Fandom The Second Rebellion (Skyrim)

[Abdel featherfall]

Tschira blinked as he gave a very short and rather curt explanation with no mention of his whereabouts. Information that was somewhat important in finding him. As they were setting a trap it was assumed they knew where he was. She grumbled in minor aggravation. Her ears pinning back lightly before she caught herself and they perked right back up and she calmed. 


" Knowing where he is might make finding him and his journal a tad bit easier.." She called after him as he just sorta waltzed out of the door without much else to say apparently. She huffed out of frustration and turned to the other Khajit in the room. " Do you know where he is? It would make my life a lot easier if you could tell me." She was asking politely. Well as politely as she could get without totally faking it. She knew a surprising amount about faking it. Both in and out of the bedroom.


This was already not going well and she knew it. However she couldn't give up. It wasn't in her nature so she set her sights on the next piece of information, the next person that might know something. It was always upsetting when she didn't get her way. But it was what it was so she accepted it. 


@Dragonix975 @0stinato


((sorry for the delay its been hectic.))

 

[explosiveKitten]

"Benefits you have planned for me? What does that mean?" She looked at Cervantes with genuine curiousity, and not the kind of curiousity that made her wonder how deep someone's pockets were. No, this was genuine, child-like curiousity. 


"I... I suppose I've always wanted to try magic, but I- ... I don't believe I have any history of magical talent in my bloodline." She sighed, her ears pulling back for a moment, then perking up again, allowing herself a defiant, but friendly tone to her voice. "What makes you so sure I need combat training? Just because I'm an alchemist doesn't mean I'm a pushover-" she didnt get to finish her sentence before someone suddenly pointed out that was in fact a thief for hire. 


Slowly, she turned to look at the Argonian that identified her as a thief, after her oh so clever lie about being a simple alchemist. She blinked, then sighed and clapped a hand to her face. Am I really that recognizable? 


But mister bounty hunter didn't react, so she assumed it was chill with him. With a yawn, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs at the knee, shrugging with one shoulder, "Well since you so graciously blew my cover out of the water, I prefer 'Obtainer of goods'." Her arms laid back, her hands tucked behind her head. She then glanced over at Cervantes, and added, "I wasn't exactly lying about the alchemy either, I just do... a different sort of alchemy. More... Poisons, then healing potions."


She looked up when she heard something about stealing from a Bosmer in the Gray Quarter and raised an eyebrow. "Was... Was that directed at me?"


@Dragonix975


@MightBeASithLord

 

[Dragonix975]

"No. But, also, yes. Language is like that." He turned away from the thief. "All you need to know, Cervantes, is that you may get that apprenticeship with me if you succeed.", pointing at him. "Pashcal will be wearing a grey robe. He keeps his potion in his back pocket." He walked off.


Yes, yes, apprenticeship. The title of Lord meant that the holder was in charge of magic invention and exploration. Therefore the apprentice would be the next lord.


He was so caught up in his thinking that he fell over a large man. He looked up and said, "Sorry sir..." and started to walk away.

 

[MightBeASithLord]

@explosiveKitten @Dragonix975


Cervantes raised an eyebrow at Veryon's request. Research done by the dragonborn? That's a job he can't turn down. He turned to Maroluna to answer her question. "He's referring to both of us. To my understanding, you go and...'acquire' our object of interest. I will simply serve as extra muscle, and our spell-casting genius."  He leaned back and played with some magical slame he summoned, keeping it close within his reach. Cervantes continued, "As for benefits, you will be gaining better treatment, and residence in the hold of your choosing. Not joining me on extermination missions means for forfeit extra gold for your pockets, and a seat in the palace of kings. Something you might consider, if you are to help my cause of equality."


Cervantes stood up and walked to the inn owner once more, paying them extra gold to reserve the rooms he bought for him and his apprentice. He headed back to Maroluna. He smiled and helped her up, gently talking her hand. "We'll handle this potion situation first," he said with confidence, "then, we'll get some rest. I'll get to training you tomorrow. There are battles where you won't have time to apply poisons to your claws, so it'd be useful to learn a bit more tricks in close-quarters combat. Maybe with a sword or dagger. I'll teach you a few spells later on, but lets handle things you're already more familiar with first. Anyway..." Cervantes turned to Veryon and called to him, "Hey, Veryon! Where do you want us to meet you? Back here?"


Apprenticeship under Veryon? Cervantes was skilled enough in magic to be qualified for the title of 'Lord,' and he was smart enough to try inventing new spells, but that title would be the defining moment where he can actually teach at the college. Cervantes could lead expeditions, teach more people, and reach out to the rest of Skyrim. A dream like that would take years, but Cervantes was sure he could do it. I don't really NEED it, but it sure can speed up the process...

 

[0stinato]

"Nooooooope!" Kumiko said, rocking backwards and forwards on his feet. "No idea at all! I'm of a good mind to not even show up, you know, place the blame entirely on him? After all, it's a pretty big risk to my career, know what I mean?" he continued, not realising that she probably didn't know what his career even was. His small mind was on other things now. "I guess if I hear a big fiery explosion - and that's if I hear - I'll try and find it. But otherwise I have letters to write," he flashed the woman an all-teeth smile. "He'd offered me five hundred septims. We could make this interesting."


He tilted his head and scratched behind one ear, enjoying the feeling as he thought about how interesting they could actually make this death plot between them. Obviously, the five hundred gold would be the prize, the one prize. And there were many ways Kumiko could hide his identity - tuck his tail down into one boot, wear his helmet at all times. Put on a different voice. He always liked the Orc half-lisp, and had spent many a day sticking his lower jaw out as far as he could to try and adopt it. It was more a hobby rather than anything else, sparked by his meeting with an Orc of the Imperial Legion down at Avanchnzel, before the Stormcloak Victory. Even before he'd become a Thane. Kumiko remembered the Orc pretty vividly, because he wasn't the usual Orc tint of green - no, this Orismer was a diluted shade of pink. Still intimidating, with a weird haircut, Kumiko had talked with him for a while, waiting for the fog of that particular day to dissipate before they parted, learning his name (Dijou Shu-koma) and learning a little bit of his personal history (something about not being allowed back into Riverwood after a particular incident with one of its residents).


