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vosh-rakh · 1 year

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Two standing braziers faintly illuminated the tapestries on the walls as Qismehti approached. They were sacred triangles, each corner representing the three holy symbols: Ayem. Seht. Vehk. Above the tri-faced Tribunal shrine was a mural of the three living gods: Vivec’s head aflame and sword in hand; Almalexia in full battle regalia, including her devilish mask; Sotha Sil levitating limbless next to his divine siblings.

Before the pit of ash and bone knelt a hooded stranger, whose head tilted ever so slightly towards Qismehti as she approached, but not enough to reveal their face. But the fabric of their drab cloak shifted enough to reveal the much more exquisite clothes beneath.

Qismehti approached, her ebony armor clanking, knelt before the Waiting Door next to the stranger, and began to pray. She was Redoran, but her connection to these ancestors was faint. An outlander’s adoption into a House afforded them only scant access to their spirits. But she needed their wisdom today of all days.

After some time of mostly failed communion, she glanced at her fellow beseecher. Poking out from the hood was a familiar chin, bedecked with a beaded red beard.

“Grandmaster,” Qismehti said without turning her head fully.

“Ah, am I that recognizable?” answered Llethym Hlaarothan from beside her, smirking at his clasped hands.

“Yes,” said Qismehti. “What are you doing here? Wrong canton.”

“Yes, well,” Llethym began. “You know, Mehti. Our temple is still under construction.”

“I didn’t suspect you as the religious type,” Mehti said.

Llethym lowered his hands and slapped them on his lap. “It’s politically expedient to at least appear the type,” he said. “Indoril’s been pushing our buttons about it recently.”

“Then why the cloak? Not everyone will recognize you as I do.”

“Enough questions,” sighed Llethym.

“It’s my House’s house. I think I have the right to question an intruder.”

“An intruder?” exclaimed Llethym, turning his head and putting on an expression of faux shock. “You wound me, Mehti.”

Qismehti grunted and said nothing.

Llethym pulled back his hood and asked, “So what are you doing here, Archmaster?”

It seemed as though she wasn’t going to get any more prayer done today. “What do you think?” she asked.

“I think,” Llethym began, “you’ve got something heavy on your mind.”

Mehti sighed. “It’s the Archmagister.”

“What of her?”

“She wants me to declare her Hortator.”

“Ah,” said Llethym, looking away. “I suppose I should have told you. She’s dead-set on finishing this whole ‘Nerevarine’ business. Won’t call it done until Dagoth Ur is dead. Did you know she already has the Ashlander tribes behind her?”

“Yes,” Qismehti said, “she told me.”

“Just give it to her,” advised Llethym. “She’ll do anything to get it. She killed the Duke’s fool brother, and nearly everyone who worked for him, for it.”

Qismehti sighed and stood, wiping scattered ash from her greaves. “There’s only one way for her to become Hortator of the Redoran.”

“Don’t be stupid. You’re tough, but she’ll kill you.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“I said don’t be stupid!” Llethym jumped to his feet to face Qismehti. “No ancestors could save you, certainly not any that you can barely claim!”

Qismehti scoffed and casually drew her ebony war axe, tossing the sharply-hooked bladed instrument into the air and catching it effortlessly under the beard, then returning it to the loop on her belt. “I don’t think I’ll need them.”

“She won’t hesitate to use magic,” Llethym reminded. “She’s a Telvanni, b’Vehk. She doesn’t have to abide by your rules.”

“I’ll have some tricks up my sleeve, too,” Qismehti said, smiling at Llethym pointedly.

“Oh,” he said, “you expect me to intervene? She’s already my Hortator, Mehti. I can’t enchant anything for you to use against her.”

“Just some scrolls is all I’ll need,” she replied. She leaned in to whisper into his ear…

- - - - -

Qismehti and Ku-vastei entered the Vivec Arena simultaneously. Word had spread across the city, across all of Vvardenfell, about this fight. As a result, the upper level was packed with spectators. Redorans cheered for their Archmaster; Telvannis placed bets on their Archmagister. Hlaalu and its Grandmaster watched on anxiously, concerned for any potential shifting of power between the other two houses. Ordinators struggled to keep peace amidst the excitement.

Ku-vastei was clad in gleaming adamantium armor from head to ankle, her digitigrade feet exposed and pressing footprints into the dusty arena floor. Her pensive face was revealed by the visorless helm, perfectly composed and prepared. In her beringed claws was an adamantium spear of some sort, tri-pronged and deadly sharp. Qismehti, familiar with weaponry of all kinds, didn’t recognize the make.

Qismehti wore her usual attire: a suit of gilded ebony armor, complete with matching shield and war axe. On her belt were three scrolls. Ku-vastei couldn’t discern their possible contents from this distance, and could only guess as to their purpose, if they held any at all. The only other thing that differed from when Ku-vastei made the challenge was that Qismehti wore her full ebony helmet, concealing her face completely.

After the announcer introduced them and bid them fight, the two of them circled the arena for some time, waiting for the first strike.

“We don’t have to do this,” said Ku-vastei, loud enough for Qismehti alone to hear her. “We can both go home, and you can name me Hortator…peacefully.”

Qismehti made no reply, and charged at Ku-vastei.

Mehti attempted an overhead chop, which Ku caught under the beard with her spear turned horizontal. Ku tugged the spear towards herself, trying to force the axe from Mehti’s hand, but her grip was too strong. All she succeeded in doing was bringing the blade of the axe closer to her cuirass.

To disengage, Ku twisted the spear, unlocking the axe from it, and jumped backwards. She attempted a quick thrust during the leap, but Mehti brought up her shield, causing the spear’s point to scrape to the side with a screech. Mehti kept up her advance, swiping sideways with her axe, forcing Ku to deflect with a quick spin of her spear. Again the shaft caught underneath the beard of the axe, shifting Mehti’s balance.

But Mehti let go of the axe. Instead she pulled a scroll from her belt with her now-free hand, and punched Ku’s exposed foot with her shield. Ku instinctively doubled over to clutch at her battered toes, but it gave Mehti an opening. She let the scroll fall open, touched it to Ku’s chest, and shouted:

“THAT WHICH DEFINES YOU WILL PROVE TO BE YOUR UNDOING.”

Dark red light emanated from the Daedric inscribed on the scroll, and Ku froze. All her muscles locked up, and she couldn’t move an inch. In her compromised position, she fell to the floor in exactly the same pose as she had stood.

The crowd fell completely silent.

Qismehti, beneath her ebony visor, smiled. The s’wit’s scroll worked. She leisurely fetched her axe from the floor nearby, and returned to Ku-vastei to finish the job. She knelt before Ku-vastei’s paralyzed body and raised her axe to strike -

But she hesitated.

Ku swung out her leg as soon as she broke free from the scroll’s curse. It caught Mehti in the shoulder, dislocating it and throwing her to her side. Ku jumped to her feet but immediately bent over, coughing up blood. Mehti rolled away just before Ku could crash the speartip down on her in a wild act of vengeance.

