okay i was teetering on the cusp of the DA:I chasm but i'm back now

apparently.... vampire sex. was what i needed. to step back from the beckoning abyss

gale baby you're so real for this, you were so right that time in the swamp, dick really DO be that good sometimes that it makes you wanna live

To Tell the Truth (Bartrand & Varric, Bartrand POV)

It’s tough to be the eldest. Especially when your little brother’s name is Varric. 2000+ words.

***

Bartrand lied to Varric about... a lot of things.

Like Orzammar. He didn’t really remember it all that well. How could he? Their father had thrown everything away over lousy rigged Provings, and they’d lost it all when Bartrand was practically an infant.

All he remembered of the city itself was glow, warm golden light of the carefully tamed magma far below their feet, and vast, the nearly endless stone ceilings far above him.

In the Tethras home in the Diamond Quarter, he remembered glimpses of books bound in bronto leather, thick blocky dwarven script marking the pages with neat patterns. He remembered Father in his finery, Mother in angular gold jewelry. Back then he did not remember her drinking. He never knew the smell of mosswine.

Later, he knew wine and whisky all too well.

She started drinking up on the surface. She slurred when she talked, the harsh edges to her words softened by the alcohol, and sometimes she sat on her bed with huge tears in her eyes in yesterday’s clothes. She missed Father, and she missed Orzammar, and the sky dizzied her.

Bartrand felt the same. But Varric -- he barely remembered Father at all, and he’d only ever known the sun.

Bartrand knew his duty, and he tried to teach his brother what he should know. At first it was the things Father had shown him, about how to be clever, how to watch out for things that felt wrong. And it was the things Mother had told him, about counting, about money, about leverage.

But he ran out of those things to tell him soon enough, and Varric filled the space between with his own stories. It made Bartrand uneasy. If he wasn’t careful, Varric would start to make up the wrong things. He felt very deeply, very sternly, that an older brother should not let a younger brother become an idiot.

So Bartrand talked of Orzammar, and he strove to pull stories and legends out of half-remembered glow and vast , out of bronto leather and finery and the stories Mother used to tell him, and he thought that even if he’d made some of it up, he’d done pretty well as an older brother. He thought he’d taught him what mattered. He thought he’d done what his father would have done, should have done.

… Except that Varric was a little shit.

***

Varric only got worse the bigger he got. Once Bartrand had been excited about the idea of a younger brother, someone to share in the Tethras name with him. Instead he discovered younger brothers were an exercise in pure frustration.

Varric teased him when his beard finally came in, snide little comments about old Paragons and making fashion statements. Bartrand’s fingers twisted jerkily at the clumsily woven braids he’d made. At the look in his eyes Varric threw back his head and laughed, then ran as fast as he could when Bartrand raised his fist. Later Bartrand stared at himself in the mirror and undid the little braids, one by one.

Varric ignored him when Bartrand showed him old accounts and ancestors’ names written finely on delicate deepwood parchment, trying to make him understand where they’d come from, filling in the details as best he could remember. Maybe some of it was lies. Just a little, just enough to make his obnoxious brother pay attention. The lies didn’t work, though, and Varric would pull out pages of human-made vellum scribbled on with child-sized handwriting, grinning from ear to ear.

I made it more interesting, he’d laugh, building scaffolds of bigger lies and wild fantasy on top of Bartrand’s dusty foundations. More than once the lessons ended with Bartrand threatening a black eye, and Varric sullen and kicking his chair with his feet.

But then there was the time Varric broke the dish, one of the last from Orzammar that hadn’t broken or been sold off when they’d first come to the surface. At first Varric looked like he would burst into nervous laughter. Before Bartrand could work up the anger to start yelling, Varric crumbled. Fell on his knees, started sweeping up the shattered pieces, said he was sorry, all right, I didn’t mean it, honest.

Bartrand still yelled, but he was strangely gratified when Varric left a glued and scarred plate on the kitchen table for him to find a day later. It broke apart when he touched it, gold filigree forever cracked in half, a useless repair job.

It was the best thing Varric had ever done.

When Varric asked Bartrand if the glue had held, later that night, Bartrand lied to him. Sure it did, brother. You fixed it, in the end.

He wondered what Varric thought when the plate was never displayed again. He wondered, but never asked.

***

Bartrand was fifteen when he entered the meeting house of the Merchants’ Guild for the first time as the head of House Tethras. He’d trained hard the past three years under older members of the Guild, cut his eyeteeth on smaller, safer trades until he started to see the patterns, sense them in a way that was hard to describe and easier to feel. Parchment and coin felt at times like an extension of his hands, a medium he instinctively knew how to manipulate. He wasn’t much for imagination, but when he allowed it a place in his head, he imagined a painter or a sculptor felt much the same way.

He tried to include Varric, ancestors knew he did. It got harder and harder to try and teach him, but he kept it up, gruffly trying to explain the patterns and their intricacies. Especially since Ilsa had grown more and more isolated, keeping to herself in her bedroom, rarely interacting with them.

It was up to Bartrand now. And he could rise to the challenge. So he thought, anyway.

He tried to drag Varric along to meetings at the Guild. He pointed out who was a useful contact, who would stab you in the back, who was broke and pretending he wasn’t, who was drowning in coin and pretending he was broke. He hired bodyguards after the first time Varric insulted a particularly violent house, and temporarily kicked his brother out of the Guild after the third round of insults ended with a knife to Bartrand’s throat, a dead fourth son of a minor family, and an arrow in Varric’s leg. The night was a blur but Bartrand clearly remembered his coinpurse emptying out by half, his brother’s face white and sweating, and his hands sticky with Varric’s blood. Not something he ever wanted to relive.

After that Bartrand broke down and started paying for dueling training for his mouthy little brother. Bastard might as well fight his own fights, if he was going to start them. He showed little promise with daggers or swords, but the tutors said he had a fine eye with a bow.

***

Years on, Bartrand still worried about Varric. Oh, sure, in some ways he was making progress. He’d become downright skilled in archery, both in shortbows and crossbows. He was developing some side proficiencies in setting traps and lockpicking, neither of which was respectable, exactly, but at least they were useful. And he’d started making contacts here and there, working on developing a little spy network of people who didn’t run their mouths off nearly as much as Varric himself. He wasn’t entirely hopeless.

But he still didn’t seem to understand what it was to be a Tethras. Bartrand wondered if he’d gotten too influenced by surfacers and the sun, the way he went on so about novels and publishing and other crap the humans had invented.

He took Varric aside one day, pulling him into the kitchen. Ilsa slumbered in the sitting room, already drunk despite the early morning hour. Bartrand had long since accepted that queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach her stupors gave him, but something new was happening, something worse.

“You said you wanted to talk to me, brother?” Varric asked.

Bartrand nodded gruffly, tending the kitchen fire in preparation for breakfast. Bacon and the last of the eggs. He knew he could have hired a scullery maid, but he preferred the money staying in their coffers, and besides, he was a pretty good cook himself. The coals flared, flame dancing merrily above them.

“Mother’s getting worse,” said Bartrand baldly. “I brought a healer in to see her.”

“When was this?” Varric asked.

“You were out. Sources say you were meeting up with a smith? Could be a good alliance.”

“Right,” said Varric, looking away. “It can never hurt to know a good smith. And she’s the best this side of the surface.” He gave Bartrand an uneasy chuckle.

“Anyway, the healer said Mother….” He grimaced. “It’s only a matter of time now, Varric.”

Varric crossed his arms, letting out a deep breath. “But she’s still so young, Bartrand.”

“Maybe so, but she’s poisoned herself. You had to know she couldn’t drink like that for years without it catching up to her.” He stoked the fire, harder than he meant to. The poker sent sparks to the back of the fireplace.

“I guess that’s true.” He sighed. “Does... she know?”

“No. I didn’t see a reason to make it worse for her, understand? The healer thinks months. Maybe a year, if things go well.” He rummaged with the bacon. “But she shouldn’t be alone here anymore. Not all day, like before.” He hesitated. “I was thinking of hiring someone.”

“I can take care of her,” said Varric.

Bartrand closed his eyes, hoping this wasn’t one of Varric’s fancies. “Huh.”

“It makes sense. You’re busy. You have Guild crap, and this venture, and that venture… I can work on my writing while I’m here with her. It’ll save you having to pay for someone,” Varric said. “And Mom never liked surfacers in the house, anyway.” He smiled at Bartrand, but it lacked the usual attempt at charm.

Bartrand nodded, fighting back something unfamiliar. Was it pride? Maybe? He wasn’t sure. “That sounds fine, brother. I think it’s for the best.”

***

Bartrand watched the funeral procession pass, laborer dwarves taking their mother away to be interred in the finest stone he could afford. Steam puffed out from their breath in the cold winter air. Bartrand couldn’t help a sense of relief, knowing she would finally be reunited with their father in a beautiful crypt on the edges of the dwarven quarter.

He turned to see Varric coming out of the front door, his face blotchy, eyelids swollen. Bartrand glanced around worriedly, hoping none of their neighbors would see. Some of the other houses could make use of such a display.

It wasn’t that Bartrand didn’t grieve their mother; she was their last connection to the past, the one who had kept them going after Father died, as best as she could. But Varric still needed to learn the difference between a public face and a private one. Public grief could be showed in careful visits to the crypt, composed and calm and cool. This — the snot glistening at the edge of Varric’s nose, the red cheeks, the puffy eyes — was utterly private.

“I guess that’s what she wanted, isn’t it,” said Varric dully at Bartrand’s side. The wagon passed out of sight, the sound of the wheels faint on the riven stone. “She never got over leaving Orzammar.”

Bartrand swallowed, uncomfortable. He’d never get used to Varric saying out loud the shit that should have stayed quiet. “She was a fine woman. She did what she had to for this family, as best as she could.”

“She shouldn’t have had to,” said Varric. “You ever wonder if it was exile that did it? And not the alcohol?”

Bartrand bristled. “Come on. Let’s get inside,” he muttered. “Walls have ears.”

They sat in the sitting room where Ilsa had spent most of her days in the end, drinking enough to fight off the shakes and the terrors, being sick as a dog when her body started rejecting even that. Bartrand leaned back against the settee, thinking hard.

“Look,” said Bartrand. “Now that Mother’s gone, we’re gonna have different priorities. You’re freed up again. And I’ll be honest, Varric, I think you might finally be getting the hang of being a Tethras. You stepped up, when you had to.”

Varric snorted. “Was that a compliment?”

Bartrand glowered at him. “It was, but I can take it back if you’re going to be smart about it.”

“You know me, brother. I’ve never not been a smartass.”

“That’s true enough,” he grumbled. “But I think you’re figuring it out. A silver tongue can get you out of trouble just as much as it can get you into it, you know.”

“That’s what I hear,” said Varric. He lifted up the blanket from the settee, pulling out a flask of whisky, Mother’s favorite. “Huh. Guess we can get rid of this now, can’t we.” His face crumpled, but he recovered quickly, putting on a twisted smile before he could start crying again.

“Pour a glass,” said Bartrand.

“If you insist.”

“And I do. As eldest, it’s my right.”

“Is that a little sass I detect, brother?”

“It’s been a trying day,” Bartrand admitted. He watched as Varric rustled up some glasses and poured them two large measures of whisky. For a moment, both stared at the amber liquid. He could almost hear Ilsa’s voice again, parchment-thin and rustling by the end, begging for just a little more.

Varric picked up his glass, holding it so that the firelight caught the curves. “To Mom.”

“To Mother,” Bartrand echoed. Their glasses clinked. He took a sip, whisky burning his throat, and swallowed the bitterness down.

Varric took a drink, shuddering. “Burns, doesn’t it.”

“No gains without a little pain.” He stared into the fire.

“It’s rude to call me that, Bartrand.”

Bartrand turned to his brother, raising an eyebrow. “I’d say you’re a bastard for that remark, but technically, I’d be lying.”

“And you’d never lie to your own brother, would you?” Varric asked, nudging him in the shoulder.

Bartrand considered. The Tethras clan, starting to make their way in the world. The Tethras brothers, coming into their own.

“Lie to you?” he said. “No, never.”

Everything was in place to take down Audens Avidius. All that was left was to wait out until the morning, while keeping a look out to make sure nothing happened to Lorunk and Ruslan. That out of the way, it was time to rest and wait until morning.

On the trip back to the Market District, we passed through the Arboretum, and who should we run into on the way, but Thoronir; our mark for the scheming price-gougers Society of Concerned Merchants’ job. Well, I’m not exactly happy with Jensine right now, given the stunt she pulled, but hey, I figure it’s still worth looking into his operation. Trials: “Ho, you’re ‘Thoronir’, right? I hear you’re cleaning up right now. Might I ask about your inventory?” Thoronir: “What about my inventory?” Trials: “Where’s it come from?” Thoronir: “Well, that would be a trade secret. I can’t divulge how I pass the great savings on to you, now can I? “Just like a baker not revealing his best recipes, or a clothier guarding his best designs, or a butcher not revealing where he gets his meat from--” Trials: “I’m not sure about that last one. I feel like I’d be more comfortable knowing where my meat comes from.” Thoronir: “Suffice to say, my sources are quite reliable and low cost. That way, you walk out with a full coinpurse.” Trials: “...you’re a really happy businessman.” Thoronir: “Why shouldn’t I be happy? I’m making a killing. And it’s the kind of ‘killing’ where I don’t have to eat anyone.” Trials: “...wat?” Thoronir: “IDidn’tSayNuffin’.” Thoronir rushed off after that, vanishing into the dark of the night. But I gave chase, sneaking after him. He made for the Market District, and I followed him through, tailing him carefully.

It was close to midnight as Thoronir approached a garden somewhere behind Rindir’s Staffs and Edgar’s Discount Spells, and I followed after, hiding against a corner, as a blond Nord approached, and spoke with him. I leaned in as close as I could, and listened in. Thoronir: “That you, Agarmir?” Agarmir: “Shhhh! Not so loud. How many times have I told you that?” Thoronir: “Sorry, I am not used to this kind of meeting. It always makes me nervous.” Agarmir: “Well, just shut up and listen to me. The next shipment will be sooner than I expected. Just have the money ready.” Thoronir: “Same assortment of things? I mean, I have enough clothing for now.” Agarmir: “You take what I get! I get notice at the last second, and I have to jump on it. No time to be picky about it.” Thoronir: “Well, that Society is putting more pressure on me. So maybe we better cut back for now.” Agarmir: “You cut back now, and I’m going to take my business elsewhere. Or maybe pay a visit to that Jensine and tell her about your little scheme.” Thoronir: “Fine, you made your point. Contact me when you have the items, and we’ll meet again.” Agarmir: “Don’t worry, it will be very soon. Now get outta here.” Jeez, that was about the rudest transaction I’ve ever heard that didn’t involve me. We have some literal back-alley deals going on. Something shady is definitely going on here, or else why would Thoronir need to meet his contact in the middle oft he night? Agarmir was our next lead. As the source of Thoronir’s ultra-cheap wares, he’s the one to tail to discover what the nature of this shady business is. We gave chase after him, and followed him over toward the Talos Plaza District. There, he entered a house, presumably, his. Now, breaking into a place while the owner was there is a pretty dangerous move, so I gave him an hour to, hopefully, go to bed... only to find that he’d barred the door. Who the hell barricades their door when they’re at home? Is he expecting a zombie horde or something? So that was a bust. As long as Agarmir was home, there was no getting into his house. Out of options for the moment, Ruin and I retreated back to the Market District, renting our familiar room at the Merchant’s Inn and turning in for the night. The morning came, and it was time to check on Lorunk and Ruslan. Ruin and I rushed on over to the Temple District, and met up with the pair once they’d exited their houses. I explained my intentions to escort them, and followed to duo over into the Elven Gardens District, where they sought out Captain Hayn.

Ruslan: “We’d like to report a crime. Watch Captain Avidius stole all of our money while we were shopping in Jensine’s Merchandise.” Lorunk: “That’s right!” Itius Hayn: “I see. These are very serious charges. I’ll need you both to provide two witnesses to the crime.” Ruslan: “...but we are the witnesses.” Itius Hayn: “You can’t expect me to just take your word for it. If I did, something might actually get done in this city!” Trials: I leaped out from a corner and screamed. “Just do your job, jackass!” Itius Hayn: “Ugh, great. Internal Affairs will be on me like kitty-litter on a Khajiit. I’ll be filing paperwork for a week after this, but, fine!” Our two witnesses rushed home after that, but I tailed Hayn for the moment. I really wanted to see the moment when Avidius got what was coming to him.

Back in the Market District, that is exactly what went down. Itius Hayn: “Audens Avidius, you are under arrest for extortion and petty theft. Surrender peacefully and keep what little dignity you have left.” Avidius: “I’m surprised, Ititus. I didn’t think even you would stoop to arresting a fellow Captain.” Itius Hayn: “Only those who break the law.” Avidius: “Damn, and I would’ve gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for those meddling lizards!” Trials: “Have fun in the dungeons, jerk-face!” Avidius: Increasingly unhinged. “Someday, I’ll get out, and when I do, you’ll pay! You’ll both pay!” Trials: I crossed my arms and smirked knowingly. “Take him away, boys.” Itius Hayn: “Hey! I give the orders here!” He turned to two generic guards. “Bake him away, toys.” Generic Guards: “...huh, what?” Itius Hayn: He flushed awkwardly. “...just do what the lizard says.”

