#forest home skyrim

[mikatesmods]

Thistle's Lair

Shaman's hut for Skyrim LE

[kagrenacs]

Long awaited, here is the soil map of Skyrim using the Canadian System of Soil classification. Brief description of my conclusions under the cut:

Chernozem: Whiterun Hold is likely home to the majority of Skyrim’s Chernozems. The majority of biological carbon sequestering in grassland environments are below ground, within the root systems. Organic material- humus, builds up, causing the upper layers of the soil to take on a dark colour. Additionally, Solonetzic soils could be present, peppered throughout the hold if the parent material to the soil is salty enough.

Cryosols are formed in Skyrim’s far North and high alpine regions. The mean annual soil temperature being 0 degrees C, with permafrost conditions. Freeze-thaw cycles lead to permafrost at the soils surface, but also cryoturbation: soil movement arising from frost action.

Additionally in mountainous regions, you would find Regosols. Soils which develop on unstable landforms and have had little time to develop, such as mountain slopes, or river floodplains.

Gleysols occur across the landscape of Skyrim, but primarily in Hjaalmarch. Gleysols are commonly found in depressions or low-lying areas where water saturates the soil continuously, leading to a molted characteristic to the soil.

Organic soils would primarily be found in the water saturated soils of Hjaalmarch. These are wetland soils found in forested areas and are commonly known as peat, muck, bogs or fens.

Borrowing from the USDA soil taxonomy, Inceptisols are light colored soils with moderate alteration, occurring under cool and cold climates. These soils would be found in the Eastmarch caldera.

Luvisols are associated with forested landscapes overlying loamy glacial till, or on clayey lacustrine deposits. Lake Honrich dominates a large portion of the Rift, according to UESP, seemingly draining from the lake. I believe this to be the site of a melted glacier, the lake being meltwater. Clay sediments are associated with lakes because of their deposition, coarser sediments bordering the lake near the shore, and finer particles at the deepest reaches. Additionally, at the end of the Karth river, where sandy deposits would be deposited at Solitude, before the stream looses power further down the river, leaving only clay to be deposited.

Podzols are associated with igneous parent materials, coniferous vegetation and high acidity. Primarily they are found in Falkreath Hold and Southern Eastmarch.

Brunisols are an intermediate stage between Regosols (undeveloped soils), and Podzol or Luvisols. I believe with the unstable, mountainous landscape of the Reach, soils would remain still rather undeveloped. Brunisols would also be interspersed among the Luvisols.

[argisthebulwark]

Love's A Funny Thing

summary: assigning my favorite Skyrim men one of the five love languages. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used feat: Erandur, Miraak, Cicero, Brynjolf, Balimund, Erik the Slayer, Vilkas, Arnbjorn, Teldryn Sero, Farkas warnings: none

Words of Affirmation

Erandur wants nothing more than to express how deeply and all encompassing his love for you is. He loves you with each breath he draws, every day spent in your presence only strengthening your bond. The shimmering pink light of sunrises and easy breeze through a perfectly autumnal forest make his mind drift to you, often recounting the beauty he finds in the world and how it relates to you. With your hands clasped in his he admits his love for you, interrupted only by the tearful kisses you plant across his face. 

Miraak has spent lifetimes cultivating a vocabulary and puts it to good use. In languages long forgotten he whispers of his love to you, shaking the walls when his Thu’um aims to make it known to the entire world that he is yours. There is nothing but sheer adoration when he tells you how deeply your claws have sunk into his heart, how his soul spent centuries yearning for yours.  “I have wasted lifetimes searching for you, my beloved.” Miraak murmurs against your lips, voice low and velvety. “And I would face all the terror of the world again if it allowed me a few more moments in your arms.” 

Quality Time

Cicero could easily display his love with any of the love languages, even some secret bloody ones he's thought up too, but quality time means the most to him. It is most natural for him to show his love by sticking to your side - accompanying you on missions to ensure your safety and only sleeping when you’re pressed to one another, he shows you how deeply he cares by remaining with you. He wishes for nothing more than to make you laugh, to hear your voice and bask in the presence of his beloved Listener. 

Brynjolf has lost many people. There are so many friendships cut short and people he’s spent more time missing than knowing them. He makes a consistent effort to never lose time with you - after thinking Mercer snatched away another loved one, Brynjolf changes his ways. The endless nights spent working in the Cistern are replaced with a staunchly enforced time when the workday ends.  “You’re not my Guild Master anymore,” he interrupts when you hastily remember an unfinished task during dinner. “We’re home, love. I’m nothin’ but your husband here.”  He will not miss a moment with you. The days spent grieving you altered his view on work - nothing takes precedence over time with you. To him, nothing is worth losing time with his beloved. 

Gift Giving

Balimund may not have much extra time in his busy days but he always whittles out a moment for you. He often surprises you with practical gifts - perfectly balanced blades with intricate handles and jewelry intended to withstand the nastiest of spells. Each gift he gives was forged by his hands outside your home, an individual piece made just for you.  “It’s to ensure you make it back to me in one piece,” he says after strapping the beautiful dagger into a sheath at your side. His gifts are beautiful, crafted purely to show how much he adores you. 

Erik loves hunting for the perfect gift to give you - taking mental notes of what draws your eye when visiting shops, especially the items you put back after spotting the price. He knows how reluctant you are to purchase anything not deemed ‘essential’ but always finds time to slink back into the shop and buy whatever brought a smile to your face. He doesn’t care much for receiving gifts, pouring all the love he can into the specific things he can give to you. 

Acts of Service

Vilkas may have trouble with flowery words but he ensures that you know how deeply he cares. Even if his tone is harsh his intentions are good - if your footing is off or your swing is weak he could lose you. He takes on the role of Harbinger when it becomes too much for you to carry alone, offering help before you think to ask.  He cannot sit under the moonlight and tell you how his heart yearns for yours, but he will clean your wounds without hesitation. Vilkas will bandage you, will piece you back together with his own two hands without a second thought. He will wipe your tears and send your armor off to be repaired to show how deeply he cares for you. 

Arnbjorn would kill for you. Please give him an opportunity to kill for you. Although he cannot untangle the web of feelings in his mind and he isn’t one to shop for gifts he will show you in a heartbeat just how deeply he cares. He has loved and lost before - he does not intend to lose you. His blade is always ready should you ever need it, eyes and ears vigilant for any impending threat.  He is not a man of many words but you feel his love - there is love in the way he ensures your blades remain sharp and pack is fully stocked. Arnbjorn’s love is seen in the way he threatens anyone who dares to cross you and remains at your side during meetings, a silent threat to any who would harm you. The words are difficult for him to say but you know his love is there when he carries you off to bed after an especially hard day or slides you a drink without having to ask.

Physical Touch

Teldryn doesn’t think before pulling you out of danger. It is hardly a thought - his arm hooking in yours and tugging you closer, his body shielding you from danger. Even when his hands are bandaged and bleeding he checks you for injuries, fingers carefully skimming over every inch of skin in search of wounds. Your touch assures him that you are alive, that you are still with him.  His touch is a quiet comfort, an occurrence so common it becomes a natural extension of yourself. His thigh pressed to yours when you sit or the hand resting on your arm while you speak, an ever present reminder of his feelings for you. 

Farkas is ecstatic to find someone as physical as himself. From a young age he learned that Vilkas didn’t express emotions in the same manner but you understand him. You indulge his love of touch; excited hugs upon surviving an especially bloody battle or a friendly slap on the back after a drunken joke, a tender moment heightened by your hands roaming over one another. Farkas is in love with the way you react to him - the flush in your cheeks after he kisses you and the thoughtless way your hand reaches for his, the comforting swipe of your thumb over his hand when lost in thought. He simply has too much love for you to keep it all inside. 

[hircines-hunter]

First Line Challenge!

Tagged by @silly-little-diary thank you friend 💕🫶

Rules: Post the beginning lines of your 10 most recently published fanfics, then attempt to tag 10 people!

Im not sure who to tag…. Uh @umbracirrus @skyrim-forever @sulphuricgrin @dirty-bosmer @captain-of-silvenar @pocket-vvardvark @madamefluffnstuff (no obligations or pressure please)

1. Just a Ruin (and Mudcrab) Advocate

I’ve been away from home for so long. I’ve been trekking throughout Hammerfell. The climate is so vastly different from home, but it has its charms and the clothing there is actually comfortable. Breathable.

2. Rage of Dragons and the Vestige

These Worm Cult shits caught me again. I know I’m in High Rock still.

Shit.

3. Coldfire Codex

A small banekin popped out of a portal and looked around the room. It spotted the person his mistress summoned him to meet and walked up to him. An old Imperial Battlemage. “You! My Mistress needs your assistance at once!”

4. Mother of Hunters

“Adelina! The food’s ready.” A tall Nord man called out to the lone hunter sitting on a log. She turned her head, her long dark locks flowing around her. Her dark eyes pierced through anyone that dared to look into them. 

5. Roar of a Wolfborn

Sifkni’s feet carried her far from her home. Far from everything she’d known. Everything she loved. It didn’t matter anymore. Her heart dropped. What was she going to do now? Everyone was gone.

6. Hunt of the Blood Moons

Her dark red hair whipped around as she ran through the forest. The ground was soft from the recent rainfall. She had to pay attention to the roots and brush below foot as she continued. The fog didn’t help.

7. Clash of Claw and Steel

Smoke infiltrated her nostrils. Sifkni turned her head. Heavy black smoke rose from the skyline. From Whiterun. Jorrvaskr?

8. Sivaas

The dark skinned Bosmer wandered the market stalls in the middle of Riften’s town circle. She perused the wares at each stall, wondering where each of the items were originally procured from. Sure, she could ask where they got the items from but there was no fun in that. She brushed her orange hair behind her ear. 

9. Fury of a Tundra Wolf

Thea adjusted the pack on her back. She stared at the looming castle before her. It’d been a long time since she last saw the Palace of the Kings. At least 15 years, when she left home to join the Companions. 

10. Journal of Nyla Iron-Breaker:Vestige of Tamriel

My name is Nyla Iron-Breaker. I’m a Nord from Windhelm. Former bandit. 

[dirty-bosmer]

Wip Wednesday

tagged by @skyrim-forever and by @theoneandonlysemla @thequeenofthewinter @lady-iizsil last week. Thank you <3 As always I love seeing what everyone's working on :) posting before work and will catch up on lunch break heheh

Tagging: @justafoxhound @elavoria @ladytanithia @unironicallytes @gilgamish @tallmatcha @sheirukitriesfandom @lucien-lachance @stormbeyondreality @bostoniangirl21

Chipping away at chapter 2 of post-applewatch Lucien/Nim smutchaos. He's slowly discovering that his girlfriend is the Daedric Prince of Madness and he's uh... not happy about it :)

Mountain air and forest musk. Sharp sting of pine on wind-chafed skin. Past the battlements of Fort Farragut, the sunlight grasps at all it can touch, scours the world until it’s clean, gilded and glimmering. Lucien has seen enough of Tamriel to know that this is as close to paradise as he’ll ever be again, so he breathes it deep, permitting himself only a moment of idle fantasy, where alone, he dreams of the life that he’s since left behind. One with the security afforded by the familiar title of Speaker, one where he still knew with certainty what Sithis wanted of him. One where he didn’t question the power he’d rightfully earned. The life before he met her.  But now? Now as Listener, bearing the highest honor that can be bestowed, he’s become frayed, unfinished, a stranger to himself. Now when the Brotherhood needs him the most, doubt rots him at the root, hollows him out in the xylem. And it sickens him, revolts him, and he knows this isn’t him, knows in his bones that this weakness comes from powers beyond comprehension. Strange magic she's infected him with— she's changed. She changes him, for he has never been this man, and it’s her fault. Hers. The sin no prayer will deliver. The poison he’d have to let himself bloodless to relieve. Him and his Silencer who's no longer his Silencer, growing together like lichen, alike in that desire makes them even more frightening. How they want so completely. How their love consumes all. Even here, hundreds of miles from their home in Bravil, he can’t escape it. Trapped in the whirl of it, he watches himself orbit about her as if hovering a foot above his head. Lucien's fists strain against the railing, because he is the Listener; he is not this man. Duty comes before all and if she threatens it, she'll reap the consequence, and yet he knows, in his bones, that he'll return to her out of instinct, some animal inclination, by some foreign presence inside him. Inhuman and shapeless, unable to vanquish the final act of longing, he opens his heart to her like a fresh wound. Like something torn apart. 

