Fandom The Second Rebellion (Skyrim)

[AlbaGuBrath]

Stepping out into the daylight, Saorat shivered against the cold and wrapped Moira’s faded scarf around her nose, grateful for the warmth even if it did smell a little odd. The older woman had mentioned that she could feel a cold snap approaching and had insisted that she bundle up, pushing forward an armful of gloves, cloak, fur boots, and a number of other garments. Saorat had protested at first, but as she didn’t wish to offend her friend, eventually relented. She felt a little silly and found it harder to move, but it was nice to be warm again.

With the sun sparkling in the frosty air, the stone city almost seemed to retrieve its more-or-less peaceful atmosphere, almost like it was back to normal.
Normal. Saorat realised that she didn’t really know what was normal anymore; it had been conflict and fear ever since she’d returned home. But at least before there was some measure of levity, songs around a warm fire, farfetched tales on long journeys, long stretches of time spent in training but without actual battle. There had been something in the city’s air when last she walked its streets, but now it was gone. Saorat couldn’t figure out exactly what it was, but its absence was somehow distressing.

Looking to fill the void with familiar sights, she began to move towards the marketplace hoping to see her friend Hermir, but drew up short. Moira’s ministrations left her under layers of cloth with nothing but her eyes peeking out between the cloak and scarf, transforming her into a mostly anonymous, if rather absurd-looking, figure. It was unlikely that anybody would recognise her unless they looked straight into her slitted yellow eyes, but it wasn’t worth the risk. The citizens she’d seen looked even more tense than usual, walking about more heavily armed and with grim expressions.

It was understandable, they’d gone through a lot in recent times, and the previous night’s attack certainly didn’t help matters. No, they would be too jumpy, too suspicious of anybody they didn’t immediately recognise as a friend. She’d already made her presence more obvious than she should have, it was too dangerous. Heaving a regretful sigh, Saorat turned and reluctantly started toward the other side of the city, promising herself that she’d visit her friend once this was all over.

Upon entering Sadri’s shop on the far side of the city, the dark elf’s face registered confused unease as the stiffly-moving, oddly shaped stranger lumbered into the room, then broad amusement as he recognised the small eyes peeping out.
“Did you get lost? I thought you’d prefer the desert, not the frozen north. More frozen than this, I mean.” he teased.
Saorat chuckled and adopted the raspy accent she occasionally used when disguised as a foreigner. “This one would walk on warm sands, but alas, there are none in Skyrim. Cold rocks will have to do. At least there is more to see, yes?”
Their brief exchange ended, Saorat recited the list Moira had given her, along with her own supplies, and carefully counted out the required coin.

Before leaving, she paused and dropped her voice, although the shop was empty.
“Do you know who those people last night were? The Khajiit, the drunken boy, and the elf-woman?”
A flicker crossed his face as she finished the sentence but it quickly disappeared, as though he thought of something but thought better of mentioning it.
“No.” he told her firmly, with something of a hard look “No, and I’m not going to find out.”
Saorat looked at him quizzically, perplexed and somewhat hurt by his sudden change, but didn’t press the matter.
“Of course not, there’s no need.” she told him airily, suppressing her confusion, “I was just curious. I’m curious about strangers, you know that.”
“Of course…”
His tone was polite, but cool and distant, very different from his earlier mirth. Saorat got the uncomfortable feeling that something was wrong, that he wanted her gone, so she hurriedly thanked him for the goods and retreated.

Retracing her steps from the morning, Saorat turned the encounter over and over in her mind, trying to make sense of it. Something had happened when she mentioned the strangers, or maybe one of the strangers, but she didn’t understand what it was. And why had Sadri looked at her like that? The two weren’t terribly close, but they had been reasonably friendly, all things considered. Had she unknowingly done something offensive? Had Ambyars said something to him? What if the other people she considered friends also changed like that? Would they all leave her?
A cold chill racked her frame despite the warm layers of cloth and she swallowed hard as she blinked blurriness from her eyes. But as she stiffly raised a paw to her face and felt the encumbrance of Moira’s well-meaning gift, the memory of her friends’ loyalty and kindness came back to her. They would remain, if nobody else, and that was enough.

The Iceblades were gone when she returned to the house, so she let herself in and placed the items on the table. Thinking of the sun’s ascent into the sky, she also took the opportunity to struggle out of some of the stifling layers, which she folded and placed next to the goods. She didn’t want to hurt Moira’s feelings, though, so she looked around for a bit of paper and, taking a bit of coal from the fireplace, laboriously scratched out a note.
“Deer Dear M,
Thank you for the cloths. They are warm. The sun is warm too so I do not need them now. I will see you.
-S”
She looked at the markings for a long time, uncertain if they were correct. It had been quite a while since she’d seen Fira, and even longer since they’d had a chance to work on her lessons. She had a voracious appetite for learning, but the stress of the past few months made letters seem less critical. That was one more thing that she looked forward to once everything was made right again.

Before placing the note on the clothes, she added a postscript.
“I am looking for the Ka Kej Kaj Kaaj cat-friend I told you about. I will be back by dark. If not you know what to do.”

0stinato Sir Monsieur Abdel featherfall Locklaklazarii

 

[Sir Monsieur]

young man awoke from his slumber. His head rested on a comfy straw pillow and was neatly wrapped under the covers. He slowly sat up only but almost immediately his head began to pound. It was as if the headsman had driven his mighty axe through his skull. He placed his hands on his temples before sluggishly opening his eye's. His vision was misty, the room was dark. The only light that the room provided was early morning sun that shone through the window (Did the hearth have windows? Eh I cant remember.) He foolishly glanced around the room, where was he? Jekkel's armor was carelessly scattered upon the floor. A moment of fear quickly passed over him. He quickly glanced to the empty spot next to him. He was quite relieved to know he was the only occupant of the bed. Suddenly there was a beating at the door. This only irritated his head ever more. "Give me a second" He muttered. This answer was hardly audible to the human ear. He was very tempted to ignore the summon and sleep soundly for another hour but it would appear that fate had other plans for the boy.

