--it's impossible to tell when they're bluffing. Don't play against elves, either--they never pay their debts. And never play against dwarves--they'll kill you if they lose.”

[ladydaedra]

Planning

Part: 6/?

Pairings: Ulfric x Dragonborn; Brynjolf x OC; Cicero x OC; Ondolemar x OC

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and gore; Skyrim takes on a bit of 'Game of Thrones' feeling; may contain controversial themes.

Wordcount: 2074

~~~~~

Xaliyah grunts as she swings her sword at the dummy, aiming for the head or at least the neck. But she drops the sword when it dismembers the dummy's arm. The sound of metal falling onto stone sounds in the room, "fuck," she snaps angrily, kneeling down and picking her sword up.

"Well, you limited your enemy's attacks, lass," a voice interrupts her as she swings as the midsection of the dummy. She hits the dummy a few times before driving the sword through its chest, a few strands of straw falling out of it, "you okay, lass?" he asks after the scene.

Xaliyah steps back from the dummy, leaving the sword in it as she catches her breath, looking over at Brynjolf, sweat trickling down her face, "I'm fine," she mutters, using her sleeve to wipe the sweat away as she sits down on a nearby stool, "I think," she adds, not meeting his gaze as she stares at the floor, "just...how easily the Thalmor attacked Dawnstar, a town full of innocent people, without a single thought of remorse...Bryn, what if that happens to Riften?"

The thought of the Thalmor attacking her home was something she didn't want to think about. It is the only home she truly knew. She grew up on a farm near Whiterun that took in orphans, but it never was the home she yearned for. But she found it in the Thieves' Guild.

"The Thalmor won't attack an Imperial controlled city, you know that,"

She turns to look at him, shaking her head slightly, "it won't be Imperial help much longer," she explains and sees his confused look, "Ayla plans to free Riften from the Empire and return it to Stormcloak control," she explains further, running a hand through her hair as she stands, "that's a good thing in and of itself, yes. But that opens up the door to a Thalmor attack,"

Brynjolf just stares at her, taking in the completely different demeanor she is in. She completely abandoned her confident, bubbly personality that the entire Guild loves and replaced it with an anxious and worried Xaliyah. He feels like he is watching her lose herself in this war, fighting to protect those who can't be saved, thinking more negative thoughts than positive ones.

He feels like he is losing her.

So he takes five steps towards her and wraps his arms around her, holding her tightly against his chest and resting his chin on her head. Brynjolf feels her arms move to rest on his chest, waiting a few seconds before each of her hands grabbing a fistful of his shirt as her head rests on his shoulder.

They remain standing there, in the embrace for only a few moments, but it feels like forever. Neither one wanting to it to end but it must. Later. After the attack on Dawnstar, both of them witnessed what the Thalmor are capable and have simultaneously agreed that a group like that has no place in Skyrim.

"I should go help Tal with the funeral preparations," Xaliyah says softly though not stepping out of the warmth of the redhead's embrace. It also didn't help when Brynjolf only tightened his hold around her.

"You need to rest, lass," he points out, moving to step out of the embrace, but her hands tighten their hold on his clothes and pull him back towards her. He lets out a chuckle as he slowly wraps his arms around her smaller body again.

"I know, Bryn," she mumbles into his shoulder, "just...this is helping," he didn't argue after that.

~

"We do not know what Stormcloak asked for her presence for," Athena points out from her spot leaning against the wall next to the doorway leading from the library and into the large war room. She glances over at the other people gathered.

Tal and Xaliyah stand next to each other, studying the large map on the table. Vilkas paces the room, chin in his fingers, while Asteria is reading a few books from the shelves. Brynjolf taps his foot in boredom while Cicero runs his finger up and down the blade of his dagger.