Ku wiped her mouth and glared at the ebony warrior who now stood before her. She spun her spear with a flourish and then pointed it directly at Mehti’s heart before approaching. Mehti grabbed another scroll and frantically read its contents:

“STRENGTH AND HONOR. DEATH TO OUR ENEMIES.”

The words glowed blue, and Mehti felt rejuvenated. Her shoulder locked back into its socket painlessly, and she felt invigorated, her axe-arm growing stronger. Not to mention, the reckless escape had pumped an adrenaline rush into her veins.

Mehti put up her block just as Ku arrived, effortlessly deflecting the spear to the side. She counterattacked, swinging her axe directly at Ku’s helm. It bounced off to the side, but left a nasty dent. Ku backtracked and clutched at her rattled head. Mehti kept up her advance, swinging again for the same spot. But Ku caught the blow with her bracer, bouncing it away. Mehti attempted one more swipe, but Ku had recovered, and deflected it with her spear.

Ku retreated further, and Mehti, her magical and innate advantages running dry, settled on waiting. Ku made a gesture with her spare claw, that of the Hearth, and her body was wreathed with several azure sparks. She rectified her posture from one of near-defeat to one of confidence. She put up another gesture, and mumbled something; her form was covered in a violet shell. Mehti, ill-versed in magic, knew not these signs, but they worried her.

Once ready again, Ku approached, spear leveled towards Mehti. She tried for a stab, which was easily blocked. But she transferred the momentum into a downward sweep, which Mehti failed to jump. She took the blow hard to her ankle, buckling that leg. Instinctively she raised her shield for another strike which she narrowly halted in time. From behind the shield she reached out her axe-arm to strike. Ku didn’t bother to defend; the blade of the axe seemed to be stopped before it reached her cuirass, bouncing off of some invisible force field. A Shield, dammit.

Ku spun her spear, thwacking Mehti’s overextended wrist, prising the axe’s haft from her grip. Then she gave Mehti’s shield a mighty guar-kick, sending her to the ground. Mehti’s head hit the floor of the arena hard, knocking the ebony helmet from its place there. Ku mounted Mehti, straddling her body as she raised her spear to strike -

There was just enough wiggle room to grab -

Mehti whispered something just before Ku dropped the blade into her exposed throat. A green light flashed in Ku’s eyes, and she stopped. “What did you say?”

Qismehti shook her head, saying only, “Do it, then.”

Ku-vastei tilted her head. “Why should I, friend?” She looked around at the spectators of the fight, the Telvanni cheering and the Redorans jeering and the Hlaalu silent. “Why should we continue this charade? You were dragged into this prophetic business the same as I was; let me finish it. Call me Hortator.”

Qismehti closed her eyes. Finally she sighed, “You are Hortator.”

Ku-vastei smiled her wide smile and stood, offering a hand to help Qismehti stand. The two of them stumbled to the center of the arena, hand-in-hand, as the crowd watched on in silence. Together, with their hands clasped, they raised their arms. “Hortator!” cried Qismehti for all to hear. There was a deafening roar from the audience, as all jumped to their feet, clapping and hollering - even the reticent Hlaalu.

Llethym was the only in his retinue to remain silent, but he smiled. An unstoppable force, he thought, and an immovable object - and yet both still stand. He offered a genuine prayer to Azura, for the first time in years.

#tes #tesblr #morrowind #oc: ku-vastei #oc: qismehti gra-lubakt #oc: hlaalu llethym hlaarothan #telvanni #redoran #hlaalu #hortator #argonian #redguard #orc #dunmer #dark elf

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slusheeduck · 9 months

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Count Only The Happy Hours

PART I: [I][II][III][IV][V][VI][VII] PART 2: [I][II]

III.

“I-I have that metal sheet you needed, C-Councilor Sil.”

“Hm? Oh, thank you, set it down there.”

Vivec, busy sharpening his sword in the courtyard of their base, paused in his work to look up. Sil, as usual, was elbow deep in one of his metal beasties–this one was less spider-like and instead long and twitchy, not unlike a nix-hound. Meanwhile, the young mer who had brought the sheet did not set it down, instead dithering. He must have been a Dagoth boy, hardly older than Seht himself; the dark hair and angular face certainly gave him a Vorynesque air. He shifted from one foot to the other.

“Um…do you…do you need anything else, muthsera?”

“No. Thank you.”

Vivec closed one eye as he watched the scene, bringing the thumb and forefinger of each hand together before drawing them apart, mimicking an archer about to let his arrow loose. The Dagoth boy didn’t notice.

“I-I…you know, I-I’m actually, I’m really interested in what you’re doing,” he tried again, almost painfully eager. “I would love to hear you speak about it some time. O-or if I could help you with your work…?”

Hold…hold…

“I don’t need help. Thank you, sera,” Sil said in clear dismissal. He hadn’t looked up at the boy once through the whole conversation.

The boy’s eyes widened, mouth moving silently as he tried to figure out how to salvage the conversation. Finally, looking utterly crestfallen, he sighed and set the metal sheet down, then bowed to Seht and trudged away.

Vivec let out a ffwth through his teethbefore clicking his tongue, mimicking an arrow shot as he released his invisible bowstring. The sound was enough to startle Sil into noticing him. “That’s number eight.”

Sil frowned. “Number what?”

“Eight. That’s the number of shattered hearts you’ve left in your wake in the past three months, at least that I’ve seen.”

Sil let out a quiet, irritated noise as he rubbed his eyes. “Vehk, what are you saying?”

Vivec rested his elbow on his knee, chin in his hand. “Well, hla’daesohn, you’re at that age. On the market, as they say. And at least eight people have been bold enough to bid.”

Seht’s eyes rolled enough to send his slight frame swaying. “If you’re going to talk nonsense, I’m just going to leave.”

Vivec laughed. “People are interested in you, Seht. You’ve grown into a fine young mer, with a House and a high-ranking position to boot, and the throngs are noticing. Why, if I was your mother…”

“That’s a scary thought.”

“...I’d be beating off would-be wooers with a broom until your eighteenth birthday. Which, if I recall, is coming up in just a few months.” Vivec tilted his head. “And, as your dear older brother, it’s my fraternal duty to ask if any mer has managed to interest you.”

Sil gave a long-suffering sigh, and he returned to his work. “I really don’t think being in the middle of a war is conducive to relationships, Vivec.”

“Oh, that’s not true. In fact, I’d say that love found in times of strife makes for even stronger bonds.”

“From experience?”

“Perhaps. I don’t tell you everything I do.”

Sil gave him one of the flattest looks Vivec had ever received–impressive, considering how often he received them. “You know, most people don’t pride themselves on being hypocrites.”

“I’m not a hypocrite, I’m complex and wonderfully mortal. To be contradictory is…” Vivec’s monologue was, frustratingly, cut off by a pair of strong hands clamping down on his shoulders. He looked up, eyebrows raising as he caught star-bright eyes. “Alandro?”

“Excellent news, Vehk.” Alandro gave his shoulders an uncharacteristically friendly squeeze; Vivec had the feeling that he was not about to get excellent news. “You finally get the chance to do what you do best. You’re on entertainment today.”

Vivec frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Alandro patted his shoulders before sitting down beside him with a sigh. “Well, I only know half of the whole story–these damn House mer all seem to only half-communicate. No offense, Sil.”