It was late afternoon by then, so, feeling good about a day’s work well done, Ruin and I swaggered back on toward the Talos Plaza District, where we tried Agarmir’s door again. Success! This time it was unbarred. We gave a quick look around to make sure the coast was clear, and then broke in. Ruin: “Where did you learn to pick locks and break-and-enter this way?” Trials: “Ruin, Ruin, buddy, we’re not ‘breaking-and-entering’. We’re... investigating.” Ruin: “Without a warrant or probable cause?” Trials: I rolled my eyes at him. “Well, you can feel free to hang out here and find me two witnesses. I’ll just be in here, doing my job.” Ruin: “You know what? You’re right, that system is stupidly obtuse.” In, we went, and I zeroed in on the basement right away. I figured, it was more likely he was keeping shady stuff down there, than it was likely he was keeping stuff in his bedroom. Down in the basement, the place looked a sight; blood stains, clothes strewn about, and piles and piles of a mysterious powder, as well as muddied shoes and shovels all over the place. On a corner table lined with candles, I found a book labeled as “Macabre Manifest.” ...really strange name for a book. Points for the alliteration, but that’s pretty on-the-nose considering that I presume Agarmir is looking to hide his dirty-dealings.

The contents of the book confirmed what the title implied. Again, not sure why Agarmir wanted to advertise this. Was he worried he might forget what his business was all about? And indeed, the contents of the book revealed the ghoulish details of Agarmir’s business. If the big header at the beginning of the book that read “Recently Deceased” was anything to go by, it seemed the stock he was selling to Thoronir was obtain via grave-robbing! Huh, if he’s stealing from the dead, maybe he is worried about zombie hordes coming to exact their revenge after all. Ruin: He snorted, gritting his teeth. “Grave-robbing? How repulsive!” Trials: “...Ruin, we nick stuff off of dead people all the time.” Ruin: “There’s a vast difference between slaying a bandit in combat, looting the spoils, and robbing from the honored-dead.” Trials: “Really? Because the only difference I see is that robbing the ‘honored-dead’ means you’re messing with people who had money and/or connections.” Ruin: “I think it’s a bit more complicated than just that.” Trials: “I don’t think it is.” Ruin: “Well... we’ve been hired to prove Thoronir’s stock was ill-gotten, and even if this system doesn’t make a lot of sense, by their clown-shoes logic, Thoronir’s stock is indeed ill-gotten. We have what we need to get paid.” Trials: “...hmm, true enough, BUT, I don’t feel good about selling Thoronir up the river like that.” Ruin: “Why?” Trials: “Because Jensine’s a bint and I don’t like her face. “Besides, I have a hunch that Thoronir doesn’t know what’s going on. Let’s confront him and see how he reacts to this evidence.”

We jogged back over toward the Market District, burst into the Copious Coinpurse, and slammed the book down on Thoronir’s desk. Trials: “Hey, chief. We pinched this from Agarmir. It’s proof that the stock he’s been selling you is obtained via grave-robbing.” Thoronir: “Oh! A little ghoulish... but I do buy things from adventurers who take things from fallen enemies all the time!” Trials: I shrugged and rolled my eyes. “That’s what I said!” Ruin: He sighed and shook his head. “Sir, whether or not it makes sense, it is the law here in Cyrodiil, and is a capital offense here.” Trials: “...Ruin, why does grave-robbing carry the death-penalty, but necrophilia is only a five-hundred gold fine? I feel like that’s backwards!” Ruin: “...” He paled visibly. “How do you know that?” Trials: “I know a very strange Dark Elf over in Skingrad.” Ruin: “...” He sighed and groaned. “This place is weird.” Thoronir: He paled a little. “Well, if it’s so disreputable that I could get into serious hot-water for it, then you’ll have to put a stop to it at once. I’ll fully cooperate with your investigation, of course, provided you put in a good word for me.” Trials: I gave a friendly salute. “Absolutely. Now, can you tell us what Agarmir might be doing right now?” Thoronir: “He mentioned having ‘something important to do’ today. You don’t think he would dig up another... oh no, he wouldn’t. But I guess he has been! Oh my, what have I gotten myself into??” Trials: “Calm down. We’ll get him. We just need to know where to look.” Thoronir: “Well, assuming he’s still in the city, you’ll want to try Green Emperor Way. It’s the largest graveyard inside the city walls and the likeliest place for him to... uh... ‘do business’.” Trials: “...grave-robbing right under the Emperor’s nose? By the Nine, that sounds really dumb! How has it taken this long for anyone to figure out what he does??” Thoronir: “His beard emits pheromones. It’s the only logical answer.”

Ruin and I raced over to Green Emperor Way, and as we ran the circuit, looking for signs of Agarmir, we noticed the door to the “Trentius Family Mausoleum” was left ajar. Well, if Agarmir was going to roll out the red carpet for me, I was going to take it. We rushed in, and immediately found the Nord himself, and an armored accomplice, within. Agarmir: “I had a feeling you’d catch on sooner or later.” Trials: “We’ve literally never spoken before.” Ruin: “Maybe he also prepared this speech in advance?” Agarmir: “Oh, shut up, both of you! The door locked behind you as you entered, and I’m going to murder you both and chuck you into this unmarked grave.” Trials: “But, it is marked. It says ‘Trentius Family’ on it.” Ruin: “Do you think that, after he buries us alive, he’s going to dig us up and rob our things?” Trials: “See, if he were smart, he’d kill us first, then take our stuff, so that way it’s actually legal.” Agarmir: Increasingly Irate. “Are you two even paying attention?? I’m threatening to murder you!” Trials: “...since we’re in a mausoleum, is it still legal to loot him and his friend when we defeat them? Or would that be grave-robbing?” Ruin: “I do not know. Cyrodiil’s legal code makes no sense to me.” Trials: “Well, as long as there aren’t two witnesses, I think we’ll get off with a warning.” Agarmir: Grinding his teeth. “Stop ignoring me!” Trials: “Wanna go eat at the Feedbag after we’re done here?” Ruin: “You always choose the cheapest places. Why can’t we eat at the Tiber Septim Hotel?” Trials: I offered Ruin the Stink-Eye. “Well, well, lookit Mister Moneybags over here! Do I look like I’m made of Septims?” Ruin: “All I’m saying is; we’re going to be paid for this job, and we’ll only be in the city for a few more days. Let’s try somewhere new.” Agarmir: Deadpan. “You both are horse’s asses.” Trials: “Okay, okay, we’ll compromise and hit up Luther Broad’s Boarding House, deal?” Ruin: “Deal.” The fight was on... and over rather quickly. Turns out, when you show up to a sword-fight wearing your working clothes, you tend not to last very long. His backup lasted a little longer, but with two-on-one odds, we took him down quickly, too. Then, legal or not, I pinched their stuff, and left them for the guards to find and clean up. On the way out, I picked up the soil-stained shovel Agarmir had been using to dig up the Trentius Family plot. Given the... strained legality of all of this, the more evidence I had to prove Agarmir’s guilt, the better. We reported in to Thoronir once we were done, and presented him with Agarmir’ shovel as proof of his defeat. Thoronir: “Then we can at last rest. I feared had he somehow bested you, I’d be next. It’s fortunate that your skills exceeded his. “I’ve come to some decisions. I intend to donate all of the money I have made, as well as what is left of the stolen items, to the temple.” Trials: “That might square you with Arkay, but otherwise, you’re just lucky the guards in this town are super-duper lazy.” Thoronir: “I also want you to know that I had a long discussion with Jensine, and I have decided to join the Society.” Trials: “Bottom text.” Thoronir: “...” He rolled his eyes. “No, I mean, Jensine’s Society for Concerned Merchants.” Trials: I frowned and scowled at him. “Oh, so you’re selling out, huh?” Thoronir: “That’s capitalism, baby. The biggest sellout always wins! “But I realize you risked your life to give me a chance, and Thoronir never forgets things like that. Please, accept this ring... and store credit.” Trials: “...friggin’ smart-alleck.”

Hoping to get some kind of real payment out of this, we made for Jensine’s to offer my final report. Trials: “And that’s the whole story.” Jensine: “Oh yes, Thoronir spoke with me while you were out. He explained his intentions to donate to the local temple, and to join our Society, and fix prices with us buy and sell at a ‘fair’ price. “In return, the Society has decided not to press charges. His name will be absconded from the records of this crime.” Trials: “...” I set my hands on my hips. “Lady, you wouldn’t press charges against Audens Avidius, but you considered pressing them against Thoronir?” Jensine: “That was different. The first one was out of spite! While the second one--” Trials: “--Would have also been out of spite.” Jensine: “...” She scowled. “Just, shut up and take your gold!”

That Day We Met, It Snowed Too

Jumin x MC

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a/n: This is based off the Japanese folk-tale the Crane Wife (particularly Rin & Len’s version in Seasonal Feathers). This was inspired by and made as a companion for @anon-drabble’s take on Orihime and Hikoboshi. Yes, this is male!MC.

°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°

Nimble fingers worked the loom, and MC looked up from his whittling to watch Jumin work. They were both talented, but his husband took craftsmanship to a level like no other. Beautiful blue and silver decorated the woven cloth, the threads going back and forth and back and forth as Jumin added line after line. The motion was hypnotic. He couldn’t help but be drawn in.

His chest clenched, and MC bent over, coughing wracking his frame. The loom carrier clattered when it hit the floor, Jumin suddenly at his side. Steel grey eyes searched him in panick. MC tried to control his breathing through the thick hacking veil.

“The cold does my lungs poorly,” he admitted, covering his mouth afterwards. His forehead touched the floor and his body spasmed violently with each cough.

“Once this blanket is done, you will have better warmth, my love.” Jumin’s touch was a steady and gentle reassurance on his back.

MC tried to hide the blood seeping through his fingers as he slowly sat back on his heels. “You’re too good to me.”

Panic fueled every ounce of Jumin’s body as he rushed for the doctor on the otherside of the village. The snow was cold. The world frozen. But neither of those things stopped him from dragging the old healer back to his home.

Who knows how long it took, but his body paced aimlessly. He trudged back and forth in front of the door, waiting on the verdict. Little by little, Jumin’s patience began to seep away into a thin frail line. He was half tempted to barge in on the exam when the doctor emerged with a grim expression.

Jumin felt his stomach rise to his throat.

“He will die,” the doctor murmured. “You’re lucky the cold season is almost at its end. He will have some good weather to see him off.”

Jumin grit his teeth. “Is there nothing I can do?”

“Well…” The doctor scratched his chin and gave a huff. “There is medicine.”

“Where can I find it?” Jumin demanded. “I will pay anything. I will do anything. I need the medicine.”

Humming darkened in the doctor’s throat. “I can order it…however, it is a western remedy. And therefore far more expensive than either you or he can offer.”

“How much?”

The doctor mentioned very vaguely his guess of the cost.

The storm in Jumin’s eyes darkened. He barely managed to thank the old man, barking out a reminder to order the medicine, before storming back into the hut. MC slept soundly on a futon, his breath rasping with every rise and fall of his chest. He had only until spring…

Jumin walked over to the loom, staring fully at the half-finished blanket. They would need high price and high quality in order to afford the elixir for MC. But it didn’t matter. He could afford any price if it was for his beloved. Nails shredded into skin, and Jumin tore the top layer of flesh off his forearm. Blood dripped onto the floor and splattered onto his feet. But no longer did he hold human skin. Instead in his grasp was a patch of ebony fur.

He began to weave his pelt into the cloth.

…

MC trudged onward, limbs numb and skin freezing. The weighted pack on his back made him want to just give up, however he was so close to home. Just over the ridge. Just over the ridge and onto the next plateau—he would be able to see his hut.

But the overnight snowfall had brutally hindered his progress. Knee high, he hadn’t brought the right tools to make the trek.

Snowflakes clung to the fringe of his bangs and his eyelashes. The white puffs dampened his clothes and froze his skin.

A distressed yowl paused him and he felt his body grow rigid. Not from the biting cold, however. The pit of his stomach heated and he felt his nerves spike through his throat to his jaw. He clenched his hands.

Again another howl, followed by another and another. And as MC listened, he realized that it wasn’t a cry of hunting or anger—but of pain. Fear.

His own. Its own. Whatever it was.

He crept closer to the sound, the snow crunching underneath the soles of his feet. Trying to keep his teeth from chattering, his jowl muscles pulled taut. He inhaled deeply.

And exhaled.

A large feline thrashed and scattered mounds of snow as it tore and tore and tore at a hunting trap which had snagged its paw. Deep red stained the snow, and as MC snuck closer he could see the gouges that marred the creature’s limb from all of its escape attempts.

“What a painful death for a beautiful creature…” MC stared ruefully at the animal. It was large, far larger than any cat he had seen. With long pointed ears and a wavering fluffy tail, the creature was all ebony fur and rippling muscle underneath.

A hunter. A predator. A carnivore stuck in a trap.

Swallowing slowly, MC stepped close, carefully and tediously. All the while he called out gently to the creature, trying to calm it.

The animal whipped around and faced him with a snarl before giving pause and staring almost incredulously.

Beautiful steel eyes observed him, and he was almost taken aback at how much knowing was hidden behind the glassy surface.

“I’m going to get you out,” he murmured, never breaking the contact.

The cat’s lips pulled back and it bared it’s teeth while it hissed. But MC crouched lower, came closer, made himself smaller. He reached for the iron cord, a simple deer trap designed to tighten with continued struggle. He had no idea who left a trap like this out on such a terrible day…but he loosened the knot, undid the chord—and screamed when the cat pounced on him and dug its claws into his shoulders.

It growled and snarled,and he squeezed his eyes shut. Alarm coursed through every vein and artery when he realized that this animal almost the size of his upper body was going to kill him. But a moment passed, and then a breath, and a second, and a minute. Nothing else transpired.

He opened his eyes, very warily. The animal observed him with a narrowed curiosity. He blinked. It blinked.

Then in a sudden whorl of fur and snow, the creature bounded away—leaving MC flat on his back.

He picked up his hat and flattened out his robes, wobbling the rest of the way home. When he arrived and put down his pack at the front step of his hovel, he tried to ignore the raven-haired man sitting at the stoop. The stranger radiated magic, not that he would say out loud that he had noted such.

“Won’t you invite me in? It’s rude to make a visitor wait,” the man rumbled, his arms still crossed over his chest and his eyes still closed.

“I don’t make it a habit of inviting odd people into my home.” MC raised his brow but opened the door.

The man looked up with a slight, Cheshire smirk. “My name is Jumin. And now we are not unacquainted.”

“Well… how long do you plan on visiting?”

“However long you’ll permit my presence. ”

MC smiled.

...

Claws grew from fingertips. Fingers hardly moved. Arms and legs were wrapped tightly with bandages.

Jumin curled up beside MC’s side, his wrapped-up hand brushing along a gaunt cheek. His husband was fading, and he couldn’t even feel the fluttering warmth beneath the layers of cloth that bound his wounds. The blue and silver blanket, Jumin clutched that with his free hand as his bottom lip wobbled.

“Would you still love me,” Jumin whispered and his voice cracked. “If I were no longer human—if I turned into a monster to protect you?” His fangs poked painfully inside his mouth.

MC’s every inhale and exhale wheezed past dry lips. His eyelashes fluttered.

Gripping his creation, Jumin stood on one quavering leg and then the other. His body rocked violently back and forth but he forced himself to take a step after step after step until he was sprinting. Flying across earth and fresh breathing grass as if he were weightless. His first task was to sell the blanket, the second to get the medicine.

Hurry, hurry, there’s no time left.

He skidded through the merchant’s plaza, begging for anyone to take a look at his work. A few glowered at him while others showed concern. It wasn’t until he reached the closest stall that he garnered the attention he needed.

“Young man, let me look at your wares.” A trader called. He was dressed finely in gorgeous robes, his pale blue hair pulled back in a ponytail. An envoy for the royal household.

Jumin stumbled hopefully towards the vendor, all but shoving the blanket into the stranger’s hands. The appraising look and guarded touch that skimmed over the cloth set his stomach on fire with anxiety. But he kept quiet and observed. Fleeting hints of smile, a small twinge of the eyebrow—the vendor was at least pleased.

“I buy and sell high quality art,” the seller explained. “Our rulers are quite the fanatics when it comes to such, so I’ve seen my fair share of well-made pieces.This, however, is the most beautiful tapestry I’ve laid my eyes upon.”

Jumin shook. “That. That is my life’s work.”

There was a brief flicker of understanding on the other man’s face, before he lightly brushed his hand along the surface. The cloth rippled with an opalescent shimmer, as if made of gemstone. Displaying flashes of blue, silver, and ebony at their finest.

“I can see the story you’ve so painstakingly woven.” The merchant dug into his coinpurse. “Ten gold pieces.”

“Twelve.” Jumin leaned forward, his face seriously drawn.

The man nodded. “Fair and deal. Your price, my friend.”

Jumin couldn’t find the words to thank him. So he promised more business. He promised more cloth. He took the money and bolted for the doctor’s. Bandages were beginning to unravel. Fur and blood were seeping from skin.

“Medicine!” Jumin all but screamed when he arrived.

The doctor retrieved the item, a small parcel, and handed it to the incensed man. Jumin shoved the gold into the old man’s hand, and ran away.

Fur and blood, fur and blood, all of it staining further.

Jumin’s feet flew over freshly reborn land, spring entering her height of season. Flowers bloomed and trees blossomed, yet he could only muster the strength to make it home.

Time was up, for both he and MC.

He could see the hut in the distance. His heart thundering in his chest. Feline eyes narrowed and angular face scrunched in determination. But he fell. His body collapsed as his wounds reminded him over and over, tying him in crimson threads and restricting every movement.

He yowled out in pain, his voice the furthest from human. Please…please…I’m so close.

Jumin sobbed.

“Did you know,” a frail and familiar voice whispered.

