#i like to at least try to make khajiit look like the kind of cat i think they are but im uhhh not the best at it

[the-skooma-den]

was doing some lion studies so here are some very loose raz’s + an example of why i gotta stop drawing without references

[yanderemommabean]

I don't know if you're writing Skyrim anymore. But I just got to thinking of yandere Inigo, finding out his s/o is pregnant. And now he's ten times more protective and possessive of them. He's lost his parents and brother, and he can't bear the idea of losing his s/o and their baby. S/o at first is understanding about why he is acting so protective; but becomes very concerned when Inigo starts acting hostile towards anyone that comes close to them. S/o decides to escape, but it's short lived.

When you first told Inigo of your pregnancy, the khajiit was ecstatic and shouting praise and songs over the wonderful news. You thought he would be supportive, there was no doubt with how kind and loyal he is, but to see him act so happy and thrilled warmed your heart and put you at ease. Honestly, you could’ve sworn he was purring when he hugged you tightly and cheered. 

The coming weeks after, however, his kind demeanor changed and turned into something more extreme. Such as when you bumped into a villager at riverwood and began to apologize. Before you could so much as excuse yourself, Inigo had a bow drawn, and his ears flat against his head as he sneered vicious remarks towards the shaken villager. It was so sudden and so mean, you thought maybe he had a personal vendetta against them, and offered to talk with him about it over a meal at the local inn. 

He simply denied having enemies, at least any left alive, and offered to carry you the rest of the way towards the Sleeping Giant Inn. You couldn’t deny him that request, as he decided for you as you stammer to answer. You were a bit humiliated from the whole ordeal, but things continued to worsen in ways you didn’t think were possible.

Constantly, the khajiit is threatening others, insisting that he protect you and even suggesting - more like heavily enforcing - the idea of you just living in one of the houses you own. You deny the offer again and again, telling him to back off about protecting you like you’re some helpless citizen. You were growing sick of it! You couldn’t even buy supplies without the man hovering over you and threatening the keepers with a subtle gesture to his weapon. “Hurt my friend here, and you won’t live to see the sunset” “Swindling us are you? I have half a mind to cut off those thieving fingers of yours to teach you a lesson!” “Please, allow me to do your adventure today! You will be much safer here in this cozy home, and I will be much more at ease knowing  you aren’t surrounded by vicious, manipulative, disgusting people who wish to hurt our family”. 

His usually quirky, funny personality has done a complete one-eighty, and he’s more smothering than ever. When he’s not snarling at strangers or trying to kill the closest thing that moves, he’s always touching you, talking to you, following you, watching you, and you didn’t usually mind when he did these things before. But now? Now he’s changed from a goofy, well meaning friend to a terrifying and unhinged lover who seemingly hates everything that isn’t you or your growing child. 

Not even the poor farm animals are safe from his wrath, as the chicken who pecked you earlier today was found gutted and plucked in the kitchen, next to an open journal of Inigo’s that detailed his (admittedly humorous) growing hatred for the birds. 

You can’t take it anymore! You need a break, for your health and the baby’s. Would it be so bad to just sneak out tonight and kill a few thugs? Just to relieve some stress and feel like you aren’t seen as incompetent and fragile! You killed the world eating dragon Alduin for fucks sake, you can handle a small group of lowlifes! 

You’re a master sneak, you’ve honed your skills in many guilds and have learned a nice trick or two with a lockpick. You just needed some alone time to let loose, then you’d be back before dawn, and no one would have to know! Right now your cat friend turned guard dog was upstairs resting, hopefully he would stay asleep for a bit longer. If you were quick enough he might not even hear the door open. 

You crept to the weapons room, beginning to search for the beloved swords and bows you’ve obtained throughout the land of Skyrim. You’re irked however, seeing that the bastard had the audacity to hide them, as they weren’t hanging in their display shelves or racks. “What the hell?” You whispered to yourself, irritated beyond words. You rub your small but present baby bump, and try to take deep breaths. Think, think, think! Where would he have hidden them? 

You turn to try and search the storage room, only to bump right into the person you wanted to escape. “Looking for something?” he asked in a dubious tone , his tail swishing behind him as his arms crossed over his chest. You’ve fought dragons without any hesitation, you saved the world from it’s impending doom, and you’ve fought with vile, evil creatures that only few have laid their eyes upon. The blood chilling sensation those scenarios might have caused have nothing compared to Inigo’s tone and piercing eyes. “I was just-” you began, trying to think of a lie, feeling that you possibly crossed a line and may end up hurt somehow. You had no idea what he was capable of anymore, and that terrified you. His hand comes up to cup your face, cradling it gently as he shushes you and pulls you closer to his body. “You shouldn’t be down here...you could get hurt. You’re lucky I got rid of all of those weapons, otherwise you and our child could be in jeopardy.”

His voice was so soft, his touch gentle and like that of the man he used to be, you found yourself leaning into it. It took a moment for his words to set in, and when they did you felt a pang of rage shoot through you. “You what? Inigo those were-” “Highly dangerous. I know, I know. Do not worry, I have many other safety features for us. Such as making sure those locks can only be opened by me.”