“None taken,” Seht said, not even looking up.

“But, from what I can understand, it’s some House…”

“Vivec! Sil!”

Both Vehk and Seht looked up as they heard Nerevar call their names. He gestured for them to come over. Alandro let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank Azura. They can explain this House guarshit,” he said, then pushed himself up to his feet. “Come on, then.” He glanced down at Sil as he carefully pulled a tarp over his work. “Is that a nix-hound?”

“An approximation of one.”

Alandro half-smiled. “Maybe there is some Dwemer in you. You check to see if ol’ Kagrenac’s missing a kid?” he teased, giving Sil’s shoulder a friendly push as they made their way into the war room.

Voryn was already inside, sitting back with his arms crossed. He didn’t look smug, exactly, but there was a definite air of winning an argument surrounding him as Nerevar dropped into the seat beside him. Neht rubbed his face, waiting for Alandro, Sil, and Vivec to take a seat.

“So,” Nerevar started, lifting his head. “There’s a slight update to our plans. You recall we were supposed to speak with the Grandmaster of House Dres?”

“Yes, Grandmaster Elvasea,” Vivec said, sitting up. “Has something happened to her?”

“Something happened to us,” Voryn said, head tilting toward the door. “We suddenly gained an army of Indoril soldiers.”

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“That’s what I said,” Alandro muttered beside him.

Voryn looked around the room, then sighed. “If it hasn’t been clear in the struggle of getting Nerevar to become Hortator, the Great Houses aren’t exactly fond of each other. Some of it is due to old rivalries–House Dagoth and Indoril, for example, have never been very keen on each other. But sometimes, it’s a little more personal.” He leaned forward, long fingers steepling together. “Indoril’s last grandmaster wasn’t exactly popular among the other houses. He was combative, difficult to work with…” He paused for a moment, then shook his head. “He was a bloodthirsty, miserable old bastard, to put it bluntly. And he made more enemies than friends–including Grandmaster Elvasea.” He waved a hand. “So when word got out that House Indroril’s grandmaster was here, she tried to cancel our discussion.”

Vivec leaned forward. “But Almalexia isn’t her father.”

“That’s what I said,” Nerevar said. Voryn shook his head.

“That doesn’t matter. Grandmaster Almalexia hasn’t proven herself as being different than her father, so in the other Houses’ eyes, it might as well still be him in the seat.” He sat back. “My suggestion is that we leave the grandmaster and her forces here.”

“No, your suggestion is that we sneak out without telling her,” Nerevar shot back. “And I can’t condone that. Almalexia is our ally; we can’t just leave her in the dark, Voryn.”

“She won’t take our leaving her out of discussions well,” Voryn said coolly. “Considering she sprung an army on us and insisted on staying, she’s thus far proven that she is impetuous and stubborn. Which…” He held up his hand as both Neht and Vehk leaned forward to argue. “...is likely because of her age.” He looked to Vivec. “You, Vivec, should know best out of everyone here how important it is to leave out information. I don’t recall you writing about how we had to retreat at Hafnambir, or mentioning how many soldiers we lost at Citha Molkhun?”

Vivec pressed his lips together. “That’s different.”

“Is it? You don’t mention those details because it would decrease morale among the Chimer.” Voryn sighed. “As much as I may not like House Indoril, I don’t want to make an enemy of their Grandmaster. If we don’t tell her about the meeting–the one that we had planned before her entry, may I remind you all–then she has no reason to think she’s being left out.”

Alandro’s head fell back with a groan, and he pushed himself up to his feet. “You godsdamned House mer. Talking to people shouldn’t be a puzzle.”

“Well, I’m very sorry that we can’t all solve our problems by slashing at them like you do in the Ashlands,” Voryn snipped back.

Vivec looked between the two, then glanced at Nerevar as he rubbed his face. This, he realized as his stomach sank, was the exact same thing they had done with him three years ago, in the lead-up to their attack on Hofstaag. Even worse, though, were the words that came from his own lips: “I…agree with Voryn.”

All three older mer looked to Vivec, and he caught sight of Sil’s eyebrows silently raising. Nerevar frowned, but he leaned forward.

“Why do you think it’s a good idea?” he asked. The words weren’t challenging, and his pale blue eyes were genuinely curious as they fixed on Vehk.

“Editing is…essential in what we’re doing,” Vivec said after a moment. “Morale is high, but it wasn’t exactly easy convincing the Houses to make your Hortator, Neht. I may not know House politics, but I know people: Almalexia is young and still adapting to her new role. I’ve seen it in her. If we tell her ‘We’re meeting with Grandmaster Elvasea, but you need to stay here,’ it’s not unreasonable that she’d see it as a slight to her station and ability that we’re leaving her out of House talks.” He shrugged. “It could come across as treating her as a child.”

Voryn gestured to him. “Yes, exactly. It would do us no favors to tell her; whether she comes with us and Elvasea refuses to meet or whether she stays here, there’s a wounded ego waiting to happen. And that brings me to my next suggestion: Vivec and Sil should stay here.” As Vivec sat up, Voryn raised a hand again, adding, “And before your pride gets wounded, Vivec, I am only suggesting this because I genuinely think you’re able to smooth things over with the grandmaster if need be.” He crossed his arms. “You thought you were very slick with that story about her breaking up the mercenaries, didn’t you?”

Vivec grimaced, sitting back in his seat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said weakly.

“Please. But, much as I hate admitting it, it was a good move on your part. It got her moving and ultimately got us more soldiers. And it’s a detriment to us; I was banking on you talking circles around whatever doubts Grandmaster Elvasea had with your exaggerations.”

Vivec had a feeling his ego was being played to, in a backhanded sort of way. But a compliment–two compliments–from Voryn was a rare occurrence for anyone besides Nerevar. And, admittedly, staying around the vibrant, fascinating young queen did sound much more enjoyable than having to spin words for an old grandmaster from a dour, stark house like Dres. So, after a moment’s deliberation, he nodded.

“All right. I’ll stay.” He tilted his head toward Sil. “Why have Seht stay, though?”

“Well, for one, it’s less suspicious if the two junior counselors are left behind,” Voryn said, then looked over to Sil. “And I don’t imagine you’d particularly enjoy having tea with a Grandmaster who no doubt would be trying to set you up with her eligible granddaughter.”

Sil, to his credit, did try to hide his grimace. “I think my time would be better spent working on the animunculi for the next battle,” he said diplomatically.

Voryn nodded. “So it’s decided. You two stay here, and the three of us will go to see Grandmaster Elvasea. And Vivec, you will keep her from figuring out what we’ve done.”

It didn’t set well with Vivec, having to lie to Almalexia, but…well, that was a war, wasn’t it? He dipped his head.

“I’ll ensure Grandmaster Almalexia is occupied. I’m sure she’s tremendously busy anyway.”

The sun was already up by the time Nerevar, Alandro, and Voryn left Ald’ruhn to meet with Grandmaster Elvasea. They weren’t going to be far; her retinue had arrived from the mainland the day before, in Seyda Neen, and they were due to meet halfway, in Balmora. But all the same, leaving early both ensured that they wouldn’t be late, and they’d be less likely to be caught by any Indorils.