His vision snapped up to see MC crouching down before him. A healthy glow warmed his husband’s cheeks, and his body looked strong and sturdy.

W…what?

“Don’t you know,” MC gathered Jumin into his arms, burying his face into the crook of his neck. “I will love you whether you are human or not. I have since the day I first saw your ebony pelt against the bleached snow, your form flitting when you ran free.”

His arms smudged and smeared blood and fur and human life between them as he drew them together, held them together.

Jumin grasped onto to the embrace—trembling—the medicine safe in his hold.

Get Up And Write Week 4: “This could be love, how could that be? I’ve fallen for a perfect little heaven of a thief.” Dangerous, Before You Exit

There had always been an aura of power about the elf. Most chalked it up to his magic. As he gave off a strange sensation with his mere proximity. Thus no one took him seriously as a sneak. He’d be felt long before he could get close; his odd aura would give him away after all. He smirked at Brynjolf as the man scoffed at him for the request to join his group.

"Yet here I have your coin purse and no one noticed." The mer purrs smoothly as he saunters away Brynjolf running after him.

"How!?" He asks and the elf looks at him and tilts his head.

"I'm sorry, thought I wasn't worth your time." He says frowning and Brynjolf grits his teeth.

"A man can be wrong once in a while, lad." He says and the elf smirks and turns gesturing the sneak follow him. They go to the docks and the elf plops down at an edge danging his legs and his boot toes barely skim the water sending ripples over the lake.

"I'm skilled, and tired of being the hero and good boy. I want a new life. I want to take, I'm done giving. So, now that I caught your eye... How can I prove I'm worth a new face showing up in your rat nest?" He asks and Brynjolf plops down nest to him and stares at the elf.

"You stole from a master lad, I don't think I need any more proof..." He says watching him and the elf laughs and leans into Bryn and drops the coinpurse back into his lap.

"Then, Little Emerald, where do I sign?" He asks and Brynjolf chuckles noticing the bag's a little lighter.   

"Well, lad my purse is a bit lighter..."

"Shouldn't insult a master." The ef shoots back smiling. Brynjolf laughs and the elf just swings his legs making a ripple split the lake and the light glitters from the setting sun. 

"Meet me in the market tomorrow I'd like some help getting a job done and you'll get paid and earn the hints you'll need to get down to the hide out in the rat way." Brynjolf says and the elf chuckles and stands. Brynjolf follows trying to slide his fingers into a purse but the elf swats his hand every time. 

"Now I'll just have to get better won't I?" Brynjolf jokes and the elf grins.

"Tell you what, you manage to steal from me, I'll fulfill one wish that is within my powers for you." The elf says and Brynjolf smirks.

"Then it's on then, lad. Eventually your purse and that wish'll be mine." Brynjolf purrs and the elf laughs and slinks into the shadows waving. The next day the elf is sitting at the side of the well early morning and Brynjolf slides up next to him. He looks over and smiles softly. 

"Good morning, lad." Brynjolf greets and the elf waves lightly in reply.

"So what was it you needed my help with?" He asks and Brynjolf nods to the lizard then the dark elf walking up to the market.

“Alright simple enough.” The mer says frowning a bit but he can easily do this even if he doesn’t want to. As Brynjolf get’s their attention the elf manages to pick the lock get the ring and some other loot and set the ring in the dunmer’s pocket before sliding around to lean against the low wall circling the stalls.

“You did it.” Brynjolf says impressed and the elf shrugs.

“Now what?” He asks ignoring the guards that are harassing the dunmer. Brynjolf tells him to find the ragged flagon under the city and the elf sighs and walks away. He goes to the sewer his nose wrinkles as he walks in he dispatches the two thugs with simple magic and jumps down seeing no bridge he sees the gate picks the lock dispatches one last thug and loots their enchanted gloves and saunters in smirking as he hears his naysayers.

“Well so sorry to disappoint you, shall I leave then?” He asks as he walks up everyone blinks in shock and Brynjolf smirks triumphant and smug as a cat with a bird in it’s jaws.

“A dying bread, eh, well what do you call that?” He says and goes up to the elf. The mer stands near a bald man whose looking at him like he may have shit himself as no one had seen him walk up not even the thug for security.

“Bleeding shadows how’d you do that?” He asks and the mer smiles and winks vanishing into shadow as he steps back.

“I have a lot of magic, I can wrap it around myself making it easy to disappear in shadows or bright places. I’m just good with magic and I have silent feet. Don’y get me wrong I’m not all magic no skill. I can pick locks it’s how I got here so fast, I can pickpocket too. I can prove that if you all don’t believe me, but Bryn here could tell you all about it.” He says smirking coyly as he steps back arms crossed one hand up by his face as he tilts his head and taps his lips with a finger. He’s smirking as Brynjolf coughs and goes pink when eyes turn to him.

“Alright lad, you’re first official job’s to go gather protection money from three stubborn clients.” He switches the subject and glowers at the elf who laughs softly and nods asking what he’ll need to know before sweeping off. It only takes him a few hours as he tries to handle the disputes as easily as possible and manages to get a nice statuette out of it. 

Over the next weeks which turn to months and soon it’s been about three years, the elf’s done nothing but good seemingly the only one not suffering from ill luck and slowly managing to get the Guild back out in the open. New faces and some even manage to start turning the tides but it seems even the masters are getting struck time after time with bad luck. He is drinking with Brynjolf at the flagon and he’s unsettled. The huge jobs he’s been doing... He’s just found out it was Karliah an old Guild member whose been causing the waves. He looks at Brynjolf.

“I have a really bad feeling about all of this. Like a really, really bad feeling about this.” The elf says softly it’s late so it’s him, Brynjolf and Vekel.

“What’d you mean lad?” Brynjolf asks he still has yet to manage to steal from the elf. Not for lack of trying though he shakes his hand yet again swatted by the mer.

“I mean something isn’t right about all of this. I don’t know what it is but... It’s a bad feeling. Something bad’s going to happen soon.” He tries to explain and Vekel sighs.

“You going off like Delvin now?” He asks and the mer shakes his head and sighs he drops his magic aura revealing his real face for the first time. Gone was the plain looking altmer. Instead long white hair spills down his back and his bright golden eyes flicker over to Brynjolf as the tattoo around his eye is on display. Everyone knew the Dragonborn had the tattoo of a dragon curling around his right eye. Both men gape at him there’s a scar that mars that side distorting the dragon making it look as if it’s head had been cut off and that eye is milky and blind. The mer takes a long drink staring down into his cup.

“I felt this before, in several different places for several different reasons. All of them had something terrible follow. I’m not preaching we’re cursed, I’m sayings something is about to happen and it’s gong to be bad and I’ll possibly be in great danger because of it. He pulls back up the glamour and drinks again as the two are silent Brynjolf leaves to go to bed saying he has no idea what will happen but he’ll keep his eyes peeled. 

“So...  Kalail what are you going to do?” Vekel asks and the mer looks up and drains his cup.

“I’m going to do what I always do go head long into it and pray to lady luck.” He sighs and he sets his tab down and walks into the cistern to turn in. Mercer was supposed to be back in the morning so he could report and talk about the next steps. When Mercer comes back and he and the elf leave Brynjolf’s tense and the whole Guild feels it and soon everyone is on edge. When Mercer comes back alone the Guild’s in an uproar. Kalail was dead and they were furious all of them baying for Karliah’s head. Brynjolf though, he sits at the Flagon and drinks. Vekel watches sadly as the Master thief drinks away the rage and pain. 

When the elf walks back in he freezes them all with a spell it glitters in his hand and he looks tired and worn.

“None of you are going to like this, you might not believe it but please, I’m already in too much pain as it is, I can’t do much but please, listen to her.” He says and drops his spell Brynjolf is equally overjoyed and angry. No one said they’d seen Kalail, only that she’d shown up.

“What is it lass? Why shouldn’t we hurt you?” Brynjolf asks and she shows them the proof. Brynjolf’s flabbergasted. This can’t be right... Can it? He goes to the vault too on edge to care to listen to the others insist it was impossible. When it’s empty he’s almost to the point of murder he stays quite as Vex voices everyone’s opinion and Karliah says she wants him and Kalial to meet her somewhere near Riften. He follows the elf seeing he’s definitely hurting he holds his midsection like it’s in pain as he walks. When they swear themselves away to Nocturnal Brynjolf watches the elf. He seems better now but he’s still slightly sluggish and slow on his feet. Brynjolf slides up to his side as they discuss taking on Mercer. 

“You’re hurt?” He asks softly and Kalail nods Brynjolf listens to where they need to go and says first they need supplies. When Karliah goes to fetch what she wants for the journey Brynjolf sets the elf down and strips him seeing the nasty bruise on his side he asks if he can heal it and Kalial sighs and shows how badly his hands are shaking.

“Since that son of a bitch stabbed me I’ve been pushing myself nonstop. I shouldn’t use more mana until I’ve had proper sleep and a chance to heal up.” He says and Brynjolf tells him to rest and goes to the potions shop he gets several healing potions and a few mana potions. When he gets back he has the elf drink a few after waking him up. Kalail heals after that what he can. He’s drained though and tells Brynjolf that.

“Drained?” He asks.

“Like I can’t use my magic till I’ve rested up drained.” The elf sighs and Brynjolf nods.

“You’ll ride behind me. Rest while we get to Irkinthad, alright?” He says and the elf looks at him strangely a moment but nods curling against the nord and sleeping while they wait for Karliah to return.  When she does they head out to get the traitor. When they get there Kalail takes care of the bandits utterly obliterating them either with his shouts or a blade and Karliah takes some out with her bow but most are dead by the time Bryn can get close. When they get deeper Kalail stops using his thu’um and relies more and more on his blades and Karliah’s arrows to back him up. Bryn takes out what he can. When they get to Mercer and he has them fight Bryn sees Kalail snap and he says something in altmeris and just starts shredding into the man soon Mercer’s in pieces and Kalail has the eyes and everything Mercer had been carrying but he’s bleeding again. Heavily and their stuck. Bryn’s cursing up a strom as he helps drag the gold mer up the steps as water floods in the elf looks terrified.

“Gods... It’ll end with me drowning... Gods no...” Kalail looks like he might be having a panic attack and Brynjolf forces several potions down his throat to try and heal him as the water gets higher. they climb atop the statue’s head as the mer admits he doesn’t swim too well. When they make it out they all take a break Kalial lays on his back and passes out and Bryn takes the moment to nick a small gold knickknack out of the elf’s side pouch. He sets it in his own smiling and the next weeks are a blur. The elf goes to restore the sanctum and Bryn waits at the guild. When Kalail walks back in Brynjolf sets the gold trinket down and the elf laughs.

“I guess I owe you that wish.” He says tiredly and Brynjolf shrugs.

“Tell me one thing lad, this has nothing to do with the wish, do you fancy me?” He asks and the elf laughs and moves closer grabs his gold trinket and purrs inside the redhead’s ear.

“I fancy many things, pretty things, dangerous things, things with a great many uses. I do. Now if that wish get’s wasted on you shagging me I’ll be disappointed.” The elf chuckles as he pulls back. Brynjolf drags him into a kiss and chuckles after they part both breathing a bit heavier.

“No, that wish lad is that you stay with us.” He says and Kalail laughs and leans their foreheads together.

“I’ll move Oblivion and Sovengard to do so.” He promises as he gives a chaste kiss to the nord.

“Cause I’ve got all the time in the world now.” He sighs as there’s no war, no threat on all Tamriel so he’ll be free to do as he pleases for a long time.

((Session 10 highlights, go!))

Fake Lord Hassan confirmed for “The Shadow” bandit we saw a bounty for waaaaay back in the early sessions.

We also found a set of money printing plates in the pile, so let’s add forgery to the long list of crimes committed here.

We also found (3) Potions of Speed, several boxes of (100) ‘mysteriously’ enchanted arrows, a silvered dagger, and a silvered mace.

I am rushing back and forth between taking notes and cooking a depression meal on mute and Google Docs is lagging HARD to update this 40 page document.

We wrapped up this arc of the story, and left the country to head on home!

We escorted Colette back to her homeland, and as thanks, she gave the party her blue Cloak of Protection.

I voted for it to go to Mountain, on the grounds that he is also blue, and it would match his color scheme….also he has the lowest AC of the party bc his player never upgraded his armor.

The rest of the party couldn’t decide, though, so the cloak went into storage as we traveled onward.

“So you all travel back to Phwie. You bond, and your hearts grow five sizes.”

We brought the magical dowry chest back to Lady Rose, and gave her the first key we’d found. She pulled out the other key and opened the chest in front of us.

Inside the chest was a tiny clockwork dragonling. It had been intended as a companion for Clarrissa when she was far from home, but Lady Rose gave it to the party, instead, as a tribute to her daughter who had always wanted an adventure.

This tiny dragon saw Udaji (a bigger dragon), decided “that must be my mom!”, and curled up on her flower crown.

Udaji had a sudden understanding of how her father felt when she hatched, cried, and was made its caretaker.

If we feed it metals, it gives us money, and it can also light small flames, and curl up into a pocket-watch form to hide.

It’s a tiny Transformer and I love them.

I’m going to name this clockwork dragonling “Filigree” and nobody can stop me.

The DM approved. ‘Filigree’ it is.

We head back out into town, and find out from the artificer we made a delivery to earlier that Maxine Von Trikona has been asking about us.

As soon as we seemed receptive to seeing Von Trikona again, she teleported our entire party - animals and all - right to her.

She tells us that she’s having a problem with her apprentice, Humphrey - he’s been going off to those ruins we first found him in and doing gods know what, and she wants us to drag him back.

We’re rich now and the reward isn’t super huge, but we’re still on good terms, and still owe Humphrey a semi-apology for stabbing him and only barely healing him in time, so we took the job.

We went back to the ruins where this whole campaign started, and found resurrected bandits waiting for us.

The DM had us roll for Perception and Udaji shattered all her records with a 16, allowing her to hear the muffled screams of some poor captive somewhere within the ruins.

We walked into a trap and every single one of us failed the Will save.

We blacked out, and woke up in a different room, tied up on an arcane circle as our life force was slowly siphoned away from us.

The new player is also tied up with us, and their icon is Dr. Strange. I like them already.

Also we got stripped of our armor and weapons and left in just our skivvies. Udaji is upsET but mostly because we’re lying on bloody stonework.

Aaaaand Humphrey is trying to kill us again. I wish I could say I’m surprised.

“I did not consent to this.”

Matthias keeps talking, and Humphrey keeps getting more and more annoyed, but he doesn’t stop the ritual.

I tried to freeze him with my ice breath, since I was tied up right beside him, and RIGHT as I did so, Mountain cloned himself, and charged.

Humphrey ran away like a little bitch, and teleported away with a magic circle, leaving all of us behind.

We got ourselves untied, and realized that Astrid - along with our dogs - is missing.

Oh nO FILIGREE IS MISSING TOO-

The new wizard - Sane - confirms that the portal Humphrey escaped through (though now inactive) is for interplanar travel.

There were a few more people around the circle who didn’t survive....

Udaji came in clutch with the high investigation rolls, and found a trapdoor in one corner of the room, as well as a lot of super-sketchy, nefarious arcane shit.

She grabbed a book of notes that looked pretty fresh. She may not  know what it’s all about, but Von Trikona probably will!

Mountain recognizes the dead bodies as the judge and a guard from the nearby town that we had dragged Humphrey to jail in early in the story for misdemeanor necromancy.

Claus found a strange pendant, but quickly alerts the rest of us not to touch it.

We open the trapdoor instead, and are instantly hit with the smell of rotting bodies. It’s the corpse storage space - chock full of bodies and personal belongings, all strewn around.

We find our stuff, and we find Filigree!! They’re scared, but unharmed!!!

We do not find our dogs, though.

If Humphrey has hurt Burnt Toast and/or Matthias Jr, I will return him to Von Trikona in a coinpurse.

We’re all missing something - Udaji’s Entertainer’s pack, a week’s worth of rations, a healing potion, and candles are gone.

Mountain is missing his leather armor (hah! Now he’ll HAVE to upgrade!) and his warpick.

Matthias is missing his beloved crown, one of his (stolen) luxury pillows, and his quiver (but not his arrows).

Sane found his psionic focus and cape, and doesn’t seem to be missing anything.

Claus also seems to be able to find all his things.

Astrid is still missing.

“Claus will not heal you [Matthias] if you keep stealing shit from the dead bodies he’s giving final rites to!”

Mountain apparently goes commando under his armor, and is not bothered by his lack of proper clothing. The rest of the party is.

“You’re gonna traumatize Udaji! She’s still a minor!”

Claus gave Mountain a cloak from one of the dead bodies purely for the sake of covering up.

Since the corpse room has no exit, we go back upstairs, and try the door instead.

The door is locked, and has no keyhole or handle. Udaji knocks, but no-one answers.

Mountain tries to bash the door down, fails, and takes four points of bludgeoning damage.

We still have the crystals Sane found, and the teleportation circle Humphrey left behind, but the crystals wouldn’t be strong enough to transport one of us out, let alone all of us, so we go back down to the Corpse Room to look around again.

Mountain found a pressure plate, and when he stepped on it, something clicked upstairs.

Claus is single-handedly throwing dead bodies up the trapdoor so that he can take them out of captivity and properly dispose of them.

We make it out the door…..aaaaand it’s a 10ft drop straight down into a hell realm.

Completely unprepared to explore another realm, the party went back inside and tried to get the portal working.

We failed, and after a while of debating amongst ourselves, we bit the bullet, and headed out to explore this weird realm.