(I hope this was ok! -Mommabean ) 

[thewebcomicsreview]

hussie said a thing abt the epilogues reddit. com/r/homestuck/comments/cuywff/the_homestuck_epilogues_bridges_and_offramps_new/

I also think many of the negative feelings the story creates isn’t just an urgent prompt for the reader to imagine different ideas, or ways to resolve the new narrative dilemmas. It’s also an opportunity for people to discuss any of the difficult content critically, and for fandom in general to continue developing the tools for processing the negative emotions art can generate. Sorting that out has to be a communal experience, and it’s an important part of the cycle between creating and criticizing art. I think not only can creators develop their skills to create better things by practicing and taking certain risks, fandom is something which can develop better skills as well. Skills like critical discussion, dealing constructively with negative feelings resulting from the media they consume, interacting with each other in more meaningful ways, and trying to understand different points of view outside of the factions within fandom that can become very hardened over time. Fandoms everywhere tend to get bad reputations for various reasons, maybe justifiably. But I don’t see why it can’t be an objective to try to improve fandom, just as creators can improve their work. And I think this can only happen if now and then fandoms are seriously challenged, by being encouraged to think about complex ideas, and made to feel difficult emotions. I believe when art creates certain kinds of negative feelings in people, it can lead to some of the most transformative experiences art has to offer. But it helps to be receptive to this idea for these experiences to have a positive net effect on your life, and your relationship with art.

Christ, he’s gone full Lennon. Imagine a good ending. I wonder if you can.

So, I’ve mentioned this a few times, but the most transformative art has ever been for me was a comic that actually started on the Homestuck forums

Prequel - Or - Making The Cat Cry: The Adventure - is a comic written by Kazared loosely based on the Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. It’s about a Khajiit girl named Katia who moves to OblivionLand to make a new life for herself, and the comic spent years building Katia up to bigger and bigger heights so that every time she crashed she crashed harder than ever before. The second time she relapses into alcoholism is where a lot of readers give up on the comic for being misery porn.

There’s a point where she she’s solved all her problems and even gets to join the mages guild - her lifelong dream - only for the woman running the Kvatch mage guild to mild control her into giving up all her stuff, including the stuff important to Katia’s only friend.  Katia is left naked on the streets literally digging through trash in the vain hope of trying to find a solution to at least one of her problems. And what she finds is a bottle of beer.

Twice already in this comic Katia hit a really bad patch and started drinking again. The comic has twice made us root for Katia to succeed, only to jump cut to her waking up in a stranger’s bed with no memory of what happened. 

She wanders into an empty church (OBVIOUS SYMBOLISM ALERT), and alternates between trying to find some supplies and fantasizing about everything magically getting fixed, which slowly morphs into fantasizing about drinking while getting increasingly furious at barrels for not having clothes in them.

One thing. You wanted one thing and you were too much of a fucking idiot to realize it was hopeless and pointless and bound to ruin everything. Stuck on some childish idea that you could be anything, do anything, and just be some selfish bitch that’s never happy with what she has. Fuck, you don’t even know what you’re mad at anymore, you just hate yourself and everything you ever ruined for yourself and everyone and want to stop thinking about what a worthless mindless thoughtless imbecile you are. You just want to stop fucking thinking about it.

You drop onto the chapel floor and just cry. You cry and cry because you’re stupid and easy and can’t fix anything no matter how hard you try. You cry because your best is worse than everyone else’s average. You cry because your parents never loved you and you’re a disappointment to everyone, even yourself. You cry because all you wanted was to be someone and that’s never going to happen. And when that’s done, you cry a little more because you’re ashamed of being such a crybaby.

You try to get all the emotions out, try to clear your mind and maybe, just maybe feel ready to tackle the night ahead of you, feel as though this is the time you finally turn things around. But no matter how hard you try, how hard you weep and bawl and try to get it all out, you’re still just a fuckup. No matter what you try, that knowledge is still there, gripping onto your every thought and reminding you that things are never going to change.

You’re not strong. You’re not a hero. You’re not even worthy of the name Katia Managan. You’re sad and angry and nothing makes sense, but you know this is probably the clearest your head is going to get.

Someday, things are going to get better. Someday, you are going to fight and persevere and everything will feel great. You think.But for now, you know what you have to do.

And at the very least, there is no way you could possibly make yourself feel any worse.

Katia, for the first time, manages to avoid drowning drinking. She overcomes her issues. And you know what happens next?

She accidentally sets the church on fire, because this is still Prequel. She passes out from smoke inhalation, and then there’s….

this, and then she wakes up and reflects on her managing to stay on the wagon.

Honestly, you just feel… kind of numb.

You fucked up. You lost everything you earned, were discarded by the people you looked up to most, gave away the package you were supposed to be delivering to pay your friend back, completely lost control of your powers, and after passing out naked in a church have probably ruined any chance you might have had at a good reputation in Kvatch. You were a wreck last night when this was all happening, but now… you guess it just feels like you’ve run out of sad. You’re just confused.