Truthfully, Vivec hadn’t slept much at all the night before. He’d meticulously planned the day, crafting a day full of touring Ald’ruhn, talking to locals, endearing her to the mer out here in a way as close to Nerevar’s introduction to Vvardenfell had been. Not only would it endear the Grandmaster to the locals, but it’d also ensure Almalexia didn’t notice the absence of the three senior council members.

So, as he went to her tent once the sun had crested over the ashen hills, he was fully confident in how the day was going to go.

That plan had not included having a sword tossed at him.

He jolted in surprise, just barely catching it–thank the Three it was sheathed, or he might never have written anything again. He looked up to see the source of the toss.

If not for the fiery hair bound back or the sharp, golden eyes, he might not have realized it was the Grandmaster in front of him. Her armor had been left inside the tent, it seemed, and she was clad in the more usual style of mainlander Chimer–a tight, cropped jerkin, leaving her arms and midriff exposed, and a pair of breeches just loose enough to allow for movement without running the risk of being caught by a blade. Inky black tattoos covered her exposed skin, traveling down her arms and perfectly mirroring itself across the taut golden skin of her stomach. He wondered, for a moment, if they were significant, but his attention was drawn back up at the choking noise that came from Hlareni, who stepped out from the tent at precisely the moment Vivec caught the sword.

“Almalexia,” she hissed, walking over to the other woman. “You cannot throw swords at our hosts!”

“Oh, I’m quite alright,” Vivec assured, giving her a smile before he looked down at the sword. “It, ah, is certainly a way to make sure you’re awake. But I was just coming by to see if the Grandmaster would like a tour of Ald’ruhn.” His brow furrowed, and he glanced back up to Almalexia. “Though I am curious why you threw a sword at me.”

“Well, I did think you were the Hortator,” Almalexia said with a shrug. “You wear your hair the same. I wanted to spar with him; I’ve heard so much about his prowess, and I wanted to see how it matched with my own.”

Hlareni rubbed her forehead. “Alma, throwing swords at the Hortator is worse.” She blanched. “Not…obviously, Councilor Vivec, we don’t want to throw swords at you, either, I just…”

Vivec chuckled, unsheathing the sword. “Well, I’m afraid the Hortator is caught up for the moment. But I’d be glad to spar with the Grandmaster–I’m no Nerevar, certainly, but I’ve held my own on several occasions.” He gave a shrug, along with a lazy flourish of his sword. “I did, after all, train with Fa-Nuit-Hen.”

Hlareni gaped at him. “Fa…Fa-Nuit-Hen? Boethiah’s son?”

“The very one. I was very, very young, of course, so the details of his teaching get a bit fuzzy.”

Almalexia’s eyebrows rose, but her eyes narrowed at him, an amused smile on her lips. “He’s joking, f’lah.”

Vivec’s hand went over his heart, jaw dropped in indignation. “You’re calling me a liar, muthsera? I would never do such a thing, especially not to our esteemed guests.” He gestured toward the training area with his sword. “But, of course, you’re more than welcome to test me.”

“Then I will,” Almalexia said, lifting her chin with a smile as she walked over. “If the Hortator’s too busy, I suppose a student of Fa-Nuit-Hen will suffice.”

“You keep saying that like you don’t believe me.”

“That’s because I don’t, serjo.” She looked over at Hlareni over her shoulder. “You ought to go chat with Councilor Sil. He seems like the type to get busy.”

Vivec looked to Hlareni as he rested his sword against his shoulder, eyebrows raising. “You have something to discuss with Sil?”

Hlareni went stiff, and he could see the way she was trying to keep herself from going red; it wasn’t working. “Oh, ah, well, I…I just think his creations are fascinating, a-and I want to learn more about them. And he’s so very…tall.”

And here’s number nine, Vivec thought, but he smiled at her. “Extraordinarily tall, yes,” he said with a chuckle. “He’ll be glad to talk metal beasties with you, though don’t expect him to notice when you get bored.”

“I won’t get bored,” Hlareni insisted just a touch too emphatically. She stiffened, then quickly bowed to Almalexia. “I’ll…I’ll be back shortly, Grandmaster.” When Almalexia nodded, she turned on her heel and practically jogged away.

Vivec smiled, turning to catch up with the Grandmaster. “No one’s had luck with him yet, you know.”

Almalexia rolled her eyes, though the action was obviously fond. “Reni is…eager for love. Always has been. She’ll drool over Councilor Sil for a week and then get her head back on straight when he shoots her down.”

“You’ve known her for a long time, then?”

“Oh, yes, we grew up together. Her mother was my father’s favorite advisor.” She smiled. “She probably seems very flouncy and coddled to you, but she’s a great asset on the battlefield. And…she’s much better at being polite than I am.”

Vivec smiled. “I can sympathize with her. I’m the one who reminds Seht to be polite.” He chuckled as they reached the training ground. “They’ll probably get along marvelously in that case.”

“Mm.” Almalexia rolled her neck, then looked straight at Vivec. “Now, most people don’t give it their all when they spar with me. I’m insisting that you do, Councilor; if I can’t block your attacks, then I have no business being here.”

Vivec dipped his head. “Of course, Grandmaster. And, of course, I’ll be a terrible pupil of both Fa-Nuit-Hen and Nerevar if I can’t block yours.”

Almalexia grinned. “Excellent. To three hits, then.”

She gave him a bow, and he returned it, then they both lifted their weapons. There was a glint in her golden eyes, dangerous and bright, and it was all the warning Vivec got before she lunged. He barely jumped back in time, the metal of her blade singing through the air.

Well. He could see how Alandro was starting to warm up to her.

But he was very, very quick, his movements light and airy compared to her grounded force. She dove for him with heavy bladework; he flitted in her blind spots to look for an opening. She countered with ease; he wondered if she had been born with a blade in her hand, with how naturally her sword moved with her. He kept just out of reach—he was a good swordsmer, yes, but he was a late learner; his cuts were clumsy compared to hers.

It was well and truly a dance, each style complimenting the other’s just enough to keep blows from landing.

“One.”

He landed the first hit with a clever feint; the force of her blow toward it slowed her down, and he was able to tap the flat of his sword against her arm. He backed away to reset, smiling…until he saw the look on her face. The glint in her eyes blazed into golden fire as she looked over at him, and she set her jaw as she stood up straight.

Ah. This was not a mer who liked to lose.

He raised his sword, signaling his readiness, and she came at him with all the fury of He-Who-Destroys and She-Who-Erases. He fell to defense, just barely blocking her blows as she came at him with boundless stamina. It wasn’t a surprise when he floundered, rewarded with the hard slap of cold metal against his arm.

“One,” she said.

The next round he faired better. He knew what to expect with this renewed passion, and, accustomed as he was to opponents much bigger and stronger than he was, he could work around brute force.

“Two,” he said.

But she was catching on. If his movements were flighty and quick, then she was a sabrecat, prowling for him. She worked on wearing him down, goading him one direction and the next, following his movements with her fiery gaze.

“Two,” she said.