Tal looks up from the map, glancing over at Athena, "no we don't, but if Xaliyah is going to risk one of her thieve's lives, then we must plan a solid plan, void of any and all possible casualties,"

"On our side," Cicero pipes up, a maniacal laugh leaving his lips, "a dead Thalmor is a good Thalmor. Attacking the place where sweet, sweet Mother rests was foolish," Athena stares at the jester for a few seconds, honestly questioning Ayla's reason for recruiting this man.

Clearing her throat, she looks back at the gathered people, "why not set a dragon on the camp?"

"Because the only dragon physically here is Odahviing," Vilkas points out, looking over at his wife, "and he only listens to Ayla. No one else,"

"We could wait for Ayla's return," Athena adds and Taliyah stands up taller, shaking her head.

"Ayla's in Windhelm," she reminds them, tossing a bit of her hair over her shoulder before crossing her arms, "she won't be able to help in any way. Given that Ulfric summoned her there must mean something important must've come up involving the Empire,"

Xaliyah pushes herself off of the table and paces the room, her long, light brown hair in a braid, "I am to risk a member of my Guild for this mission," she snaps, glancing at every person in the room individually, "I had hoped not to involve the Guild in this, and I won't. I will be going to retrieve this information the Thalmor might have,"

"Lass, no," Brynjolf immediately protests, taking a step towards the woman, who turns to look at him, "you don't know what could happen. I will not allow another Guild Master to die,"

Xaliyah shakes her head, "who said anything about dying?" she points out with a smile before getting serious again when she sees Brynjolf's worried look, "I am the best thief in the Guild, Bryn," she points out, voice much softer and everyone in the room looks away, feeling it inappropriate to ruin the pair's conversation, "Delvin, Vex, even you, admitted that. I can get in and out of there with no problem,"

Brynjolf shakes his head stubbornly, "I am not going to allow you to do this, lass," he protests and Xaliyah sighs, "at least not without protection," he then turns his head to look at the leader of the Dark Brotherhood, who is studying the map.

Taliyah feels numerous gazes on her and slowly realizes what everyone is silently suggesting, "I can have assassins surround the camp at a safe distance, but close enough that they can prevent something bad from happening,"

"Alright then," Athena says loudly, pushing herself off the wall and walking over to the table, "we're all in agreement that Xaliyah will be the one sneaking into the camp and Taliyah will post several assassins around the perimeter?" she looks around to see everyone nodding, "great. We leave tonight then,"

~

"I still think you're foolish, lass," Brynjolf says as he accompanies Xaliyah to her room. It is later that evening and Xaliyah is returning to her room to pack before departing from the base. So far it is only Xaliyah, Tal, and Cicero leaving. Taliyah sent word ahead to Nazir, her second, to have him send around ten assassins to meet up with them halfway to the Thalmor camp near Morthal.

Xaliyah laughs as they round a corner, "well there is no way you can stop me," she tells him, her voice full of confidence and he looks down at her. This will be the last time he will see her for a few days, maybe a few weeks depending on how long it takes to actually steal the information, "Bryn! What are you doing?" she asks when he pulls her into a room he knows is used for storage.

It is dark, lit by only a few candles. But it is bright enough that he can still see her face, "We need to talk," he explains, stepping in between her and the door when she tries to walk out, "Xal, listen to me please,"

She looks up at him, confusion and annoyance on her features, "they might leave without me," she tries and he chuckles, shaking his head to let her know her lie had failed, "Bryn, I really need to finish packing. Can't this wait until after I return?"

"No, lass, it can't,"

A frustrated sound leaves her throat as she glances around the room, hands on her hips, "Bryn, I swear by all the Divines, if you do not-" she stops midsentence when he kisses her. It was one quick motion forward, and she was in his arms, lips pressed against his.

He suddenly realizes what he did and pulls away quickly, not meeting her gaze, "sorry, it was the only way I could think of shutting you up," he explains, a nervous chuckle leaving him, "I'll just leave-"

Xaliyah grabs the front of his armor and pulls him back in for a kiss, hand on the back of his neck as he quickly returns the kiss. For a few moments, their lips move in sync with one another, bodies pressing closer together as possible. Brynjolf was sure he would have taken her then and there if she hadn't pulled away at that second.