Personally, I think this stuff is way darker than anything that happens in the Homestuck Epilogues, which is mostly just over-the-top Warhammer 40k grimderp. This shit got to me, man. And around the time this is happening in the comic, I lost my job. And as the storyline continued past this point, I kept applying for jobs and getting turned down, and it started to really wear on me, I felt I had no useful skills, since my old job was supporting software that only that company used because they made it. Much like Katia got into great positions only to fail, I walked out of interviews thinking I’d aced it only to get turned down, while Katia kept making two-steps-forward-one-step-back advances and not really getting any closer to solving any of her issues. And one day, about six weeks into joblessless and starting to get into serious depression over it, I got two “Thanks but no thanks” calls from places I was feeling good about back to back, and I was just done. 10am and I was going to go into my room and lie down on the floor all day but first Prequel updated so I guess I’ll check it real quick oh hey a flash

This puzzle took me like 20 tries, I’m no good at them. Aggy ran out of inspiring dialogue and started looping. And if you’re not in the right mindset, in the right place, this probably doesn’t seem like much. But right there, a month and a half into unemployment, doing that stupid fucking jumping jumpy peg thing while a ghost cheered me on was life-changing. I was so fucking jazzed when I got it, I was fired up! I was so fired up I tabled my “lie on the floor all day in despair” plan, and started applying for a bunch of jobs. A few of those jobs called me back. One hired me. I still work there now. I always liked webcomics but Aggy Extrapolate is the reason I make them. Because good art is powerful. Good art changes lives, maybe even saves them. And it doesn’t need to be happy to do it, Katia still hasn’t succeeded at her goals (in part because Prequel updates at a rate Dresden Codak would make fun of).

What the hell did the Homestuck Epilogues do, by comparison? What’s the positive net effect on my life, or my interaction with art? “Sometimes things you like are bad”? Shit, man, I already knew that, I’m into wrestling. How is “John recognizes Terezi’s jizz on his dad’s car” supposed to make me a better person, exactly? Do you really think the problem with fandoms is that they’re not angry enough? Are you high, Andrew Hussie? 

[bluedraggy]

Katia in Hammerfell

(Artist - RaPel - https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/9003236/illustrations )

Colored this and wrote a short story around it. Observe, if you will...

Katia in Hammerfell

"No, really, thanks for everything. This is just something I have to do for myself, you know?"

"No, no, no... everything you told me was true. Free food, a roof over my head - even if it was more like a cave - all the companionship I could ever want.  All true. Too true. You know, yours wasn't the first cult I’d ever joined either. Well, technically I'm still in the Worm Cult. I just couldn't stand the rites. Trust me, it made yours seem pretty tame. Maybe not so numerous, but still… Necromancers are weirder than you can imagine. No really, trust me, at least you guys were pretty much normal! Except Edgar. Did I tell you he licked my toes?"

"It's not that I don't feel like you guys like me. Hell, you like me too much. And too often. Dude, I can barely walk after the Morwhan feast-day, and don't even get me started on how sore my boobs get! But really, even all that isn't why I'm leaving."

"It's just, I need to get out. I know you'll miss me. All of you. You really should think about getting more women in your cult, you know. But as for me, I think I've learned all I can here. But there's got to be more than just... that."

"I didn't say I felt worthless! I'm probably the best trained ritual-sacrifice in the world! And believe me, I do appreciate that you don't make me clean the altars anymore. But I want to be more than the best ritual sacrifice you’ve ever seen. I'm not worthless. I can speak Dragonish! Did I ever tell you that? I learned it when I was with the Dragon cult. Not many people can say that, I'm sure! Not that I have much use for it anymore."

"Oh, yeah, I was with them too for a while. I guess I never really quit them either. I just left when they wanted me to fuck a dragonling. I mean, gods! I know I'm a slut cat, but even I have some standards. Unless I'm drunk. Though they still were better than the Worm Cult. I did have a sort of pet/friend dragonling though. He was kind of nice, though it was hard to keep him off my leg."

"See, though, all this... it's not me, comrade. It's not that I don't believe. I believe all right! After the things I’ve seen I’d be a fool not to believe. But everything you all value me for, well, it doesn't make me feel good about myself. It's hard to explain, but sometimes I feel like if I didn't do the rituals you wouldn't care about me anymore. And while we're talking about that, some of those rituals... Come on, be honest. You guys just made those up, right?"

"That's what I figured. It was sort of fun at first, I admit, but I'm kinda tired of it all now. Besides, what happens when I get older and I'm no longer the nubile young sacrifice I am now? Look, right now my body is young and... flexible, but it won't always be. I need to learn a trade. A real trade. Something that doesn't rely on...this. I want to get out and see the world too. I need adventure. I need to be someone else. Someone who's more than just a sacrifice who can do weird things with pineapples. I need self-respect, comrade."

"I really don't know. I don't really expect much. But I have hopes. I do have dreams that are not nightmares."

"I'm sorry, but no. You've been a great friend. Really. But it would never work between us. We both know that. Especially after... well, everything you’ve seen. But I'm not looking for that. I'm not looking for someone else. I'm looking for me. I need to find out what I can be. I don't even know how to be a khajiit! Do you understand that? Can you understand that? I've tried learning, but it's hard here. Elsweyr? No, I don't think so. I think I'd be more out of place there than anywhere, if you believe that. No, I think Cyrodiil will be a good place to start. I feel like my whole life has been aimless, flitting from one place to another, happy to find people who will take care of me. And you guys have taken care of me. Not that I didn't reciprocate mind you! But I am tired of people having to take care of me. I need to take care of myself."