It's them.

[orsinium-scholar]

Spring came slowly, this close to the Skyrim border. It crept across the Colovian foothills like a lazy child slinking out of bed. Snow lay thickly over the forest as the pair of orcs passed through, the only tell of the turning season the gentle patter of melting snow from the trees and a green carpet of snowdrops beginning to push through the snow.

In the arms of the tallest orc, a small bundle wriggled with a quiet squeak of annoyance as a drop of snowmelt dropped down onto it.

Margesh the hunts-wife sighed internally as she noted their slow pace. Chief Nazbarag could set a blistering pace through the forest even under heavy armour, yet now, clad in lightweight furred leather, he walked through the woods like he had a millstone around his neck.

“Does he seem peaky to you?” Chief Nazbarag paused, glancing down at the altmer babe in his arms. “I don’t know, he seems pale. A trip like this might be too much for-”

“Of course he’s pale, dear. He’s an elf. He was fine when we left, Kizbeh gave him a check over when she was feeding him.”

“...Right, right…” He set off again, still slow and hesitant.

Honestly, she didn’t know what she expected, really. As tough and strong and ruthless as her husband could be, she’d been married to him long enough to know that under the armour and scar tissue and fearsome beard was a complete soft touch for anything small and helpless. No matter how much he insisted otherwise, no matter how fearsomely he protested, and argued, and pretended otherwise, she knew him.

He was always the first to offer to take a small child off his spouse's hands. Always made excuses to be elsewhere when the livestock were slaughtered.

And who could forget the fuss and grousing he’d made when his youngest daughter had brought a kitten home, who’d been barely a week in the stronghold before he was falling asleep in front of the hearth with the small scrap of fur asleep on his chest?

She’d known this was going to go badly the minute she’d brought the lost little babe home, wailing with cold and hunger, and he’d swept him up in his huge arms before he’d even taken a closer look at him. After an entire winter of “Just till the spring-” this and “Don’t get attached-” that, Margesh knew that if she didn’t step in now, there would just be another mouth to feed.

“Do you think it’s too early in the year? The pass is likely only just clear, it’s quite cold, and he’s only small…”

“He’s survived colder, dear. You said, once the pass was clear, the boy was going down to Chorrol.”

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I…”

Uh-oh. His eyes were dangerously misty.

“Look, it’s for the best, dear. It’s a tough life for an orc, and he’s just a little elf pup, it’s better if he goes down to the city. They’ll find him a good home, or track down some family, and he’ll be much better off.”

“I suppose…”

“Right then. We should be on the cart track soon, then it’s a straight shot to Chorrol-” She realized suddenly that Chief Nazbarag was no longer trudging beside her.

He had stopped completely, staring at nothing as the babe wriggled quietly in his arms.

“Margesh-?”

Oh gods…

“What?”

“When you found his mother…you said they were elf arrows in her back, right?”

“Yeah, that stuff happens all the time, I hear. Those black and gold bastards decide some elf isn’t, I dunno…elf enough, and they get cut down. Seems like a waste to me…why?”

For a moment he just stared through her, face haunted as he held the child close. Then his face hardened and he spun on his heel, facing back towards where they had come from, setting off with a powerful stride.

“Nazbarag! What are you doing?”

“Taking him home. If I hand him back and those high elf bastards hear about it, they’ll just kill the boy! I’m not having that on my conscience!”

Oh, crap.

Margesh set off after him at a jog.

“Don’t be a fool! He won’t survive the stronghold!”

“We’ll give him a try. It’s more than the thalmor bastards would give him. I didn’t crack elf skulls in the legion for years just to hand him over to monsters!”

And Margesh…gave up.

“Mauloch’s teeth…fine.”

Dammit, I owe Kisbeh ten drakes. She told me she wasn’t even going to bother to take the cradle down when we left.

Shaking her head, she set off after her husband.

“Fine. He can stay…”

Along the path, as the pair set off towards home, the first snowdrop flowers began to bloom.

[butch-de-101]

Blackreach and it’s Beneficial Flora Hive-Mind for the Falmer. Thoughts/Head-Cannon

So what is Blacreach? Blackreach is a massive underground system of caves, caverns and tunnels that span underneath the holds of The Pale, Winterhold, Hjaalmarch, Haafingar and The Reach, and it’s also home to various creatures and inhabited by the Falmer. It’s most noticeable cave being it’s namesake Blackreach or in Dwemer “Fal'Zhardum Din” or "Blackest Kingdom Reaches". Now as we all know one of the most notable features in Blackreach has to be its bioluminescent walls and celling which in my opinion appeared to be some form of fungus, Lichen or Moss.

Some might say these are Glowworms but these glowing ceilings appear in almost every cavern inhabited by Falmer, such as Darkwater Pass and the giant Mushroom Trees appearing in Darkfall Passage and the rest of the Vale.

Flora Hive-Mind? Uhh Explain Yourself

I’m glad you asked because it’s about to get very science-icy in here involving plants their root system/structure and chemicals. Have you ever mowed a lawn, broke a stem or tore a leaf in half? If you said yes to one of those things you would have noticed a peculiar pleasant smell. Well that’s the chemical reaction of a plant screaming in agony releasing a signal to all surrounding flora that there is an unforeseen threat that is harming them and that they should keep their guide up. And another way plants can communicate with each other is through their root system which can connect the largest of trees to the smallest blade of grass, and one of the biggest connectors in this system is… Fungus aka Mushrooms. Now this form of air communication is called Biosemiotics but particularly form is Volatile Organic Compounds. Which are chemical signals released by plants to signal plants to warm of them potential threats or to attract pollinators, and the root base communication is called Mycorrhizae in where roots and fungi are connected underground in a mostly beneficial relationship. This root/fungus base communication allows plants to share information, nutrients, water and even provide aid for damaged or sickly plants and works as a massive support group in different ways.

Also not only are the walls and ceiling of Blackreach are covered in glowing fungus but on the cavern floor stands large and almost tree like Mushrooms that tower over creatures and buildings. If these over sized mushrooms have a Taproot structure that would mean they go deep into the ground and hold it from any form of erosion, either from underground water and rivers which Blackreach has. This also goes for the long glowing tendrils that come from the ceiling and ground.

Now for my Blackreach Hive-Mind theory, so while exploring the various Falmer dwellings you’ll find that various species of mushrooms from near the entrance to deep within their lair. Now although mushrooms don’t have roots they do have Mycelium, these are fungi threads that can span deep and extend miles connecting large areas of flora to a network of beneficial interest. Three places of interest in this theory are Shimmermist Cave, Lost Echo Cave and Darkwater Pass all of which are Falmer inhabited, home to glowing mushrooms and show no sign of entry to Blackreach accessible to the player, but let’s say that the Falmer Wall Holes lead to unseen tunnels and caverns that also contain glowing fungus which would mean a large network of connections back to Blackreach fungal mass. So if we use the examples of root/fungal network and how they use this to share information, resources and aid we also know that Falmer caves and Dwemer ruins are all over Skyrim, so if we used this information that would mean that the entirety of Skyrim surface area from farms, forest and meadows are connected to deep underground tunnels allied with fungus that Mycelium threads connect them to a larger network of underground ecosystems doing everything in its power to live and thrive.

(corn is know to release a chemical signal that wasps will pick up to come to it’s aid when it it’s being eaten by pest such as locust)

How does this benefit the Ecosystem?

Skyrim is a large and diverse nation when it comes to weather and its environment, but even evaluation has it’s effects on how temperatures work. But to simplify it, the Northern Parts of Skyrim are cold while the Southern Parts are Warmer but that doesn’t matter as winter will still cause frost and if Nir tilts like Earth, then night will be longer and more intense etc.

But let’s so it’s winter and most of the Flora has “died” and won’t be able to photosynthesize, well that to worry as Skyrim is full of Pine/Spruce trees which are Evergreens. That means they do not lose their foliage and have the ability to attain nutrients from the sun, and they actually share their nutrients with their dominant neighbors and they share these nutrients with the previous fungal Mycorrhizal Network. Now let’s other important nutrients from decaying plants/animals aren’t as abundant as before well the surface won’t have to worry as deep beneath the surface are large tunnels and caves filled with Falmer and Chaurus, Vale Deer, Durzogs, Trolls and insects such as Spiders, Moths, Shroom Beetles, Cockroaches, Nixads and even Gloomspore Creatures. Which are giant sentient fungal growths that take the form of animals.

So now let’s say there’s a drought in Whiterun hold the fungus in Blackreach can share much needed water and let’s say theirs a blight effecting the trees in Haafingar Hold, again the glowing fungus from the tunnels would be able to transfer that information to the network system and warm the other of a possible threat and to prepare antibodies for themselves and to send to the infected plants. As plants do in real life

How Does This Benefit The Falmer?

One thing I noticed while in Blackreach is that it’s able to support Trees, Shrubs and Grasses, which would mean that the bioluminescent that is produced from the wall and ceiling glowing fungus, lichen or moss and the giant mushrooms like trees/tendrils are able to produce the same amount of ultraviolet lights as the sun. which would give the Falmer and other creatures a daily/yearly supply of vitamin D which would give them stronger bones and immune system, but that is not all. The root from the tress and mycelium from the fungus would hold the ground, cleaning and walls tightly keeping the ground above and below them steadily in place.

Also water from the surface that will be absorbed by the ground will be purified from pollutes and other undesirable materials. As roots and tightly compacted soil will work as a natural filter and provide clean drinking water to the Falmer, creatures and foliage that grows there. Also according to Elder Scrolls lore the Mushrooms that cause the blindness in Falmer are ironically extinct so that don’t have that to worry about but they do still have a large option when it comes to edible vegetables as they could grow crops like the Falmer in the Vale do.

(And if you ever had to de-weed or cut roots, you’ll know what I mean)

End

I think I written and botched enough of what I was originally thinking and thought/theorized about. I hope I made sense and that the read wasn’t boring but I had fun and I hoped you liked it too.

Also @falmerbrook was a huge inspiration and please go give them a check and read what they have to say.

[eyebrowswillwood]

Continuationnnn (𝓘 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓹𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓽, 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮- 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓭𝓸 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽. 𝓔𝔂𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓼 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓹𝓷𝓰, 𝓼𝓸 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓪𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽)

(𝓦𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝔂 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭𝓫𝔂𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽)

𝓗𝓶𝓶𝓶𝓶 𝓘 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮- 𝓸𝓻 𝓲𝓯 𝓘𝓿𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝔂.. 𝓞𝓱! 𝓢𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓶𝓮( 𝓘 𝓬𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓪 𝓬𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓿𝓸𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓵𝓵- 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓫𝓵𝓾𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓱𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓾𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓾𝓼) *Skyrim referenceeeeeee*

𝓦𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷- 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓻 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓱- 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝓷 𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓫𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓸𝓽!

(𝓘 𝓼𝓪𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓷 𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓸𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓶 - 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓻𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓴𝓮, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓻𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓴𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓾𝓹) (𝓦𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓴)

*I walk behaind you in silence. The forest is comforting to me. I don't really know if the silence is okay or uncomfortable. I really wanted to be able to be with Png, to talk to him and make it better. But now I have no idea what to do.*

*But it seems I don't have to know, as Png speaks first.*

... Dad?

Yeah?

It was uncle Divorced.

What?

Who kidnapped me. It was him.

... What. I-

Is he evil?

No!... No?... I... I don't know. I knew Divorced had been feeling... "upset" about me, but... *This is a shock. He's like my brother! I told Png he was my brother! I want to yell and curse on him and on myself for ever trusting him. And maybe, if it was just Png and me at home, I would have done that.*

*That fucker, who had pushed me away, calling me extremist and bald violent, who said it made sense everyone had turned their backs on me. That one is now kidnapping children if it will achieve what he wants? I knew the divorces and the war had fucked up his head, but this? Against me? Against him?! How could he? I try to bury it down for now. This is not the place and time to start yelling. We just need to get there and I'll think about it later. And to think I wanted to be his best man again...*

... I just thought you should know... So he wouldn't be near...

No. Don't worry, he won't. I won't let him.