By now, they were both panting, skin dusty from the combination of sweat and ash. They circled each other, each waiting for the other to move first. A few coppery curls had escaped from Almalexia’s braid, brushing her cheeks. Vivec gave her a grin.

“Has anyone told you how very beautiful you are?” he asked. “Like a star blazing through the sky as it falls.”

Almalexia gaped, caught off-guard. He lurched forward, tapping his sword against her thigh.

“Three.” Vivec sheathed his sword, still grinning. “You see, Neht was right: I wield my words just as well as my sword.”

Almalexia stared at him, and he met her gaze. There was a moment where he could see fury at the trick boiling beneath her skin. But, like a fever, it seemed to break, and she let out a laugh.

“I would call that cheating,” she says. “But really, I should know better. Hollow compliments are all you hear in my position.”

“Who said it was hollow? I speak nothing but the truth, muthsera.”

“Mm. Like your egg? And Fa-Nuit-Hen?”

“Exactly. Regardless of what you think, it’s all very true to me.”

Almalexia’s gaze flicked up to him, a soft sort of curiosity in her eyes. For a moment, they were silent, an unspoken question hanging heavily between them. There were several options for what it was; Vivec was quite content to wait for it to surface.

But she broke the spell before it could, sheathing her sword. “Have you considered using a spear, Councilor?”

“Like the netchimen use?”

“In a sense. You like to stay as far away as possible from your target; I think a spear would suit you quite well.” She tucked a curl behind her ear. “I could show you, later. I’m trained in just about every weapon possible.”

Vivec’s lips turned up, and he set his hand over his heart. “I would be honored. In fact, I…” He went quiet, head suddenly turning. “Do you hear that?”

Almalexia frowned, striding over to him. “It sounds like…fighting. Is there training today?”

“No, it…” Vivec’s eyes went wide. “Seht!”

He sprinted back into town, immediately greeted with the smell of smoke and blood on the stones.

The streets were full of Nords, a surprise attack no doubt planned for when the councilors were due to be away. The Chimer, at least, were holding their own; from his quick glance as he ran, it seemed that there were more Nord bodies on the cobblestones. But their base…that’s where they were headed. And where he’d left Sil.

A few Nords tried to cut him down, but he was quicker. Each was slashed as he made his way through the streets, either dead or incapacitated; he didn’t care to check.

Smoke was already pouring out of the hall when he reached it, and he stood for just a moment too long as the worst possibility entered his mind. He reacted far too late as he saw movement in the corner of his eye, and a Nord—large and furious, eyes wild with bloodlust—lunged at him. Just as he braced for the deep cut of her blade, the Nord’s head, still snarling, fell forward, with her body following quickly behind. Vivec looked up to see Almalexia panting, blade dripping red.

“Go inside and get the survivors,” she barked at him, full of authority. She turned to the nearby Chimer, shouting commands and directing them against the onslaught.

Vivec wasted no time; he dove into the smoke-filled hall, eyes watering against it. As he ran, he stumbled on something, just barely affording a look as he caught his balance. The Dagoth boy, the one that had been mooning over Seht just that morning, lay motionless and pale on the ground, black eyes fixed blindly overhead and blood leaking into his dark hair.

Vivec breathed out a prayer to Azura, but he turned and kept moving. To the living Chimer he found, he yelled out directions to the exit, urging them to leave, NOW and find Grandmaster Almalexia.

Finally, he made it to the courtyard. There, in the center, was Sil; given the charred bodies around him, he must have been able to hold his own with his magic. But magicka was finite, and even from here, Vehk could see he had drained his reserves. He had a hollow look in his face, and for a brief moment as they locked eyes, he saw the very same boy he’d found in the rubble three years ago.

Vivec cried out as one of the bodies moved. A Nord heaved himself up, axe in hand, and lunged toward Sil. Vivec sprinted forward, blade up, but he wouldn’t be fast enough. Sil looked up at the Nord.

It was just two motions. One quick pull of the knife out of the sheath at Sil’s belt, and a sharp, sideways push into the Nord’s belly.

Sil left the knife in the Nord as he fell, and he nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to get to Vivec. “There wasn’t any warning,” he said, words tumbling over themselves. “They just…they flooded the city. I didn’t have time to send my spiders out, I did what I could with my magic, but…”

Vivec took his face, looking him over. “Are you hurt?”

“O-only superficially. We have to get the others out.”

“They’re out. Almalexia’s in the city. Did Hlareni make it to you?”

“Y-yes, but I didn’t…once the attack started, I-I—Vivec, turn around!”

Vivec whirled around, eyes wide as a large Nord burst through the doorway. She wielded a mace as tall as she was, and she let out a bellow of fury as she locked eyes on Vivec and Sil.

“Stay behind me, Sil,” Vivec said.

“But…”

“Stay behind me, hla’daesohn.”

Adrenaline was singing through Vivec’s veins, but even so, he could feel the edges of exhaustion. His sparring with Almalexia had used up more stamina than he’d initially thought, and it was very likely that this would not end well. He took a breath, adjusting his grip on his blade, then gritted his teeth.

The Nord gave an unpleasant laugh and muttered to herself, no doubt something about “milk-drinking knife ears.” It was possible he could taunt her into a fury if she was talkative. It could buy Sil enough time to get out. He just had to find the right way to…

The Nord lunged. Vivec pushed Sil back, then sprinted forward. Silently, he prayed that the mace would crush his skull too quickly for him to greet his death. A coward’s prayer, maybe, but infinitely more preferable to feeling his brains spatter the courtyard.

But, rather than his death, he was greeted with a spray of blood as an arrow tore through the Nord’s neck.

He skidded to a halt, staring as several more arrows whizzed through the air. The Nord went down silently, and both he and Sil stared at her body for a moment. It wasn’t until they heard a breathless voice calling, “Councilors!” that they turned around.

Hlareni sprinted up to them. Her hair had fallen from its ribbon, and her finery was smudged with soot and blood. She still had an arrow nocked, and her blue eyes were sharp as she scanned the area.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “I-I’m sorry, Councilor Sil, I…I had to get to higher ground and…”

“Apologize later,” Vivec said quickly. “We need to get out.”

She nodded. “I’ll take the front. I’m not as good at short-range, but I can manage!” She nodded for them to follow her, and the three made their way out to the streets.

By the time they were outside, the Nords were already retreating, with a few more being felled by arrows and spells on their way out. Vivec’s head swiveled, looking for Almalexia. He found her in the middle of the street, holding an arm out to stop their forces from following after them. She stood tall, face stony and eyes blazing as she watched the retreat. Once the Nords were out of the city walls, she turned to the crowd behind her.

“These Outlanders have no place here!” she called to the mer behind her. “They attack our city, our homeland, as nothing more than an invasive blight on Resdayn! But we have driven them back like the vermin they are!”

A cheer rose from the crowd, and Vivec found his own spirit lifting. Well! She might be well on her way to becoming as popular as…

“Nerevar.” Sil gripped Vivec’s arm. “The Nords must have known that he would be gone. They wouldn’t have struck like that otherwise. Which means…”

Vivec’s spirits quickly dropped back down to his feet. “There may be another ambush.” He whirled around. “Grandmaster!” he called up to Almalexia. “Organize the remaining mer!”