The landscape eventually transitions from barren, craggy rock to green, fertile farmlands

There’s a few adults and a few children around, and Mountain goes up to talk to them, COMPLETELY FORGETTING THAT HE’S STILL    M O S T L Y    N A K E D-

I pointed this out in the chat, and the DM had to mute herself, she was laughing so hard.

We tell the adult Tiefling that we were robbed/nearly murdered by a necromancer, and for the sake of their child, they offer Mountain an outfit out of their closet that they weren’t really wearing.

I HAVE REALIZED THAT IT WAS NEVER SPECIFIED IF I LOST/FOUND MY LUTE AND I DESPERATELY NEED TO KNOW NOW IF I STILL HAVE IT-

The DM isn’t always looking at the text chat, and my mic is acting weird tonight so I can’t turn it on, so I’m just sitting here sadly as the others progress the story, waiting to hear if Udaji’s family heirloom and prized possession has been lost or not.

The Tiefling farmers tell us that there are a few gates back to our realm relatively nearby, but that the road between them is dangerous.

Our best bet is a semi-permanent gate maintained by a cult of Lythander, and Claus (a cleric of Lythander) perks right up.

The Tiefling farmers give us a very old map, and it turns out that by “relatively nearby”, they mean “on the same continent”.

I STILL HAVE MY LUTE: CONFIRMED!!! Udaji and I feel much better now.

Claus sees that the farmers’ well is a little dry, and uses magic to refill it for them. Suddenly, they’re more willing to give us better deals on trading.

We decide to head for the gate held by the cult of Lythander, and skirt around the magical ‘death zone’ by going through a territory ruled by an ice elemental.

Finally, Udaji’s ice resistance comes in handy!

We need to give a Potion of Darkvision to the wizard bc he’s human and can’t see otherwise, but I’m the one who’s holding it and no-one’s reading the text chat.

We’re starting to chat more than play now, and it’s past 11pm, so we’re probably about done for tonight.

125.

Have you ever hugged someone for over a minute? >> I’ve probably been hugged for a minute or more, but outside of headspace I usually don’t initiate that kind of experience.

Would you ever get a tattoo on your collar bone? >> Sure, if I had a concept in mind.

Do you check your texts right away when you receive them? >> Yeah, if I notice I’ve been texted.

Has the last person you texted ever been mad at you before? >> At some point, probably.

Have you ever searched for your house on Google Earth? >> Nope.

How old do you look? >> According to various other people I’ve asked, I look anywhere from 23 to 27 years old.

Do you like movie nights? >> I mean, I like movies and I like watching them at night...

Is there a trampoline in your backyard? >> No backyard.

Does the thought of having children scare you? >> Yes, which is why I wouldn’t actually have any.

Are you nice to everyone? >> No.

Would you rather date someone older than you or younger? >> I tend to be attracted to people older than me, but my primary SO is younger than me, so, you know.

Are you excited for anything happening in the next week? >> We’re going to Chicago on Friday to see Hozier, which should be a good time.

What will you be doing in the next 2 hours? >> I don’t know, maybe poke around on tumblr for a bit or go play more Mass Effect Andromeda.

Who did you talk to on the phone last? >> ---

Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years? >> That’s the plan.

Think back five months ago, were you single? >> No.

Does anyone call you babe? >> Yes.

Does it make you uncomfortable when you receive a compliment? >> Nope.

Is there one person you look at and automatically smile? >> Ricky Whittle...? Heh.

Do you have trust issues? >> Eh, I don’t think so. I’ve been given plenty of occasion to develop them, but so far I think I’m just going to be more cautious about the kind of people I let into my life.

Do you like your toes? >> I have no opinion on them. But I just saw the Shameless episode where Frank casually amputated Debbie’s nearly-necrotic toes for her while she was passed out on painkillers and vodka (Liam was supposed to be doing it, but Liam’s like 6 and he passed out from the thought lmao). It was just so funny to me.

When you are home alone at night and hear strange noises, are you afraid someone is going to break in? >> Nah, that’s not usually the thing to cross my mind.

Do you wake up cranky? >> Not usually. It’s most likely to happen if I didn’t get enough sleep.

What is on your wrists right now? >> Nothing.

Are you a beach, country, or city person? >> I like all of these things.

Where do you prefer to sit when you catch the bus? >> The first window seat on the elevated level in the back. If you found a full tube of lipgloss on the ground, would you pick it up and keep it or would you throw it away? >> I wouldn’t do anything with it, most likely.

Do you ever listen to music to fall asleep to? >> Not usually.

Do you get offended if someone repeatedly checks their mobile phone when you’re out for lunch or dinner? >> I mean, Sparrow’s always on her phone, but I figure that has more to do with ADHD than anything else, so there’s no point in me taking it personally. Could you spend the rest of your life with someone who had bad taste in music? >> I don’t even know what “bad taste in music” means. I respect whatever music anyone likes. What is the stupidest thing you’ve heard somebody say recently? >> *shrug* Think about the last person you kissed - was it the very first time that you kissed them? >> Nope. Who is your favourite character from Friends? >> I don’t have one. How would you deal with a significant other who cried all the time? >> I’d be at a complete loss of how to deal with that.  When somebody tells you they’re going to have a shower. Do you automatically picture them naked? >> Depends on who it is. If I’m attracted to them, then you’re damn right I’m gonna picture it at least for a second. Otherwise, nah. When you drink alcohol with friends, do you play drinking games? >> No. When you have a song stuck in your head, does listening to that song make it go away, or just does it just make it worse? >> Usually that just... refreshes the earworm. Listening to other things usually helps (although sometimes that just changes the earworm to whatever I listened to). Is there anyone you would seriously punch right now if you had the chance? >> No. Do you think blondes are stupid, honestly? >> No. Do you love where you live? >> No. Last person you were on the phone with for more than 20 minutes? >> --- Would you go out in public looking like you do now? >> No, I’d change my clothes. Where did you get the shirt you are wearing? >> I don’t remember where I got this. So, what do you want for your birthday? >> My birthday isn’t until next May, I’m not thinking that far ahead. Did you sleep alone last night? >> No. Do you believe that there are certain circumstances where cheating is okay? >> No. Has anyone ever sang to you? >> Yep. Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 months from now? >> That’s the plan. How was your weekend? >> Last weekend was fine. Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you? >> No. How do you feel right now? >> Not as tired as I expected to feel. Neutral. Can a boy and girl be friends without having feelings for each other? >> Yes. Interested in anyone at the moment? >> Yes. If you HAD to kiss someone right now, who would it be? >> --- If you could make your lips bigger, would you? >> No. Did you kiss or hug anyone today? >> Yeah, Can Calah and King Crimson. Have your friends ever randomly stopped by your house? >> No. Have you accidentally sent a text to the wrong person? >> No. Do you reply to all of your texts? >> The ones that require my response, or that I have a reply to, yes. Could you last in a relationship for over a year? >> Yes.

Do you like your name? >> Sure, I like all of them. Who is your most trusted person? >> --- When you like someone are you happy about it? >> I guess? Like, it doesn’t depress me.... Are you happy with life right now? >> I’m happy to be alive. Does the person you like like someone else? >> Sparrow likes Hozier. LMAO

Do you ever feel like someone would be disappointed to see your body or are you comfortable with your body enough where you don’t think that? >> I don’t know how someone else would react to seeing my body. That’s not a predictable thing, everyone has preferences and what-not, so maybe my body would suit some people’s preferences and not suit others’. That doesn’t mean I have a great or a terrible body, it’s just what the individual is into.

What is your favorite flavor of Monster? >> I don’t like Monster.

Have you ever ran from the police? >> No.

Have you ever written on someone’s face in your yearbook? >> Yeah.

Do you follow rules or break them? >> I mean, that depends on the rule.

Do you have any trophies? >> No.

Do you work out? >> No.

What does your wallet look like? >> I use a David Bowie coinpurse as a wallet.

Do you have any hickeys on you? >> No.

Are your socks currently matching or are they odd? >> I’m not wearing socks.

What’s the name of your current, if not current, most recent ex? >> Hallie.

When did you last have sex with your ex? >> I don’t remember, it’s been years.

How late did you stay up last night? >> I don’t think I was awake much longer past 11p.

How did you get any of your scars? >> Burned myself on a motorcycle exhaust pipe.

Does putting others down make you feel better? >> No.

Would you cheat on someone for revenge? Or if they wouldn’t find out? >> No.

Rate your self confidence: 1 being insecure and 10 being cocky: >> I don’t know how to assign a numerical value to a constantly shifting and situation-dependent concept.

Does your family have a secret? >> There’s plenty of skeletons in their closets.

Do you lie when asked how you’re doing? >> No, I just don’t really know how to answer other than the standard response.

Do you like to take pictures of yourself? >> Yes.

If someone gave you a houseplant, would you keep it? >> I mean, I’d question why they were giving me one in the first place, considering I haven’t expressed desire for one. I have no idea what I’d do with it if I couldn’t give it back.

When/where are you most likely to sing? >> In the shower.

Are you in shape or more out of shape? >> I don’t know. I feel like I’m more out of shape than usual, because I don’t get out as much as I used to when I lived in the city.

Has anyone ever commented on your weight? >> Yeah.

Would you ever wish to explore a cave? >> Sure, why not.

Do you like wearing shoes? Or prefer to go barefoot? >> I don’t like wearing shoes indoors.

If you had a son right now, what would you name him? >> ---

Do you own a desktop or a laptop? >> I own two laptops. One of them might as well be a desktop, for as heavy and full of peripherals he is.

What do your friends call you? >> Rev, generally.

Who was the last person you spoke to before you went to sleep last night? >> Sparrow. Or Can Calah.

Have you kissed more than three guys this year? >> Not in meatspace.

Do you have any tattoos or piercings? >> I have both.

Who’s with you? >> Aside from inworlders, no one.

Can you use chopsticks? >> Yes.

Do you believe in yourself? >> Sometimes, sometimes not.

How are you in arguments? >> Sometimes I represent myself well, sometimes I don’t.

Are there certain things that can’t be joked about with you? >> It depends on the person doing the joking, I think. Sparrow can pretty much crack on me about anything if she wanted to, because I trust that she isn’t either prejudiced or malicious.

Do you think there are circumstances when it’s okay to wait for someone? >> Sure, I guess. I wouldn’t know, so I couldn’t pass judgement.

What would you do if you had a baby with the last person you kissed? >> ---

Do you still talk to the last person you kissed? >> Yep.

Is love really worth fighting for? >> If you’re going to fight for something, it might as well be that, sure.

Your phone is ringing. It’s your ex. What do you say? >> My ex doesn’t have my phone number, so that’d be strange.

Do you think the last person you kissed cares for you? >> Absolutely.

Have you broken the law in the last three days? >> No.

Was last night terrible? >> Nope.

Are any of your texts in your inbox locked? >> No.

If there were no letters on the keys on your keyboard, could you still type? >> Yeah, I’m a touch-typer.

Do you have a bad temper? >> No.

Have you ever dated someone longer than a year? >> Yes.

Do you wear your seatbelt in the car? >> Yes. Sparrow won’t pull out the parking spot if I don’t put my seatbelt on, lmao.

Do you currently have a scar? >> I have many scars.

You’ve had sex within these past ten days, haven’t you? >> Inworld, absolutely.

What bed did you sleep in last night? >> Ours.

Fantasy Meihem- Part 3

“Look, I’m just saying, you’re the one still stuck on the ‘goats’ issue. They wandered into my turf, they got eaten. Could’ve been a wild cat, or a bear, or whatever things you got here, but it just happened to be me. That time.” Jamison’s voice whined in her head for at least the third time that hour. “They still weren’t your goats. And it wasn’t a cat or a bear, it was you, eating things that don’t belong to you! Those goats are almost all those people had, you could at least feel a little remorseful about it,” she huffed, despite having gone over this point a thousand times. “I was starving, darl! Trapped and starving!” “Well, I understand that there were…circumstances,” she admitted. “And I paid for the goats you ate, but you are absolutely not to do it again! If you want something to eat, we’ll buy it properly, because that’s how we do things here.”

"Heh. I know something else I want instead. Something sweet and moist and tender..."

"What? I don't have any meat on me." “I mean, I don’t just eat meat. If you really wanted to keep me fed without dipping into that cute little coinpurse of yours, we could…uh…do some things…” His voice trailed off. “Are you planning something nefarious again?” “Uh…Nothing. Maybe later.”

For a while, they traveled on in the dark, her lone figure illuminated only by her staff. “Are we there yet? We’re getting closer, right? How many days has it been now? Ugh, time is torture on this side!” It was not long before his nattering began anew, unaffected by her audible sigh. “You sure you’re not going backwards? Can’t you just open a portal and pop us right to wherever we’re going?” Mei had stopped bothering to roll her eyes, if only to save her energy, the butt of her staff thunking against the ground steadily as she used it as a walking stick. “For the last time, I don’t work with portal magic. That’s one of my colleagues, and she’s very far away right now. Believe me, if I knew how to work portals, I would not…be here…” It had been three days. Their only stop had been to resupply at the village, where Mei gave them the news that the demon in the canyon had been ‘vanquished’ and that their goats would be safe to live out their happy goat lives from now on. Jamison had whispered to her the entire time, suggesting stories about their magnificent battle against one another whilst begging her to play up how powerful and handsome he had been. Mei had found her smile wavering more than once, but the villagers had rejoiced in her victory, rejoiced even more when she humbly refused their tiny offer of payment, given her a nice dinner, and the next morning she had set off in the direction she had come from- with the pesky demon safely stowed in the pin beneath her hat. According to her maps, this part of the road was faster, but she had never used it. Tall black trees rose up high on both sides of them, towering over everything and choking out the light below, casting everything below the canopy in perpetual black and purple twilight. The birds and insects had fled ages ago, and left only silent, many-eyed things that lived in the darkness between the tangled roots. There was no sound save for the sound of her boots and the occasional rustle of the wind that sent their black limbs shaking and clattering against one another, a hollow noise like rattling bones from far above. This forest was very old, very sick, and very angry. Anyone with good sense avoided it. So of course, she was here, tromping right through the thick of it and by all appearances, talking to herself. It had taken some getting used to, hearing that irritating voice in her head, and more than once she’d had to downright threaten him into silence, though it never lasted long before he eventually forgot and began bothering her again. But now she was a little glad of his presence and his chatter. The silence would have been deafening otherwise, and the darkness of the road loomed ahead with no light in sight. Jamison must have noticed her nervousness, uttering an overly-spooky little “WooooOOOOoooooo…” in her head. “Stop it,” she said firmly. “Little too dark for your tastes, eh love? Want me to come out and walk with you, light the way a bit?” She thought for a moment. She’d ordered him to stay hidden for obvious reasons, but there wasn’t a soul around for miles that she knew of, and the oppressive darkness threatened to overwhelm the soft blue light that her staff’s crystal provided. A little taste of his glowing fire, demonic as it might have been, would have been a welcome reprieve. But there was still the chance, minute as it was, that another traveler might be walking along the same road, and after another bit of pondering, she shook her head and knew he could feel it. “We shouldn’t. You’ve already caused enough of a panic as it is and we can’t risk it. Besides, I’m sure everything is fine. It’s just a little…Well, maybe it’s a tiny bit creepy? But only a little.” “Maybe one day I’ll take you back to my place when we find my pal, we’ll show you around,” he offered. “S’nice and bright and hot, not like here.” “There is no way I am going with you to the demonic realm, it’s probably full of fire and chaos and…I don’t know, unpleasant things? It was bad enough in that stuffy canyon. It’s much nicer in my homeland, nice and cool and snowy!” She beamed a little at the thought. “Sounds awful,” he replied promptly. “You’re awful.” “You’ll change your mind once you see it, darl. I’ll show you all sorts of treasures the others don’t even know about. It’ll be nice t’have you around, ol’ Pigface can keep the whole hordes at bay but he is not much for the conversation. Not like you! Now, you, I could talk to all day!” “I know,” she groaned. Jamison already could, and did, talk to her all day. “And don’t worry. I’ll explain everything to my Guild, we’ll find your friend, and then you can both be banished and head back home.” He was oddly silent for a moment, and it almost seemed to echo in the confines of her pointed hat. After a moment, his voice was a little smaller. “Yeah but…ya know. You could come with, for that visit? Or I could stay. I mean, there’s no hurry to anything, right, don’t need to rush these sorts of things! How about we just play that one by ear?” Her footsteps paused. The demon was lonely, and for a moment, she had felt sorry for it. “That…Well that’s to say, it’s not…for me to decide?” “Why not?” “Well you’re…I mean, you’re illegal. You’re not supposed to be here at all. You have your own realm, we have ours, and you’re…well, you’re the epitome of evil?” “Aw, d’you really think that? Like I’m a big, strong, handsome sort of epitome? Flatterer. Charmer. I knew I liked you for a reason.” “Not you, you!” she said quickly, starting to walk again. “I meant demons as a whole. You’re more of a…” She squinted behind her glasses. “I still don’t know what you are.” He paused. “…Stop.” “I mean, I know you’re a demon. Because demons are all-” “Stop!” He said again, more firmly, and this time there was an edge to his voice. “Shh. Listen…” She paused, clutching her staff in both gloved hands. For several very long moments, she heard nothing but the soft sound of the passing breeze up in the treetops above. But Jamison’s tension put her ill at ease, and she swore she felt an icy chill travel up and down her spine, goose pimples raising all over her exposed skin. In a nervous motion, she leaned suddenly to smooth and adjust the bottom of her skirts, adjust the garters beneath th- There was a PTING!ing sound that rang out like an alarm from the treetops, and something whizzed past her ear where her head had just been, trailing a venomous glowing red. She startled, synapses firing at random, and tried move both forward and backward at the same time, feet falling out from under her as she was knocked onto her rump. She tried to collect herself, blood pounding in her ears and almost drowning out Jamison’s bellowing in her head, but even as she flailed both boots in the dirt for hold, she flopped foolishly from side to side like a newborn colt. At a loss, she brought her staff into the ground, the crystal glowing white-blue as ice rose up from nowhere in front of her with a whoosh and crackle of crystalizing air and moisture. She heard the thud, saw the ice splinter where another of those spells hit her barrier. Something loud popped in her ear and then exploded into reality. One moment there was nothing but licks of frost flickering through the air, and then Jamison was suddenly there, bringing with him his own whirling storm of ash and cinders, yellow and red and mixing with the softer blue of her frost motes. He uncurled out of the nothingness, reaching down and grasping her by both arms to haul her up off the ground. His pointed ears twitched and he smiled down at her, but it wasn’t his usual smile. This one was a leering grin that stretched out his features and bared almost every single one of his sharp teeth, lips pulled up to reveal pinkish red gums and the yellowed roots of his fangs beneath. “Think that one shaved a few hairs off you, love. Come on, come on, get yourself together!” Irritation took over panic and she found her nerve again, planting both feet down once more, if only just to spite him. “I-I’m fine! It came from up there, up in the branches.” “…Ice us up to our left, darl! Wait, I mean, other left! No, first left!” She flailed her staff to and fro as his directions changed, and managed to bring another icy barrier up on that side, just as there was another sharp ringing noise from the darkness overhead. A red glow hit the barrier yet again. Jamison put his back to hers, head tilted upward. “If it’s up there, we're nothing but targets down here,” he said. “Okay, we’ll just…we’ll just…” She looked around frantically, starting towards the tangled roots of the forest off the road. “Just give me a moment, we’ll try to find somewhere more sheltered, maybe if we get some cover, I can wall us in, we can make a plan!” “No time to hide! We’re going up there!” “W-wait! How are you g-” She cringed back as a pair of black and red wings, bony and ribbed like a bat’s, seemed to explode from his back, unfurling in a rush of wind and a flurry of glowing orange embers. They found the air and grasped it, flapping mightily as his arms wrapped around her and they went hurtling back up into the air. Mei remained crushed against his chest, clinging onto him with her cheeks flushed as she held her hat in place. He offered her a smarmy, fang-toothed grin, with that same cocksure confidence as always. Their eyes met, dark brown locking with glowing yellow… It was all quite gallant until she realized that only one of his wings was actually effective and they were completely out of control. Whatever had taken out the limbs on his right side had mangled that right wing along with it, and it was crooked and torn, flapping frantically to make up for its lacking power. They were still technically in flight, but she realized that it was wobbly and steering was clearly not an option, and the unlucky demon’s flying ability was at about the same level as a very desperate chicken. He couldn’t fly very far or very high, but his struggling took them up into the trees and away from the open ground. Jamison overshot the limb he’d been aiming for, flinging out his metal claw and sinking it into the dense black bark of the trunk, leaving long raking marks in the wood that slowed them to an abrupt halt. It almost jostled his precious ice mage right out of his grip, and she was yelling something he didn’t really bother listening to as he wedged his other long arm up and under her breasts, gripping tight around her ribcage to keep her and all her silly poofy cloth from slipping free. He managed to deposit her onto a thick branch, hunching over her to make sure both feet were planted- His shoulder exploded in a spray of molten black ichor and he screamed, mouth stretching and dripping fangs inches away from her face as it spattered over both of them. He fell forward onto her, leaving the horrified little ice mage with both arms wrapped around his bleeding form, his wings sagging. The light shifted, filtering through the maze of bare branches overhead, illuminating the scene eerily. She tried to lift Jamison back upward, shoving and pleading, as a figure rose up from several yards away. It looked female, tall and lithe and beautiful in an otherworldly way. Her skin was a ghostly blue pallor, her lips painted dark and her eyes a luminous yellow that almost matched the fire demon’s…although as Mei looked on, several other eyes seemed to open from nowhere as well, covering the top half of her face like a spider’s. She didn’t seem to wear robes or clothes, but dark shadows seemed to cling to her skin, bathing her in bluish-black from the neck down, shifting and wisping eerily over her skin. She strode forward, spike-clad heels digging into the wood beneath her and her manicured black claws glowing the same dull red as the spells that had nearly killed them both already. The woman’s lips twisted into a poisonous smirk, lifting one hand to blow them a kiss as dangerous-looking red vapor drifted over her palm. “Hello.”