From then on, he'd remembered the Orc and had tried to adopt his voice. However, the gravelly bass was slightly out of his own tenor, so he went for trying to breathe awkwardly through his teeth as he spoke, to give off the air of bad dentistry. He'd not perfected it yet but... maybe the echo-chamber of a helmet he had would do the job.


He stopped scratching and continued his plan, "How about this. A little healthy competition. Since neither of us know where this guy will be blowing up, how about we race to retrieve the journal as soon as we hear or see the explosion? First one to get the journal wins. And, of course, they win the gold too," he raised an eyebrow, blue eyes keen. "What d'ya say to that plan of mine?"


If she agreed, great. Kumiko would have a little game to play later on. A little bit of fun, and perhaps a chance to practice his Orc voice. And if she disagreed, he'd know not to try and play with her again. She seemed quite serious, so maybe she wouldn't see it as play. Maybe she'd see it as... a eye-narrowing test of wit and speed. Either way, Kumiko hoped she'd agree. She looked fun to race against.


@Abdel featherfall

 

[Abdel featherfall]

She considered the khajit before her for a moment and his offer on one hand it could be fun. On the other hand it could still be fun. She had no reason to turn him down on his offer but she feigned thinking about it by putting a single clawed index finger up to her lips and looking convincingly thoughtful. " Hmm.. Sounds like it'll be fun! I accept your game. " she said with a mischievous smile. She may come off as serious but there was no harm in a little game to get her to her goal. 


Her philosophy on it was if you can't find a way to make it interesting or fun there's a high probability it's a Waste of time but since there was someone here willing to make it fun.. She felt good about this prospect. The fun things always lead her to her goal. She enjoyed fun things especially when people assume she's just a stupid and pretty escort or prostitute. It didn't help that she had papers that could prove her as either one of those.. As well as numerous other things. All the signatures on those papers would look official because they are. It was amazing what a pretty face and a simple illusion spell could do to help her out.


She wasn't hurting for money but hey it was a nice little bonus to her goal so why should she turn it down? Not that she was doing this without expectations but money wasn't one of them. " So when do we start? Right now?" She asked with that same playfully mischevious smile. She was prettier when she smiled, even when it wasn't totally innocent. Something she'd be sure to use to her advantage against her target since her competition didn't seem receptive to her looks or her charm which made this all the more interesting and fun.


@0stinato

 

[Dragonix975]

Veryon turned back and said, " Yes, here." He walked back toward his room, as he remembered his old apprentice...


Verius Valur was a noble man. Always wanted to do the right thing. So when they encountered the caravan that was being raided, h went to help. Veryon can still remember the cries as his head was cleaved off. He was a powerful fighter, but so was the attacker. Veryon shuddered. And then, collapsed into another vision...

 

[0stinato]

Kumiko felt his tail begin to sweep a little faster though the air as she accepted his little wager. Finally! Someone who was fun to play with! It'd been too long. Everyone in this Gods-damned country either wanted things done for them or had things to do. Either way, they didn't play with him. Sure, he could play a round of Tag with some tiny children he felt the strong urge to kick, but last time he'd done that, with Dorothe and Frodnor in Riverwood, he'd got stuck on a roof... no, it was too dangerous. He didn't want Sven, or any other town's equivalent to start mocking him. The only others who'd play with him were Daedra but they'd play with him in a different sense. In that, they didn't play with him, they played with him. He remembered Sanguine. And Sheogorath. His two favourite Daedra. But both had played with him in their interactions with the Khajiit. Whether it was by statue-fondling (which Kumi still remembered fondle-y, ha ha) or confusing him with talk of "doing the Fishstick", Kumiko hadn't felt like an equal.


But a little game like this would be good. Two competitors in a race. And the prize would be won tonight, when V had said Silian would arrive at the city.


"Argonian-man-V-man said Silian would arrive in the night, so there's a few hours to kill. But you're very welcome to go around and scout out the areas. I've got a letter to write and a drink to have first," he smiled, "but don't think you're gonna win. 'Cause you aren't."


Kumiko was certain that she would, indeed, win.


"But any good rivals need introductions," he stuck out his gauntletted hand, splayed, as if he'd never shaken a hand before. "Kumiko Arkia Tora. And the Arkia is very important. Don't want you mistaking me for some other Kumiko Tora. It's a privilege to meet a pretty thing such as you. Most people I meet are ugly so... good to have something nice to look at for once."


To him, Nords were ugly. Most other races too. Orismer, though, didn't seem so ugly. Although they were, their ugliness was worn-well. To a Khajiit eye, the Orismer were much nicer to look at than Nords. Even Farkas was ugly to Kumiko. But there was something confused and innocent in that wide face that Kumiko recognised in his own. Made him more beautiful than Vilkas, Ria, and even Aela. Plus, his eyes were the deadest colour Kumiko had ever seen, and he loved it.


But even so, it was a refreshing thing to meet someone of his species - someone he'd automatically would think looked marginally more attractive than any Nord, elf or Argonian - who actually was pretty. If a little odd in the whole lacking-of-fur thing. Probably made her more aerodynamic. Probably made her faster than him. Ooh, she was going to be a good challenge.


@Abdel featherfall

 

[explosiveKitten]

Maroluna blinked at Cervantes, shocked to silence. She had no idea how to react to what he was saying to her, and before she knew it, he had gently brought her up to her feet and had turned to the Argonian called Veryon.


Better treatment? A home? As in like not a bedroll in a dank, diety cave? Extra gold?


Seat in the Palace of Kings?