Almalexia turned back to look at him, brow furrowing, but she gave a short nod. “Hlareni! Guide the soldiers to finding survivors! I’ll take care of the fighters.”

Vivec ushered Sil to the gates, another rush of fear giving his legs strength as they ran. They had to be quick—if they dallied too long, they could be too late.

He prayed, to the Three Good Daedra and any other Divine that would listen, that they weren’t already.

#tesfic #tribunal #vivec #sotha sil #almalexia #nerevar #voryn dagoth #dagoth ur #alandro sul #fanfic #elder scrolls #morrowind

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nerevar-quote-and-star · 1 year

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Jolinar Aren, on entering the Soul Cairn: I'm not afraid of ghosts!

Serana: That's the spirit!

Jolinar, jumping a mile high: OH SEHT, WHERE?!

#oh jules #oc: jolinar aren #serana #beyond death #soul cairn #dawnguard #vampirea #volkihar vampire #castle volkihar #nerevar queue and star #incorrect quotes #incorrect elder scrolls #incorrect skyrim quotes #tes #the elder scrolls #skyrim #the elder scrolls v: skyrim #source: twitter

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fragwuerdiger-episodenguide · 7 months

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(042) Die drei ??? und der weinende Sarg

Klappentext

Die drei Detektive sind dem Geheimnis eines verborgenen Tresors auf der Spur. Der neugierige Michael ist es, der ihnen den ersten Tip gibt: Drei Totenköpfe auf einem Sarg scheinen Wegweiser zu sein. Doch schnell wird es gefährlich, denn in der Nähe des Sargs ist es nicht geheuer – schon gar nicht, wenn mitten in der Nacht das Käuzchen ruft ...

Veröffentlichungshistorie Buch (Random House): Find Your Fate 001, 1985, Megan Stine, The Case of the Weeping Coffin Buch (Kosmos): 041, 1988, Leonore Puschert (aus dem Amerikanischen übertragen) Hörspiel (Europa): 042, 1987

⁉️ Allgemein

Handlungsort

Rocky Beach

Kategorie

Diebstahl, Rätsel

Figuren

Justus Jonas

Peter Shaw

Bob Andrews

Michael Cross

Mrs. Cross, Mutter von Michael

Mr. Cross, Vater von Michael

Margie, Führerin in der Villa Markels

Mr. Edward Brackmann, Verwalter/Hausmeister der Villa Markels (😈)

Grady Markels, Enkel von Jonathan Markels

Barney Sawyer, Journalist

Humphrey Rossing, Kunst- und Antiquitätenhändler (😈)

Rossings Assistentin

Mr. Finley, Sachverständiger für asiatische Kunst (keine Sprechrolle)

Gärtner

🏖 Rocky Beach Universum

Orte

Seymour Street

Einrichtungen

Villa Markels, Millionärsvilla mit einer Kunstausstellung was eine Hauptattraktion von Rocky Beach ist

Schrottplatz

Zentrale

Bibliothek

Humphrey Rossing Fine Art and Antiques, Kunst- und Antiquitätenladen in der Seymour Street

Schnellimbiss

Sonstiges

Jonathan Douglas Markels, Hersteller von Wand- und Geheimtresoren

Weinende Sarg, ein über 100 Jahre altes Kunstwerk

🛼 Sonstiges

Lustige Dialoge

Michael: "Klar hat er zu Lebzeiten gemalt, als Toter konnte er es ja nicht mehr."

Bob: "Der Sarg in der Millionärsvilla ist über 100 Jahre alt. Jonathan Douglas Markels hat ihn gekauft nachdem er schon fast 50 Jahre irgendwo herumgestanden hat. Der Sarg natürlich, nicht Markels. Als Kunstwerk, wiederum der Sarg."

Michael: "Ich hab eine Idee, wie wir was über ihn rauskriegen. Wir bringen ihm irgendein Stück Trödel hier vom Schrottplatz und erkundigen uns bei ihm, was das Zeug wert ist." Peter: "Schrott? Trödel? Das führen wir nicht, wir handeln mit Gebrauchtwaren, unter anderem auch mit Kunstgegenständen und Antiquitäten." Justus: "Merk dir das gefälligst, du Banause!"

Justus: "Gut kombiniert Michael, aber leider falsch."

Peter: "Was, noch einmal? Aber doch nicht heute Abend, oder?" Justus: "Wenn ich mich richtig erinnere, benutze ich bei meinem Vorschlag ein unmissverständlichen Ausdruck. Wenn es beliebt kann ich auch dafür sagen: Unverzüglich, auf der Stelle, subito!"

Peter: "Verflixt, der hat einen Revolver!" Mr. Brackman: "Mit dem ich auch schießen werde."

Peter: "Oh Gott, und ich dachte immer sie wären der Bösewicht. Ich meine, das Messer und so." Gärtner: "Na, na Peter, das Messer brauche ich für die Gartenarbeit, und nicht immer ist der Gärtner der Täter." [...] Gärtner: "Und wenn du mich auf dieser Party mit einem Messer siehst, Peter, ich brauche es nur zum Torteschneiden."

Phrasenschwein

Breaking the Law! Justus bricht das Gesetzt. (Mehr oder weniger: Justus setzt sich über ein "Durchgang verboten" Schild hinweg)

🏳️‍🌈 Queer/diversity read

Shippy moments

Justus: "Kollege, wenn man einen Verbrecher dingfest machen will, dann muss man das Umfeld des Verbrechens genau recherchieren. Außerdem muss dir klar sein, dass die drei Fragezeichen nicht gewillt sind, nur ein wenig an der Oberfläche eines mysteriösen Geschehens zu kratzen, sondern in die Tiefe, zum eigentlichen Kern der Dinge, vordringen wollen." Bob: "Au Backe Peter, jetzt hat er es dir aber gegeben!"

Bob: "Sag mal Peter, spinnst du? Wieso trittst du gegen die Wand?" Peter: "Ach, weil … Mensch, seht euch das an, hier öffnet sich die Wand, und das bloß, weil ich meine Wut an dem Holz ausgelassen habe."

Diversity, Political Correctness and Feminism

#die drei fragezeichen #die drei ???#und der weinende sarg #folge 042 #042 #find your fate #Megan Stine #rocky beach #diebstahl #rätsel #breaking the law

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barfok · 9 months

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SOTHA SIL: My friends, it occurs to me that, in your sentimental naivety, you have overlooked the most straightforward solution to our quandary. There is one road left to us, though it be a dark one.

VIVEC: No, you can't mean...

ALMALEXIA: Gods, Sil--

S: Yes. The time has come to cancel Nerevar.

V: We cant! He is too great a hero, beloved by all. The cancelling would never take.

A: Vivec is right. We are cunning but we have nowhere near his clout. How could we cancel Nerevar? Who would believe us?

S: But the truth is on our side, is it not? Who better than we know the crimes he has committed? If the people were taken into the same confidence as we, they would deem him problematic without further question.

V: It is true. He never told me whether he condemns those fools who say Mephala worship is a gender. Its clearly an ethos!