"Lass..." he breathes out, forehead resting on hers. Neither one of them could believe what just happened. Xaliyah definitely thought this is a dream and she would wake up in her bed and their kiss didn't happen. Oh if the others found out, she wouldn't hear the ending of it, all of them declaring that they called it long before the others.

"We will discuss this when I get back," she promises softly, leaning upwards to press a quick kiss to his lips before walking out the door. He had leaned forward to recapture her lips, but she was gone before he even noticed. Damned thief, he thinks as he smiles to himself.

~

It was almost midnight when the trio departed from the base, each on their respective horse and saddlebags full of their personal materials. They were giving a month's worth of supplies since it was estimated that this mission would take around that long to complete.

As Tal and Cicero chatted away, Xaliyah rode in silence, her mind wandering back to Brynjolf and smiling at the memory of his lips on hers. She never thought that Brynjolf, handsome and rugged ladies man would ever want her in any lifetime. She was his boss and he was her second. It seemed like one of those forbidden romances and that is what added to the excitement of it.

"Spill, now," Tal says when Shadowmere has slowed to match Caper's walking pace, "something is on your mind and I know it isn't the mission," Xaliyah remains silent, avoiding the brunette's gaze, feeling her cheeks redding, "it's Brynjolf, isn't it?"

"Did something happen?" she continues after receiving no response from the thief, "did you two have a fight? Did he start it? If he hurt you, by the nine Divines I will-"

"We kissed," Xaliyah interrupts the woman, looking up at the starry sky, "what started off as an argument ended with him kissing me," she looks over at the assassin when she starts laughing.

"That's what's been bothering you?" Tal asks while Cicero sings to himself ahead of them, "that you and Brynjolf finally kissed? You should be smiling, cheerful. The man you have been yearning-"

"I haven't been yearning,"

"-for kissed you, admitting that he feels the same way," Tal continues, ignoring Xaliyah's protest, "is that not what you want?"

Xaliyah immediately shakes her head, "no!" she says a bit too loudly before composing herself, "no. I-I want this with him. It's just...he's a ladies man, I don't know if..."

"If you can trust him," Tal says when Xaliyah stops talking, her head hung, as if ashamed for the thought.

"Yeah," she whispers and Tal reaches over and pats her friend's back.

"I don't think Brynjolf would want a relationship with his boss if he knew he wouldn't be faithful," she explains and Xaliyah smiles, "I am sure that he wants this just as bad as you,"

"I hope so,"

[scrappywriting]

"...I'm sorry, your Majesty."

The words do nothing. Regis sits on a camping chair, staring into a blazing fire. His shirt is oversized, with a loud, ridiculous logo- some trashy thing that Gladio owns but never wears. Sweatpants, the ones Gladio normally wears for his morning run, somehow hilariously mismatched.

There isn't anything else for him. His casual clothes are in Insomnia; his kingly raiments are stained with blood. Or, were, before Ignis got to them. Now they're washed, cleaned, hung out to dry, and tomorrow, they will be mended. He's seen what Ignis can do, his hands methodical and precise regardless of the world- it'll be like nothing ever happened.

His aching leg stretches before him; his cane is at his side. Eight hours ago soot and ash are streaked across his face, along with dried, flaky blood. His hair was in disarray, rocks and grit tangled within. Eight hours ago Ignis was on one side, and Gladiolus was on the other, and Prompto was frantic, one hand pushing and pushing like he could hurry them up, the other raised and firing a gun that Regis barely even heard. There was roaring in his head, his ears, his heart. It drowned out all else.

Nine hours ago, he watched Noctis die.

---

He doesn't know how to look at Gladiolus and that's fine, because Gladiolus doesn't know how to look at Regis. Of course Gladiolus looks, though, because what else can he do? This is- was- the King of Lucis. The man his father is- was- sworn to protect.