Her head spun as she thought about all the possibilities, she absentmindedly picked up her things, blankly piling her alchemy satchel into her bag. She was only vaguely picking up anything that was being said around her. She was so trapped in her thoughts. The idea, even the notion of her having a home she felt safe, gold to actually buy food with? Nevermind the thought that her, a simple thief, and a Khajiit no less, would find a... A seat in the Palace of Kings? That was unheard of to her. 


Swiftly, she shook herself out of her daze and turned to look at Cervantes, "Alright, fine." She said, placing her hands on her hips with a defiant tone to her voice. "I'll play along and we'll go get this potion, but I'm gonna need some time to think about this whole...'apprenticeship' deal."  She huffed and crossed her arms, putting a sour look on her face. 


"So, since you appear to have graciously rented me a room or something, I'm going to let you know I'll be up for a while doing my pre-heist research." She says rather plainly, then turns to walk away, giving him a chance to follow or say something to her before she really walked off.


@MightBeASithLord

 

[Abdel featherfall]

Tschira's own still furry tail also swept back and forth eagerly, excited for the hunt ahead of her and the competition. She was confident in her win too but she wasn't about to underestimate this other Khajit so she took his hand in a good firm hand shake careful not to accidentally claw him. " I'm Tschira but you may call me Ria most do and it's what I feel most comfortable hearing around Nords." She said with a genuine smile that betrayed her excitement a little. 


Once they hey parted ways however she looked over to Veryon who she almost ran headlong into as she exited his room. She skipped to the side a little, nimbly avoiding the collision. " Ah pardon me I didn't expect to run into you.. Literally. Oh where did you say this Silias gentleman was going to show up? " she asked with an innocent sounding tone. She was clearly up to something but it probably wasn't detrimental to his plan. Probably. 


She he had put the wax caps back on her claws so they simply looked like painted nails and awaited an answer if there was one to be had. Veryon already didnt seem the type to divulge any unessecary information. Yes Kumiko said he'd arrive here but she wasn't about to take that as fact without checking with the man who knew for sure. Such is the way of life for her.


@0stinato @Dragonix975

 

[0stinato]

Kumi had left his new acquaintance's side by the time she was speaking to the Argonian. He'd stolen back into his room quickly - the race was on. A part of him that previously hadn't really minded if he'd won or lost was suddenly wiped out. Her keen attitude had leaked into him all of a sudden. He needed to get out there and scout around for a fire rune. As he bustled about his room, planning two things in his head - one thing was the letter, the other was the drink he'd mentioned that he realised he needed very soon - he thought about who V was. Argonian, smooth, clever. Probably much more intelligent than Kumiko.



Which made it hard for Kumiko to try and follow how the Argonian might have thought. But, considering that the Argonian had planted a fire rune, it was highly probable that the rune was hidden somewhere. Even Kumiko would know not to cast a rune in pure public. It'd be down a back-way somewhere, maybe in the Grey Quarter where guards weren't likely to go. But then, would Silian go there? Probably not. Still, it might be worth a check. Maybe the clumsily-placed graveyard within the city. A more logical place for any citizen to go, seeing as it was used as a cut-through. Kumiko had used it many times when he'd got lost.


So, the rune would be out of the way. Maybe it'd be on a wall behind something, or on the ground below something. Kumi wasn't sure how V could be certain where Silian would walk but... who knew? Maybe... he'd planned this. Painstakingly.


But, where would Silian be likely to go? Would he take the usual visitor's route and go straight from the first gates into Candlehearth Hall, or did he have some other destination that V knew in mind? Kumiko couldn't be sure of that either. He stopped pacing around, giving his muzzle a good scratch. Thinking wasn't his strong point. But doing was. And he could get his drink while he was out looking. He felt his mouth wetten at the thought of it.


The letter, which was still taking up residence on the wooden floor, all ink completely dried, he left there. Sure, anyone could walk in and read it but so what? Just a little letter from one beaux to another. With a spring in his step at the promise of a good drink, Kumiko left his room again.


There was Tschira. Or however Kumiko was meant to pronounce that cart-crash of letters. Ria. And calling her Ria would be all well and good as long as he didn't get confused between the Khajiit Ria in front of him and the Nord Ria back at Jorrvaskr. Well, if he was going to end up writing to one of them, it'd certainly be the Khajiit Ria before the other one. And she was wasting good rune-hunting time talking. Hah! Where would knowledge get her? Certainly not to the corpse in time that was sure.


Kumiko was convinced she'd make it to the corpse before he did.


Without asking Elda to lock his door, he excitedly made his way out of the Hall, looking left and right to where he should look first. Probably not the market, too many people. Someone might trigger the rune by accident there, if V had already laid it. Best only look there if he didn't find it anywhere else. He moved left, knowing he was going to get lost again, but following his nose. That'd find the rune and the drink. His nose had only been wrong fifty percent of the time.


Pretty good odds.

 

[MightBeASithLord]

@explosiveKitten


Cervantes chuckled at Maroluna's pout, and gave a warm smile. By the nine, she was cute. On another note, for a Khajiit, she was awfully articulate in human language... Why was that? Did she take lessons, or was she raised by humans? Nonetheless, there are more important matters at hand. 


The Imperial nodded and grabbed another mug of mead before responding, "Okay, but you should still get some rest. Tell me what you come up with when you wake up." Cervantes drank the mead before heading downstairs and to his room, closing the door behind him. In his room, he began to read a book he kept that explained the various magical natures, and how each is similar to the other. More specifically, the chapter he read how fire and shock shared heat, how fire and frost affected the air around them, and how shock and frost effect movement and utility. The last two listed are also manifestations of storms.