Lost in Time Ch. 16: Coping - An Elder Scrolls Fanfic

Chapter Summary: Ma’zurah and Fayrl are disturbed by the things they have discovered about the state of the world in the fourth era. They make some questionable decisions in an attempt to cope.

Cross posted from Ao3. Chapter Rating: T for alcohol abuse.

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Lost in Time Chapter 16: Coping

It was almost dark by the time the two of them made it back to the Bannered Mare, arms laden with purchases. They made their way through the crowded common room and up the stairs to their rented room, where Ma’zurah dropped her burden on the bed. She tugged off her new boots, and began organizing their supplies into manageable packs.

They’d had a busy day. They had returned most of Farengar’s books, sent Ma’zurah’s dirty traveling clothes to be washed, gotten Fayrl’s armor adjusted, picked up his newly sharpened daggers, sold most of Ma’zurah’s harvest of ingredients from the Shivering Isles--though she did hold back two pieces of amber she had found and four pieces of the dangerous, narcotic greenmote mushrooms--and procured all the necessities for life on the road, and then some. Ma’zurah had been amused to discover that Fayrl apparently intended to dazzle all the country folk of Skyrim with purchases of fancy clothing, but she still wasn’t sure how she felt about Fayrl’s apparent intention to cultivate a drinking habit--he’d gotten far more alcohol than was strictly necessary, and it put her in mind of Julan during the early parts of their relationship. Not necessarily the best of memories.

Thoughts of Julan inevitably led to thoughts of Vvardenfell and its troubles, and Ma’zurah suddenly felt like drinking, herself. She was not in the habit of using drinking as a coping device, but she had been through a lot in the past two days. Ma’zurah finished tying her newly purchased bedroll to her pack in preparation for the morrow, and stood with a sigh. “Ma’zurah could use a drink.” she told Fayrl tiredly.

Fayrl, who had been busying himself with restocking and meticulously tending to his stock of poisons and toiletries, perked up immediately at the prospect of drinking. There was so much about the activity he enjoyed. The silence had allowed his mind to drift to thoughts what he had left behind as well.

He had happened across a doll’s shoe in his bag that must have belonged to his son, Sildras; it had somehow wormed its way in amongst his belongings. His journal also sat beside him, chronicling the past six years of his life. He would normally have taken the opportunity to write in it, yet it seemed like, as a result of being thrown through time, perhaps it was best to have a separate book in which to put his thoughts to paper. His regular journal should remain for his own time. And when he returned, he could resume right where he had left off, as he planned to do.

He would return back to centuries before Ma’zurah had even been born. He hoped that he would still be able to remember her once he had returned. Would any of the things he procured in this time return with him? Surely not. Mephala had said herself, he was only her Champion in this time. The Ebony Blade was likely in the hands of another, more worthy Champion, in his time.

“I would be happy to accompany you if you would like to drink downstairs. If not, I am happy to simply order a couple of bottles from the innkeeper. There’s not much left in the bottle from earlier, I’m afraid.”

Mazurah nodded. “Ma’zurah thinks perhaps she would like to go downstairs. At least for a while. Nords are not the best company, but better than Ma’zurah’s thoughts right now.”

“Nords are lovely company for drinking. As long as they don’t feel in the mood for a fight they will just be loud and cheerful. I find it rather endearing.” Long were the nights Fayrl had spent in the company of Nords of all sorts. They were often put off by Dunmer, expecting the sort of pretentious snobbery his kind was so famous for. Yet a false attempt at trying to keep up with them and failing always succeeded at endearing himself to them. He never usually allowed himself let loose completely around those Nords, not until he knew he could trust them at least, but there were always exceptions. Some of those exceptions turned out to be his better lovers in Skyrim.

“If you want a Nord to like you, buy a few rounds of drinks and offer to match them, drink for drink, or even propose a drinking contest. It always puts them at ease. You don’t even have to keep up with them entirely--they do so love to prove they can handle their alcohol better than any other race. They like feeling that way; it makes them trusting, pliable.”

Ma'zurah held the door open for Fayrl and walked down the stairs. They pushed through the crowd and sidled up to the bar. Out of the corner of her eye Ma’zurah saw the bard, Mikael, duck into the kitchen with a panicked look on his face. She rolled her eyes.

“Ma’zurah could use a drink, please! Something sweet if you have it!” She told the barwoman. The woman nodded distractedly, and continued mixing a drink for another customer. She passed the drink over the counter to its owner, then ducked under the counter to retrieve a bottle labeled honeysuckle mead, which she passed to Ma’zurah. Ma’zurah tasted it, and perked up immediately. The barwoman chuckled and turned to Fayrl. “And what would you like, lovey? Fraid we don’t have anything from Morrowind, but we do have a few things imported from Cyrodiil.”

Fayrl smiled sweetly at the barwoman. “Do you have any brandy by chance?” A nice chilled brandy would be the perfect treat to end the day with. Perhaps he didn’t deserve it since he had not yet managed to secure a sacrifice for the Ebony Blade, but he had an Imperial that he was just waiting for the right opportunity to use for that purpose. And if not, there were always a few wretched souls on the streets late at night that got harassed by inconsiderate drunks who did not know how to accept denial. He had only to befriend one of said drunks and lead them away under false pretenses. He needed to shed blood soon.

“Oh I think we can find you something.” The barwoman wiped her hands on her apron and crouched to check under the counter again. After a moment, she stood. “Saadia!” A Redguard woman poked her head out of the kitchen. “Be a dear and check the cellar for some Colovian brandy for this darlin’ gentleman!” the barwoman instructed cheerfully. The Redguard, Saadia, bobbed her head and moved out of sight.

Fayrl smiled to himself. Colovian brandy would do just perfect. It was one of his favorites. Something about the way Imperials made their brandy always seemed to comfort him best. He could hardly explain why. It was sweeter than his palate normally had a taste for, and yet it did not bother him.

A dark haired man in a black robe stumbled up to the bar, bumping into Fayrl. “Oh excuse me--” the man cut himself off upon catching sight of Fayrl. “Oh! Well hello there!” the man drawled. He gave Fayrl an appreciative up and down look and grinned. “Aren't you somethin’! You don't look nearly drunk enough though. How would you feel about joining me for a drinking contest to win a staff? The name’s Sam!” The man steadied himself against the bar.

Ma'zurah gave the man an evaluative look. He was short--shorter than Fayrl or Ma'zurah, and his face was flushed slightly across his cheeks and nose. He was obviously already drunk. If the man’s slurred accent was anything to go by, the man was most likely Breton rather than Imperial. If they had been in Morrowind, Ma'zurah would have thought that the man’s simple black robe was an indication that he was a pilgrim, or possibly an independent mage of limited means, but in Skyrim, she had no idea what kind of people wore such attire.

Fayrl subtly checked to ensure his purse was still there, he did not suffer thieves lightly. When he found it to remain full and present, he donned a smile. “A drinking contest, eh?” Fayrl was sure this was a setup. A win that looked too good to be true often was precisely that. And yet, being away from his own mind for a bit seemed rather appealing at the moment. “I don't know that I need a staff. Ma’zurah,” he asked turning to her, “my love, do you want to play a game to win a staff? Sera Sam wants me to join him in a drinking competition.”

“Go for it.” Ma'zurah finished her mead and gestured for another.

“Oh-ho! I see you have the seal of approval!” Sam threw an arm around Fayrl and Ma'zurah’s shoulders. “I'll tell you what! You can be the judge! Or join in if you like! It’s all fine with me!” The man grinned at Ma'zurah. “And if it’s the staff that’s the problem,” he said turning to Fayrl, “we can just skip that part and do it for the hell of it! I find that raising the stakes makes it all that much more exciting though.” He giggled. “Get it? Stakes? Eh, eh?” He nudged Fayrl.

Ma'zurah snorted and accepted her mead from the barwoman. The Redguard cook came up from the cellar carrying a large bottle. “Sorry ma’am! The only bottles we have left are the large ones!”

“That’s fine Saadia, leave it here.” The barwoman said, and took out a glass to pour Fayrl some.

Fayrl was tempted to try touching Sam to learn his true intentions. And yet, if a guy like this was a real con artist, who knew how strange or awful those memories might be. He decided to avoid it.

The Breton seemed to remember something suddenly. “Say, what’s your names?”

“My name is Fayrl,” Fayrl replied with a grin. “And my beautiful wife here is Ma’zurah.” Fayrl turned to the barwoman. “Another brandy for my friend Sam here! It is only right if I pay for the first drink, after all.” The woman poured another glass and Fayrl took his brandy and handed the other to Sam.

“Oh nonono, that won't do at all! If you’re drinking with me, I'm paying!” Sam passed a sizable coinpurse to the barwoman with a flirtatious wink. “We’ll take the bottle!” The woman smiled and passed the bottle over.

Ma'zurah raised her eyebrows. The man was apparently not a mage of little means then.

“Lovely to meet you both!” The Breton turned to the pair brandishing the brandy bottle. “What say we get a table and do this all proper-like?”

Fayrl gave the man a clap on the back. That was the spirit he enjoyed about the drinking culture here in Skyrim, though he had not had such a quality of alcohol in such quantity since before he had been pretending to be a bard in Skyrim for six years. “A man after my own tastes! Let us do as you suggest. Though I wonder what it is you would ask for if by some slim chance you succeed?” His voice was lowered and suggestive as he spoke the question.

Sam held the bottle aloft and led the small party in a procession through the evening crowd to the last free table in the room. He settled into a seat. “Cheers!” he exclaimed, and knocked back his cup of brandy. He refilled it from the bottle with a flourish.

“Cheers!” called Fayrl and followed suit of downing the brandy in one. It burned, but that was what he wanted most right now. He didn't want to think about where he was or when he was. He just wanted to enjoy being.

Ma'zurah took her seat as well, grinning and nursing her bottle of mead. She was already starting to relax a bit, and the Breton seemed like interesting company.

“Now… what to do if you lose? How about a forfeit! Those are always fun! Honestly, I really am just in the mood for a contest, and you’re probably the only ones in the room I'd have any kind of chance against.” The man made an encompassing gesture to the rest of the room full of Nords, all probably a third again the body mass of the short Breton. He had a point, Ma'zurah realized with a smirk.

Fayrl gazed at the bulking collection of Nords. Certainly they did seem a rowdy bunch, and all looked as though they could drink half the keg each as easily as breathe. “I appreciate the sentiment, my friend, I do.” He leaned forward, hand on Sam's shoulder as he drew his face close. “So, what is the condition of defeat? Are we playing Skyrim rules, if you cannot hold any more liquor or you pass out you lose? That might make for a difficult time paying a forfeit.” Catching sight of Sam’s refilled glass, Fayrl held his out as well. “If you would be so kind.”

“Nah! That wouldn't be very fun now would it? We play until someone withdraws.” Sam refilled Fayrl’s cup. “Sound good? Wouldn't want to pass out before we get to the fun parts, right?”

Fayrl smiled. He hooked an arm around each of his companions. “Well, shall we begin then?”

Ma’zurah stood abruptly and downed her bottle of mead. “You know what! Why in the four hells not! Ma’zurah will join too!” She shouldered her way back to the bar and retrieved a glass amidst delighted laughter from the Breton. She returned and held her cup out to be filled.

“Now that is the kind of attitude I like to see!” Sam crowed, and filled the proffered mug. “Bottoms up!” he called and tipped the contents of his own mug into his mouth. Ma’zurah followed suit and finished off her drink with a noisy smack of her lips.

“Whoa!” she slurred tipsily, “That is stronger than Ma’zurah esspected!” She licked her whiskers and peered into her mug with one eye as though she expected to discover what made her drink so strong. “Sweeter too. Not bad!”

Fayrl cheered at Ma’zurah’s announcement to join. “Here, here!” He knocked back his brandy. Then grabbed the brandy to refill everyone’s glass.

“So, I take it you like it then?” Fayrl asked Ma’zurah, leaning his cheek on her shoulder while pulling Sam closer to him as well. “You can see why I prefer it to mead or wine or ale.” He nuzzled her shoulder. “You’re so soft.”

He leaned his head on Sam’s shoulder. “You’re less soft, my friend. You must need another drink.”

“Again!” called the Breton, and he drained his cup.

Ma’zurah finished her second mug of brandy and blinked at her companions through the fuzzy haze that had started to descend on her mind. She giggled. “Now why would you take brandy over those other shweet drinks you sayed? Ma’zurah steel pr’fers th’mead she had, but she is c’mpeting!” She shoved at Fayrl’s shoulder playfully.

Fayrl looked at Ma’zurah. “Can you not taste the more complex flavor profile? The notes of fruit and sweetness are more subtle, but smooth and crisp, with just a hint of citrus and spices. And the perfume of the spices, how could one resist?”

Sam grinned at Ma’zurah. “Y’know, I think I might have a drink that’s more to yer taste if ya wanna try it. Brewed it m’shelf! Strong and shweet, but not so shweet that even a great Dunmer like Fayrl here wouldn’t like it. Care ta try?” The Breton produced a large flask and removed the stopper, glancing between the two.