*I go silent. I just wanted to warn Dad about him. But now he seems even more stressed. It makes sense, but he looks almost like when he's about to yell... It would have been worse if I told him later, right?... I look down at the path. The light is nice, I should focus on that. Yeah. Focus on that. Focus on the light if he yells.*

... How long do you think it is from here now? *I say to Paper, trying to focus on arriving to the commune.*

[itsseohannbin]

• The Blackened Heart • Part One

A Han Jisung Mini Series

© itshannjisung, 2024

♡ itsseohannbins masterlist ♡

⚓️ Series Masterlist ⚓️

Genre: Pirate SKZ

Pairing: PirateThief!Jisung x Female Captain Reader x Ex-Bandit Lino

Summary: When Y/N, Captain of the Blackened Heart, gets offered a large sum of money to deliver a thief to the Jarl of Serpent Point, she and her crew greedily accept. But while spending time with the familiar thief during their long journey back home, she realizes just how important human connection can be, even for a pirate.

Warnings: Pirate SKZ. Swearing. Mentions of weapons. Violence. Mentions of brothels. Small mention of death.

** The author has left out some warnings to create an element of surprise with certain topics in/throughout this chapter. Reader discretion is advised. **

Word Count: 8.5k

A/N: I am aware that a lot of concepts and ideas throughout this fic will not be historically and biblically accurate. I've done my fair share of research about pirates of all kinds, from all different eras and countries, and I know pirates never lived lavishly; they didn't have proper tools for healthy hygiene, they never had 'fancy' meals, they never had access to first aid/doctors to help tend to their wounds after battle or when illness struck, their beds were often nothing but a wooden board and some thin cloth. I know not all dubloons rounded off to $16, and gems were rare to find. I know that in some eras, guns and bows didn't even exist, making combat difficult and more intense with only swords and daggers alike. I know chewing tobacco and pipes were commonly used, and STDs were common amongst the members of the crews.

Let me reinstate that.. **I AM AWARE OF ALL OF THIS AND SO MUCH MORE** 

However, for the sake of this fic and where I wanted it to go, I changed a lot of those things. I pulled a lot of inspiration for this fic not only from Lalalala MV and the Rockstar comeback, but from video games that I’ve played that had pirates and jarls and thieves alike in them as well (mostly ESO, Skyrim, Assassins Creed, ect.).

So, as I've said, I am aware not everything in this is accurate, a lot of the lore and concepts are farfetched and not entirely realistic, but at the end of the day, there is NOTHING realistic about Pirate SKZ 😋

Happy Reading Everyone! Your thoughts and feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy! ♡

Serpent Point was, by far, the most repulsive city you've ever set foot in, and you were ashamed that you had once called the place home.

The small city sprawled out like an ugly scar across the dirty coastline, barely protected by the dead and decaying trees of the forest surrounding it. With rusted hulls, scavenged scraps, and towering heaps of trash, it felt as though it was built by the vermin that scurried across the streets and flooded the docks. Salt and sweat hung heavy in the air, mixed with the sharp sting of tobacco smoke and the lingering fumes of the nearby fish-processing plant, making anybody who stepped foot on Serpent Point soil gag from its intensity.

As you walked towards the shore, your old, muddy boots click-clacked against the broken wooden dock, your quartermaster and personal guard flanking your sides. 

"I'll never understand how we always end up back here," Chan spoke with venom in his tone as he eyed the rickety old fort in the distance that was once his childhood home. Even from the shoreline, you could make out the large cracks stretching out across the stone structure, moss and mildew creeping from every fissure like an untreatable disease.

"I don't understand how the two of you even survived here," Lino commented shortly after, a shake of his head causing his chocolate-brown hair to sway back and forth. With a look of utter disgust, he side-stepped an old man who was sprawled on the dirt, hands reaching for Lino’s trousers with desperate, drunken eyes. It wasn't until the old man began shouting incessantly that the smell of alcohol wafted from his mouth straight to your nostrils, and you pinched your nose closed in revolt. 

"Believe me, it wasn't by choice," you murmured, pushing forward and ignoring the babbling drunk. "If it had been, I'd be born anywhere but here."

"Amen," Chan agreed under his breath.

The walk to Fort Foucher, the Jarl's residence, was quick—partially because the city was small, but mostly because the three of you had little patience for the staggering drunks and pitiful beggars who clogged the streets.

Once you reached the entrance to the Fort, the Jarl's guards welcomed you in with disgruntled noises and curses beneath their breaths. The Jarl may have been expecting you, requesting you specifically by name, but that didn't mean his men held any sort of respect towards females in power. They spat nasty remarks and looks of disapproval your way despite the two menacing men at your side, and their frowns deepened impossibly more when you walked past the group of them with a certain confidence in your stride. It took everything in you not to release your dagger from its scabbard and huck it their way.

You were here on special request from the Jarl himself, and if you didn't need the coin he hinted at in his letter, you would have yet to show up to this low-class city to begin with. Killing his men before meeting with the man himself was not the brightest idea, no matter how tempting it may be.

Thankfully, a short, stubby man in a dirty blue coat and off-white stockings signaled from the back of the main foyer, pulling you from your murderous thoughts. He was waiting patiently to guide you to the throne room himself as if you hadn't been inside the Fort countless times before.

After catching your attention, the pudgy male turned and began walking away. He didn't even bother to make sure you were following as he led you down the old, dilapidated hallway to the set of double wooden doors at the end, where the Jarl would be waiting for your arrival just beyond.

The man stopped short just before the entrance to the room, bowed lazily to you and your men, and then opened the doors, granting you access inside. You took a deep breath as the golden light spilt from the room, making the hallway's darkness seem all the more oppressive behind you.

"After you, Cap," Lino spoke in a hushed tone, one hand waving you into the room while the other sat dangerously on the sharp dagger at his hip. His brown eyes flickered around the room, silently scouting for danger before you took another deep, calming puff of air and stepped inwards.

You bowed formally to the man in blue before entering the throne room, nerves bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

The first thing you noticed when you entered was the stench of old tobacco, worse than outside. That, mixed with the scent of wilting flowers and old wax, had you resisting the urge to scrunch your face up in disgust at the odor. It was an odd, unsettling combination, causing bile to rise up your throat that you had to push back down forcefully.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't my favorite buccaneer," Jarl Foucher’s voice scraped against your ears in the most unpleasant way. He struggled off of his raggedy old chair and opened his arms wide in welcome with a toothy grin on his face. His long, dirty grey hair was pulled back from his temples, allowing you a full view of his gross, scraggly beard. His teeth were yellow and chipped, his breath reeking of smoke and moonshine even from across the room, and his eyes were wrinkled and faded from their natural green into something almost stale and completely lifeless.

He looked exactly how you remembered him to be.

"Jarl Foucher," you smiled back, the action forced and not at all reaching your eyes. You lowered yourself respectfully to the floor before him, Chan following suit. Meanwhile, Lino remained still at your side, his eyes flittering over the guards cautiously. The raised pink scar that slashed over his left eye and down his cheekbone twitched in anticipation as his body tensed, his face hard as stone.

"Greetings Cristoff," Foucher barely spared his estranged son a glance before his attention was on Lino, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. You turned slightly to glare up at Lino, silently yelling at him to get on the ground and bow to the Jarl, but instead, Lino just stood unwavering, looking calm, cool and completely collected.

“And who may this gentleman be?” Foucher asked, his eyes lingering on the man, sharp and calculating. “I haven’t seen him amongst your crew before.”

“This is my guard, Lino Lee.” You spoke carefully, hoping to break some of the tension that was rolling off of Lino’s shoulders in waves as Foucher analyzed him. He seemed unbothered, but you know it was only an act he performed in the presence of authority figures. He hated Royals with a burning passion.

“The boys and I pulled him from the sea a while back after his boat up and sank, and he’s been indebted to us ever since. Rest assured, he poses you no harm.”

Foucher scrutinized Lino with curiosity, but his gaze eventually returned to you.

“A rogue bandit put in charge of keeping you safe? Surely you’re not that foolish, Captain.” The Jarl’s eyes gleamed with amusement as if he could tell what dirty things were going on between you and Lino behind closed doors. It was hard to resist Lino’s rogue image and impeccable charm, you had to admit that, and you hoped to god it wasn’t as obvious to the Jarl as it was to the rest of your crew.

Yes, you and Lino indulged in each other regularly while out at sea, you were only human after all, but everything that happened between the two of you was purely physical. There were no lingering feelings, second guesses or confusion as to what you two were to each other. You two had been clear and concise from the moment you first took that step only a few months prior, and you were determined to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Not that the Jarl needed to know any of that, but based on the look he was giving the two of you now, you knew he suspected romance was in play. You felt a sudden urge of determination to shut his suspicions down, but you didn’t want to draw any more attention to it than deemed necessary.

“I can assure you, Your Majesty, Lino is no longer a bandit, and as I’ve said, he is indebted to me.” You tried to assure him. “He has pledged himself in my honor and strayed from the path he once walked. I apologize for his defiance, he is still getting accustomed to life on Royal territory.” 

With a nod of his head, Foucher turned his body around to address his guards in a silent conversation, no doubt telling them to keep an eye on the young lad, and in that time, you reached over and punched Lino on his leather-clad arm.

“Ow! Why?” he hissed under his breath.

Ah yes, Lino Lee, the man of many words.

“Show some respect,” you growled in a low tone. “You’re in the presence of the leader of Serpent Point.”

Lino rolled his eyes, his fingers coming down to fiddle with the sheath that one of his two daggers rested in; the matching one sat on his opposite hip.

“After everything he’s done to Chan? To you? Not a chance.” Lino glowered back quietly. You raised your eyebrow and gave him a look of warning at his usual act of defiance. The two of you then stared off for a second, silently challenging one another, before Lino’s eyes fell from yours and he gave in like he always did when it came to you. He may have quickly established himself the title of the crew’s most lethal and loyal protector, but you were the one who had control of the leash.

“Fine,” he grumbled under his breath. “I’ll be as respectful as I need to be, but I’m not getting on this filthy floor to bow down to him.”

You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes at him again. As if he hadn’t lain on floors worse than this in his days of being a delinquent.

A smart-ass remark sat on the tip of your tongue, but before you could release it, Foucher turned back around and clapped his hands, capturing everyone's attention once again.

“Everything alright, Captain?” he asked with a smirk, staring at you as if to say ‘trouble in paradise already?’. You straightened your back and gave him an assured nod of your head.

“Everything is fine, Your Majesty. I do, however, have a lot of work to be done on my ship before our scheduled departure come morning. As much as I hate to cut our visit short, may I ask why you’ve called upon us today?”

The words rolled off your tongue with a bitter aftertaste, but Foucher barely registered the annoyance in your tone, his smile warm as he retreated to his seat.

“Of course,”

You, Chan and Lino, waited patiently in silence while Foucher settled back into the worn-out fabric. A couple of long seconds passed by before he spoke again, his fingers tapping against one another in boredom.

“Queen Aliyah of Cliffpoint Hollow has sent word that she has a criminal sitting in her jailhouse. The criminal in question is a thief who has been robbing me and my men for nearly a decade. He had escaped our jail unnoticed merely three years ago and he’s been evading us ever since.”

You gave Foucher an expressionless look while you waited for him to continue, wondering what any of this had to do with you and your crew. Meanwhile, Chan’s eyes practically bulged out of his face, his mouth open in surprise.

“Wait, the Queen Aliyah? As in-”

“The leader of the land, ruler of Fatewatch? Yes, indeed, the very one.” Foucher confirmed, cutting Chan off without a glance his way. His eyes stayed focused on you as he continued with his proposal.

“I have a chest in my treasury containing more than fifty thousand gold doubloons, alongside a large amount of stolen gems and jewelry. I cannot be bothered to take it all to a moving man, so the lot of it can be yours if you travel to Cliffpoint and bring that thief back to me.”

Your jaw dropped disrespectfully in utter shock, and you felt both boys tense up beside you at the offer. Fifty thousand gold was an unfathomable amount of money. If each of those coins was valued at sixteen dollars a piece like they usually were, you were looking at at least eight hundred thousand dollars in gold, not including the stolen goods.

You’d be stupid to turn that down.