"Hehhehe. You remember that? Oh gods, that was the worst! I don't know how you stand it without fur! But see, that's exactly the sort of thing I'm talking about. I don't know anything. I've never been out in the real world - not the real world, like everybody else has been. I've been under one protective roof after another, protected against life itself. I'm so fucking naive.”

“I told you, I just misunderstood! I thought I overheard you and your friend talking about how much you would like a shaved cat. Well, that's just it! I'd never heard that euphemism before! And I wanted so much for you guys to like me that I went to a barber and did the stupidest thing I've ever done in retrospect. But I meant well, idiot that I was."

"You think that’s cold, try lying naked on a stone altar without fur someday!"

"...and don't think I don't appreciate it. It was a very nice, soft blanket. Hell I practically lived in it till my fur grew back. It sure did cut down on my ritual sacrifices for a while though. Nobody would so much as look at me. Yes, but you. You were very sweet."

"Well, I guess that's the ship's bell. It's going to be leaving soon. I need to get going. Say goodbye to the gang for me, okay? And tell Morissa I'm sorry, but she's going to have to take over my sacrificial duties. No, it won't be the same, I know. But you guys will do alright without me. Please don't make me get all emotional. I've got to do this."

"What?"

"Oh SHIT! It's been so long since I had to worry about such things, I didn't think! I spent all my money on the voyage, I don't have any left for clothes!!!  OH SHIT! I can't go on a fucking ship naked! FUCK FUCK FUCK!"

"Oh, thank the gods! I don't care where it's been, give it to me! It's better than nothing!"

"Ew... it stinks. No, no it's fine. I'll get used to it."

"Oh! Something fell out. What's that? A lock pick? No, I'll take it too. Who knows, I might need it."

"Okay. Well, goodbye comrade! Maybe I'll come back and visit again someday. No! No more rituals for me, thanks. Just to say hi. A hug? You want to give me a hug? Sure!!!"

"Yeah, it does stink. I'll wash it as soon as I can get some water from the Captain. Goodbye comrade! It's been... well, it's been an experience!"

"I'm coming captain!  I'm coming!"

Sigh. “I would have liked that hug. Now, where can I put this lockpick? No pockets. Hmm... Oh well, any port in a storm they say.”

“Whoa! That’s cold!"

[ivisite]

First thing I need to address is that, wow, cats and cat like creatures are so hard to draw? please excuse my attempt at a Khajiit and a smol version of said race. Also bearded men? I’m used to drawing pretty korean boys 

kind of a timeline ( ?? ) but also some family doodles even though Saoirse hasn’t claimed to have one of those in years (but what protagonist has parents these days, amirite-) A Poorly Paced and Terribly Written Origin Story by Me, an actual Potato When wee lass Saoirse was about 11, her father, an “Ex-Foresworn”, took her aside one day and told her they were going on an adventure and not to tell her mother or sister. A few days later, they ended up in the Reach atop some cliff and it is from this pivotal moment that Saoirse’s Daddy Issues™ started. He grabbed her by the arm, threw her down to the ground and yelled nonsense about the Old Gods and Hircine. Plot Twist, he was still a crazed Foresworn and wanted to appease Hircine by offering Saoirse up to be “BleSsEd” with the werewolf business. Before her very eyes, her father warped and twisted into a terrible beast and set his eyes on her. 

Not about that, Saoirse tried to run off and pretty well got away from him but did sustain a nasty couple of scratches to the back in the escape. From there, she ran through the hills and cliffs for hours until coming across a Khajiit Caravan camping for the night. Bleeding and probably ugly crying, she scampered off into the camp and begged for help and the oldest member, the Matriarch named “Qu’Ra”, took pity on her and agreed to let her stay with them and their other little orphan, the aptly named “Snaggle”. 

Not one for the whole “sweet motherly love” thing, Qu’Ra was more on the tough love side of things. Saoirse got to travel with the caravan but also had to learn to barter and trade so she was at least useful (or would be when she was older.) 

Once she got older, probably 14 or so, the Caravan started sending Saoirse into the towns that the Khajiit themselves weren’t allowed into to sell their wares. Naturally gifted with a quick wit and light on her feet, she had no trouble at all selling and sneaking around to avoid concerned Guards. 

After leaving Skyrim for a bit, the Caravan finally returned to the frost coated land and put Saoirse to work selling their wares inside cities. The first stop was uneventful, but the second stop in Riften is where all the fun stories Saoirse likes to tell Lucia about red headed men come from. Upon entering the city she came across the market area and heard a familiar type of accent and tracked down the source.  “Is that your real accent, or just the one you use to sell your snake oils?” Saoirse said with a coy smile to the red headed vender settled happily in the stall she leaned against. 

“It’s 100% real, just like my Draugr tonic.” he replied with an equally suave smile of his own, catching sight of a potential customer nearing the stall. “It’ll keep you alive and kicking for years.” he continued as the curious onlooker walked closer. 