Fayrl turned with interest to Sam. “What sort of drink is this? You’re not trying to slip us something to take all our gold, are you, friend?” Fayrl’d had quite about enough of having someone slip things into his drinks. He was not eager to wake up naked in a mine again. Nor have to run through the snow and lose his favorite tunic along the way.

“What, no!” Sam’s expression appeared genuinely horrified. “I’ll take a shot too! I jusht thought y’might like to try it! Here, see?” He hastily filled his mug and drank the whole thing down, slopping a small amount of the liquid onto the table in the process.

Fayrl figured the worst that could be in there was a poison the Breton was immune to. Likely anything in that sort of poison Fayrl would have at least a minimal immunity to as well. He also had several cure poison potions in his bag. He had a couple on him now, just in case.

“Well, since you were so kind as to demonstrate the safety of your homebrew, it would be rude of us not to at least give it a sample, think you not, my dear?” He leaned against Ma’zurah and held out his glass. There was a hint of mischief in his voice. “Sam, you would do me an honor by allowing me to sample your brew.”

Sam filled their mugs and sat back and beamed as they accepted the liquor. “It’sa ver’ old shecret recipe. Y’can’t even get most’ve tha ingredientsh in Shkyrim!”

Ma’zurah sniffed her mug, and withdrew hastily with eyes watering. “Dear gods, that smells shtrong!”

“Probably th’shtrongest shtuff you’ll ever taste! But wait’ll ya taste it!” the man chortled.

Ma’zurah took a hesitant sip. “Oh! Iss shweet!”

“Yeah, but it’s tha aftertaste that’s th’besht. You gotta drink it in one go to get the full effect, shee?”

This whole thing seemed like a trap to Fayrl. A trick. A lie. This Sam fellow was entirely too giving.

And yet, Fayrl was inextricably drawn to it--the sense of danger, even knowing they would likely be unable to win, was thrilling. He had several weapons easy to reach if the man tried anything. Between him and Ma’zurah, they were likely in little danger. Maybe Sam was even as lonely and trying to forget as they were.

Fayrl took a sniff and then brightened. It smelled about as strong as he needed it to be. He knocked back the entire thing in one go. It burned like shalk fire, but as promised, it was sweet, then the aftertaste had something to it that he was not familiar with. He had tried many varieties of alcohol made from different materials, but this was the first time he had come across some of these flavors. And yet, something in the scent was familiar. He just couldn’t quite place it.

“This is delicious. Sweeter than I would normally go for, but such an expert blending that I have nothing but compliments for the flavor. I shall list them if you’d like. If not, just be content in the knowledge that I look forward to putting this masterpiece of yours in my mouth the rest of the evening.”

“You would do me the mosht honor by accepting another drink!” The man clumsily topped off their glasses, and then his own, quaffing his own drink with gusto. “Whoooa!” Sam shook his head as though to shake off the effects of the sudden rush of alcohol. “I think perhapsh I… I may have to consh… concsheede this contesht....” He stared at his flask longingly. “After thish nexsht round!”

Ma’zurah swayed slightly in her seat. “Ooh Shheggorath! Ma’zurah shhould sstop b’fore she throwss up…”

Sam drunkenly waved the flask in Fayrl’s direction. “That shettles it! You shuccesshf’ly take thish shot n’ you win th’shtaff!”

Fayrl snatched up his mug and downed it, slamming it onto the table afterwards, in the Nord fashion. He already had a tingling sensation in his fingertips and his lips. It made him feel good, really good. The stuff was strong, alright, normally he wouldn’t be this far gone for another few rounds. “There,” he proclaimed, listing a bit towards Ma’zurah in his seat. “I done it all.”

His eyelids were very heavy, he couldn’t seem to keep them open all the way. He hoped it made him look alluring more than sleepy. “M’ready for my prize, Sam.” He had to speak very deliberately and a bit slow in order to get the words to come out right. He did not want to appear as though he was as likely to fall over as he was.

And yet, a part of him wanted to stand up on the table and sing a song. He didn’t have his lute, but if he could convince some of the Nords to clap along, he could probably do a popular drinking song. Some of the old favorites from his time would surely still be around. A song like “She hides her tail” or “The cabbage farmer’s daughter” would be perfect for this crowd.

“C’ngratulashionsh m’friend!” Sam babbled, slapping Fayrl on the back. “Ya shhure earned it! What shhould we do now? I got a grate idea! I know thish lil’ plashe we could go, where tha wine flowsh like water!”

Ma’zurah squinted at Sam, suddenly feeling significantly more drunk than she had expected based on the amount of alcohol she had imbibed.

“Shaay, you don’t look sho grate. Are you feelin’ arright?” the Breton asked Ma’zurah.

Ma’zurah slumped against Fayrl, knocking him off balance. The last thing she remembered was waving a hand toward the Breton and drunkenly mumbling something about luggage in their room and feeling sleepy before the world went dark.

End Notes:

Fayrl’s tumblr: @talldarkandroguesome

Screenshot of Fayrl Screenshot of Ma’zurah Check out my art tag for more pictures of Fayrl and Ma’zurah.

Constructive criticism is welcome. We also really like it if you leave comments on Ao3.

1- All Great Stories Begin in a Tavern...

I was bored yesterday so I wrote a thing about how the characters met in my game, since my players didn’t get a chance to roleplay it.  This is how I imagine it going based on how they’ve been playing their characters.

The River Hair Tavern was crowded that afternoon, a band of fiddles and mandolins playing off in the corner as a group of men sang a traditional Chynwydth drinking song, bothering the classically-tuned ears of the elves on the other side of the room who only grumbled about it to each other.  A small group of dwarves visiting the capital had challenged a crowd of local halflings to a drinking contest in which the four dwarves had to drink the same amount among themselves as the seven halflings, and they were still winning.  

Sitting at the bar was an odd young woman.  The first thing anyone in the bar would have noticed was her clothing, which matched the form-fitting outfits worn by the monks of the monasteries in the southern mountains, made of a smooth white material with a tight red sash covering her flat chest.  These clothes and the lack of a drink on the bar in front of her gave two impressions to the alcoholics; first, she was here on business, and second, she would not be any fun to talk to. Though the sleeves were thin, her arms were thinner, and her skin was a slightly paler shade of azure than her hair, which fluttered occasionally as if blown by wind, despite being indoors. Her forehead had a small blue crystal embedded into her skin.

Her eyes were closed as she sat meditating on her barstool.  The noise of shouting halflings, laughing dwarves, singing humans, and grumbling elves had all melted away.  Through them all, one sound split through the serene quiet of her mind: the sound of creaking hinges as the door of the tavern opened.  Her eyelids parted slowly. She took a deep breath and turned her head to look.  Bending over to fit through the doorframe, a large figure stepped inside.  His head still almost scraped the eight-foot ceiling at his full height.  He had a lean, muscular body dressed in furs that looked like he had skinned the beasts himself, defending his stone gray skin from the winter snow.  Strands of black cascaded over his shoulders, and his torso was tattooed according to the tribal rites of his people.  No shoes, he held the strap of a large bag slung over one shoulder, and a wooden staff was gripped in his other hand.  

Using this staff, he propped open the door to politely allow a small figure with a wide nose and short wheat-colored hair.  This rock gnome's muscles seem proportionally larger on his body than his massive friend's did on his own, and so did his bag, which several pointed javelins and finely crafted hand axes were sticking out of. His clothes were more similar to that of everyone else in the bar; he wore a simple white shirt and tan trousers well-suited to a person of his stature, if not bulging a little at the seams.

Between the sight of the gnomish bodybuilder and the massive mountain man, including the weapons they'd brought, the tavern's volume had lowered considerably.  There was still noise, but rather than raucous laughter or merry music the subject was now these two travelers who joined the monk at the bar.  Most of this was general conversation, politely lowered so as not to seem rude, but a good deal of it was hushed for a different reason.  These were clearly thrill-seekers, or the gnome at least seemed one.  It was not unheard of for foreigners from far-off kingdoms (especially Valoria, whose culture seemed totally permeated with violence and duels) to travel to Bluval, seeking to take on the challenges and dangers that lie in the cursed forest to the east which the locals called the dorcha. They would almost always be rejected by the Fugue Wardens, guardians of the wall between Bluval and the dorcha bound by honor and their faith in Kelemvor, their god who hates the scourge of undeath so prevalent beyond the border.  On rare occasions, these travelers might be allowed for some reason to enter the Dark Border, which was a somewhat safer zone just outside the wall, for a few miles.  However, whether turned away at the wall or turned away at the dorcha, more often than not these adventurers attempted to force their way past, resulting in violence and lives lost on both sides.

So, it was not unreasonable for civilians to be suspicious and wary of those who, though neither soldier or mercenary, bore arms and armor.  These Bluvalish people, mainly the humans, kept a watchful eye open as the large and small men joined the monk at the bar.

“Orin,” the large man nodded at the young lady, brushing a lock of hair out of his face as the stool creaked under his weight.  “This is Selder.”  He gestured to the gnome who scrambled up the stool to his own seat and grinned at Orin.  “Selder, this is Orin, the one who saved me.”  His Common wasn't bad.  In fact, it was perfect. Too perfect, really.  Selder just found his way of talking to be funny, but Orin had decided that the large man had learned to separate each individual word, and broke those down into syllables, which made him sound like a novice bard over-emphasizing his diction.

Selder raised his eyebrows.  “Oh, yeh?  You the one who smashed that big 'ol snake right in it's bloody face?”  His accent was not as perfect, but rather very much entrenched in the southern dialects of long-isolated Chynwydth gnomes and dwarves, which Orin had learned were much stronger and more colloquial accents than the tongues of Orswell above it, though very similar.  In her small time traveling up through the south, Orin had learned the difference:  Chynwydth peoples felt distant from the politics of Bluval, while the people of Orswell were very swept up in their history and code of honor.  And neither one liked being mistaken for the other.

Orin nodded.  “I am.  And as To-Kar tells me, you're a bartender?”

Selder shrugged and sighed, slumping back into his seat as this tavern's own barkeep approached them.  “You drinkin' anything?  We got Blue River ale, same as anywhere, foive coppers.  But, for twelve, we've got Rock Breaker ale for a short time, 'fore the brewer's guilds jack up the prices or rope it back into monopoly, or whatever shite.”  Orin took note of his accent as well.  Distant from the crude “hillspeak” of Chynwydth, but not so much that it could be called “refined” either.  From what Orin could tell, Bluval City's own patented accent seemed to be a mishmash of the other regions, north, west, and south of it, but she would have to visit those regions herself to be sure.

“Just the Blue River for now,” To-Kar said, reaching into a small hand-stitched coinpurse.  “Can you break a gold piece?”

The barkeep raised a greasy eyebrow high enough that, for a moment, he didn't seem quite so bald to Orin, but also less handsome.  “Aye, I can cut a gold minted in Valandel's name into a clean ten silvers, but if you want to bring-”

“Here you go, then,” the goliath said, his deep voice muffling the bartender's own as he pressed a single yellow piece of Bluval currency onto the counter, smaller than his own thumbnail.  The bartender hesitated, and then picked it up, eyeing it suspiciously. “Would you like to bite it, too?  Make sure it's actually gold?”

The man gave an insulted glance to To-Kar before pulling out his own coinpurse.  “Eh, it'd ruin its value...” he muttered as he sorted through an assortment of coins.  He eventually pulled out nine silver coins and held them out, dropping them into To-Kar's open palm. “I'll go get yer drinks, then.”

As he left, Selder leaned over to speak to Orin past To-Kar.  “I'm not much of a bartender anymore, but I'm still in the Brewer's Guild, and I got dues to pay-”

“Which is why you're here, same as the rest of us,” Orin nodded understandingly.  “And our friend has explained the job to you?”

“Well, we go- thank you,” Selder interrupted himself as the bartender set a mug bigger than his head down in front of him.  An identical mug was set down next to To-Kar, who could only fit two fingers through the handle and took to holding it like a teacup.  “We go into the Dark Border, help this Fugue Warden guy find a missing girl, and then we all come home rich?”

“Enough to live like a noble for a tenday, anyway,” Orin nodded.

“And this Dark Border...” To-Kar mused.  “It is... safer than the rest of the other side of the wall?”

“Oh, yeh,” Selder chuckled.  “Ancient Bluval history, they say they've got these magic balls, or- ah, that sounded better in my head...”

 “And you're okay with this job?” Orin asked.

“I mean,” Selder filled his cheeks with a deep breath and blew it out slowly.  “Yeah?  I've got some questions...”

“As do I,” To-Kar nodded, having already finished his drink.  

Orin grimaced and nodded.  “And I.  Our employer has been very forthcoming about the dangerous possibilities of this occupation, and has explained that his pay is intended to offset the stress and trauma that accompanies it.  However, I still feel as though something has been left out.  Namely, the Fugue Wardens have called off the search, assuming the girl is dead.  So why is this man, Malcolm Murray, still insisting that we search?”

“Sounds personal,” Selder nodded.  “Well, guess we won't find out 'til we ask him ourselves.”

Orin glanced at the door as it swung open again.  “We're still waiting on one more.  Ah, here he...”

A golden haired, elegantly dressed figure in the doorway held the door open, bowing with a flourish as two other figures stepped inside.  The first was human with neatly combed brown hair and a black winter cloak hugged tightly around him.  His dark eyes scanned the room before landing on the trio at the bar, and he grinned slyly, like a dragonchess master who had figured out twenty moves in advance how he was going to win.

The second figure, annoyed by the cold, aggressively pushed past the human to get inside, growling through bared, pointed teeth at her own frustration.  A dark green-scaled dragonborn in darkly tanned leather armor turned yellow eyes on the human as he approached the bar, a frill rising slightly on top of her head like a dorsal fin before she followed, shivering, behind him, a sheathed rapier clapping against her leg as she walked.

The last, who had opened the door for the other two, walked in after them.  He wore flashy, colorful clothing with a high-colored shirt, and besides the backpack he carried, he held a lute in his hands.  He had hair woven from gold, a symmetrically beautiful face, and slightly pointed ears hinting at his half-elven blood.  He cheerily followed by the other two.  Selder raised his eyebrows curiously at him, drinking from his ale- this was a bard.

The three newcomers came and stood behind the three others, who turned their seats around to face them.  “To-Kar, Selder,” Orin began introductions this time.  “This half-elf is-”

“Anthony Adagio Darlington!” the bard declared, taking Orin's hand in his own and kissing it.  “At your service.”

“Ahem, yes,” Orin sighed.  “He attempted to charm me here in the city... non-magically, I mean.  In the way that mundane men often do for women.”

“I might take offense at that if you hadn't already invited me along,” Anthony smiled.

“And, if I may ask, Anthony, who are these two friends of yours?” Orin asked, sizing up the human and the dragonborn.

“Allow me to introduce myself!” the human said, giving a similar flourished bow to Anthony's.  It was clear how these two became fast friends.  “My name is Connor Everic!  I am a magically gifted native of Harriston, which I know is a bit of an, aha, oxymoron.”

“A what?” Selder said in between his last gulps of ale.  Neither he or To-Kar were very drunk, still, but To-Kar's constitution came from his size while Selder's came from a gnomish tolerance for alcohol.

“Ah, an oddity,” Connor clarified.  “My less social dragonborn friend here is named Zippan Onostashia, and she is, how would you say... a bit more resourceful than your average dragonborn.”

Zippan raised her chin to Orin as a greeting, which while that would be considered only mildly standoffish for a human or a dwarf, it was vastly ruder when compared to the usually noble culture of dragonborn in Bluval.  Luckily for Orin and To-Kar, neither of them were at all familiar with that culture, and simply nodded in response.  

Selder raised a hand to rub his chin as he looked at Zippan.  “I know you, don't I?  Yeh, ye used to be a regular at my tavern in Chynwydth, weren't ye?  The Hole in the Wall?  Couldn't miss it, was literally a hole in the wall- built into the side of of mountain.”

Zippan shrugged.  “I've been there.”

“You said that Sir Murray was holding an open call for as many combat-ready people he could find,” Anthony graciously explained. “So, when I met Connor and Zippan, impressed by his persuasiveness and magical skills and her... as Connor says, 'resourcefulness,' I invited them to tag along.  I hope that's alright.”

Orin hesitated, but nodded and shrugged.  “I suppose we'll be safer with more people, and it's not like we're splitting the pay the more we have.  Welcome to the team.”  Orin stood up, stepping her black cloth shoes lightly onto the floorboards.  Selder hopped down, and To-Kar let his weight press onto the creaking floor.  “With that, we're all assembled.  If we leave now, we can still make it to the wall by nightfall.  Time to meet our employer.”

Appropriate Chapter 2 Title

The old man’s face scrunched up, the wrinkles on his brow furrowing and eyebrows scrunching together.  “A...dream and promise, ye say?” The old man parroted uncertainly,  to fall upon deaf ears as Kana continued to look upon Ul’dah. After a few tension filled moments, it became clear to the rest of the occupants on the carriage that Kana had no intention of delving any deeper into the issue. Luna sighed and returned her attentions to finishing her healing of the two guards and the old man shook his head and returned to his drinking once more.  One of the elezen youths stared at Kana, a smirk ghosting his features for a moment before he broke off his stare. Luna finished curing the guard’s hurts and leaned back, gesturing to them that they could put their armor back on. After thanking her for the umpteenth time, the guards hopped off the carriage and resumed their posts. After they left, Luna closed her eyes and massaged her temples before feeling a nudge from her left. Luna turned to see that Kana had offered her waterskin, with a kind smile.  Nodding her thanks, she took the waterskin and drank deep of the cool liquid.