However, if there was anything you learned from your time spent at sea, it was that everything came with a price.

Absolutely everything.

“Sir, I-”

Foucher cut you off abruptly with a raise of his hand.

“I would prefer him alive, but he is known to be quite cocky at times, so if it comes down to it, his dead body will do. Of course, it’ll dock your pay, but I’m sure you’d still have enough to cover the costs to get your beloved ship back in order.”

Foucher waited while you, Lino and Chan exchanged mixed looks of confusion, apprehension and disbelief. The room was silent for a few minutes as the three of you attempted to process the information.

That was until Lino opened his mouth.

“And what exactly is it that this thief stole from you?” Lino spoke suddenly, cocking his head to the side like a cat as he eyed Foucher as if he were merely a peasant and not the goddamn overseer of the entire northern point of Fatewatch. “How bad of a crime did he commit to justify us travelling across the globe to fetch him for you? Why not let the Queen kill him instead?”

“Lino!” you hissed between clenched teeth, seemingly having enough of his attitude. “Will you cu-”

“It’s alright Captain,” Foucher raised his hand to cut you off once more, a sly smile on his face. “The bandit has the right to ask, I suppose.”

Your fingers twitched as Foucher raised from his seat and walked towards the three of you again, his hands folded neatly behind his back. A sense of unease washed over you as you took in his calm and relaxed facade.

“You see when I was a young boy, my mother fell incredibly ill and passed away tragically. When she died, she left behind her ring, one that had been passed down through generations and generations of ancestors before me, and this criminal stole it from right under my nose. He now wears this ring on his pointer finger like some trophy he’s won for robbing me blind. I simply want it back.”

Lino scoffed as he crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest, raising an eyebrow in defiance. “You want us to travel halfway across the globe to fetch you a flimsy ring?”

Before anyone could say another word, Foucher’s hand retreated from behind his back, and in one swift motion, he backhanded Lino across the face. Foucher’s eyes burned hot as he smacked the younger man, and if it weren’t for Foucher then raising his hands to halt the guards behind him who were bustling for a fight, you would’ve run to Lino’s side.

However, shock rendered you stuck in place.

Lino stood in shock as well at the Jarl’s actions. A strand of hair fell into his face, but he didn’t bother trying to fix it. He simply stood there, eyes angry as he whipped his head back to glare at the Jarl, whose eyes widened in what you could only assume was a sliver of fear at the dangerous look now planted on Lino’s face. 

For a second, you worried for the Jarl’s life, but Lino didn’t move, for which you were thankful. He may have hated Royals with every fiber of his being, but he knew when to fight back and when not to. You silently thanked the gods that he didn’t retaliate.

“Watch your tongue, boy.” Foucher snapped, seemingly masking his terror behind his title of authority. Droplets of spit spewed from his mouth and into Lino’s face. “That ring is a family heirloom. Sixteenth-century gold, embedded with only the finest diamonds and rubies alike. You should be thankful a lowlife pillager like yourself will even be able to set his sights on something so magnificent.”

Without a second thought, Foucher stepped away from a now-fuming Lino and approached you with a wide, almost sadistic smile. The anger in his eyes had vanished so quickly it nearly gave you whiplash, and you had to slightly raise your fingers to stop Lino from rushing to your defense.

“So, Captain. Whaddya say?”

You opened your mouth to give him your answer, to tell him just exactly where he could shove his chest of treasure and stolen goods when Chan spoke up first, cutting you off. His tone was harsh and venomous, clearly pissed at Foucher’s assault on his crewmate.

“But Father,” he paused and corrected himself quickly with a smirk. “Sorry, Foucher. Why are you asking this of us? You have an entire army of men at your beck and call, as well as one of the best navigators in the country no doubt naked in your bed as we speak. Why do you need us to do this for you?”

Although it was meant as a dig at the Jarl and his piggish personality, Foucher laughed humorlessly at Chan’s words. The sound was like metal scraping metal, and it made all the hair on the back of your neck stick up.

“Well because, dear Cristoff,” Foucher spoke his name with a sneer. “Captain Y/N and the crew of the Blackened Heart have unfortunately become infamous across the country. Stories of your victories have been passed through taverns and inns alike for years. It’s the only reason I haven’t called on you to return to my side. If there’s anyone who could travel to Cliffpoint Hollow and bring this criminal back to me, it’s you guys.”

Your face reddened immensely at the Jarl's sudden praise.

“Cliffpoint is merely a few months or so away, and quite frankly, none of my men are trained and confident enough to make the trek themselves. As I said, do this and the three of you, alongside the other five, will be rewarded greatly for your service. We’ll provide you with enough supplies for you and your goons to make the journey there, as long as you bring that scum of a human being back to me so I can put an end to his pathetic life once and for all.”

It felt like a dream. Sure, Cliffpoint Hollow was a long journey from home, halfway across the globe as Lino had pointed out before, but if all you had to do to earn fifty thousand gold was deliver a thief to the Jarl’s doorstep, you’d be stupid not to say yes.

You looked at Lino, whose cheek was still burning red, silently asking for his opinion. He ignored the stinging in his face and shrugged at you nonchalantly, but the twinkle in his eyes showed he was anxious for the adventure.

Or maybe he was just anxious to get the hell away from Serpent Point once and for all before his annoyance took over and he beheaded the Jarl before anyone could blink an eye.

Chan gave you a nod of encouragement as well, clearly desperate to experience the world the way he said he wanted to when he walked out on his father and showed up at your ship all those years ago. This was a free ticket across the globe, something he never would’ve been granted if he still lived under Foucher’s watch. There was no way he was turning this down.

You cocked your head back to look at Foucher, rubbing your hands nervously against the black trousers you wore. You cleared your throat once, bringing yourself to ask the one question you were dying to know since the mission was brought upon you.

“What’s the thief's name?” you inquired with a raised brow. If Foucher was asking this of you, whoever it was had to be important. And transporting important prisoners usually came with enemies who would do anything to make sure the jailbird wouldn't make it back alive. If you were going to potentially put your men in danger, you needed details.

Foucher must’ve mistook your question as a ‘yes’, because he clapped his hands and opened his arms wide, a joyous victory on his lips. He smiled brightly at you and he came forward, wrapping his large, wrinkly hands around your face and holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him.

The feeling made your gut twist uncomfortably.

“Maybe you’ve heard of him. He’s Scout’s youngest boy. You know Scout, yes?”

Your teeth clenched tightly the second the name left his mouth. A burning coil of anger sparked in your stomach as you recognized the name of the leader of the Thieves Den. The one who took everything from you, including your family. The one who committed the bloodiest heist on Serpent Point soil and still somehow got away. The memory of it punched you in the chest, while the memory of his son nearly brought you to your knees completely.

This was why Foucher wanted you and your crew to do this. This was why he called upon you and your men to take on such a task, making such an unfathomable offer for the job.

Anybody in the world could do it. City patrons and pirates alike have been doing so for years with little to no payout as a reward.

This wasn’t just a delivery mission.

It was a test of loyalty.

One he was expecting you to fail if the sparkle in his eyes was anything to go by.

Fifty thousand gold hung in the balance, and you were determined to get it. Not only for you but for the seven men who happily followed you and worked for you as if you were their Queen.

Your hands clenched into fists, your nails digging into your palms hard enough to draw blood, but the Jarl continued to speak, completely unaware of the turmoil happening in your chest.

“He was the one who ambushed me and my men in Fogrush Bay. I believe he goes by -”

“Peter fucking Han II.” you seethed.

“I’m just saying, if Queen Aliyah is the leader of all of Fatewatch, why does she live on a whole other continent instead of here?” Lino grumbled, trailing after you and Chan as the three of you made your way back to the docks. His confusion drew hearty laughs from you and Chan, echoing in the quiet dawn that settled over the town.

“Who knows, Li,” you shrugged, stepping aside to let a small carriage clatter past before falling back in line. “Maybe the rum is just better in Cliffpoint.”

Lino scowled, unimpressed. “Doesn’t make a damn bit of sense to me.”

You chuckled, enjoying how such a trivial mystery could get under his skin so easily. It was a welcome distraction from the anxiety that still swirled in your gut after that tense meeting with Foucher. Lino probably sensed it too; he had a knack for reading your mood without a word, one of the reasons why he was such a reliable guard—and an even better lover if you might add.

“Nothing ever makes sense to you, Lino. You’re about as dense as Paisley’s baking.” Chan’s grin was wide as he gave Lino a playful shove, making him stumble.

“Oh, shut it, Chan,” Lino muttered back, though a reluctant smile crept onto his face as he regained his footing.

“Just another one of life's greatest mysteries,” you teased.

Lino rolled his eyes, nose wrinkling in irritation. “Like the time you got all riled up about why cats stick their tongues out when they’re happy.” you then added with a grin.

Lino’s dark eyes slid to you, narrowing in a faux glare. “Yeah, well, at least felines are cute.” You snickered and patted him on the back in mock reassurance.

“Hey. I hear Queen Aliyah’s pretty cute too.” You winked, but Lino’s gaze darkened to a scowl, and for a moment, you caught the dangerous edge in his expression, sending goosebumps down your arms.

“As if I give a damn,” Lino sneered. “You know how much I despise royals.”

Chan clicked his tongue disapprovingly, bringing your attention back to him. “Listen, Lino,” he smirked, pink creeping up his cheeks. “You don’t have to fancy royals for them to be a good lay.”

His words made you scoff and cross your arms before granting him a bored look. “Oh, please Channie—you’re practically a virgin.”

Chan’s eyes widened, mouth gaping, too stunned to speak as he tripped over his own feet. Righting himself, he looked at you in betrayed disbelief.

“I am not!” he finally managed, clutching his chest dramatically. You ignored the strange looks the three of you were now receiving from passers-by and gave him a sly but interested smile in return.

“Oh, is that so? You’ve spent the last five years at sea with me. When exactly would you have had a chance to ‘entertain’ a royal?”

The colour in Chan’s cheeks deepened, and suddenly, he looked like a man with a story to tell. He shrugged, straightening with a newfound confidence before Lino draped an arm over his shoulders in intrigue.

“Let’s just say, Jarl Alderidge’s daughter wasn’t the only woman I… indulged in back when I was set to court her,” he admitted. You and Lino both raised your eyebrows at him in question, trying to piece together his meaning.

Chan had left his father's side when he was barely eighteen years old. He was set to court and marry a royal from a few cities over, but he left shortly after the courting began.  You blinked a couple of times, thinking back to the awful family he was supposed to be wed into, and realisation finally dawned on you as the pieces fell into place. Your stomach turned in mock disgust as you reached out and gave him a light punch on the arm.

“Oh, for the love of—Jarl Alderidge’s wife?”

Chan blocked your half-hearted blow, laughing. “What? Lady Tatiana is a beautiful woman, and the opportunity presented itself. Who was I to deny her?”

You aimed another punch his way, but Lino quickly tugged you back with a laugh, one hand wrapped around your waist while the other clapped Chan on the shoulder. “Good grief, Channie, you should have been born in a brothel.”

The two of them snorted, and you rolled your eyes, suppressing the urge to smack the pride off their faces.

“Does Paisley know about this?” you asked, shaking off Lino’s arm and falling back into step beside them.

“Of course, she knows.” Chan’s expression softened at the mention of his soon-to-be wife. “I’d never keep anything from her. Paisley and I—there’s nothing we wouldn’t tell each other.”

You and Lino exchanged a look, simultaneously groaning in exaggerated disgust.

“Ew.”

“Gross.”

Chan shook his head and gave the two of you a pointed stare.

“What’s the matter with you two?” he asked, clearly offended by your reactions.

“Human connection is what’s the matter,” you answered with a shrug.

“It’s absolutely sickening,” Lino added with a cringe.

Chan's face fell. “What? What’s so gross and sickening about having an open and honest relationship with the one I love most? What is it about having someone to come home to after weeks at sea that makes the two of you so disgusted?”

You gagged theatrically. 

“Literally every part of what you just said.”

Chan then rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated. 

“You two are closer than anyone else I know. Isn’t that deeper than what Paisley and I have? Seungmo and Millie? Jinn and Ophelia?”