He gave the curious man a charming smile and leaned forward a bit to continue his sales pitch, all the while Saoirse watching with an amused expression. “Why would I buy this? Draugrs look horrid from what I’ve heard.” the man asked, brow raised in suspicion. 

“Oh aye, but you have heard of them, then? Somethin’ has to keep the beasties skulking around all day, ya ken?” Saoirse retorted, stepping into the stall next to the fellow con-artist.   “I took time out of my day, risked my own life to search several draugr infested tombs just to find the secret to their liveliness and bottled it up just for the likes of you.” the red headed man added. 

Between the two of them, the poor man seemed to have fallen into the well worded trap, nodding thoughtfully to the red headed man as he spoke and mumbling to himself whenever Saoirse threw in her own septim or two.  “Draugrs do skulk around all day, something must keep them up and about, huh? ....I’ll take one.” the man said after a few more moments of banter and coaxing.

After paying a hefty price of 200 septim for what could have literally been sewer water with flowers tossed in for good measure, the man walked off happily clutching his bottle and muttering to himself about it all. 

“Good at making coin, aren’t you lass?” The red headed man asked, dusting his clothes off a bit and giving Saoirse what she could only imagine to be his most practiced, handsome smile. 

He was a crafty one, for sure, but she couldn’t help but poke at the fire, if only out of her own curiosity. “Practiced that smile for weeks, didn’t you lad?” She cooed playfully back. The gesture was met with a chuckle from the man. 

“What say you to sticking around the stall the rest of the day?” he asked, a cheeky smile parading onto his lips. It was the first genuine thing she’d seen off him thus far and it was perhaps more charming than his more practiced one.  “Maybe, but I do charge a small helpers fee, of course.” She cooed. 

and BOOM a terrible partnership of con-artistry began in which she would get to sell her wares from the caravan at his stall so to avoid paying business taxes and he would get a small cut and help selling his own “wares”. Did she know better? Of course. Did she talk herself into thinking she was smart enough to avoid getting hurt? Of course. Did she get her heart broken into pieces after bonding and romancing this man only to find out a few months into it that he’d been “borrowing” some of her wares, making her come up short when returning to Qu’Ra and profiting off them for himself all the while? You bet your sweet roll she did. 

So naturally, as anyone might do, she crept down to his guild quarters, buttered him up and tuckered him out for the evening before running off into the night with 5000 of his personal money and several thousands worth of job related trinkets and jewelries he’d hoarded to give to the clients in question the next day. 

And what did she do next, you might ask? Well, naturally she marched around the entirety of Skyrim and hand delivered all the stolen goods back to their owners in spite of him and then fled the country because she low key owed a powerful guild hella money and ain’t no one got time for that.

The next few years of her early twenties would be spent traveling literally anywhere but Skyrim doing odd jobs. Need someone to take out some bandits at your mine? Saoirse was all about it. Some questionable magic guy need help getting into a crypt to get a weird book? Sure, why not. Some rich person need help getting an heirloom that somehow ended up deep in the bowels of a falmer infested, centurion guarded Dwemer ruin? Sure but like double the payment because Centurions are scary. 

It was a simple life and she ended up traveling all over the continent before returning to Skyrim in hopes of making it to Windhelm unnoticed by anyone that might be looking for her so she could hop a ride to Solstheim. 

Of course that didn’t work out and instead she ended up getting caught up in an imperial raid on a stormcloak post while she was trying to trade herbs and potions for their sick in exchange for arrows and such. 

On a moral ambiguity scale of black to white, she’s like a solid light grey for the majority of her life, like she would for sure talk you into giving her your shirt and then talk you into buying it back from her for double you paid for it, but also buys a room for the local orphan kid to sleep in for the night because it’s raining. not the best person but also not the worst, like a solid C+ human (∪ ◡ ∪)

the whole Helgen thing makes her start to rethink her life choices and thus starts the grueling journey of character development (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ and it all starts with her deciding to pick the warrior stone instead of the thief stone while Ralof rambled on about draugrs and stormcloaks in the background

[saph-y]

Too much information : Character interview

Tagged by @theanaideialegacy​, thanks for the procrastination :3♥

I wasn’t sure who to do so it’ll be my Khajiit from ESO Kelif, ex-Moon Priest with a long list of knowledge of all kind and magical abilities (=a nerd with magic powers) now mostly in service of the Queen Ayrenn.

► Name ➔ Kelif Ashclaws.

► Are you single ➔ I am, yes.

► Are you happy ➔ What a strange question. Am I happy right now, or in general ? Like everyone else, it depends on the moment I suppose ?

► Are you angry ➔ Again, it’s all a matter of moment. I can be of course, but there’s usually a good reason to it.

► Are your parents still married ➔ They were never married in the first place, so no.

NINE FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ South of Elsweyr, a small island called Khenarti’s Roost.

► Hair Color ➔ Almost white, but not as much as my fur.

► Eye Color ➔ Water-green, according to someone who made a rather lyrical description of it.

► Birthday ➔ 

► Mood ➔ Curious, right now mostly as why so many questions ! But I am quite curious in general.

► Gender ➔ Male.

► Summer or winter ➔ All seasons have their charms. Napping in the sun, or walking in fresh snow are both excellent experiences, I’d hate to be obligated to choose !