After she had finished, Luna returned Kana’s waterskin to the girl. “Thanks” Luna thanked her again.  “Anytime.” Kana replied with another smile as she placed the waterskin back to its spot on her pack.  After making sure it was secure, Kana returned her attention to the city, they were less than five minutes away, and Luna could see it in her friend’s eyes,  she was excited. Chuckling to herself, Luna made last minute changes to her pack, making sure she hadn’t lost anything during the skirmish. After accounting for everything in her pack, Luna joined Kana in gazing at the fair city of Ul’dah, only now noticing that she hadn’t really seen such grand walls around a city.  Gridania had very little in the way of a man made walls in favor of the natural cover they had with the trees.  ‘Of course being situated in a desert, Ul’dah has no such natural coverings so it made sense for them to have walls,’ Luna surmised.

After a few more minutes of travel, the carriage came to a stop and the driver announced their arrival. As soon as the announcement had finished, Kana gathered up her belongings and slung her bow across her shoulder as she hopped off the carriage. Luna bowed to the other inhabitants, “Let’s meet again, someday!” she declared before following Kana’s example, just in time to see Kana finish tipping the driver and begin to run into the city. “Twelve preserve, but she is an eager one… what have I gotten myself into? Luna muttered to herself as she sprints to keep pace, if not catch up with, Kana. After a few moments it was clear that Luna would not be catching up with the girl, so she opted for shouting. “Hey! Wait for me, Kana!” Luna called out, bringing Kana to a near instant halt in her tracks. Kana turned back, bouncing on the balls of her feet, smile broader than anything Luna thought possible from the girl. “C’mon Luna! Let’s get going!” Kana declared as Luna catches up, grabbing the girl’s arm as she resumes her previous pace. “H-hey! You’re stronger than you think you are, Kana! It feels like my arm’s going to pop out of it’s socket, Kana!” Luna protested as she did her best to both keep pace and escape the eager girl’s vice grip on her hand. ‘Twelve, help me!’ Luna mentally beseeched the gods once more, the second time in ten minutes time.

Luna’s saving grace came in the form of a blond Midlander male that had an incredibly shady look about him, his incredibly tinted glasses not doing him any favors.  “Hold on, Lass! People see you barreling through the streets with that lady, tongues’ll start waggin!”  Whatever meaning Kana had gleamed from this had made her stop immediately, to Luna’s repeated gratitude.  With a heavy blush on her face, Kana did her best to look apologetic as she released Luna’s hand, hugging her own arm to herself as she became the victim of Luna’s annoyed glare as said girl began rotating her wrist, massaging to goad the blood to start flowing once more.  After a few seconds, Kana made to voice her apology, but was rendered mute by the unwavering glare.  Luna mouthed the word, ‘Later’ which cause Kana to shrink back into herself before the two turned their attention to the Midlander that had stopped Kana, who was sporting an amused expression at the situation.

Giving the two a once over, the man’s amused expression doesn’t falter as he speaks, “Well, with how eager you were, I take it this is your ladies’ first time in the city? That would explain why I haven’t seen you before today, after all.” Despite being the one that had saved Luna from Kana’s eagerness, Luna’s level headedness won out as regarded her savior critically. “Are you so informed about the goings of the city that you know Everyone that enters the city’s gates?” Luna inquired, placing her unharmed hand on her hip. Her suspicion must have been humorous to the man, as he allowed himself a small chuckle before he retorted, not missing a beat. “Peace lass, I mean the two of you no harm. The name’s Wilmod, and I just thought I’d give the two of you a couple pointers so you don’t end up like the refugees outside or the beggars in the alleys before the moon’s end.

Offended that he thought so little of them, Luna made to retort in kind, but was beaten to the punch by Kana, though she didn’t respond the way Luna was about to, she stuck her hand out for the Midlander to shake.  “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wilmod. My name is Kana, and it would please me greatly if you were to give me and my friend here some pointers, and maybe answer a couple questions!” Kana greeted enthusiastically. Wilmod and Luna both raised an eyebrow, it appeared neither of them had expected such a greeting from her, despite her previous display.

Whether a testament to his apparent knowledge of people or just a quick wit, Wilmod was the first to recover. “Well now..That is a proper civil greeting, even here in Ul’dah.” Wilmod chuckles before quickly adding on, “I like you.” in a quieter aside. Luna leaned forward so that her mouth was mere ilms from Kana’s ear. “Careful now. First it’s ‘I like you,’ then the next thing you know, your coinpurse is gone and so is he.” Luna whispered, though she didn’t exactly try to muffle her warning, though Kana might have tacked that up to be intentional. Rather than be offended, Wilmod allows himself another brief chuckle. “Such plain, open suspicion! What’s you name, lass?” Wilmod asks as he recovers from his mirth.

Luna rolls her eyes at the snide comment, but decides to let it go. “My name is Luna Cait. Pleasure to be acquainted, Wilmod.” Luna proclaims, her words dripping with sarcasm and enunciated with an over emphasized curtsy. The meaning behind such a display was not lost on Kana, who turned her head to her friend, shock and a bit of sorrow in the look she gave Luna. “Lu-na! Can’t you see that he just wants to help?”.

“Honestly, you are too trusting. Sure he wants to help-” Luna begins, crossing her arms as she shifts her weight to her left heel. “-he wants to help himself to our coin purses. Honestly, I’m surprised you’ve never been finessed out of your money before. From what you’ve told me, you didn’t exactly grow up in the most stable of environments...Why trust him?” Luna lectures Kana, whose hand idly plays with the bowstring near her shoulder. Before Luna could scold Kana for not listening, she replies with, “When people see someone with an arrow sticking out of their shoulder from trying to ‘finesse me’ as you claim, they tend to be more...hesitant in their attempts.” Kana deadpans as she continues to toy with her bowstring.

After both realizing that Kana was quite serious, Luna and Wilmod were both struck silent as an eerie tension settles in on the conversation.  After a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, Wilmod finally recovers, adjusting his glasses. “R-right then, I suppose I’ve taken up enough of your time, my fair ladies. What is it you wish to know?”

Kana’s face brightened with a smile as she begins to shoot off question after question, seemingly unaffected by her own comment. As the conversation continued, Wilmod began to become more relaxed, answering the questions much more smoothly as the tension ebbed away bit by bit. Soon enough Luna was even asking questions, specifically about the various crafting guilds in Ul’dah. By the time all of their questions were answered, Wilmod looked worn out from all the talking as he lazily waved them off in the direction of the Aetheryte, which would be of utmost necessity to Luna in order to further her training in her chosen disciplines in the future. After being taken through a courtesy explanation of how the Aetheryte works by an enthusiastic Brass Blade, and each being handed an envelope, each filled to the bursting with Aetheryte tickets, the two bid the guard farewell and stroll through the city, coming upon the markets in short order.

As soon as they entered Sapphire Avenue, it was Luna’s turn to lead the charge, and lead she did, dragging a not too unwilling Kana through each stall. As Kana half paid attention to Luna’s admiration of the wares, a shock of paranoia is launched through her brain as she quickly swiveled her head, scanning the crowds with her eyes, looking for something, anything to either affirm or deny this feeling she had. Before she was about to pass it off as a simple strange phenomenon, Kana’s eyes spot something, or rather, someone. Among the sea of faces, there was a rather happy one staring right at her, or her and Luna to be precise. It was an Auri girl like her and Luna, but her horns resembled fins of a sort and she had far more scales than either them. She was adorned in a grey and white tabard and, not unlike the red and white one that Kana herself wore, that opened at the waist to show off leggings that revealed part of her thighs, the rest being covered by brown thigh boots with buckles. As the two girls’ eyes met, the girl simply smiled and waved her hand, wiggling her fingers. Before Kana could raise an eyebrow however, a very stoic Elezen garbed in a red...everything... steered the girl away at the same time that Luna called Kana’s attention. As Kana turned to meet her friend’s beckoning, she saw that there was a slight tinge of curiosity in her face and just a hint of mischief.

“Who or what were you looking at?” Luna asked, tilting her head to further enunciate her curiosity.  Kana shook her head, “Oh, it was...nothing.” Kana replied as she noticed that Luna was holding something.  The pink feathered flat cap she had begun to barter for when Kana had received the paranoid shock, if she recalled correctly.  “Oh! That’s a cute hat, Luna!” Kana observed, causing Luna to smile happily as she placed it atop her head, striking a pose for Kana.  “Oh, isn’t it just darling?” Luna cheered before a glint in her eye betrayed her intention moments before Luna held out her hands expectantly. “As recompense for nearly dislocating my arm, I want you to buy this for me, and then we’re even!”  Kana was visibly taken back for a second before sighing in shame, quickly retrieving and handing over her coin purse to the cotton candy-haired girl.

After the cap was purchase and Kana internally lamented how much lighter her coin purse felt, the two decided to head to the Adventurer’s Guild. As the two climbed the stairs leading to the building Wilmod had referred to as The Quicksand, Kana suddenly felt the giddiness that had infected her earlier that day resurge as she skipped alongside Luna towards the door. The pair looked to one another and smiled as they placed their palms on the surface of the ornate door.

“Ready?” Luna asked. Kana nodded, and the two pushed upon the doors to the Quicksand and entered the establishment. The inside of the Quicksand was quite lively, though given the time of the day, it was unsurprising. Wilmod had been so gracious as to tell them as to when the Quicksand was to be the busiest, and right around now was when miners and brass blades were getting off, as well as other adventurers running to and from the leve that was to the left of the pair as they entered. There was a very welcoming clamor about the place, the various conversations intermingling with one another and reverberating throughout. Kana approached and leaned on the stone balustrade and looked out over the entirety of the bar. The Carline Canopy had been a bit more reserved compared to this, though it appeared that the actual pub area of the Quicksand was actually more compact than that of the Canopy, being situated in the center of the place with stairs leading down into the seating area.

Kana’s survey of the pub was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. Luna smiled and gestured to the bar with the sign above it that signified it as the Adventurer’s Guild reception area.  “Are we just going to gawk, or were you trying to register some time today?” Luna asked rhetorically. Kana hemmed in response as she descended the stairs, Luna right behind her. As the two made their way across the pub, they had to weave between patrons that seemed to already be getting rowdy. People were bumped into, apologies hastily given and accepted before Kana and Luna made it over to the bar. Behind the bar stood a stern looking Dunesfolk woman, hands folded in front of her as she regarded the two Auri girls with a smile, her eyes giving the two a once over all the while.

“You two must’ve been the one’s Wilmod told me about.” the woman began, letting out a chuckle as the two’s eyes raised in surprise.  “Oh, don’t worry about him, he’s a good man at heart, and I reckon he saw something in the two of you to come and tell me about you two in person.” The woman curtsied to the two as they took seats. “I’m Mistress Momodi, proprietress of the Quicksand. What can I do for you two today?” Luna seemed to be struck speechless due to Momodi’s revelation a few moments ago, so Kana began.  “Actually” Kana started as she fished into her pack for a second, pulling out an envelope addressed to Momodi from Miounne and handing it to her. “We’re here to transfer into the Ul’dahn branch of the Adventurer’s Guild. My name is Kana Dazkar, by the way!” Kana explained as Momodi opened the letter, skimming its contents as a small smirk forms on her face.

Momodi regarded the two more closely this time, causing Kana to squirm nervously in her seat until the perlustration had finished. Momodi closed her eyes and pondered how to say what she wanted to, smile still apparent on her face, before speaking again. “It’s not every day people transfer city-state branches, but also not unheard of. You both don’t exactly look fresh out the carriage, but you’re still green around the edges, why would you not want to stay in Gridania for a spell?” Momodi inquired. Finally having recovered from her previous shock, Luna spoke up. “Well Mistress Momodi, my friend Kana here was actually bound for Ul’dah to begin with, but an Ixal ambush… complicated things to say the least. She joined in Gridania on an interim, as she appeared to really want to ‘start’ her journey here in Ul’dah. As for why I’m here...well let’s just say…” Luna cast a sidelong glance at her friend, a smile forming on her features, “I’ve my own reasons for wanting to tag alongside Kana. Luna Cait, at your service” Luna finished her explanation, winking to her friend, who grinned in response, scratching her head as if embarrassed.

Momodi nodded, turning around and fixing the two of them cups of water. Turning back around, she placed the two cups on the bar in front of the girls, who graciously accepted the beverages, Kana downing her entire cup in one go, letting out a satisfied “Ahhh!” as she placed the cup back onto the bar. Momodi smiled as she refilled the girl’s cup. “I see. Well, I’m right glad Miounne took care of one of my one! I’d be happy to accept the both of you to the Adventurer’s guild.” Momodi says as Kana starts in on her second drink, though the shock of the announcement had her nearly choke on the water. After a fit of coughing ensured that there wasn’t any water in her lungs, Kana braced herself against the counter, looking incredibly embarrassed. Momodi had a chuckle over her display. “Don’t go croaking on me, lass! I wasn’t done!” Momodi playfully admonishes the girl who sunk in her seat, not even needing to look in Luna’s direction to know there was nothing less than a shite-eating grin upon her face.

Now then,” Momodi begins again as Kana corrects her posture atop the stool. “It appears the two of you needn’t go through the basics of adventuring if Miounne taught you anything. So... why don’t we start afresh tomorrow morning? The two of you can stay here of course, and... since you put yourselves in danger to help out your own carriage...” Momodi dragged on, smirking as the two were once again shocked at how much she knew about them. “Word travels fast around here, you two should take that fact to heart. But, I digress. Adventurers under my care normally have to pay room and board, but I have a good feeling about you two.  I’ll house you with two other adventurers who I’ve had my eye on, and the four of you will stay here free, so long as you can keep bringing renown to the Quicksand and Ul’dah!” Momodi smiles as she hands each of them a brass key with a number emblazoned on it. Kana, you’ll be bunking with a lass named Sahjah Majime. Luna, you’ll be boarding with Kehda Starfall. Your rooms are the suites on the top floor of the building, and Otopa can show you to them.” Momodi gestures to the innkeeper to her right, whom gave them a respectful wave and smile. “Now then, dinner’s in a couple hours, best not to be late unless you want to fend for yourself!.” Momodi said in a cheerful dismissive tone.  After finishing their drinks, the two girls got up and expressed their thanks. Momodi smirked and waved them off towards the room.   After showing the keys to Otopa, the two were led upstairs. As they climbed the stairs, the two pondered what their respective roommates would be like.

After reaching their destination the two enter their respective rooms, agreeing to rendezvous for dinner.

“Wow,” Kana marveled at her suite. The room was quite large, to the point where Kana could reasonably say it took up one third of the floor’s total area. The walls were, of course, brick. The floor was a smooth marble decorated with very velutinous rugs colored crimson. The windows were drawn shut, though thanks to the lanterns placed about the room, everything was well illuminated.  Along the far side of the room, two queen sized poster beds were situated along with their own armoires and night stands. The linens looked(and felt, after Kana crossed the room and felt them herself) fresh and clean. Kana wanted to take a nap, but remembered that she in fact, had been sweating most of the day due to Thanalan’s heat and the small skirmish she was a part of earlier. “Gosh, that feels like so long ago, despite it being only a few hours past…” Kana murmured to herself as she stripped herself of her tabard, draping it over her armoire. Kana made her way to the door that led to the bathroom, peeling off her white undershirt as she entered. The bathroom looked quite nice, with a very large square tub situated in the center of the room. The oak of the wood paired nicely with the burgundy of the tiled floor, and the brick walls illuminated by a couple lanterns gave it a very rustic feel. “I could get used to this…” Kana said to herself as she began drawing water for the bath.

Kana sighed in pleasure as she lowered her body into the comfortably calescent water of the tub. As she sat down on the bench that ran along the interior of the tub, Kana realized that she was actually quite stiff when she felt her muscles relax from the heat of the water enveloping her up to her torso. Kana was really tempted to simply sink further into the tub and soak, but simply soaking wasn’t going to get rid of the odor that sweat gave off after awhile. She reached her arm out of the water and grabbed a cloth and phial that was ornately labeled “Lavender”. After soaking the cloth, Kana uncorked the phial and poured a modest amount of the soap onto the cloth and began to lather her body with this, taking care to thoroughly clean the scales on her arms, neck, and tail. As she continued cleaning herself, she heard the muffled sound of a door opening and closing, but disregarded it. ‘Luna’s probably done inspecting her room and came to see what mine looks like…’ Kana thought as she re-submerged her body to rinse off the soap before moving to her legs. As she worked on the scales on her thighs, she heard the doorknob turn behind her and the door swing open. Kana, not looking back, called out to who she assumed was her friend. “Hey, after I’m done with my legs, can you get my back?”

The response was immediate, but not at all the voice Kana was expecting, making her freeze in place.  “Why, sure! I know those scales are pretty hard to reach and keep clean, So I’m happy to help you out.” A very jovial voice replied.  “Oh my, you tensed up quite a bit there, did I surprise you?” the voice was tinged with concern this time.  Kana finally regained her wits and looked over her shoulder to behold the Auri girl from the marketplace.  “It’s you! From the marketplace!” Kana declared, to which the girl smiles broadly and nods. “Yup! That’s me!” The girl sticks out her hand, “I’m Sahjah Majime! An adventurer, just like you!”  Kana turned and hesitantly took and shook her hand, a shy smile creeping onto her face. “K-K-Kana Dazkar.” Kana stutters out, causing Sahjah to giggle. “Aww, you’re flustered! That’s adorable!  Now, about your back, do you...still want me to wash it for you?” Sahjah asked, grabbing and soaking a cloth of her own, and putting a small amount of soap onto it. Kana took a moment to comprehend what her question was, but then nodded fiercely, “U-uh yes, please!  I’ll uhm...return the favor sometime…?” Kana offered, which made Sahj’s peal of laughter to return. “Sure, sure! Later tonight! Unless you don’t mind me joining you?” Sahjah whispers the last bit into Kana’s ear as she scrubbed Kana’s back, causing Kana to shudder and for Sahjah to giggle once more.