Ultimately, spells share the universal composition of magica. This key fact is what drove Cervantes to attempt an invention of a spell. No, not just any spell, the spell. The Ultimate Destruction Spell, which Cervantes simply dubbed Trifecta. The spell would combine all the effects of all three types of destruction spells. Cervantes readied a shock spell in one hand, and a frost spell in the other. The spells of storms were combined, into a spell he called Monsoon. He had never tried it in battle before, but his observations revealed that the spell combined the effects of the two component spells, but favored the reduction of stamina and magica over raw damage. Fire was the component to change that. Cervantes kept the monsoon spell in his left hand, and readied a fire spell in his right. Slowly and carefully, the spellsword merged the two spells together. He snapped his eyes shut in anticipation of an explosion after the spells touch, as per usual. Although, Cervantes was able to open is eyes when he noticed how the spell remained stable.


The new Trifecta spell remained in Cervantes' left hand, as his right hand pumped in victory. "Yes!" he joyously exclaimed. This victory, however, was short lived when sparks began to fly and the spell began to waver. Cervantes only had a chance to utter one swear before the spell exploded, and blew him back to hit the door hard. Cervantes gave a short howl in pain, before giving another swear. Defeated, but not discouraged, Cervantes sat on his bed to ponder on his progress.

 

[Dragonix975]

As soon as he heard the explosion, Veryon dodged around Tschiira to go find the source of the noise. He almost tumbled down the stairs. He opened up the door and saw Cervantes sitting on the bed, looking forlorn. He surveyed the damage to the room, the damage to Cervantes, the size of the explosion, and what he personally knew about Cervantes. Only one thing could have happened here.


"Cervantes, my boy, not like that. A spell of that magnitude cannot be processed by a mortal." He sat down next to him. " No, no, the only person to perform such a spell was the Dragonborn. I have had a vision, once, that showed me several spells, this one included. At the end, it stated that a mere mortal cannot cast one. So I search for a way to be something more.  If I cast one, it would annihilate everything. If you are successful today, you may join me in my quest."


@MightBeASithLord

 

[explosiveKitten]

Damn. This was a better place then she had slept in months.


She sat on the bed, her tail situated comfortably behind her and she looked around. It was a quaint, little room with deer skins and apples in bowls. A whole wheel of cheese! "Hollllly crap! Lemme just uhhh," She looked around, her ears swiveling around for any sign of life in the room, then grabbed the cheese wheel and shoved it in her bag. "...Thieves got to thieve, people." She picked up a half a loaf of bread and bit into it, "Hehe, dumbasses." She then proceeded to pile every piece of edible food into her bag. Once sufficiently satisfied with her hoarding of cheese and apples, she dropped her bag on the floor and walked over to the window and threw it open, plucking her coin purse from her side and clenching it in her jaws. "Welp." She said through muffled lips, "Lesh shee awout Manchren, shahl we?" She gripped the window frame, and rather gracefully vaulted out the window to the wall across the way. There, her hand found a hold on one of the bricks, and her door found a hold and soon she was scaling her way up to the rooftops of Windhelm, off to meet with an old friend. 


Manchren was where he usually would be. Standing on the rooftops of Windhelm, the average thief superhighway, not that Maroluna knows what a highway is. Manchren is a Dunmer, born and raised in Windhelm and no stranger to the city's prejudices. Manchren was what the common thief called a Bank. These people see all and know all in their holds. They stood somewhere quiet, and thieves could come to them for infornation, to prepare for a heist. At a cost, of course.


"Aye! Manchie, you slick cougar, I thought you fled this hold!" Maroluna called, her hand in the air as she approached. The Dunner turned to look at her and cracked a sly smile. The two partners in crime clasped their hands together in a firm handshake, then broke apart. 


"We'll, if it isn't Moonface!" The Dark Elf remarked, his red eyes locked on the short Khajiit in front of him, "Haven't grown an inch, have you, Moonface?"


"I've grown two inches, actually."


"Well, by Azura!" He exclaimed, laughing, "That in itself is a miracle!" 


"Oh shut your trap, will you?" She hissed playfully, slugging his shoulder (which she barely reach) before turning to look over the frosty city.


"Has it really been that long since you did a job here?"


"I do tend to avoid this place like it was infected with the plague." She said curtly.


"Yeah, I can guess why." 


The two fell silent as they stared over the city, the pair of them sitting down on the shingles to look over it. It was quiet for a long while, before Manchren said, "What do you need Moonface?"


"Always right to the point, huh?" She said, looking sideways at him. When he looked back at her with a raised eyebrow, she sighed and started with, "I got a... Job, sort of, that details some Wood Elf that came into Windhelm a couple nights ago supposedly. Wearing a gray robe."


Manchren scratched his chin, "I might know who you're talking about... But you know the price, Moony, come on."


"That I do," she remarked, plopping the coin down beside him, before going to examining her claws, "That I do."


The Dunmer man counted out the coin beside him and gave a short laugh, "Looks like you actually paid full price this time. Last time you had to put the rest on credit."


"Oh come on, just give me the info I need so you and I can get out of this snow."


"Alright, alright, I'll tell you what I got on this Wood Elf..."


(Hopefully this helpful little insight into my headcanon thief network is okay. I spend a lot of time on my headcanons hehe)

 

[MightBeASithLord]

@Dragonix975


"No, but you see, Veryon," Cervantes replied with newfound confidence, "I'm very close!" The mage redid his process for creating Trfecta, creating a monsoon spell, and adding fire to it. The spell was a beautiful red,white and blue whirlwind of the elements, with fire and frost revolving around the center of shock. The spell began to waver again, but Cervantes sheathed the spell before it blew up. He continued, "The book I'm reading states how spells have connections to one another, and how some mages managed to combine spells from completely different schools. For example, the fiery soul trap, paralyzing frost spells, or restoration spells with fiery characteristics that also strike fear into the undead. On top of having physical similarities like light, heat, and so on, but also share the composition of magica."