► Morning or afternoon ➔ In term of work time ? Morning, but afternoon for relaxing. Afternoons are more lazy, you see ?

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔ I... may like someone, but I’d rather not voice it. Complicated story. Or I believe it would become complicated if I’d say anything.

► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ Everyone’s experience of love is different, and I do believe it can exist for the right people yes.

► Who ended your last relationship ➔ I’m afraid I did. I rarely stay in one place long, so any thing that might happen generally ends rather quickly... Now I try to be clear on that with the persons I might meet.

► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ I do hope not ! As I just said, I do my best to be honest with my relationships, so normally they know what they are getting into.

► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ Absolutely not, but what I do in life prevented me from commiting to a personnal and sentimental level so far. It’s not something I’m looking for right now.

► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ It’s been a while I haven’t ran into a friend close enough to do that - or had enough to drink maybe ! So no.

► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ I... Honestly, yes probably, but I don’t like to admit that, it sounds like I’m bragging doesn’t it ?

► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ Not over a lover, no.

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ At least a little bit of each always goes with the other...

► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ Ice tea, with obviously a lot of sugar, I haven’t forgotten where I’m from.

► Cats or Dogs ➔ Ha ! What do you think ?

► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ I travel a lot, make a lot of friends. I have to, in my line of work. But having some close, personnal friends with whom to really share things is equally important to me.

► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ Wild adventures first, and then going in to share a quieter time seems a perfect mix.

► Day or night ➔ Night. It’s cliché, but I find that the moons and stars in the sky gives the world a particular beauty... But then again, I’m Khajiit.

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ Oh yes, sneaking out was a favorite activity at the temple where I grew up ! I shouldn’t be, but I’m proud on how often we did manage to sneak out without actually being caught...

► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ ...Yes. Isn’t that shameful for someone with paws ?

► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ Yes.

► Wanted to disappear ➔ At the worst of my life, unfortunately yes...

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ Both a very good.

► Shorter or Taller ➔ No real preference there.

► Intelligence or Attraction ➔ Intelligence is attractive !

► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ Ah, well, mostly hook-ups for reasons I mentioned before... Although I much prefer to have meaningful relationships with friends and collegues.

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔ I’ve always had good relations with the ones who raised me at the temple, but I... haven’t had any contact with them in years.

► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ Ah, yes, I guess so. Better now, even though I have no time to settle down and rest ! But I like it this way.

► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ Not really, but I do a lot of running, even without a place to call home.

► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ This is embarrasing but, yes. And more than once, for... more than one reason. Did I tell you I had an eventful everyday life ?

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ If I hate someone I wouldn’t call them friend, yes ?

► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ There’s... some I trust way more than others.

► Who is your best friend ➔ If I’d start picking favorite I’d never hear the end of it, so don’t count on me to answer that !

► Who knows everything about you ➔ Certainly not myself !

Oops I forgot to tag people ! Eeeerrr @princess-triton​ (idk if you were tagged sorry xD), @wereleel​ (you don’t have too I know you’d rather stay away these days u3u) and @eldstunga​ (same as Triton no idea if someone already tagged you >.>) !

[leopardfang15]

Skyrim Inquisition AU

A Skyrim and Dragon Age: Inquisition Crossover AU.

Sarashi as the Inquisitor would be very interesting. She’d arrive in Thedas (which I have decided to be on Nirn, simply on the other side of the planet.) Due to a magical mishap with teleportation spells. 

When she wakes up in chains and being interrogated by Cassandra, she’s not even scared. This is all routine for her at this point. 

Due to the fact that Sarashi is a Khajiit, a lot of people thought she was some kind of demon. Though she was able to convince the Inquisition that she was not a demon (which must be some sort of daedra) the Inquisition was then unable to hide the fact that apparently there is a whole nother continent on the other side of the planet with many different races, magic, gods, and monsters.

Using the Dremora Butler she received during a quest for Hermaeus Mora, Sarashi was able to get a message back to Tamriel, and more importantly, Ancano, who at this point was losing his mind. This resulted in more Tamrielic people arriving in Thedas. Ancano arrived via ship along with Teldryn Sero, Serana, Khanja, Erandur, Erik the Slayer, Borgakh the Steel Heart and several dogs.

Cassandra is very conflicted over everything that is quickly revealed to her with the coming of this Khajiit Dragonborn. New races, so many new gods, and so many people who do not know the chant of the Maker. There will be many religious debates, mostly between her and Erandur and her and Teldryn, surprisingly enough. No one likes it when someone insults their faith, they dislike it even more, when they try to forcibly convert them. Cassandra also isn’t all that comfortable around Serana for a while. Though she does think Ancano sailing across the planet to get to Sarashi is sooo romantic. She also likes Borgakh. 

Cullen is extremely uncomfortable with everything. Mages running around freely? Everyone can be a mage? Demons worshipped as gods because they are essentially gods? Maker’s breath. Out of everyone, he clings to Erik the most because he’s the closest thing to normal. He does lighten up and calm down when he sees them doing normal stuff like drinking in the tavern.