The caravaner slowly stumbled out of bed, his legs were weak. Jekkel began to pick up all his armor, it reeked of liquor. He sighed "Son of a bitch" It would appear that the adventure had a night of heavy drinking. This never happens very often there were only two cases that came to his mind. One night after selling a good haul of loot he went to have a drink at the bannered mare. A man in black robes soon approached the boy and challenged him to a drinking contest. Jekkel was young and inexperienced at the time accepted his challenge. Everything was going great until the young lad began to hear colors. When he came too he was in the temple of Dibella in Markarth. The most recent blackout (Excluding this one) he had was at the college of Winterhold. It late Turdas evening and his friend J'zargo challenged him to a drinking contest. You might be surprised but he didn't win. Let's just say when he came too he discovered that he had been the subject of many experimental spells. Some as a practical joke, others...not so much.

Jekkel finally managed to equip his armor. He quickly opened the door to address the caller. It took him a moment to realize who this Khajiit was. A smile quickly crossed his face. "Why hello there Kumi, how was your night?" Hopefully, the caravaner didn't pull his pride through the mud

 

[Locklaklazarii]

Pysmia had gotten up earlier in the morning, before the sun had even risen, as was her habit and the tradition of her family. She had cleaned herself the best she could in these filth ridden towns these Nords called cities, she prepared herself the best she could before she had walked out into the cold barren lands of Skyrim. Making her way out of the city and down to the waters that the poorly positioned Windhelm was located near she sat. The sound of the flowing water washing her mind, she remembered the teaching of PSJJJ and began to meditate, she felt the aura of the world around her, it's song. As the land sang to her of it's many years she could feel the violence of it's many eras, between mer, between men, and between men and mer, the song was bloodied red, but it was not an aggressive one as it were some lands, Skyrim wept for it's history. Then the winds howled filling her with terror, she could hear the woman, her screams as she was violated to a broken state, the echoes of the past faded and her connection was lost. "Nothing good ever happens in this land." She said quietly to herself, her breath forming a large cloud in front of her.

Standing up, Pysmia made her way back to the city never letting her sight stray from the gate she stood to the side, she was half meditating to rest her mind and body but was able to keep most of her attention aimed at the door. It was if she had set up an alarm clock in her mind looking for any strange activity or more importantly the people she had met the night previous.

 

[0stinato]

"Phenomenal!" Kumiko gave a wide grin. Always can rely on Jekkel to liven things up... for better or for worse. Are you alright, do you need anything in you? Food, water... and, more importantly are you..."

He clicked his fingers in front of Jekkel's eyes - he didn't look like he was yesterday, all disorientated and begging at Pysmia's feet. Or maybe that was because Pysmia wasn't here... but he hoped Jekkel was over that by now. Seemed to be... he looked fine, after all.

"Right..." after tilting his head, he suddenly started off, striding fowards holding his hand out in front of him, a couple of mangled envelopes crushed in his grip. "We must make haste, Jekkel! We must see the Jarl!"

Turning his head slightly he gave Jekkel an order - "Find out how to make haste, Jekkel, what ingredients we need! I'm going to guess we'll need peat and some sticks and some luck. Hello, watch out please lady," he said to a waitress, sliding around her as if dodging around people in taverns was simply a pasttime. Kumiko was glad to see Jekkel's tired eyes looked normal... could hardly present to the Jarl looking like an underage skooma addict.

Shit.

Kumiko still had skooma on him. That wasn't good. And, thinking about it, he didn't look particularly presentable either. Much more likely were the guards to search him. As he burst out of the door to get those letters on the road, he wondered how to deal with the skooma. He could ingest it (Bad Idea) or hide it (Good Idea).

"Jekkel! Where shall I ide-hay, the ooma-skay?" he hissed. "Really can't be seen with that on me, Jarl Law-Giver will have my hide for a rug otherwise."

He blinked, and Pysmia came into view. Kumiko grabbed Jekkel. No running off for him, that's what Kumiko thought.

Sir Monsieur Locklaklazarii

 

[Sir Monsieur]

"Yea I'm fine." Replied the boy. "Just a splitting headache and an overall dazed feeling, but other than that I'm fine" He paused for a moment. "On second thought I could use some bre..." Jekkel was quickly cut off by the snap of Kumi's fingers. It seemed that the cat was checking Jekkel for something? With every snap, he blinked. Before the boy could even mention how famished he was, the Khajiit seemed to be working towards other goals. He clutched a couple papers in his grasp. He seemed eager, eager for what? Perhaps it was a letter to the jarl, If the caravaner could recall he did remember Kumiko mentioning something about thane?

When Jekkel fell from thought he noticed that the Khajiit was almost out the door. He clumsily followed his companion, as he followed he felt a many of glares upon his neck. He slightly tilted his head left, only to find a small group of tavern winches staring madly at him. "Wonder what their problem is?"

The two exited the inn. The sun was bright, he immediately remembered that he was hung over. He shielded the sun from his eye's, only if it were steel. Suddenly Kumi stopped in his tracks. "Jekkel! Where shall I ide-hay, the ooma-skay?" The caravaner was quite bewildered by this comment. It didn't take long to decipher the code but it was a pain to think. "Don't worry friend I have a crate full of ... Omma-Skay hidden in my caravan." Hopefully, he would never ask why or how the boy acquired such an abundance of the subsistence, It was a long story.

Right before the boy thought they had stopped the cat gripped his hand and broke into full sprint "Where are we going?"

0stinato