Cervantes laid back in excitement, hands stretched towards the ceiling. His smile was wide with hope, and his eyes had shown with ambition. After more comptemplation, Cervantes answered Veryon, "Let Maroluna and me get this potion for you first. Then, we'll talk about more quest stuff. Right now," Cervantes stretched and put his hands behind his head. He yawned before continuing, "let me ponder and nap." Cervantes was never one to let limits or people's words stop him. Especially when victory was a taste away. Cervantes shot a calm spell, the only illusion spell he knew, at himself to help him sleep quicker. "Night, Veryon. Sleep well, and all the other formalities." He said before turning over in his bed.

 

[0stinato]

He came across the corner club not too long into his journey and he was reminded of how irritated he'd felt when he'd been lost around here. Sadri's Used Wares just up the way, and here, the corner club. He could probably grab a drink here quickly.


He sat down with his back to one of the two pillars, and dangled his legs over the stairs, waiting for someone. The street was pretty quiet, as it was getting dark, but Kumiko could still see as if the sun was at its peak. All the little inconsistencies in the walls, elongated scrapes from arrow-fire, clumsy swordplay or shields. It wasn't uncommon for guards to have to reluctantly throw themselves into the middle of a brawl to break it up here. It was a shame how the Dunmer still weren't accepted. Kumiko always like the way they called him, 'sera'. Or... some did. He wanted to adopt the mannerism. Walk up to Farkas and Vilkas next time he was in Whiterun and ask them how they were doing, sera?


He wasn't sure he could though. He already never talked like lots of other Khajiit did. He always felt referring to himself in the third person was a bit arrogant. And, although Kumi did have a certain shred of arrogance in his personality, he was much too busy making a fool of himself constantly to show it. Maybe it was the consequence of not really being around many Khajiit as he was growing up. He didn't really feel loyalty to Khajiit. He'd gladly go up against one in combat, he'd never call another "brother" or "sister". But then, he didn't feel loyal to anything particularly. He was indifferent to every race he met. He had met a lot of different people as he was growing and moving around between countries he didn't know the names of yet. But it was just him moving around. He didn't travel with a caravan, he wasn't sure of anything of his family. But he never felt discontented either. It was just the way it was.


Kumi flicked his tail round so he could play with it. No one was coming down. But the night was young yet - he couldn't see the moon yet. And sure, he was probably wasting time sitting out here instead of running around to discover the location of the fire rune. But his tongue was calling stronger to him than gold ever could.


Finally, he saw the figure of a man walking slowly up to the corner club. Kumiko recognised him, but couldn't remember his name. However, he did remember that this particular Dark Elf had a voice akin to gravel. As if he spent every night inhaling smoke from fires. Kumiko hoped he hadn't been doing that. The drink might not be as good.


As the Dark Elf got nearer his eyes finally fell on Kumiko, "We're not open yet," he said. Practically coughing out his words. "If you give me and Ambarys a few minutes, about ten maybe, you're welcome in."


"No problem. I was just thinking I could use a drink tonight, that's all."


The elf eyed him, "Candlehearth Hall's open all day."


Kumiko let out a sigh, "Yeah, but that racist guy comes in and gives the bard a hard time. It's hard to relax."


"Oh. Rolff. Yeah. Best to avoid him. Come in in about ten minutes, we'll get you soaked up," he said.


He turned. As soon as he approached the door, Kumi narrowed his eyes, energy focused in his right hand. He released it as he got up and it hit the Elf straight in the back. He stopped reaching for the doorhandle and simple stood there, letting out a weak, "what's that?" as he did so. Kumiko stood quickly and got up behind him. It was a type of calm spell, at least that's what Kumiko was assuming. Magic wasn't his thing, and he only ever did conjouration or destruction. Illusion was the one he really saw no point in particularly. Except for the spell he'd just cast, of course. That was useful.


As he wetted his teeth from the Elf's neck, he felt some stringent relief trickle up through his spine, where it blossomed in his brain, dampening his strength but also dampening his urges. He could feel his Vampirism regressing back to a temporary dormancy with every swallow. When he'd taken enough, no more than two or three mouthfuls, he excreted saliva from around his fangs as he pulled them out of the Elf's neck. It would't do to leave the poor man with an open wound like that. Or blood on his collar. Fortunately, he was pretty well practiced (from weeks of drinking from Erikur in Solitude to get revenge for the Thane patronising him) so it only took a few licks of Kumiko's rough tongue to clear up the stray blood. The saliva he'd leaked into the Dunmer's bloodstream was akin to a clotting agent - it worked fast, it worked well, and it would be hard to detect. Subtlety, that was the Vampire way.


After he was finished, Kumiko jumped down onto the stairs. Although he could feel his vampire powers were further out of his grasp, he felt alive again. Ready to have a little run around the city and have a rune hunt. As he ran, he rubbed at his muzzle with his tongue and gauntlets. Couldn't leave telltale stains - a hard thing to be rid of when you had fur.

 

[Dragonix975]

Veryon stood up and wandered to his room. He thought about what Cervantes had said and laughed. He knew Cervantes did not grasp how to properly cast it. Veryon entered his room and laid down into another vision.
 


He entered as always into it with the dark pain. This time, a spell swirled around him, a Trifecta, or more likely, a Singularity. he saw how to cast it. Combine the infinite forms of the magic into a singular form. he saw him, the small Khajit and Cervantes casting the spell together over Unifactor, a daedric star. It swirled and combined into a spell. Then he saw the furless Khajit, almost inviting the other to do something naughty, and Farkas standing disapprovingly away. he saw a large man with an axe standing over a bloody field, and a puddle with his reflection.


then the pain started, the incancessant pain...

 

[MightBeASithLord]

@explosiveKitten


After a good night's rest, Cervantes woke up and yawned, stretching himself out happily. He smiled as he got out of bed and ate some bread to start off his day. After he changing into his armor, and putting on his parents jewelry, he began to read his book on spells and magic for a good hour or two. He recapped the same section he read last night, combining spells from schools which he was familiar with. Although, he refused to try trifecta once more. He wanted better understanding of combing two spells before trying at three.