A: I am not saying he has done nothing to warrant a cancelling. I know for a fact that he once dated a man of the sign of The Steed, which given his own sign of the Lady is deeply suspicious... but Vivec is right. His popularity greatly outweighs our own. Who would listen?

S: We would only need to be clever about it. Voryn Dagoth is a principled man-- if we were to provide him evidence in the form of an anonymous message that, say, our Nerevar believed those of Dwemeri descent reserve the right to call themselves shield-bearers...

V: Voryn Dagoth! Voryn believes Lorkhan worshipers are not more oppressed than those of the Good Daedra, he's as likely to be cancelled himself.

A: Another astute point, Vivec. Have we considered what would happen if Nerevar tried to cancel us in turn? What if, Sil, he were to discover your Velotheddit account? Are you prepared to defend your opinions on Azura to the public?

V: Sehts opinions are rooted in trauma, even Nerevar wouldn't dare.

S: Unlike you both, I would gladly defend my controversial opinions to the public. The force of logic is on my side.

A: And this is why I counsel Nerevar on public opinion, not you! Cancellation has nothing to do with logic nor evidence-- it is about appeals to emotion and the use of correct terminology to win the peoples hearts. Unfortunately, Nerevar is masterful at this.

V: ... And yet, he DOES listen to our counsel.

S: Vivec, have you an idea?

V: Nerevar heeds our advice on what the people believe, yes? We may not even need to cancel him-- let him cancel himself!

A: Oh?

V: What if we could convince him to espouse a belief in public that would have the people turn on him? We would not even need to prove it!

S: My friend, you have the subtlety of the Webspinner herself!

A: It *could* work. He is due to address Mournhold tomorrow. But what would we have him say?

V: I know just the thing...

[THE NEXT DAY, MIDDAY, UPON THE PALACE COURTYARD, OVERLOOKING A GREAT CROWD]

NEREVAR: My dear friends, my beloved people of Veloth! I am delighted to welcome you to the festivities today. But let me begin this address with a revelation I have had of late. In our bounteous nation, there is no point in us fighting each other. I believe we all must set aside our differences, and learn to find the middle ground of our dissenting opinions--

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handwerkstatt · 9 months

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Von der Narretei des überlichtschnellen Reisens (10. und letzte Folge)

In dieser letzten Folge darf ich euch ein seltsames Erlebnis erzählen, was mir neulich passiert ist, als ich (wider besseren Wissens und Erfahrung) mal wieder den HighSpeed-Beschleunigungshebel meines RGF (RaumGleitFlitzer) betätigte. Ich hätte es nicht tun sollen. Keine Ahnung welch ein Alien mich geritten hatte. Jedenfalls war mir, nach anfänglichem Schwindelgefühl durch diese grandiose Beschleunigung, nun auch noch übel. Wohl aufgrund dessen vergaß ich, hinter der Galaxie "Reticulum III" links abzubiegen. Demzufolge flog ich nun nicht in den Hyperraum Abteilung 7, sondern schnurstracks in die Abteilung 11, wo ich noch nie war. Oh oh, unbekanntes Terrain! Als der Bordcomputer auf mein andauerndes Rufen, Schreien, Toben nun endlich den Nothalt einleitete, war ich elendig weit vom Kurs abgewichen. Ich wusste nicht, wo ich war. Der Bordcomputer auch nicht, oder er hatte grad mal wieder keine Lust in den Sternenkarten zu suchen.... (dafür hat er mit dem Notfallhammer ein leichtes Schlägchen auf die Hinterplatine bekommen!! Ist doch wahr!). Ich schaute zum Bullauge raus, und was sah ich? Genau das:

Einen kleinen süßen Roten Zwerg. Ich hatte jedoch keine Ahnung in welcher Galaxie ich mich befand, noch kannte ich die lokale Sternengruppe. Aber bevor ich auch nur eine weitere Überlegung (und einen weiteren Schlag mit dem Hämmerchen in Richtung Bordcomputer) machen konnte, spürte ich schon das unangenehme Ziehen eines Traktorstrahls in der Bauchgegend. Ich wurde etwas unsanft zur Landung gezwungen.

Kaum kam der Gleiter zum Stillstand, stieg ich die Treppe hinunter und setzte meinen Fuß auf einen fremden, unbekannten Planeten, und schritt forsch und mutig in Richtung was wie ein Gebäude aussah. Ich erschrak ein wenig, weil jeder meiner Schritte von einem kleinen Knall begleitet wurde. Ein Blick auf den Boden verriet mir, was es damit auf sich hatte:

Der Boden des Planeten war übersät mit kleinen Blasen, die bei jedem Schritt zerplatzten. Komischer Planet! Wie man früher (die Älteren werden sich noch dran erinnern) Alexa oder Siri startete, rüttelte ich nun meinen verschlafenen Bordcomputer aus seinem Schlaf: "Bordcomputer! Mach ein Foto von mir und starte die Aufzeichnung!"

Wie ihr sicher schon richtig erraten habt, sehen die Fotos alle wie Negative aus. Das liegt jedoch nicht an der Bordkamera (und diesmal auch nicht an meinem tranig verschlafenen Bordcomputer), so sah (und sieht vermutlich immer noch) der Planet aus. Ganz komisches Licht und keine Schatten!! Nun gut, ich ging nun also zu diesem "Gebäude", ließ mir von meiner Verunsicherung aber nichts anmerken! Eine Tür gab es nicht, nur ein quadratisches Loch in der Außenhülle. Im Innenraum war es genauso hell wie draußen, und ich erkannte drei sitzende Außerirdische(?). Beim Näherkommen drückte ich noch schnell den Auslöser der Minikamera an meinem Handgelenk, aber seht selbst:

Wer nicht weiß, was das ist, kann sich glücklich schätzen! Das "Empfangskommitee" war genauso negativ wie alles auf diesem Planeten, aber durch mein fotografisches Gedächtnis erkannte ich die Szenerie vor mir sofort!! Die drei weiblichen Untugenden, bekannt im ganzen Universum, veranlassten mich auf der Stelle umzudrehen, fluchtartig das Gebäude zu verlassen, grußlos in meinen Raumgleiter zu hechten, den Notfall-Startknopf zu drücken und diesen Planeten in Höchstgeschwindigkeit hinter mir zu lassen. Und ehrlich, dieses eine Mal war ich froh über die Möglichkeit, überlichtschnell zu reisen! Ganz ehrlich!

#Folge 10

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wellthebardsdead · 7 months

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Clockwork Heart pt28

Part 27 here

———

Vivec: why did you make Wyrm so optimistic?

Sotha Sil: because I spent my life being pessimistic. He’s aware of the truth of our reality, and his endless joy allowed him to smile in the face of it… I want him to remain happy and carefree for as long as he can before the inevitable…

Vivec: …Is that why you made him so small too?…

Sotha Sil: …I made him, as he needs to be. *turns to walk away and freezes seeing Wyrm standing behind him* I-

Wyrm: why do I need to be- *gasps as he’s suddenly pulled out of the vision. The serene purple sky of the clockwork city giving way to the icy black stone of the midden, and the eerie blue glow of the augurs light*

Augur of Dunlain: Wyrm? My friend?