(The man his father died protecting.)

There's a burn of resentment there, but it's half frustration and self loathing. He can hate Regis for getting his father killed, but it was the job, and Clarus did what he was born to do. Gladio, though? Gladio failed. He failed to stop Noctis from rushing back to the citadel, he failed to stop Noctis from-

The kid died. On Gladio's watch. He didn't even die in front of Gladio; he just warped off, impatient and anxious. Things are both crystalline and fuzzy; Noctis had yelled something about his dad. Something about the citadel, and how he'd be just a second. Gladio had yelled something shitty after him- wait? Hold on, you'll get yourself killed?

It hadn't even been a minute, but it was such a chaotic minute. Statues coming to life, the dread clutching his heart. Running, cursing, Prompto's frantic fingers tugging on Gladio's sleeve, his high-with-panic voice asking where Noctis went. Flames, debris, MTs and Kingsglaive and all sorts of shit hitting the fan. They'd booked it, Ignis showing up out of nowhere, prim and proper even with his face streaked in blood.

And then there was Regis, clutching a body to his chest.

---

They left Noctis behind, and Ignis blames himself. It was the logical thing to do- Noctis was dead, and Ignis knew he was dead, he knew because he had prepared for the worst case scenarios on this trip and the phoenix down didn't work- but he blames himself. Regis's grip was a vise; Regis didn't want to let (the body of) his son go. Ignis pried his hands off, dug his nails into the skin of Regis' fingers until he drew blood. Shook the old King, shouting about how they had to run or he would die too.

(Regis had wanted to die, Ignis is certain. But cold, frigid logic had told him that Regis couldn't always have what he wanted: Noctis alive, Noctis well, Noctis in Altissia and getting married. Noctis, safe.)

(Noctis's body, to burn or bury.)

They pulled him away. They saved him, because if they couldn't save Noctis, they had to save Noctis's dad.

(It still feels like they didn't save anything at all.)

---

Prompto isn't even supposed to be there. He's certain he shouldn't be: two weeks fresh out of Crownsguard training. Barely good enough at self defense, only given a gun because Noct thought he'd be good at it. Those were his words, exactly: "I thought you'd be good at it," with the careless, casual feigned indifference of a cat. He'd been over the moon at the rush: being accepted into Crownsguard, being trained, getting to meet Lady Lunafreya, finally, after all these years.

He's not supposed to be here. Gladio and Iggy- they're Noct's Shield and Adviser, the ones who were supposed to protect and guide him since birth. Prompto's nobody, just some loser kid with a barcode. He's heard the nobles talk, because the Glaives are- were- thick as thieves. The Glaives accepted this scrawny kid as their own. The nobles talked of favouritism, pets, a face to show diversity and tolerance.

(His hand covers his covered wrist, for a moment; then he turns it into a fidget, hooking his fingers around the leather band and giving it an anxious tug. Opens his mouth to say something, to joke, but he can't. It's a bad dream. Any moment, he'll wake up. Noctis'll be poking him, smirking, and there'll be a line of drool caked along his chin.)

(He doesn't wake up.)

(Sometimes, he wonders if it's true. If the nobles were right, if Regis and Cor and Clarus all passed Prompto not because he'd passed his training, but because Noctis's only friend couldn't die.)

---

"Ignis," Regis says, and Ignis doesn't flinch. He stands straight, hands clasped behind his back. "Why were you there?"

The response is prompt, almost rehearsed. Neutral and clipped as if he were answering a question about the weather. "The Regalia broke down just outside the walls ten minutes after we departed. Noctis requested your mechanic, and that none of us inform you. While we waited for repairs to complete, we decided to say goodbye to the city."

"...I see."

It's mundane. It's so mundane. Nobody got kidnapped, accosted, or even blackmailed; the car just broke down. But the car is fixed now- and Gladio is awkwardly, stubbornly washing bloody, dirty handprints off the door handles- and everything is different.