You let out a long sigh as the three of you finally stepped back onto the old, decaying dock. The boards of wood groaned beneath your feet, some barely holding together. “Oh please, Channie. There is absolutely nothing romantic between Lino and me. We’re just… mutually beneficial.”

“Right,” Lino agreed as you squeezed past the rows of empty carts crowding the walkway. “I’d rather jab a dagger into my own eye than settle down.”

Chan shot the bandit a look of pure disbelief.

“And I’m the one who belongs in a brothel?”

Both you and Lino shared a final laugh as you approached your ship, anchored at the end of the dock like a beast at rest. Leading the way, you crossed the narrow plank that bridged the dock to your vessel, landing with a solid thud.

Jinn, your sharp-eyed sailing master, was leaning against the railing, chewing idly on tobacco, while Binni, your burly artilleryman, sat next to him on a creaky old stool, the two of them mid-conversation. Their words stopped short the instant you touched down.

“Welcome back, Cap.” Jinn greeted, flicking his head to the side as he spat overboard without care. “How did things go with the Jarl?”

You let out a heavy exhale, mind already on the meeting you’d be calling shortly with the rest of your crew. They wouldn’t be happy that you decided on this new job alone; normally, the entire crew weighs in before a vote is held. But today, your gut had already made the call.

“Went fine. Important business,” you replied with a curt nod of your head, watching as Jinn’s expression tightened slightly in response. You then turned to Chan, the light-hearted mood from earlier gone. As soon as your feet hit the surface of your ship, it was business as usual. “Get everyone together below deck. Crew meeting in ten.”

Chan nodded, the humour in his eyes vanishing as he took off to round up the others. You barely spared him a second glance as you turned back to Jinn, whose lounging posture now told you he had no intention of springing into action like his crewmate.

“Are the twins back yet?” you asked.

“Not last I saw,” Jinn replied. “They went down to the market.” He raised a brow and shrugged, clearly unconcerned.

You let out a quiet sigh and glanced at Binni, who only gave you a knowing smile in return.

“Go get them, Jinn. We’re in a hurry.” 

You watched with little patience as Jinn rolled his eyes with all the petulance of a bored child. “Why me? Binni’s been sitting here gnawing on jerky all day. Let him get off his ass for once.” he complained in his typical tone of defiance.

Binni raised his eyebrows, slowly standing as he glowered at the younger male. Although he was a head shorter than Jinn, his solid build made him all the more imposing. He loomed over Jinn with a look that would send most men scurrying away in fear, but Jinn, ever used to the infamous glower, held his ground unfazed.

Before either of them could escalate, you stepped in between them, pushing each back a step.

“Enough,” you snapped before turning your glare back to your navigator. “Jinn, unless you’ve suddenly developed a talent for taking stock and loading the armoury, I suggest you stop whining and get moving.”

Jinn's face turned red, and with a small bow of compliance, he brushed past you, grumbling as he left the ship.

“Move it!” you called after him. “We don’t have all day!”

“I know, Cap!” he yelled back, though he picked up the pace as he disappeared down the dock. You watched him go in the dying light of day, shaking your head. “One more comment like that, Jinn, and you’ll be scrubbing bird shit off this deck for a month!”

Jinn spun to bow quickly once more before breaking into a jog, knowing full well you meant it. With a sigh, you turned back to Binni, but he was already stowing the stool and heading off below deck, tossing a salute over his shoulder.

“Inventory check. I’ll meet you down there when I’m done.”

You gave Binni a thankful smile as he ran off, leaving you to stand in the light of the sunset alone. There was a light breeze coming off the ocean across from you, and you allowed yourself a brief moment of peace, watching the sky morph from blues and whites to purples and pinks and oranges.

The smell of saltine water, the cool breeze of the summer air, the soft sway of the ship, the caw of gulls wheeling overhead. It was moments like these, moments of complete serenity, that you enjoyed the most, that made you feel completely grounded. It made you feel sentimental, reminiscing back to when you began your life as the first female pirate in all of Fatewatch. It reminded you why you began adventuring in the first place.

You stood for what felt like hours, watching the sky morph and change with each passing second. You admired the way the sun lowered itself on the horizon, bright and satisfied at the day's end, and how the clouds and warmth seemed to chase it. And although you always found the rise and fall of the large orange star in the sky beautiful, you couldn’t deny that you were aching for nightfall.

“You’ve been staring at that horizon for a long time now, Y/N.”

A slow smile spread across your face at the sound of the wooden artificial leg being dragged against the surface of the ship. A wooden door closing against its hinges a second later had you popping your eyes away from the sky to come face-to-face with the blue-haired boy from across the way.

“The Captain won’t like you skipping important meetings.” Yongbok teased with a smile. You sent him a bright grin as your arms folded across your chest.

“Hello Yongbokki.” you greeted, bumping your shoulder with his when he stopped beside you. He took a moment to gracefully lean his body against the railing behind him, a small wince flashing quickly across his freckled face. He was still getting used to living with his new leg, and you reached a hand out instinctively help support him.

“You guys made it back just in time,” he spoke as if he wasn’t in any pain at all, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he was no longer looking at you, but out across the ocean at the same horizon you were moments before, you would’ve scowled at him for trying to play it off.

“I think I finally perfected those salmon steaks I’ve been struggling with for the last month.” His eyes sparkled with pride and excitement at his small victory, meanwhile, your stomach growled loudly at the mention of food. You clapped him on the back with a pleased laugh. 

“Perfect timing, Yongbokki. We’ll have to set the table for everyone before the meeting starts. I have a feeling the boys will take my news better on full stomachs.”

Yongboks grin turned suspicious, one brow arched as you pushed yourself off the railing you were also leaning against and held a hand out to help him stand. 

“What did you do this time, Cap?” he teased. “Sold Binni to another cathouse I presume?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing once more as you took hold of his hand and headed towards the creaky old door that led below deck. “Will you let that go? That was one time!”

Yongbok’s laughter echoed as you entered the ship, veering down to the kitchen at the end of the corridor. “One time too many, Cap. If it happens again, I’m afraid Bin will be gone for good.”

Jinn returned moments after everyone else had settled at the dining table, Jeo and Seungmo trailing behind. The three of them exchanged quiet jokes as they hastily took their seats, their faces lighting up at the sight of the meal before them.

Fish steaks, steaming and fragrant, rested on thick wooden plates that Binni had crafted weeks prior. Cutlery was arranged meticulously beside them and metal tankards were filled to the brim with ale, allowing the table to be a testament to the care Yongbokki had poured into the preparation.

You leaned back slightly, observing your crew as they dug into the meal. Despite the unease swirling in your gut, you waited, letting them savour the peace of a shared dinner table before revealing the storm on the horizon.

You watched as Jinn, ever the orderly one, gestured for Seungmo to take the breadbasket from his hands, the corners of his mouth twitching up as he said, “You’ll thank me later for making sure you’re not just eating meat, Mo.”

Seungmo rolled his eyes, tearing into a piece of bread but muttering something about ‘overbearing mother hens.’ Jeo chuckled, his fox-like eyes catching yours briefly before he focused on his plate.

You felt the weight of the news pressing against your chest as you watched them—your crew, your family. The money Foucher offered was good, almost impossibly good, but there was that nagging whisper in the back of your mind, the one that suggested it might not be enough to sway them. Especially not Jinn and Seungmo.

When most of the plates were cleared, Jeo broke the casual hum of conversation. He wiped his mouth with a serviette and leaned forward slightly, his sharp, curious eyes locking onto yours.

“So, Cap,” he began, his tone light but pointed. “What’s this meeting for?”

Binni shifted, leaning back in his chair and tossing you a quizzical look, meanwhile, Seungmo perked up, his brows drawing together.

“Oh yeah! The meeting with Foucher. How’d it go?” his voice held a genuine curiosity, though you could see he was already trying to piece together why it needed to involve all of them.

Setting your fork down, you glanced at Lino and Chan, both of whom offered small, encouraging nods. That gave you just enough courage to speak.

“The meeting with Foucher went...well.” you began carefully, letting your words hang as you measured everyone's reactions. “He’s got another job for us.”

That caught their attention. Forks paused mid-air, and a hush settled over the surrounding tables where the two and a half dozen sailors under your command sat, waiting for you to finish. Jinn tilted his head slightly, studying you with a guarded expression as he began gathering a small stack of empty plates.

“What kind of job this time?” he asked, voice calm but curious.

You hesitated for a brief moment. “He wants us to travel to Cliffpoint Hollow,” you said finally, your voice firmer now. “We’re to escort a prisoner back to him.”

The impact of your words was immediate. Jeo, mid-drink, choked and nearly sent his ale spewing across the table, causing Lino to reach over and clap his back while he spluttered about.

“Cliffpoint Hollow?” Binni straightened abruptly, his easygoing demeanour gone. His wide eyes pinned you in place at your end of the table. “Did you just say Cliffpoint Hollow?”

“I did,” you confirmed with a single nod. Silence fell over the room again for a moment before Jeo spoke up once more.

“Captain, with all due respect,” he started in a gruff tone from his choking, his fingers now toying with the handle of the metal tankard in front of him. “We’re supposed to be on break right now. Seungmo’s dying to get home to see Millie, and Jinn still has yet to even meet his kid. I don’t think any of us could take on another adventure.”

Seungmo cast a glance towards you. Though he kept his expression neutral, the flicker of disappointment on his face was unmistakable. He was usually calm and composed, but even he had his limits.

You let out a heavy sigh, rubbing your temple before clasping your hands together on the table before you. You watched as Chan began wiping the dirty surface with an old rag before you continued your plea.

“Look, guys, I understand.” you grimaced before meeting Seungmo’s gaze again. He was leaning against the archway to the kitchenette, waiting for whatever you were to say next. “I know we were all looking forward to this break. But Foucher offered us more money than we’ve ever seen for a single job before—and you know what that kind of coin could mean for all of us.”

“Enough for how long though?” Binni asked with a wary glance. “I mean, we risk our necks for him time and time again, and all he does is keep upping the stakes. First, it’s cargo runs, now prisoner escorts halfway across the globe?”

Yongbok nodded in agreement from where he was standing next to Seungmo with his arms folded across his chest. His usual smile was nowhere to be found. “Binni’s right. This isn’t just a supply run or a simple trade, Cap. Cliffpoint Hollow, as beautiful as it may be, is nearly six months away, and that's if the ship is sturdy enough to make it. There's no other towns and outposts across the open waters for miles. There’s nowhere to stop for resupply, and if the rumours are true, those waters are crawling with hostiles.”

Murmurs of concern spread throughout the dining room, each of your men weighing the risk in their minds, grumbling and conversing in distress. You had to raise a hand to quiet them all down once more.

“I hear you guys. Believe me, I do. Your concerns and uneasiness do not go unnoticed. But this is fifty thousand gold we’re talking about here.  That’s not counting the stolen jewellery and gems Foucher’s throwing in as part of the deal.”

Jeo’s eyes widened, his initial shock giving way to an almost childlike excitement. Yongbok, too, couldn’t hide his intrigue, though he tried to mask it. Even Binni, skeptical as ever, seemed to soften at the mention of the payout.

But Jinn and Seungmo remained unmoved. Jinn crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “How do we even know he’s good for it?” he asked. “Did you see the loot, or are we just taking his word?”

“I saw it,” you said sharply, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. “I wouldn’t be here asking this if I wasn’t sure.”

You didn’t need to see the loot to know Foucher had it. The loot was rightfully yours after all, though you weren’t about to admit that to your crew. You’d been keeping your past a secret from them for years, and the less they knew about it, the better.

Everyone was silent for another moment before Binni set the feet of his chair down on the wooden floorboards and leaned forward, his interest piqued.

“When does he want us to leave?” He asked. His tone was casual, but the weight of the question hung heavy. You swallowed roughly and let out an exhale

“At dawn.”

Seungmo was the first one to crack under the pressure. He surged forward in annoyance, his feet scratching loudly against the floor. 

“Are you fucking mad?” His voice rang with frustration, his cheeks flushed. “Jinn and I are supposed to be home by the end of the week. Home, Cap. To our wives!” His hand hit the table with a dull thud, punctuating his words as he leaned over the table. “You promised us the summer to rest!”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Seungmo was too far gone, his emotions taking over. “We just finished a brutal job from Hawthorne, and now you want us to play delivery boys for Foucher? Do you even hear yourself?”