Varric loves all of this. A whole new land? Think about all the stories! He actually, with the help of the Tamriel visitors, writes what is essentially a pamphlet called “Basic Shit About Tamriel.” It contains a list of the Divines, the Daedric Princes, the Provinces, and all the other races. “The elves with the grey skin and red eyes? Their called Dunmer or Dark Elves. Or at least, they won’t stab you and set you on fire for calling them that.” He also plans on writing a memoir for the Dragonborn, or at least a collection of all the stories Sarashi tells about her adventures.

Iron Bull has three opinions about all this: curious, fuck yeah and fuck no! As a Qunari spy, he has a lot of questions about this and has a hard time figuring out what to send back to the Qun. The first time he meets Sarashi he’s surprised to essentially meet a walking and talking cat. But damn if she doesn’t look good in that armor, apparently called the ‘Savior’s Hide’. He basically propositions her on the spot but she replies with a smile, “I’m flattered but married.” “Sorry, ma’am.” (Yes, Ancano and Sarashi are married at this point in this AU.) Then he sees her summon an armored demon wielding a flaming greatsword screaming “I SMELL WEAKNESS!” and is like, “Fuck no!” 

Sera doesn’t like any of this. This is all freaky and weird. Erik is cool, so is Khanja despite being a catTeldryn and Erandur grow on her after a little while but everyone else freaks her out. Ancano is an elfy shit, the Inquisitor is a demon summoning cat, Serana sucks people’s blood and summons the undead and half the dogs are undead and one of the other ones is apparently a demon dog that talks. (Yes, that is Barbas.) Borgakh though, woof.

Solas is bursting at the brim with questions. A whole other land with races and magic he’s never seen before, not even in the Fade? Sign him up! He’s closest with Sarashi and Erandur. Sarashi is quite curious and is filled with questions. Erandur almost seems like a kindred spirit to him. To old elves just talking about magic. Though Solas is careful about revealing his Dream Walking abilities given the Dunmer’s past horrors with the Prince of Nightmares.

Dorian, while initially stunned by all of this, also has an abundance of questions. Surprisingly, he and Ancano become friends. At first, he thought the elf was going to give his Tevinter brethren a run for their money before they started talking about magic. Their friendship primarily consists of snappy insults but they are the only ones who can insult each other. Sarashi is so proud that Ancano actually made a friend. 

Cole is kinda overwhelmed by Sarashi. He doesn’t dislike her but it’s like “Too tight, too small, chained to the ground. Want to fly, want to conquer. You have so many inside you! How do you have more than one?” Cole is a sweet bean who just wants to help all the visitors, with varying degrees of success. 

Blackwall doesn’t quite know what to think. Different kinds of elves, cat-men, Dragonborn? It all makes his head hurt. But he can recognize a good leader in Sarashi and knows that she wants to do right by Thedas even though it is not her home. 

Vivienne does not quite like what she hears? Mages running free? Entire battalions of mages in the military? She just doesn’t understand how that can all work out. Keep in mind how different Thedas’s magic is from Tamriel’s. Sarashi wants to take her to Tamriel to see the different mage’s colleges and how magic is seen and used in different parts of Tamriel. While Sarashi and Vivienne are the most similar, it is actually Khanja she bonds with the most. A sweet young lady who just wants to help and heal others. While not as ambitious as Vivienne may like, she can definitely appreciate a truly good person, there are so few of them in both Thedas and Tamriel.

Leliana keeps a careful eye on all of them. Unlike the others, she keeps her curiosity mostly to herself. Though her interest is peaked when she hears about the Alfiq Khajiit. A race of Khajiit that are completely indistinguishable from housecats but are able to read and understand the spoken language? They’d be the perfect spies! After all, who blames the housecat for eavesdropping. 

Josephine is a nervous wreck at first. Is she somehow insulting their guests? What is an offense, what’s okay? Our poor ambassador is a bit of a mess at first before Sarashi can calm her down and answer her questions. Josephine loves Varric’s pamphlet and makes it standard issue for all new Inquisition members to read. Josephine is enchanted by the idea of Tamriel and longs to go there. She is also one of the people Sarashi wants to bring back to Tamriel the most.

Honestly, I could go on forever. But this is the bare bones of it all. Let me know what you think.

[monstersandmaw]

Footsteps in the Snow - Chapter Four

Thank you for your overwhelmingly positive responses to this mlm story set in the snowy world of Skyrim! I can’t tell you how much it warms my heart to have people love something that has become my absolute baby, and probably my favourite piece of writing to date. 

Table of Contents | Previous Chpt

Lein realises Argis does know, and feels like his dreams got stepped on a bit. Maybe not the happiest of chapters but it's got some really sweet moments between Argis and Lein, so it's all just Lein being an idiot. Don't worry :P

Lein returned from the Silverblood Inn the next morning with a belly full of sickly sweetroll and strong black tea, and a strange feeling in his gut that had nothing to do with the rich food. His body ached from their activities the night before and that morning, sore and stretched in places he’d forgotten it could ache, and it was a sweet pain that reminded him of easier times and closer relationships.