"What do we do, your highness?"

Regis blinks. He looks at the three of them- at Prompto trying not to look at Regis, trying to hide behind Gladio's bulk- and suddenly looks older, wearier than he ever did.

"I trust your judgement."

Ignis was Noctis' advisor. Ignis was the advisor of a child merely two years his younger, and he had felt like he fit the role. Noctis was moody and childish, still growing into expectations. Noctis was prone to impulsive, stupid things, like the time he warped out an open window to avoid his vegetables and literally hit a bird.

Prompto had choked on his spit, then, face turning an astonishing shade of red as he coughed. And Ignis had felt accomplished in his role: guilting Noctis into eating his vegetables, making sure Prompto could breathe. First aid for the bird, even, which had lost a good number of feathers but was only stunned. But regardless: Ignis had felt equipped to deal with Noctis and his endearingly childish friend.

Regis, though. Regis is regal and defined enough that the occasional childish whim is no cause for concern. Regis is more than twice Ignis' age, literally ruled a kingdom. Regis has made hard decisions that Ignis has only imagined. He was signing a treaty, preparing for a double-cross, and the majority of his Glaives are scattered or dead.

There is, simply, no way that Regis needs Ignis' advice. To say so is laughable, and to believe the words, more so.

Ignis pinches the bridge of his nose. Inhales. Exhales. "I will not disappoint you, your highness," he says, certain he's lying.

Regis' raiments need to be mended. He'll start with that.

---

Prompto goes for a run with Gladio, part to keep Gladio company, part to get away from Regis (though it makes him feel guilty, because the dude just lost his kid, fuck), and part because he just needs to run. He needs to turn tail and bolt, away from Insomnia, away from Altissia. Cleigne sounds nice. Mountians, cliffs, forests. He'd get a ton of fantastic nature shots with his camera, and nobody would ever find him.

Not that they'd come looking, anyway. He was Noctis' friend, first, and he's got the feeling Iggy and Gladio only put up with him because Noctis would've thrown a fit if they didn't. Noctis is gone (dead) now. They don't have a reason to keep him around. He doesn't even have a reason to stick around, because... he only joined the Crownsguard for Noct, anyway.

Gladio trips over a rock and swears, loudly. Then he slams his hand against the ground, cursing and cursing, and Prompto bounces from one foot to the other because he doesn't know what to do. Then he kneels, awkward, and says, "We'll figure this out," because it's bigger than the two of them.

It's not just about Noctis being dead. It's also got to do with- fuck- Insomnia being taken, and Regis on the run, and whatever the hell the imperial army is up to. People died. It wasn't just Noctis.

(But damn if he wouldn't trade everyone for his best friend.)

"I shouldn't be here." Gladio's voice is oddly hoarse. Choked. For a moment Prompto pauses, stalling over the words, and then Gladio says, "I couldn't even keep the kid alive."

"Dude," Prompto says, "We couldn't keep Noct alive." It's like, a team effort or something. Crownsguard shit. Him, and Gladio, and Ignis were all supposed to be watching Noct's back. It wasn't just Gladio, and technically, technically, Prompto knows it wasn't their fault.

Noct was reckless. He rushed off on his own. Ignis, Gladio, Prompto- they couldn't keep up. They should have known that he would do that; he was their friend, and they should have prepared for that, but they just. Didn't. Couldn't.

(It feels wrong, to say that Noctis is dead because he did something dumb. Like he's disrespecting his best friend's memory.)

For a second Gladio's lips curl, teeth baring into a snarl. Prompto's bracing himself for some kind of accusation (deadweight, a nuisance) and then Gladio just... crumbles. Leans bodily against Prompto, like one of those huge dogs, shuddering silently.

"Hey," Prompto says, and that's where he stops. He can't say it'll be okay. 

(It probably won't be okay.)

“Hey.”