Your jaw tightened. The reaction wasn’t unexpected, but the raw edge in Seungmo’s voice still cut deep. The room bristled with the tension of his outburst.

“Seung, sit down,” Lino said evenly, though his voice carried an edge of warning. His gaze darted briefly to you before returning to Seungmo. Seungmo, however, ignored Lino’s demand and hit the table again with another thud.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” his laugh was bitter. “We were supposed to go home. I mean, did you even stop to consider Jinn and I? I have a wife at home waiting for me, fuck. Jinn has a wife and a newborn baby boy that he hasn’t even met yet! Are you trying to tell me we’re not allowed to go home and see them? That we have to stop our lives and do Foucher’s bidding once again?”

“Seungmo, that’s enough!” Lino growled, his eye calculating the younger male’s every move. He knew Seungmo would never outwardly hurt you, not intentionally anyway, but Seungmo’s temper was a force all its own.

You stood abruptly then, slamming your hand down on the table hard enough to rattle the few tankards that were still being used. The sound snapped the room’s attention back to you. Your blood was beginning to boil from his insinuation.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” you snapped, your voice rising with authority. “You don’t think I took any of that into consideration when Foucher offered us the deal?” you nearly snarled at him. The room fell silent once more, every pair of eyes on you as you pushed forward, your voice shaking with conviction. 

“Of course, I want you two to go home and spend time with your family. I want all of us to have a break. But this isn’t just about today or tomorrow, Seungmo. This is about our future. All of ours. I want you and Yongbokki to have enough money to open the inn that you guys are always raving and ranting about in every goddamn city we stop in. I want Jinn to be able to afford a nursery for his son so the poor thing doesn’t have to room with them until he’s of age to leave home. I want Jeo to have enough money to open the orphanage he’s been planning out since he was thirteen, and I want Lino to start up the Fighter’s Guild in Eagles Bay. I want Chan and Binni to buy their own ship one day and continue on the legacy we started. I want all of us to be happy and content, and with the payout from this job, I know we can get all of that and more.”

You squeezed your hand into a fist and dug your nails into your skin, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself down before finishing.

“I only want what’s best for all of you.” your voice ran with unyielding conviction, though a tremor of emotion lurked beneath the surface. You swept your gaze over the rest of your crew members once before landing back on Seungmo again. “Don’t you dare, for even a second, think I don’t put you guys first in every decision I make.”

The room fell eerily silent. The faint sound of waves lapping against the dock outside was the only movement in the air, the tension thick and palpable. Seungmo’s hard expression wavered, his eyes narrowing slightly as your words pierced through his frustration. The defiance that had lit his face moments before began to soften, replaced by the faint shine of regret.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort.

“I-I’m sorry, Cap,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He dropped his head, the tips of his ears burning red. “I’m sorry for lashing out.” His hand moved quickly, swiping away at the corner of his eye before disappearing behind his messy brown hair.

The sight of Seungmo, the crews usually unshakable morale booster, humbled like this tugged at your chest. You leaned forward, reaching across the table to rest a hand on his shoulder. The fabric beneath your touch was worn but familiar, and you pressed your thumb into small circles, a gesture of quiet reassurance.

“It’s alright, Seung. Take a breath,” you said gently, the edge in your tone giving way to warmth.  You waited as he inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself.

“I understand your frustrations, and I’m sorry for not consulting with you guys first. If you truly want to go home, if any of you do…” you paused, letting your eyes sweep across the room. “We’ll drop you off on the way out. No hard feelings. Chan will keep your share safe until we return.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than before, a quiet reckoning passing through the room. Jeo fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve, his wide eyes darting nervously between Seungmo and Jinn, while Yongbok began chewing on the nail of his thumb, a nervous habit he picked up years ago. 

It was Binni who finally broke the tension, leaning back in his chair with his usual devilish grin. “I think I can speak for the majority of us when I say, we’re with you, Captain.” He let out a bark of laughter, his chair tilting precariously. “You’re a crazy sonofa bitch, but you’re our crazy sonofa bitch. I’m in.”

Jeo let out a breath of relief and nodded. “Me too,” he said, his voice lighter, though the faintest trace of unease lingered in his eyes.

“Aye,” Yongbok called out with glee.

You felt a swell of gratitude, but the real test lay in the two pairs of eyes that hadn’t yet confirmed their loyalty; Jinn and Seungmo. The room seemed to collectively hold its breath as attention shifted toward them.

Jinn was the first to speak, his mouth quirking into a faint smile.

“I’ve been meaning to pay a visit to Cliffpoint,” he said, his voice rumbling through the stillness. “If Ophelia finds out I had the chance to see her homeland and didn’t take it, I’d never hear the end of it.” His grin widened as he glanced around at the rest of the crew. “Besides, it’s not a true journey without all of us. Eight makes fate.”

Your heart lifted at his words, and you gave him a grateful nod before turning to Seungmo. All eyes fell on the young man, who shifted uncomfortably under their weight. His lips pressed into a thin line as he considered the implications of the decision before him.

The silence stretched, almost unbearable, until Seungmo let out an exasperated huff of laughter. “I can’t believe we’re really doing this,” he muttered, shaking his head as a reluctant grin tugged at his mouth.

You didn’t wait for him to say more. You reached across the table, pulling him into a firm, grateful hug. His shoulders were tense for a moment before he relaxed. Letting out soft chuckles as you squeezed him.

“Oh, hush up,” you said with a laugh, releasing him and falling back in your chair with ease. “By this time next year, we’ll be the richest pirates in all of Fatewatch.”

Jinn ran a hand through his hair, leaning casually against the edge of the table. His easy smile faltered for just a moment, replaced by a flicker of concern.

“I hope you’re right about this, Cap.” he said, his voice quieter now, though it held more warmth than doubt.

You felt that same unease twist in your gut but pushed it down, forcing a confident smile onto your face.

“I’m always right,” you replied, your voice steady. But as the room began to fill with the hum of conversation and plans for the journey ahead, that gnawing feeling in your gut refused to leave.

Because deep down, you knew this wasn't just another job. It wasn't just another risk.

This was a gamble with the stakes stacked so high that one wrong move could unravel everything you worked your ass off for—and not even fifty-thousand gold could buy your way out.

Tags: @moonlightndaydreams @collisvng @frequentlykit @channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @n0y4 @chuuyaobsessed @newhope8 @palindrome969 @krayzieestay @lunearta @nightmarenyxx @queen-in-the-shadows

⚓️Next Part ⚓️

[guiquart]

Beraneth

A brief history: Grew up in the forests of Valenwood and abided by the Green Pact. She listened with rapt attention to her father's stories of his missions for Thalmor. When she managed to convince him to take her with him to Skyrim, everything changed. There, amidst the mountains and dangers, she enjoyed life: jumping over rocks, fighting sabre cat, meeting all sorts of creatures.  The fun ended when her father suddenly disappeared. After weeks of worrying, she found his body - mutilated, murdered on Thalmor's orders. She stayed in Skyrim, full of hatred for Thalmor. Without her father's support, she had to make a living by engaging in dangerous missions. Her skills grew, but it didn't bring wealth. When she was offered a well-paid commission in Riften, she accepted, despite having to work with «altmer» Pellyon Thaorius ( +++ ). Pellyon's arrogance and contempt infuriated Beraneth, and after he insulted her, she nearly killed him. All my text is translated through a translator. If you find faults, you can let me know so that I can correct it as soon as possible. Enjoy reading! This text was written for me by this author: @frimova Long story: Nothing in the life just happens. Beraneth had learnt that long ago, when her father had taught the little one how to hunt. Valenwood was a marvellous and most importantly green province, where bosmer could observe the Green Pact without any problems. But even such beautiful places could get boring, become so familiar and usual, so mundane that he wanted to climb a tree and howl from the eating boredom. Her father had travelled many places on Thalmor's errands, and Beraneth had listened with pleasure to his stories of hot sands, stinking marshes, beautiful fields... Until she encountered a real one.. Until she threw a tantrum so that her father would finally take her to Skyrim

A place her father had never been and a place where his help was needed. Beraneth had no interest in her father's business in Thalmor. She enjoyed jumping around the mountains like a mountain goat, riding sabre cat. Simply put - she was having a blast for all her years of living in boring Valenwood. With her father's work in Skyrim ending, she would be forced to return home with him and wallow in boredom once more.

And so the year went on. Beraneth had fun with her father when he was free, and the rest of the time she amused herself: having sex with random attractive elves, people; learning how to fight with an axe from some Nord. She did not remember names.  There was no point in memorising their names and faces. Why? She would outlive most of them anyway.

... her father didn't make contact. First a day, then a second, and then it had been a week! It was as if her father had vanished from her life, even though he was a pretty punctual Bosmer. In the second week Beraneth began to worry, no matter how much the innkeeper tried to reassure her.

- «Well, it happens...» - he said, spreading his hands, - «It's common in Skyrim to go on a bender. Your father's probably made friends with the locals and is drinking with the nords... or he's found himself some hottie and he's spending time with her. Don't worry about it. More Mead?»

The words were of little help, but they calmed Beraneth's anxious thoughts for the time being. Maybe the innkeeper was right. Father had always been outgoing, friendly and smiling, with such kind eyes. It was as if Beraneth's heart had died when the letter from Thalmor arrived. She didn't even remember the contents of that letter, which she clutched with trembling hands. But those lines....

«...killed by the enemy while on duty. We offer our condolences ... compensation will be paid to the family...»

That didn't make sense! At that moment, Beraneth smelled something wrong! Then she started searching every cave and ditch near Thalmor Embassy. Using all her skills, she overheard khajiit from the caravan saying that near one cave, on the way to the sea, there was a horrible stench of rot and blood. So bad that even the bitter Skyrim frost in the mountains couldn't beat the stench. So she went there. Found that cave. Crawled into the cave. Cracked the skull of a frost troll. Found her father's corpse.

Mutilated, wearing Thalmor clothes, with a broken embalming tool

in his pocket. The kind face was twisted with fear, one eye missing. The fingers he used to braid her pigtails were broken and had no nails. She would become part of the wild hunt without the ritual. Thalmor had used her father as a torture master. He was killed.

At that moment, Beraneth didn't go home. She wrote a letter home, explaining the situation to her family, enclosing Thalmor's letter and her father's ring. And so began her life in Skyrim, where she grew to hate the altmers. Without her father's support in the form of cheerful chatter and money, Beraneth felt lost. Money for food, a bed, alchemist and blacksmith services had to be earned and it wasn't nearly as much fun. The adventurers or rather the seekers of gold and glory were dying they were dying like flies.

But Beraneth was strong. She was able to adapt. She earned a few scars, often broke bones and tore muscles, but with each passing year she grew stronger, more beautiful.... but not richer. And that led her to a customer in Riften. Some weirdo from the Thieves Guild wanted some thing pulled from the deep ruins. Dangerous, especially since Beraneth had heard that a lot of mercenaries, adventurers and scholars died in those particular ruins. But it pays a lot and she just had to pay a blacksmith to sharpen her axe. And she needed to buy new boots....

Anyway. She needed money. And the sooner the better.

But there was one little «but» that spoilt it. The reward would have to be shared. WITH ALTMER. A terrible disaster that Beraneth could have survived. The pale upstart with long hair like it came off the arse of an elderly mammoth annoyed her. His face was too arrogant. And what kind of stupid name was that? Who names their child Pellyon Thaorius? Too complicated and she wasn't going to spell that name even in her head, so she called the arrogant idiot Pelly and settled for that.

But her anger jumped a few degrees higher when two cats joined their group of two elves. What kind of noble orphanage was this? They hadn't even travelled two steps from the customer's house before conflict immediately broke out.

- «What is this?» - she asked rudely.

- «What?»-  interjected Pellyon coolly, not looking at Beraneth, giving most of his attention to the cat on his shoulder.

- «We didn't discuss having two others with you. And we're not going to split the reward four ways, and I'm certainly not going to mess with you and your cats.»

Khajiit jumped off his shoulder. The two elves stared at each other.

Pellyon said contemptuously:

- «Mudbloods weren't asked for opinions. Do your job, miserable trash.»