Wyrm: *rubs his eyes as a pounding headache seizes him for a moment before subsiding, his control over his connection to the heart slowly improving* it just keeps repeating the same thing over and over again… right as I ask him why he made me this way I get pushed out, like how he’d push me away from the heart, or out of nightmares. It feels different to when voryn does it… voryn feels like he’s pulling me into a hug, away from something dangerous but… it feels like Seht is, pushing me away somehow. In a direction?…

Augur of Dunlain: Perhaps he is afraid of you finding out the answer?… what could be so terrible about knowing what you were made for?

Wyrm: *groans leaning against the magicka pool* ughhhh I’m supposed to be asking you questions not the other way around! *pouts* but… If he made me as I need to be?… was, was it the malnutrition that kept me small?… or why my lungs are so weak?… or… *feels where his shoulder should be beneath his artificial, metal one* why am I missing my arm… my shoulder and part of my ribs?… or… *reaches up and taps his Pearl eye* why would he make me with only one?…

“Wyrm??? Where are you?”

Wyrm: crap! I’m not supposed to be down here! *jumps up tossing a sugar cookie into the pool* I’ll see you later!!! Thank you! *runs out of the door and up out of the midden*

Augur of Dunlain: …I wish I could tell you the truth… *sighs and engulfs the cookie*

*a few minutes later*

Wyrm: *climbs out of the midden and into the courtyard, dusting himself off of the snow from the trap door as he rushes out and immediately bumps head first into nerevar* oh! I-

Nerevar: there you are, hold still. *pulls a set of armoured robes out from his bag and holds it up to the smaller elf* this should do for now until I can get you to an actual blacksmith. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us and I want you protected.

Wyrm: *being adjusted this way and that by the Hortator as he loosely checks the fit* I- yes thank you- a-are you sure you and voryn want to tag along? Will voryn even be able to travel in-

Voryn: *suddenly crosses the bridge into the courtyard, dressed in dark mage robes, a chitin breastplate covering his chest and fitting nicely with the more ornate adornments of house dagoth, as well as the gigantic bell hammer strapped to his back* My ears are burning~ I believe I got everything we need for the first leg of the trip.

Nerevar: *chuckles* good, Wyrm was just fussing over your outfit options for battle and travel.

Wyrm: *puffs out his cheek a little at being teased* I-I just never thought about how uncomfortable travelling could be until I lived it and voryn doesn’t seem the sort to be dressed like well- this!

Voryn: *smiles and gently pats his hair* I’m a councillor and his confidant first. But I’m his lover and partner in battle as well. I fought along side him during the battle of red mountain, I’ve seen him in action just as much as he has I. I’ll be just fine little scrib.

Nerevar: *nods and grins* it’s a miracle I survived those battles. I was impossible to peel my eyes off of you~

Voryn: you’re lucky my eyes were more focused on keeping you alive then~ and speaking of keeping alive. Is this- really the best you could find?… *gestures to the robes*

Nerevar: We don’t exactly have a wide array of options here my love. Once we get to whiterun we can-

Enthir: no need. *walks over grabbing Wyrm by his arm leading him to the dorms* I got something better, but don’t ask how I got it or where it’s from. Got it?

Wyrm: *known Enthir long enough to just agree* okay.

Nerevar: Woah Woah Woah!!! Hold on a minute! What have you got?! Because the last two items you ‘had for him’ turned out to be two of three extremely dangerous weapons that corrupted him! *points to voryn* turned the people that killed me into gods!

Wyrm: sorry about tha-

Nerevar: shush it’s okay, and I had to use to bring down dagoth ur!

Voryn: sorry about tha-

Nerevar: darling we- HEY COME BACK HERE!

Enthir: *already walking inside with Wyrm in tow* I’m not stopping you from following me.

*a few minutes later*

Enthir: *holding a pair of trousers over the room divider Wyrms changing behind* these ones should fit you you’re around my size.

Wyrm: oh these look like the armour the lady in riften was wearing!

Nerevar: riften?

Enthir: lady?

Wyrm: yeah, she stole my eye and I woke up from a nightmare trying to cut her face off…

Voryn: oh yes I think I recall that one… I kept screaming ‘I’ve been poisoned’… was that when those vampires fed you skooma?

Wyrm: yes… it was horrible.

Enthir: *eyes wide just hearing about this himself for the first time* remind me to write to my contacts so, there’ll be less people out to hurt him or- worse.

Nerevar: I promise. Well do all we can to keep him safe.

Wyrm: *suddenly steps out dressed in thieves guild armour* my hair won’t fit under the hood.

Enthir: that’s okay you don’t need that. You look great just… try to avoid guards while wearing it. It should keep you out of trouble with more unsavoury figures though and help you sneak out of danger if needed.

Nerevar: that- that wouldn’t happen to be thie-

Voryn: *covers his mouth* shhh. You look great Wyrm.

Wyrm: *smiles back at them with a beaming grin*

*a few days later*

Urag: *wrapping Wyrms favourite cloak around him and fussing over his son* I packed your night clothes and spare comfortable clothes for you too and your lunch is in there as well as some snacks and don’t forget the ward scrolls in case-

Enthir: *gently rubs his back* Babe, he’ll be okay. *smiles at Wyrm then past him to the high elf waiting patiently at his side* take care of him for us.

Taliesin: *nods and bows his head* I will. You have my word.

Urag: … *steps forward and places his hand on his shoulder* Come home alive… bring my boy back safe.

Taliesin: I- Y-yes sir. He- we’ll, come home alive. I promise.

Urag: *nods before looking back to Wyrm in time for the small dunmer to leap up into his arms for a hug* stay safe, don’t wander into trouble you can’t get out of, okay?…

Wyrm: *nods* I will papa, I’ll be careful, I promise papa. *hugs him tighter* I’ll be home before you know it.

Urag: *hugs him back and holds him for just a moment more* good luck, son. *lets him go*

Wyrm: *smiles up at him before giving Enthir a hug as well* take care of him please…

Enthir: I will. *smiles hugging him back and letting him go* stay out of trouble.

Wyrm: I will! *takes Taliesins hand and waves back to them as they cross the bridge* I LOVE YOU!!

*a few minutes later*

Taliesin: *picks Wyrm up placing him on his back as they enter the village* gods I can’t wait to get out of this cold.

Wyrm: *gently places his hands over taliesins ears like a pair of ear muffs* I read morthal is humid and warm. I’m sure it’ll be more comfortable for you.

Taliesin: darling you’ve never felt humidity. Believe me it is not comfortable but anything is better than this c-constant assault of frigid air.

Wyrm: *giggles* yeah, it’s not for everyone. *glances at the jarls long house as Mirabelle steps out, dressed in the arch mages robes though still limping from her injuries sustained in the battle against ancano* hopefully things… warm up here in different ways while we’re gone. *looks ahead to see the group waiting by the horses near the inn* I just hope… we live to see it. *shivers as a gust of wind blows from around the inn, sending the tattered robes of a now dead thalmor agent adrift on the wind*

#Wyrm dragonborn #skyrim taliesin #Urag gro shub #enthir skyrim #voryn dagoth #nerevar

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