After practicing for a while, he walked left his room and headed to Maroluna's. He carefully knocked and asked quietly, "Hey, Maroluna. Are you up?" He fiddled with his ring and asked again, "Did you get any information on our target? Is the thalmor still with him." He held his necklace and squeezed it lightly before heading over to grab some ale, quickly returning to his partner's door. He waited for her response while nervously drinking ale. He had never stolen before, because he didn't need to. What was it like? Is it scary, or thrilling? How likely was it to get caught, and what should they do IF they got caught? Thieving sounds stressful, and requires a lot of brainpower. A bounty hunter is much more simple. Kill a bad guy, then take some gold. None of this improv stuff. I mean, I'm not stranger to lurking in the shadows, but this is just too much top think about...

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

(@MorgathosTheRussian I'm somewhere with good Wi-Fi at the moment, so I figured I'd hop in and try to reply to your post. For the sake of introduction, I'm going to assume that Saor knows of Ologor from the army, but only just like recognizing his face as familiar. If you don't want that or want to discuss how they might know each other, feel free to let me know.


This is probably going to be a short post and it will be a couple days before I can reply again, but I suppose better late than never. Apologies for leaving you hanging so long.)


Pleased her plan, Saorat swiped an empty bottle from a nearby table, then collapsed in a heap on the floor just above the rooms below. To finish the act, she mumbled incoherently about the light being too bright and buried her face in her paws. At least, that's what she meant. She'd never been drunk in her life and really didn't know how to fake it now. Was anyone actually buying it, or did she just look a fool? Oh well... At least if they thought she was an idiot, they probably wouldn't pay her much mind, which was exactly what she wanted.


Now that she was "passed out", Saorat was free to listen in to the conversation below. She could hear voices; the scaly hiss of the Argonian, the woman she had just met, and the raspy purr of a stranger. Her ears pricked at the sound of the new voice. It almost sounded Khajiit, but of course that was highly unlikely. Probably the only reason that she was allowed in the city was her association with the Stormcloaks and being present at the defense and rebuilding of the city. The citizens were unlikely to drive away one of the soldiers who fought to protect their homes, regardless of their race. It was a debt of honor which they could be trusted to honor whether they particularly liked it or not. Unfortunately, other foreigners in the city wouldn't have that benefit, and Saorat decided to keep an eye out for them and help if at all possible.


The voices below were difficult to make out, and as her mind began to wander, her eyelids began to droop. It had been a long, stressful day and the warmth rising up through the floorboards was very relaxing. Slowly, she began to drift away into sleep, moments before the conversation below turned toward Ulfric.


When she woke with a start a short while later, the rooms below were silent. An annoyed growl rose in her throat and her tail twitched irritably under her cloak as she scolded herself for missing her chance to learn something. Maybe Drenmare had been right, maybe this was a waste of time. Instead of chasing rumors, they could have been doing something productive, or at least not be risking their hides by wandering around populated cities. She had been the one that insisted on coming, and now she had nothing to show for it. He would surely be furious, maybe even would send her away, and he would be right for it. A brief thought of running away before he came back flickered in her mind, but she shoved it away with an angry hiss. No, she would not run. She promised to meet him here, and so she would. It was her duty to remain and fight as long as she had breath, it was her oath.


Still, though, she dreaded giving an empty report and reluctantly came downstairs to scan the room once again for her commander. When he wasn't there, she felt a small twinge of guilty relief that she still had a bit more time, but mostly felt a tight knot of anxiety that something had happened to him. Her orders were to wait, to stay out of trouble and leg it away if any arose, but she couldn't bear the thought of someone being captured and imprisioned because of her. If anything happened to him, it was her fault. She had to get information on him.


As she searched the crowd fruitlessly once more, a particular face jumped out at her. An older man was sitting alone at a table with a massive greatsword under the table, a sword of bone. It wasn't the only one of its kind, to be sure, but neither was it commonplace, and Saorat remembered seeing one like it in this very city during the great battle some years before. It had been wielded by one of the Stormcloak soldiers who had fought many men before vanishing, presumed dead. Could this be the same man? He looked about the right age, seemed to match the description, felt familiar to Saorat's searching mind... If he was the same soldier, maybe he would know something, maybe he had seen Drenmare in the city or had news of Ulfric or the remaining rebels!


Encouraged by the thought, Saorat swallowed her discomfort with strangers and sat down at the table. However, as eager as she was to get information, she had to relax and be smart about it. Rushing in headlong as she was prone to do often led to trouble. Better to learn who this man was and ascertain his loyalties before saying anything potientially incriminating.


"Excuse me, sir... I couldn't help but notice that beautiful weapon of yours. It certainly looks as though it's seen battle, and I'd wager it has some stories to tell. Perhaps you would be willing to share them?"


Saorat knew that the Nords loved their stories, she was quite partial to them as well, and guessed that the best way to learn who this man was was through a story.

 

[MorgathosTheRussian]

"Well then, outsider, be ready for a tale. A tale of bloody battle, woeful betrayal, and an oath that I will never break." Ologor said. With a swig of mead, he started in a grim voice, "It was the middle of winter, a grim day in the hearts of Stormcloak veterans. The Imperials and their cowardly siege weapons had begun a siege of this city, and many innocents had fallen to their balls of fire. Our lord, Ulfric Stormcloak, had put me in charge of holding the gate. 10 men stood with me as the Imperials stormed down the bridge towards me. 10 men died as we were slowly pushed back. Countless men I cut down with this weapon, yet the tide of traitor scum never stopped. That is when we were betrayed by those we believed would serve with us to the end. A large group of traitors attempted to assault our lord, but after a long melee, we drove back the enemy." He stopped to take a drink, and picked up his blade. "As the sun set, I walked through the streets of the once fair city. So much death, so much destruction. To the Palace, he summoned us all. And there he said something that still follows me to this day. He said, "Brothers and sisters, this war is nearing an end. It is clear that we cannot last another night, and it because of this that I issue you my final orders. Once the sun rises, you will all be released from your oaths but one. You may fight here and die, or you may leave. But regardless of what you do, this is your final oath. You will fight the Imperials at every chance, and seek your comrades. And one day, you shall return here, and begin this rebellion once more." With a sigh, Ologor took another swig, and said, "The following morning, I fought my way to the docks after Imperials broke in through the main gate. Killed an Imperial captain, a few dozen legionaries. Saw Ulfric one last time on the bridge, fighting with his lieutenant and a small band of brave men. I heard him use his legendary shout one last time before a great explosion engulf the bridge." He dropped his voice to a low level,  "Now, hear me, outsider, and listen well. Though his men may have died, and his city burnt, Ulfric Stormcloak did not die that day. I intend to spill blood in his name once more, and you will help me do so. For I remember your face on that first battle, I remember Ruadh freeing you. I remember you, Saorat."