Pellyon flies to the ground, his nose bleeding. Beraneth breathes furiously, keeping himself from reaching for his axe.

- «I'll fucking kill you now, son of an Altmer whore and a Falmer brat!» *I'll tell you about the two Khajiit later Thanks for reading! Little of their interactions in the future:

[prettytamagnii]

I was tagged by the lovely @bougainvillea-and-saltwater to describe my character(s)!

I'll tag: @rakimaiirisa @skyrim-crossing @hircines-hunter

(it's not Sundas anymore but oh well, schedules 🙃)

Tatianna Kormey is a 29 year old Breton with medium-light skin with rosy undertones and long brown hair. Her eyes are a mix of amber brown, blueish grey and hints of green, perhaps her favorite physical trait since she knows no one else with eyes like that.

She is lean, not very athletic but can hold herself up in a fight if needed (still, she prefers to use her magic). Sometimes, she finds scars on her body she can't remember how she got - a faint one on her face is the only indication something happened during the eleven years between the day she left the Vigil of S'tendarr and the day she woke up there like she had never left. Her face can be very expressive, particularly her gaze. It's been a long while since anyone has seen a wide smile on her face (life hasn't been easy or calm but she hopes the world will still give her reasons to smile).

When on the field, she prefers enchanted robes and an armor spell than actual armor, the fur-trimmed archmage robes being her favorite for Skyrim's weather. She loves cool colors, blues being her favorite and purples a close second. When at home, either blouses and leggings or cozy dresses. As for jewelry, she likes necklaces, specially enchanted, sometimes wears an amulet like Akatosh's, and keeps an amulet of S'tendarr on her pocket to remember her parents by.

Miraak is an Atmoran with roots on southern and eastern Atmora, and has a pale complexion* and shoulder-length dark brown hair. His eyes are of a deep, cool green that is reminiscent of a forest, and some find his gaze unsettling.

Around 190cm or taller, Miraak is rugged with broad shoulders, dark hairs sprinkled around his body, scars that tell sad tales. The years spent in Apocrypha have taken a toll on him, dark veins akin to the realm's ink sea, darkened sclera, things he hides under his robes and his gilded mask.

As a Dragon Priest, he wore deep purple robes with golden accents (thought sometimes he liked how dark greens would compliment his eyes) and a priest mask adorned with gold. His draconic nature is drawn to gold, sometimes other precious metals but mainly gold.

(*His mother had roots in eastern Atmora where people had "ruddy skin", and he could possibly tan if he spent enough time in the sun, but because he spends most of his time indoors/in an Oblivion realm with no sun he often looks pale.)

[pyre-of-pages]

Hello!! I'd love to ask 🌈🍪🍁📓 for Elur! c:

Character Asks for: Elur - Bosmer LDB

🌈 - Do you associate any colors with them?

Elur's "signature" colors are white (for her hair and eyes) and light blue. Once she discovered stalhrim, she came to really appreciate it because of its ties to her Falmer heritage. The Ancient Nords may have used it, but Elur suspects (probably correctly) that stalhrim is ice imbued with Falmer magic. It wouldn't be the first time the Nords laid claim to something the true natives of Skyrim created. She's adopted shalhrim as her "signature" armor/weapon material because of how much it fascinates her.

🍪 - What are their favorite scents?

Oooh, the sense of smell is something I tend to neglect as a writer! Great opportunity to practice that! I'll choose three scents Elur enjoys and say why: Old Wood - The Bravil house she was born and raised in was basically a four-room shack. The wood was constantly getting damp and it released that "old cabin" scent every time it rained. Elur still finds the smell of old, damp timber comforting -- even when she catches it on the wind in the forest after a rain shower. Paper and Ink - This comes from her hobby of reading. She has a library in her home and the smell of the leather-bound books is one she likes. She also deals with a lot of paperwork in her day-to-day affairs and still enjoys the smell of fresh ink on the scrolls -- it's just positive association at that point. New Baby Smell - Elur gave birth to two children and she was surprised that brand new babies have a pleasant scent. Well, they had a pleasant scent to her anyway -- but she's their mom and moms are strange like that. The smell wore off of her babies after a few months, but Elur still remembers it.

🍁 - What is this oc’s favorite season?

Oddly enough, winter. Her being ice-blooded (showing traits of her ancient Falmer ancestors) seems to make her more resistant to the cold so she's able to enjoy the winter weather more than other Bosmer. Even though she still needs to bundle up in layers, she enjoys the coziness of the furs and the fires that come with colder weather. No wonder she feels so at home in Skyrim, especially the ice fields around Winterhold.

📓 - Do you associate any quotes or lyrics with this oc?

"This will be my last confession 'I love you' never felt like any blessing Whisper it is like it's a secret Only to condemn the one who hears it With a heavy heart" From "Heavy In Your Arms" by Florence + The Machine I just associate this entire song with Elur's romance and marriage (it's a song about loving someone while you have depression and I relate heavily to it). This stanza in particular is relevant to Elur because she knows far too well what grief feels like. She knows loving someone means guaranteed pain if you happen to lose that person in one way or another. In the case of her marriage, Elur is very aware she may outlive her husband -- much like her mother did with her father. She knows loving him now will mean heartbreak later on, but she does it regardless.

AAAAHHH!!! This was so much fun!!! Thank you so much for those asks!!

[overwatchfics]

D.va with an Insomniac s/o

D.va is one of those people you envy bc all she has to do to sleep is starfish on her bed and pass out.

Though Hana does feel real bad when she'll wake up early and see you staring at the ceiling with a thousand yard stare.

Honestly, I think Hana can brew some killer sleepy time tea.

Absolutely PAMPERS you

"You are using my bunny onsie no ands, buts, or ifs cutie"

If she's streaming late and notices your lack of compliance to fall asleep, she'll end her stream early and set up some Skyrim and have you watch as she takes a relaxing night stroll through Hjaalmarch or plays through the Dawn Guard DLC. If Skyrim is too much she'll load some Stardew valley.

Will star fish on top of you to force you to lay down

No, she will not move.

She'll definitely give you a scalp massage as you two have pillow talk.

Hana loves pillow talk. She could go one about anything. The forest on the edge of her home, her travels with MEKA, conversations with various overwatch agents... she'll definitely put you to sleep with how many stories she has!

Believe it or not, despite her shorter stature, Hana will and doesn't mind being a big spoon. She actually prefers it! It makes her feel like the protector.

Her legs tangle with yours, and you can feel fuzzy socks brush up against your leg as her arms weave themselves around your midsection.

She'll leave a cpuple kiss along your shoulders and neck before tucking her face into the crook of your neck murmuring about how she can't stay awake anymore.

[kid-az]

Skyrim/Nords Headcanons (Very long)

Skyrim Headcanon 1: The coasts of the northern holds (Particularly Winterhold and Hjaalmarch) have a unique tradition in that clam and shellfish gatherers will strip most or all of their clothes and then smear themselves with the grease and oils of horkers and chub loons. By smearing themselves with horker grease, this not only traps heat within the gatherers bodies but also helps attract the small shellfish they harvest to feed their families or sell at the market.

Skyrim Headcanon 2: Those few farmers that live in Skyrim (Along with several Orsimer strongholds and Reachfolk tribes) have a complex trade system with the Giants, (Likewise for the Giants) with an equivalent exchange for whatever spiral-painted cows are sacrificed/gifted to the Giants. It is customary in Giant culture that the individual must grant the farmer that Cows weight in mammoth cheese or furs, that or they may stand guard and protect the farm during the night from wild animals.

Of course, this is just one example of the Giant and Nord trading system, and it is undeniably far more complex than that. For example, the Stormcloaks trade exchange with the Giants involves defending their mammoths from poachers. In exchange, several of the Giants are expected to help fight for the Stormcloak’s cause of an independent Skyrim. This exchange is kept so long as either party does what is expected of their duties.

Most small peoples/Giant relations often involve this trade and the duty of repaying that generosity, in whatever way they may be able to. Also, Giants do eat the Cows they are given.

Skyrim Headcanon 3: The Bards College within the Haafingar Hold actually had an extensive knowledge, history, and grasp in magic. Students learning from the college would learn spells that would allow them to pacify wildlife, boost the physical, mental, and spiritual abilities of friends & allies, and even counteract the effects of other spells and magic through their music. Indeed, even in the 4th Era where many Nords grew somewhat disgruntled by magic, the Bards College still continued on with its magical traditions, reasoning that the ability to counteract other magic with music would allow them to better fight the Thalmor.

As for instruments, members of the Bards College would use a large variety of them, whether it be the talharpa, the lyre, drums, the jaw’s harp, flutes, and musical horns. They’ve picked up a variety of other instruments and musical styles from around Tamriel as well, but they still mostly teach the traditional instruments used by the Nords. Folks from the Bards College also tattoo themselves with musical-themed tattoos, along with birds.

Skyrim Headcanon 4: Being a major hub for trade between Morrowind and Skyrim alike, the Rift has seen a small influx of creatures native to the former, in particular the Guar, (Due to their intellect, omnivorous diet, and the appeal of a giant lizard as a mount) a semi-giant (4 inch long) species of bee known as the Lightning Bees, (Make good honey for mead, but are aggressive and emit electric shocks through magic. Bards are needed to keep them docile) and the Kwama.

The Kwama in particular is a noted point of interest in the 4th era, as a third of all Kwama mining takes place within the Rift since the Red Mountain’s eruption, many members of House Hlaalu remaining in Skyrim after they lost their seat as a Great House. A breeding population of Silt Striders has also become established within the hold, snacking on the sweet leaves of the autumnal forests. They are a protected species within the Rift.

Although the members of House Hlaalu would become a house associated with the underworld and illegal dealings back in the home province, most of the members of the House in the Rift would be more honest Kwama miners and traders. Disturbed by their former compatriots openly and publicly turning to crime, these former House Hlaalu members would renounce their title, wishing to not be associated with the criminal underworld by proxy.

Skyrim Headcanon 5: Nords fucking love bees!!!

Okay, to be more specific they love bees due to their immense enjoyment of mead, so many of the southern holds would have many large bee farms. The northern holds (Or the rich) meanwhile create greenhouses to contain the bees and lots of flowers for them to pollinate and create honey out of. Riften is the unofficial capital of bee farming, as its pleasant environment compared to the rest of Skyrim allows for the largest and highest quality bee farms.

Of course, farming bees for honey isn’t their only use. For example, the Nords have quite a knack for snacking on the bees themselves, (Roasted) as they make a quick and energizing snack for both adults and children. The beeswax can be used to make candles and skin cream, the latter being of particular importance as Skyrim’s cold environment leads to dry skin. 

They’ll also use every part of a bee hive, such as bee pollen, propolis, and on occasion even royal jelly. The royal jelly is used to make particularly potent medications and can be distilled as a drink for the jarls and other high-status folk, even if it’s less sweet than honey.

Skyrim Headcanon 6: The Ice Tribes were strange, sapient constructs made of ice that suddenly appeared during the late 3rd Era, the only possible evidence to their appearance being several icebergs that drifted towards northern High Rock and Skyrim. Little is known about them other than the fact they wielded enchanted ice and snow in their battles against the peoples of Tamriel, and were also known to raise the dead as their personal servants in several different eyewitness reports.

They were invincible to all except for particularly strong soul-trapping spells, Daedric and Dwemer weapons, and certain glasses such as ebony, elven glass, and obsidian. Their undead servants meanwhile were extremely sensitive to heat, even among the fellow undead. Eventually, these strange beings would go extinct, unable to compete against the peoples of Tamriel and their superior magical knowledge.

In Skyrim, these beings were compared to the ancient ice demons that the Nord’s Atmoran ancestors historically fought against. Although notable for being called the Atmoran’s greatest opponents in the old tales, they were given no true name, only being nicknamed “The Others.”

Skyrim Headcanon 7: Eastmarch is a Hold famous for its extensive amounts of hot springs and geothermal activity, which the residents have made extensive use out of. Villagers would not take long, warm baths within the more modestly-heated springs, but they will also use these springs as a natural hotpot to steam/boil food, which saves on firewood and gives the food a rich taste. Minerals can also be harvested from the springs, though these are historically controlled harvests instituted by the Jarls in fear of the springs becoming destroyed or dried up.