“I’m just kidding, I wouldn’t want to int-” “I don’t mind. We are roommates after all, it’d be better to be able to be this open around each other, yes?” Kana interrupts Sahjah, glancing over her shoulder to see an overjoyed girl staring back at her. Getting a closer look at her face, Kana realized that the limbal rings in Sahj’s eyes were blue, just like hers, though her irises were Grey to Kana’s Sea Green. The blue in Sahj’s limbal rings accented the deep blue that was in her hair, and matched her highlights.  She was, in Kana’s earnest opinion, very attractive, and the smile that looked all too natural on her face just made her all the more alluring to Kana. Sahjah finished washing her back, standing back up. She then proceeds to strip down without so much as a moment’s hesitation and joins Kana in the tub, sighing as Kana did.  “Ahh, this feels so good after today!” She comments, allowing herself to submerge up to her stomach before seating herself on the bench. Kana was almost worried with how… relaxed Sahjah seemed around her already, though she pushed the thought from her mind and joined Sahjah in soaking.

The two had been soaking a while before Kana made good on her offer, to which Sahjah happily bared her back to Kana. After getting a fresh cloth for her, Kana began meticulously cleaning the girls scales. It wasn’t until she was halfway done that Kana actually realized how many more scales Sahjah had compared to herself.  “This must be hell to keep clean, you have so many scales!” Kana said without thinking, silently cursing herself for speaking so plainly around someone she had just met. Sahjah thought nothing of it as she shook her head. “Nah, Kehda usually takes care of it for me!”

Kana raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Kehda?” Kana asked.

“I’m Kehda.” A deep voice sounded out behind Kana suddenly. Kana jumped up and spun around to behold the Elezen in red from before, though her scowl was replaced with a smirk at kana’s reaction.

“Nice rack.” Kehda commented dryly.

Hello Readers! Chapter 2 is out in the middle of the night, two days after when I want to publish it!  :’)  Anyways, Penumbro here again to thank you for hopefully reading to the end!   To be honest, I kinda got carried away with this chapter and ended up writing something more than twice the length of my first chapter! Though, it was fun so if people don’t mind chapters this long, I’m not too opposed to this.    Sadly there wasn’t any action so to say in this chapter, but there will be some tomorrow! Also, two new faces have made themselves known!  Sahjah, a cheerful girl who swings a big axe, and Kehda,the rather blunt red mage will both be joining Kana and Luna in the field after some story building next chapter! Please look forward to it. Now I would like to point out that at the current moment i have four submitted characters that have yet to make their debuts, and probably won’t for a bit, since I have a plan for them!  Still, I’ll always be looking for new faces to show up, so don’t be shy! My end goal is a weekly to bi-weekly release of chapters, usually on the weekends. I’m actually quite enjoying the story thus far, and I’ve essentially only gotten past the very first few quests  or so? Despite that, some might notice I’ve given characters gear that you can only obtain after the first dungeon or from events. To that I simply want to say... canonically these items probably wouldn’t drop from the dungeons and event items....well.. I got nothing for that. I think this author’s note has gone on long enough1 Please send in your warriors of light! I’ll be waiting! Stay lovely, readers! Penums

Surprises

February 12, 22 CLE.

It was getting cold outside...much too cold. She needed to come home. Wanted it, even.

She supposed to an extent she did feel guilty about lying to him but it was a necessary evil. It was all to make her easier to handle, more palatable. She’d said it was for an extensive job, somewhere far away, but the truth was more sinister. She’d been so, so very hungry. So many nights of full body aches for so desperately wanting food...real food. Not pork and raw steaks. It wasn’t enough. So she’d gone a little crazy. She’d gone to the forests outside of Noxus and gorged herself on unwary travelers. Undoubtedly the bones picked clean would be blamed on razorbeaks or murkwolves. She’d done this so she could try to go longer this time without having to relapse. Nobody could say she wasn’t trying.

Fully sated, she’d made her way back to Zaun. She wrapped herself in her coat, nuzzled her chin down into the collar, to keep the cold out. The coat was still a pristine white, just as if he’d just bought it, and not like she had used it as a blanket while she slept in the wild. Her fine claws had been enough to pick the moss and bark out of the fine minkfur. Her hair and skin, however, were in a much worse state. A detour into a bar would fix that.

Evelynn sauntered in, and she was surprised. This place was crawling with people. It was only seven. On a Tuesday. She scuttled past them with collar drawn up for obscurity into the bathrooms, and began the process of scrubbing her body clean with sinkwater, and using paper towels to dry down. Her hair, once magenta, had faded to a dull mauve from the exposure to the sun. She’d have to dye it again soon, but she didn’t want to waste too much time. She’d already sent him word she’d be home tonight. She didn’t want to disappoint.

Clean and dry, she reached into her pocket and withdrew a bottle of perfume. Another gift from him. She’d been skeptical of it at first. What did men know of perfume other than price tag? But it had become her favorite...and his too. She stalked out of the bathroom, but paused when she heard the singer on stage begin to speak.

“This next number is dedicated to the lovers in the crowd. A song for Heartseeker’s Day.”

Fuck. It was Heartseeker’s Day? Suddenly the crowd made sense, as did all the women in pinks and reds and violets.

She had no real understanding of what it entailed. She knew Heartseeker’s Day as the prime day for agony harvesting in years pasts. Single people on this day were always so much more lonely, and so much more willing to turn a blind eye to her blue skin for a little company. But now that she was in a relationship? Not a fucking clue.

Flowers were for women. She couldn’t get him flowers. Sex was inevitable. It always was, especially since she’d been gone for a little over a week now. He’d be ready to strip her at the door, most likely. That would be no special gift either. What did he want? The muscle tissue and flesh getting digested in her stomach said it all.

He’d like to see her try to eat. He always did. It gave him a lot of joy in those big green eyes to watch her put animal meat in her mouth instead. She didn’t want to eat it and potentially get sick, and waste all this effort. But maybe, just maybe, this time she wouldn’t get hungry like that again. A few streets down, she was familiar with a restaurant that was Ionian-owned. Zaunites and Piltovians alike loved their foreigner food. She made a beeline through the tables of the bar, and slyly filched a man’s coinpurse as she passed.

She made her way to the restaurant. The owners turned pale at her appearance. She paid them no heed. She pointed long fingers at random items on the menu. She also requested any raw pork they had. They obeyed her command with shaking hands, and She left the entire bag of golden hexes for them. They seemed relieved to see her leave, and her pointed ears picked up the sound of the placard being flipped to “close” as she walked out. She’d done them a favor.

She wisped and wound her way within the shadows to his “safehouse”. It was truly an unfitting word for a place so opulent. She didn’t bother to ask how he afforded it or how he hadn’t been found. Just like he probably wouldn’t bother to ask where she’d truly been. They always took things at face value; it was the easiest way. She was nearly stopped at the entrance, but an unearthly growl made the door boy turn a blind eye. They simply didn’t want just anyone let into The Dalton Waltz Grand.

Up the elevator. Thirty floors. To the very top.

The doors dinged, and the elevator attendant let her through the interwoven iron grate. He frowned at her, sneered down his nose. She returned his distaste with a threatening smile, baring her two sets of pointed canines. These hotel boys needed to fuck off. She had a man...and she guessed herself, too...to feed. 

The clicking of her heels was muffled by the plush red rug that wound down the entire hallway. At the end of the rug was a door, for which she had the key...somewhere. She patted her body with her free hand, as the other was occupied by the paper bags full of Ionian fare. Shit, had it fallen out of her pocked in the woods? Damn it. It just was not her day. She jammed a long claw into the keyhole. The locking mechanism broke but her claw did not, though it’s layer of expensive lacquer had been scraped off. She stepped through the door and closed it. She’d call maintenance up to come fix it eventually, when she wasn’t around to take the blame.

The living room was empty of her Gambler. Strange. He was always home to greet her. He always seemed to just know when she’d arrive and he was always on the couch, inexplicably. Big grin across his lips, eyes twinkling. She wondered if he’d ever ported there with his magic, just to not break the tradition. Knowing him and his love of being showy as possible, it was a pretty high probability.

But now, the tradition was broken. Where was he?

“Twisty?” Evelynn called. She stepped into the kitchen and unceremoniously dumped the bags of food on the counter. “Twisty, you better not port behind me and grab me, I’m not in the mood.” She growled. All this effort for Heartseeker’s day and he wasn’t even home? Ugh.

Her pointed ears twitched slightly. Was that a grunt...and a sigh? That was him, alright. Unmistakable. She knew all his noises. Why would he be grunting? She sniffed. The air smelled sweet, and the scent originated from the bedroom, behind a closed door.

There better not be another woman in there.

She had no reason to think that he would, but she was nothing if not insanely territorial. She crossed the white carpeting to the door in record time and all but threw it open. “TWISTED FA-....” She paused in her tracks, mid shout. There was no woman. But there was an abundance of chocolate. Just not in a box.

“Oh, Sugar! You’re home. Happy Heartseeker’s Day, Evie.”

Yellow eyes squinted down at him. He was sitting on his rump, on the carpet, one knee bent and the other leg resting on the floor. He was leaned back in a way she presumed was supposed to look seductive, but there was something wrong. His hands were behind his back. He was also nearly nude, and covered in chocolate that he’d clearly painted on himself, as the remnants of the tin and a paintbrush were off to the side on a bedside table.

“What in Runeterra are you doing?” She questioned, baffled.

“I’m surprisin’ you.”

“With....?”

“Me. I’m th’ present.” He winked at her. She scowled.

“What am I supposed to do with you now that you’re covered in a sticky mess? And where are your hands? You’d need those.”

“Yer ‘sposed to lick it off of me.” He stated matter-of-factly. She squinted harder.

“Your girlfriend, who cannot stomach human food, is supposed to lick chocolate off of your chest. Twisty, it’s all caked in your chest hair.”

“Well, it was liquid at one point. I had opened th’ window t’ stay cool while it applied, but I stumbled upon ‘n issue and now...”

“It’s hot as fuck outside...and it’s dried solid. Why haven’t you gotten up to wash it off?”

“I can’t get up.”

“What!? Why?”

“Handcuffs.”

Evelynn rubbed her eyes with her fingertips and sighed loudly. “I’m not playing this game. Port out like you always do when I cuff you and wash up. I brought home dinner.” She went to turn and walk out of the bedroom. She wanted to get a taste of the raw pork in before she had to stomach the rest of the food. 

“Y’ see, the problem here is that I can’t port out.” He called after her.

She turned around “What?”

“Th' surprise was that I’d gone 'n had these special cuffs made. I know I get antsy sometimes so I figured I’d get magical enchanted ones for you to put on me. I put the commission in weeks ago.”

“Why can’t you get out?”

“I forgot the password. Remember when y' wrote that word on that piece of paper I asked you for?”

“Not at all.”

“That was the password I gave to the crafter. I looked at it but I just can’t remember. I’ve been tryin’ all afternoon.”

“Oh my g-...I can’t believe...!” She groaned, exasperated. She didn’t remember the paper at all.” Shouldn’t it be something easy? Like my eye color?”

“Yellow’s the word we use when I want you to lighten up a little on the beatings. I’ve tried Marsupial, Succulent, Capricorn...”

“I’m not a Capricorn. I’m a Scorpio.”

There was an audible click, and his hands came out from behind his back. He sighed in relief and cracked his shoulders with a moan. She smiled at her, the one she missed when he hand’t been on the couch. Her irritation melted.

“Well. Wouldja lookit that?” She merely rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Come on. Let’s go eat.” She pulled him to his feet, and cracklings of the dried chocolate fell onto the carpet. She peeled a piece off of his neck and placed it gingerly on her tongue. It wasn’t super sweet. There was bitterness to it. He’d thought about what type to get...it was just like him.

He watched her eat it, and smiled wider when she didn’t wince. His hand snaked around her waist and he leaned down to kiss her.

Candy Apple

Umimaki Month Day 9: Challenge Festival AU

“Um...! Please take one!”

The little blue-haired girl gaped at the bright red treat suddenly held out in front of her. It looked like food, but it wasn’t anything she had ever seen before. Wonder gave way to puzzlement. “What...is it?” she asked, large, curious amber eyes turning to the purple eyes of the girl holding it up to her.

“It’s a candy apple!” she said.

“Is it good?”

The girl frowned. “I don’t know. This is my first time helping with the stall, and you’re my first ever customer.”

“Maki!” The woman beside her bent down, chuckling. “Be more confident than that! You’ve had candy apples before, haven’t you? Didn’t you like them?” She paused, making an ‘o’ with her mouth as if realizing something. “Oh, wait, or were those candy tomatoes?”

The girl flushed, turning almost as red as the apple in her hand. “Mama! You said you wouldn’t talk about that!”

“Don’t yell in front of your customer! You’ll scare her off.”

Umi didn’t mind though, corners of her mouth turning up with delight. “You’re funny.” She turned to the woman who had been standing patiently behind her, coinpurse already in hand. “Can I take one, mama?”

“Of course you can! Go ahead and take it. Don’t forget to say thank you!”

Leaving the adults to figure out their confusing money business, Umi turned back to the girl in front of her and carefully took hold of the stick, clumsily mumbling her thanks. Sizing up her newly acquired treasure, Umi stuck out her tongue and licked it. She frowned, finding no purchase in the hardened syrup. “You’re supposed to bite it, silly.”

“Oh.” She did as suggested, and squealed in delight at the explosion of flavour in her mouth. The hard, sugary crystal she was expecting, but underneath was the familiar crunch and subtle tartness of the apple. “This is so good!” she gasped. The other girl beamed with pride. Umi looked hard at her, gave a cautious smile, and took the leap. “Hey, your name’s Maki, right?”

Apparently not prepared for any more talking after her first sale, the tiny apple merchant barely stammered out a response. “Um, yeah.”

“I’m Umi.” She stepped forward, relieved to see that Maki didn’t take a step back. “Wanna be friends?”

Umi strolled through the brightly lit festival streets, taking in all the sights. It was a little intimidating being alone in the maze of stalls and festival goers, especially since her bright blue yukata made her stand out more than she’d like, but there was no helping it. Over the years, she’d learned that festivals like these offered a unique glimpse into the spirit of a city. She especially didn’t want to miss the chance to reacquaint herself with the city of her early childhood, even if she didn’t have anyone to go with. Her mother was busy with work, and since they’d moved in the middle of summer vacation, she hadn’t had a chance to make any new friends, and she definitely didn’t remember any of her old ones. Umi had told herself she’d try and at least meet people she’d be going to school with, but so far she was having little success.

As she walked along, a small, lonesome stall caught her eye, drawing her closer. Behind the counter slouched a somewhat bored-looking girl that looked to be about Umi’s age. If Umi was looking to make friends, there were probably better places to start. In front of her, however, a wide array of colourful treats--Umi recognized them as candy apples--was on display, lined up in neat little rows. Some looked like Christmas ornaments, some were coated in gummis or sprinkles or bits of chocolate, some were even decorated to look like cartoonish faces. It would fulfill her other goal in coming here. She’d always made it a point to buy a candy apple at every festival she went to. It was Umi’s unofficial mission to find the nation’s best, driven by a vague memory of one she’d had long ago. “Excuse me, miss, how much for one?”

Surprise flashed on the young merchant’s face, perhaps at actually having a customer, but it quickly faded as she forced on a more professional look. “300 yen.”

Umi fumbled for her coinpurse. “I’ll take one.”

The girl spread her arms to indicate the spectrum of sweetened fruit. “Which one would you like?”

Amidst all the creative, novelty designs, Umi spotted a plain one, coated in a uniform shade of red almost as bright as the merchant’s yukata. It seemed to call her, compelled her to reach for it. “I’ll take that one.”

As she was handed her prize, Umi couldn’t miss the scowl on the merchant’s otherwise beautiful face. “Is there something wrong, miss?”

“Ah, sorry, no, it’s just...you look familiar.” She bit her lip, obviously contemplating whether she should say anything further. “Do you go to Otonokizaka?”

Now that she mentioned it, the more Umi looked at the woman across from her, the more she felt like she knew her. Still, how could she possibly recognize her? “Well, that’s where I’ll be transferring, but I just moved here. I’m starting there after the vacation.”

The merchant frowned. “Ah, I must have been mistaken then. Sorry to bother you, miss.”

Umi started to walk away, taking a bite of her candy apple as she did so. Her eyes widened as her mouth filled with a delicious fusion of sweet crystal and tart apple, the contrast in texture and taste lighting up her taste buds. There was no doubt in her mind. She’d been to all different kinds of festivals as she and her family moved across the country, searching for this Holy Grail, this perfect blend of flavour that she’d once found long ago in a previous life. She turned back to the merchant, old memories resurfacing in the sea of her mind. Staring deep into the purple eyes of the woman before her, Umi began to remember that chance encounter so many years ago, the best friend she’d left behind when she moved away. The adventures they had together, the letters they wrote to each other to keep in touch. The promise they made to find each other again someday, a promise she’d since given up on. It all started in that crystallized moment, that one summer night--

Umi looked hard at the girl, gave a cautious smile, and took the leap. “Hey, your name’s Maki, right?”

Confusion appeared on the young apple merchant’s face, then turned to disbelief. She barely stammered out a response. “Y-yeah, and you’re--”

Umi nodded, feeling tears well up in her eyes. “I’m Umi.” She stepped forward, relieved to see Maki didn’t take a step back. “Would you...like to be friends?”