 

[0stinato]

For once, Kumiko had actually wound up where he wanted to wind up in this gods-forsaken maze of a city - somewhere new. At least he thought it was new. What actually turned out to be the back porch of a house, accessible by an arch, was actually only east of Candlehearth Hall the whole time.


"Oh," he said in surprise as he noticed the Hall just a mere few yards away. "Convenience or what..."



Although, it wasn't too convenient - Kumiko still hadn't discovered the location of the rune. He'd thought that V-man had cast the rune, perhaps, on the way to Candlehearth Hall, seeing as that's probably where Silian would be going to first of all. But there was nothing on the way up to the hall. So he'd wandered around a bit after taking his fill from the Dunmer a few minutes ago, but hadn't noticed anything out of place or suspicious. Besides, there was only so much he could snoop around without the guards getting suspicious.


He walked a few steps towards the hall, debating whether or not to call his little find-the-rune plan a failure and just go to sleep for the night when he thought of something else. Perhaps the rune was... outside the city walls? It could easily be. There was plenty of open space on the bridge, for example, and reduced visibility at night, when V said Silian would be arriving, might give the plot an edge. A little bit harder to recover the journal, as guards would not only be alerted by the noise and flash of a rune exploding, but there would be a considerable number. But there'd be little to no evidence pointing to V. If Kumiko wanted to get the journal, he'd have to be intrinsically careful.


If he was caught snooping around the body, he'd be arrested on the spot. And that wouldn't be good. Kumiko's history wasn't exactly a clean one. Jarl Law-Giver knew all too well the sort of mischief he got up to in his spare time, sometimes on purpose, sometimes by accident but, for some reason, she never really made a move against it. Kumiko liked to think it was because the good he brought to Riften outweighed the Bad, but it was hard to tell. Or maybe she really did have a little crush on her furry-faced Thane. Kumiko couldn't be sure.


The thought was still in his mind as he left the city. With his head in the clouds, he hardly noticed the rug on the ground to the left of his feet, so occupied was he by his thoughts. He'd look outside the city. If he still couldn't find any trace of a rune, he'd retire for the night. After all, if he was having trouble, Tschira probably was as well.


Though, to be honest, Kumiko thought her rune-tracking skills might be far superior to his. She seemed to know what she was doing 100% of the time. Kumiko only knew what he was doing 25% of the time - the other 75% always happened by accident.


@Abdel featherfall

 

[explosiveKitten]

(I guess since the GM didn't say anything about this random time skip sooo I'll just continue I guess!)


Maroluna jolted awake and yowled loudly as she flopped out of bed rather gracelessly onto the floor. "Ahhhhh! Five more minutes mom!" She groaned from the floor, pulling the blanket over her head. She called, "Noooo let me sleep!" Before rolling over to cover her ears, only for Cervantes to call to her again. She hissed angrily and got up. "Fine! Fiiiine I'm coming! Damn!" She got up and carefully wiggles into her armor, struggling to shove her tail through the tail hole she had cut out. Once certain she had her hood on securely, she opened the door and narrowed her eyes at Cervantes. "Oh heeeeey, Cerce. What appears to be the problem?" She leaned against the doorframe and yawned. "What about the Thalmor? The target is a Wood Elf."


@MightBeASithLord

 

[Sir Monsieur]

Jekkel let out a long sigh. He watched as his breath condensate from the chilled climate of Skyrim. The young lad was on his way to Windhelm, He was rather flustered at the moment with a combination of the frigid air and the long journey. He was in fur armor but he was still freezing, he simply does not have the resistance of a Nord. "Come on Frost and Flame we are almost there" Frost and Flame are the names of his horses, and like Jekkel they were chilled to the bone. The young Imperial contemplated on how he could get warm. "Well, I could light a fire on the roof of the caravan....but that would surely burn down the cart and myself....I don't have any potions....But I do have some simple ingredients" Jekkel formed a small grin on his face and reached for his pouch. Jekkel was no alchemist but he picks up ingredients anyways. For instance, Frostmerida is good spice but it's also a useful ingredient for alchemy. He pulled out some Frostmerida and started to munch on the dry plant. He could slowly feel himself warming up. It was not much but it was enough. "Ooohhhh yeah, That's the stuff" Jekkel gave a sigh of satisfaction. To his luck, he could see the lights of the city, but it was still a good distance away. "Only if there was some way to speed up the process, wait... there is. Flame, Frost! I will put some honey in your feed tonight if you speed up." It was almost like magic, The horses were running at full speed. If there were anything these horses loved it would be honey. The merry crew of Jekkel, Frost and Flame began to approach the gate of Windhelm at rapid speed.


"Once I get in there I am going to buy a bottle of Firebrand wine," He could already taste the warm substance flowing down his throat and landing in his gullet. Sadly for Jekkel, this is where he realized he screwed up. A haughty guard was stationed in front of the gate. "Citizen stop your cart!" He shouted. But Jekkel simply replied, "No no no It's FINE sir just open the gate!" The guard drew his weapon "Citizen I said STOP!" The young Imperial cursed under his breath. Jekkel yanked the cord for his horses commanding them to stop, Unfortenly for Jekkel this sent him flying off his cart and he got a face full of gate. He slowly slid down the door and landed on his back. "Sir are you ok?" asked the guard. "Just check the damn cart!"