Windhelm can credit its continued existence as one of Skyrim’s largest and oldest cities from these springs, as an extensive pipe system created during the 3rd Era allowed for the spring water to flow through, keeping the city warm and providing a constant and nearby supply of mineral-rich water for the inhabitants to use. Not all was well unfortunately, as the springs were historically used as a form of execution on criminals and Falmer slaves, their bodies boiled and then dissolved within the boiling pools of water. This practice has thankfully stopped.

Skyrim Headcanon 8: Historically, Nord culture emphasized the rite of adulthood through hunting. This came in the form of small groups of young Nordic men and women having to travel to the wilderness and work together to slaughter a large animal to bring back to their village/clan, either a bear or troll in most Holds. Usually, this small group of adolescent hunters is watched over by an adult warden, ready to jump in should the hunt end in disaster for them.

This practice waned during the 3rd Era, practiced only by Jarl successors or the High King’s inheritor. However, it would regrow in popularity due to the aftermath of the Great War and the nationalism of an Independent Skyrim, as well as the interest of the younger generation “going back to their roots” culturally. Ulfric’s commanders were chosen based on how well they led their comrades against bandits or Falmer.

Some of the Hold's adult rites involved hunting different animals, such as Hjaalmarch having the youth hunt a chaurus reaper or Winterhold’s rite of citizenship being given once a group managed to kill an ice wraith together. The Reach Once had its youth hunt Dwemer Anuminculi as an adult rite, which led to predictably disastrous results.

Skyrim Headcanon 9: Examples of Snow Elf architecture outside of the Chantry of Auri-El actually exist, but they are all underground! The Snow Elves alongside the Dwemer teleported most of their important buildings so that they wouldn’t get destroyed and repurposed by the Nords. As of today, these buildings are still utilized as places of worship or habitation by the modern Falmer, albeit the religion they worship is a little different, as they have included several Daedra (Most prominently Malacath) into their faith and sun worship has been abandoned entirely in favor of worshipping heat in general.

Skyrim Headcanon 10: Final and brief headcanon for Skyrim that being that Whiterun has a high werewolf population (Due to the Companions and the “lucky” few that got their specific strain of lycanthropy) but surprisingly few werewolf-related deaths. Because of this fact, Werewolves are given just a bit more respect and are given far less fear than in other regions, as many travelers and locals find themselves getting rescued from a wild animal or bandits by those blessed by Hircine.

[argisthebulwark]

Severed Ties Part Two: Why You Came Back

summary: Time heals all wounds and somehow, you will find your way back to each other. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. Part One: Why You Left feat: Brynjolf, Miraak, Erandur, Teldryn, Vilkas, Farkas, Rune, Arnbjorn warnings: none, bit longer than usual.

Between all your duties and missing Brynjolf, it took time to find a comfortable rhythm. There was no escaping each other even after you put an end to your romantic involvement, only breaks coming in the form of jobs halfway across Skyrim. Through everything you worked together to get the Guild back on its feet. You entrusted Brynjolf solely with its care when Nocturnal came calling, reminding you that the Skeleton Key’s rightful place was in her temple.  The Twilight Sepulcher drained your body and soul. Exhaustion sapped at your strength when you shuffled out, unsure how you were going to get back to the inn. Riften was another beast entirely. Chilly fingers shook at the prospect of your bed being so far away, ready to risk it all for a short nap in the forest.  Brynjolf was planted a few paces away, hood thrown back and worry in his eyes. Your heart stopped at the sight. You’d never seen him so far from Riften. He took one cautious step as if you were a wounded animal, like you'd bolt if he came too close.  Collapsing into his arms felt like home. Strong arms carried you when your muscles failed, tears springing into your eyes when he tucked you safely into his chest. You gulped back the words you hadn’t said in ages when he buried his nose in his hair, turning to carry you home. He'd left all duties behind to be there for you when you needed him most. “I promise, love. Nothing’s gettin’ in the way of you and I again. Sorry it took me so long.”

Tales of Miraak’s reign of terror over Solstheim slowed, the island calming and hesitantly returning to its normal life. It had been years since you’d left Apocrypha and you could only hope that he’d found the answers he’d wanted so badly or at least some form of peace. The last memory of him still pained you but you’d never forget it - robes wrinkled where he crouched over the ancient desk, eyes wild and fingers stained with dark ink.  Being back on Nirn was a blessing and a curse. You had settled quite easily into your life but there was a constant nagging need to hear every rumor about him, to keep up to date on what he was doing. Your home was comfortable but quiet, interrupted by a harsh knock on your door.  Seeing him again stopped your heart. His eyes were wide, blessedly free from the mania you’d come to know. The mask and gloves were gone, robes traded for simple armor. There he stood, the man who had forgotten you suddenly standing on your doorstep, that lovely voice saying words you’d craved to hear.  “I gave it all up. I gave up everything to stand here and ask you for another chance and I’d do it again in a heartbeat, My Dragon.” 

You didn’t recognize him in such normal, simple clothes. Erandur, who lived in robes befitting a priest and Mara’s regalia, took the empty seat across from you in the tavern. His fingers quivered when he offered you a hand, hope bright in his eyes when he introduced himself.  “I had to come over here, I couldn’t stop staring. You’re stunning.” His attempt to sound nonchalant sent a nervous giggle bubbling out of you. “Can we put the past behind us and start over?” “Start over?” You didn’t release his hand and he didn't pull away, heart swelling when you saw his smile. All else was forgotten when you felt Erandur’s tattooed fingers climbing up your wrist.  “I am just a man who very badly wants to kiss someone he saw across the crowded tavern. Nothing more.” 

A compromise. That’s what he’d proposed. Teldryn sat at your table, eyes sparkling when he took in the house you’d built. It was far from the bustling cities, trees insulating you from the noise of nearby farms. After parting from Teldryn it had become a safe haven from the rest of the world. You’d never admit that building it with your own hands was fueled mostly by spite.  He’d come with apologies and offers mingled together in a practiced speech. Some time at home, some on the road, all of it spent together. It was unsettling how easily you trusted him again after all the time spent apart. His helmet rested on the table when Teldryn met your eyes and for the first time he looked unsure of what to say. His mouth opened, closing again and you caught a glimpse of that annoyed furrow between his brows you’d missed. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to settle down in one place, but I could get used to this slow life with you. For a while.”

Loving Vilkas was easy, you’d never truly stopped. Learning to be gentle with one another was difficult. You struggled to learn how to look past your relationship and see Vilkas as more than your partner, acknowledging his role in the Companions. He worked on seeing you as more than his Harbinger, viewing you as his partner once again. It was a slow process - taking breaks and setting boundaries, but he was worth it.  During the day you worked, creating healthier avenues for conversation. At night you were partners, nothing more. No work talk was allowed between dinner and breakfast. In those evenings you found one another again, softening and loving each other as you had so long ago.  “Remind me, Harbinger. Am I permitted to kiss you during working hours? Are we allowed to sit this close, or are you worried I’ll distract you?”

Breezehome had been yours before Farkas entered your life. It was your refuge during the evenings when you couldn’t bear Jorrvaskr’s halls or the memories they held. A cool breeze whipped through your hair when you walked home, masking his footsteps until he appeared at your side. Neither one of you said a word when he took your hand, falling in step with you and allowing you to guide him to your doorstep.  It didn’t happen all at once. Rather, it was small changes that slowly altered your life. It took work for Farkas to summon the confidence to live for himself, extracting his sense of self worth from the Companions. You reminded him that it was a balance, leaving wasn’t permanent. Dinners were often spent in Jorrvaskr before retreating to the peace of your home.  “I didn’t think I was anything more than a fighter. Didn’t think anyone would want me to be more.”

Each day felt like a new opportunity for growth. You watched Rune from a distance hoping that he would make peace with his past. You didn’t want him to give up but it was too painful to love someone who lived entirely in the mysteries of what could have been, as if you were only allowed to love part of him.  Luckily, Delvin and Vex had an endless catalogue of tasks that no one else wanted to complete. Jobs in other holds, jewelry to be stolen in Whiterun and planted on some poor sap in Solitude, the occasional trip to confer with the Dark Brotherhood. All the travel was good for your mind, allowing you time to think through everything far from him. Falling into your cot you stared up at the Cistern’s ceiling. Watery light from the early morning sun reminded you that you’d stayed up all night again. It had been difficult to sleep with Rune cramped into your tiny bed but without him the space felt too empty. His footsteps were silent when he knelt beside your bed, his warm hand on your shoulder the only warning that he was there.  “I’ll never give up, not entirely. But it isn’t worth losing you over. Just give me some time, please don’t forget about me.”

Arnbjorn consumed your every thought. Despite your best efforts to appear cool and indifferent you couldn’t take another moment. It was fairly easy to avoid him during the day, but every evening you struggled to not look at him through dinner. After all the others had left in search of bed or prepping for their assignment you found yourself alone with him, a few drinks deep and blood heating under the weight of his gaze. Too drunk to be embarrassed by the stumbling way you explained how badly you wanted to be loved by him again, how deeply you wanted him to love you. You didn’t want to be a replacement for the love he’d lost. Cheeks burning and tears spilling you gasped out the least graceful declaration of love and how much you missed him.  Your name on his lips had never sounded better. Soothing kisses and careful hands sufficed when words failed. You knew he wasn’t comfortable vocalizing softer emotions. Arnbjorn’s lips were on your forehead, fists balled into his armor when you dragged him closer.  “Just need you to trust me, okay? It’s only you. My past is my past, no changin’ it. I just need some time but I promise it’s only you.”

[trollsauseedsofthepast]

New Trolls Tribe! Open!

I have decided to open my Tribes of new Trolls: Dragons and Phoenixes! Create as many as you want!! But please, do not forget that I created the Tribes :D

Here are the characteristics of Dragons:

They're are many different types of Dragon Trolls.

Edit: One thing I forgot to mention, they speak the Dragon language like in Skyrim. But their names don't have to be in the Dova language. The Dragons of old all have their names from their language, but as time passed, less and less Dragons named themselves in their native language.

Water Dragons: They live in water and can breathe under water, they can also control the water like Synth! They are mostly blue, any shades, as long as it's close or the color blue. They can vary too, some can be other colors, but it's rare! They can be long like a barracuda, or short like a clown fish! They can resemble a fish with dragon details, like wings etc! Or, no wings with claws!

A water dragon Troll's magic also lets them talk to sea creatures and fishes and see in the deep without having fluorescent parts!

Plant Dragons: They live in the forest and controls plants and vegetation. Their magic is mostly passive like healing, growth, sleep, pollen. They are mostly green, but depending on when they were born, summer, fall, winter or spring, their colors varies to that season!!

Just like my Oc, Queen Judy! She was born in fall, so she is red! Her design might change, but for now this is what she looks like!

Earth Dragons: Their magic lets them controls or shift stones and dirt. Basically they can create caves, mountains and fields. They usually work together with the Plant Dragons to make forests and meadows but also create a home for all kinds of Dragons. Their colors varies in dirt and earthy colors like my Oc, King Jun, Judy's father. I am still working on their family tree, but yeah xD

There's a lot more Dragons you can make!

Fire Dragons, controls and creates fire.

Wind Dragons, are mostly grey colors and controls the wind.

Mineral Dragons, are all kinds of pastel colors and have stones and minerals mixed in with their scales, the can grow all kinds of gems, but a lot of them gets very greedy and keeps them to themselves.

Don't hesitate to ask question on the types of Dragons you want to make, so I can help you shed light on their specifics and magical abilities. ^^

There is so many options that I cannot list here, so please don't hesitate, my asks are always open!

Phoenix Trolls:

Phoenixes can be any colors you want. They all have extravagant wings, their ears are feathers and their fashion is close to the Pop Trolls' fashion. They all have beaks, can be different shapes and sizes, and their eyes resembles Techno Trolls' eyes, but they are never round. Like you can see from the pic above, this is what they mostly and roughly look like!

Their magic is the same as any other Trolls. But what is unique about them is that they all, without exceptions, possess the magic of healing. They can heal any wounds fast and without any of the repercussion of the normal body in healing process. Their feathers can be used in potion making and, depending on the color of the Phoenix Troll, can brew different elemental potions. Like fire, plant, water, etc.

And with that, all I can add is: Have fun :D