The caravaner sooner or later found himself to the Candlehearth inn. He was getting odd stares from all directions, he was covered in frost but that was not the reason. The people of Windhelm hate anything that has to do with the word new. They were highly conspicuous of newcomers. This was not his first time in Windhelm and certainly not his last. Jekkel approached the front counter and threw a nice fat coin purse on the counter. "One bottle of Firebrand wine please and one room please" The bartender gave a large smile "I like your style stranger." Jekkel was quickly found in his room with no clothes on and fast asleep with a belly full of wine.


The next morning he awoke abruptly to someone in the next room shouting "Five more minutes MOM!". Jekkel quickly sat up and stretched. "I guess someone doesn't like the complimentary wake-up calls," he said with a small chuckle. The young Imperial slowly got out of bed and put on his armor. He left his hood down for the time being. Jekkel opened the door and to the right of him appeared an Imperial and a Khajiit. He turned to the Imperial "I assume your mom?" 


@explosiveKitten @MightBeASithLord


(Good Night to all I'm going to bed)


        

 

[0stinato]

Unable to find any shred of evidence there was a rune outside the gates, Kumiko was getting actually quite annoyed. V could have at least given him and Tschira a clue. It was very rude of him to let their wager go ahead when both parties were completely blind to the location they were supposed to be at. Well, there was something else Kumiko could do. Instead of finding the rune, maybe he could try to hunt down Silian himself. Then, it would only be a case of following the doomed man at a safe and unsuspecting distance and waiting for him to blow up.


Then Kumiko would have the perfect opportunity to get the journal, even if he didn't know where the rune was. If V was right, and Kumiko suspected he couldn't possibly be wrong, Silian would surely cross the spot where the rune was concealed.


So, after using his brain and feeling very proud of himself, Kumiko sauntered over to a guard. He decided to let this guard know who he was before the Nord woman could get angry about the volume of Khajiit in the city.



He stuck out his gauntletted hand, "Thane Tora of Riften, I'm staying in Windhelm for a while," he said with what he thought was a winning smile.


The guard looked at him closely, "Your eyes..." she said. "I don't like them."


What was it about guards in this city? Did they all just speak their minds all the time? Did no one tell them that speaking judgement was a way of making enemies? Despite the comment, Kumiko tried to ignore the accusatory tone, "You've been watching these gates closely, yes?"


"Of course," she said, sounding offended.


"Have you seen a Redguard man enter the city at all? You see, as Ambassador for Riften in Windhelm at the moment, I thought perhaps I could talk to him regarding some official Riften matters."


"Is he one of your lot," the guard said. "A thief. Like all you Riften citizens. And no, I've not. I've only seen strong Nord warriors, more cats, and a couple of Imperials," she said. She seemed to spit the word 'cats'. Kumiko, once again, tried to not let it phase him. It was important he kept the veil of lies up - any suspect that he wasn't going to do what he said he was going to would get the guards to turn him around and arrest him on the spot. Windhelm was still a hostile place, especially to those with fur or scales.


"Thank you for your time," said Kumiko, trying to keep the teeth-gritted edge out of his voice. "I apologise for bothering you."


At that, he left her immediately, returning once again to the sanctity of the city.

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

@MorgathosTheRussian


Saorat's heart leapt at the mention of the rebels, though it immediately sank at the fate that befell them. She hadn't been in Windhelm on the day of the final battle, her troop had been stationed in Whiterun at the time, but she had heard the tales in the following days. What terrible tidings those had been, borne by bloodied warriors limping home with wounded spirits and broken hearts... When they came to Whiterun, they spoke of the death of their friends, the crushing of their cause, and the death of their king. This final news had been the most painful for Saorat and her friends, for they were devoted to Ulfric and loved him as a father. To hear that he had been most shamefully murdered in his own city, for those were the tales, was more than they could bear. Though they didn't know it, they made a very similar oath in Whiterun that the soldiers had made days before in Windhelm.


"You were with...!"


She almost shouted in her surprise and joy, but managed to clamp her jaws shut before anything dangerous spilled out. Taking a breath to contain her excitement, she spoke again in a barely controlled whisper. "You were with... him. He's alive? How is he? Where can we find him? Are there many left who are still true?" The questions flowed like water without even waiting for an answer before the next one came. Ever since she first heard the rumors that Ulfric had escaped that day, she had been desperately searching for news, but all she had found was dead ends and disappointments. To her deep shame, she was slowly beginning to fear that they had only been idle chatter and that he was truly gone. Now that she had news, from two different people in the same day, hope sprang up again all the stronger for its testing.


If she had been surprised to hear that Ulfric lived, she was even more astonished that this man knew her name. If he was who she thought he was, she suspected that she knew his, but only through tales heard around fires. Those tales were of the great warriors, legends in their own lifetime, not timid young cats. So why should he remember her? Perhaps it was just because she was an oddity, probably one of the only beastfolk in the entire army. She dismissed the question with a mental shrug, filing it away for later consideration, then turned her attention back to the present.


"Yes sir, I will help you. I still love my land and my king, and I know of others who so as well. Ruadh, Fira, and I made the same oath to keep fighting and to protect our home until it was safe or we were dead, and I mean to keep it. The two of them are still in Whiterun gathering information and supporters. At least, that's where they were some weeks ago. I went to Riften for the same purpose and met a former general there, Drenmare Enraldson. We heard that Ulfric was alive and in Windhelm, which is why we came. But, if he was here, I fear he is no longer, and the Thalmor will soon be coming to hunt down his men and their sympathizers. Drenmare was supposed to come here when he arrived, but he hasn't and I haven't seen him anywhere in the city. Perhaps you have?"