Argis wasn’t there when he got back, but he wasn’t bothered. If the big man had ever learned to read, perhaps he’d have left Lein a note, but as it was, he had no idea where his housecarl had gone. Most likely he was training out in the stable yard with the other guards and housecarls of the city. He seemed to spend a lot of his spare time training, but Lein wasn’t surprised. He only had to look at the man to know he took his body and his job seriously. Before he got too distracted with thoughts of Argis’ muscles, he rolled his own shoulders out and decided how to occupy himself for the morning.

The heady scent of herbs began to fill the house as he set to work restocking his potion supplies after the fiasco with the statue in his bag. The damned thing had done more damage than if he’d conjured an atronach in there and let it get to work on the contents. Still, there was only one thing to be done, and that was to make more potions. His stock of ingredients was excellent, Lein having compulsively gathered almost every alchemical specimen he came across on his journeys. Wearing some enchanted gloves which not only protected him from some of the nastier ingredients, but which enhanced some of the effects of his brews and tinctures, he managed to create more than he needed to in order to replace the waste from the necromancer incident.

Sighing with satisfaction a long time later, he stacked the glass phials, colour-coded and carefully stoppered and labelled in his impeccably neat copperplate writing, onto the shelves in the alchemy corner, and wondered idly what the time was. He set the enchanted gloves back on the table and turned to leave the room.

Using the little stone basin in the corner, he washed his hands and arms all the way up to the elbow, making sure that not even a single speck of anything remained on his arms that he might accidentally ingest later, and he cracked the pooling stiffness from his neck. He had no way of knowing what the hour was while he was indoors, and so, grabbing a soft white roll and some ham and cheese, he took a plate of food out onto the balcony and stared up at the sky for a while. The fact that his stomach was empty again told him it had to be at least after midday, but he was surprised to see how far the sun had wheeled around in the clear blue winter sky. It had to be closer to two in the afternoon.

He set the plate down on the stone rim of the balcony and leaned his elbows forward as he chomped down on the bread. The roll was fresh and light, and still ever so slightly warm in the centre, and combined with the pungent goat’s cheese, was perfect. He made a mental note to thank Argis for having the foresight to bake a fresh batch before he’d left that morning. The man really was a blessing. He snorted as he tried to imagine Lydia trying to bake him something; the woman would probably blow up his tiny Whiterun house before she successfully made even a single sweetroll. Lydia’s talents lay elsewhere than cooking and baking.

Vipir had left to meet his contact after breakfast, and while Lein was sad to see him go, it didn’t feel too awful. They were never going to be more than two ships that occasionally clashed oars in the night, so to speak. That was alright. He felt good for their fun, and he just hoped Argis had no idea. Lein hadn’t exactly been quiet, but the bronze doors were thick. He could live in hope, but he wouldn’t know for sure until he saw the expression his face. Still, that was not a conversation he wanted to have, or, more likely, pointedly not have with his housecarl just yet.

The sound of boots tramping up the stairs to the hall made Lein look round, but he didn’t straighten up from where he was leaning languidly on the wall. Argis came into view a moment later, apparently lost in thought as usual, staring at the ground. “Hey,” Lein smiled, and Argis looked up sharply, blinking and surprised by the unexpected greeting.

His smile was friendly enough, but there was a distance to his expression that told Lein he knew at least something of what had been going on. He nodded politely. “Afternoon.”

He was wearing a dirty linen shirt, ripped and nicked, and darkened with sweat and a few patches of blood, tucked vaguely into loose-fitting trousers. The damp fabric of his shirt clung to every curve of his muscular torso and arms, and Lein felt his mouth go dry at the very sight of it. He took a moment to breathe the tension from his groin, and stared instead at Argis’ soft, flexible looking boots.

“Listen, Argis,” Lein began when he was a little more composed, pushing himself upright and turning round to lean his back against the cool rock instead. He knew he looked casual and laid back as a Khajiit, but inside he was considerably less so. That morning he’d also made up his mind about something he’d been debating for a while. “I’ve pretty much recovered now after my episode of utter stupidity, and I’m getting a bit claustrophobic here in the city…”

The housecarl smiled again, but it was sadder, softer, this time. “I said just the other day you were getting like a sabre cat in a cage.” He leaned one massive hand against the rock on his left. “You planning on heading off again then?”

Lein nodded. “Yeah. I want to head north on foot before the winter snows get too bad. I hate taking the carriages – they take fucking forever, and the bandits always know their schedules.”

“You’re going to Hjaalmarch then?”

“Yeah. I miss those big open skies,” he said. “But listen, I just wanted to say that you’re more than welcome to come with me, you know, and see a bit more of Skyrim if you wanted to. No pressure, and you could head back here whenever you felt like it. I know your life is here in Markarth, but at the same time, I don’t want you to think…” Don’t want him to think what? That you don’t value him? That you have a fucking mammoth-sized crush on him? That you are barely having any more luck containing your fantasies than a hormonal teenager? He sighed. “Don’t want you to think that you’re not welcome or whatever. I’d love you to come with me, but I quite understand if you’d prefer to stay here.”

Argis looked thoughtful, and Lein found himself admiring the expression on his face. He looked like a brute and a bruiser, with his one milky-blind eye and his scarred cheek, his huge muscles and massive bones, but he was intelligent and kind behind his tough exterior.

Before Argis could give a rushed answer, Lein held up a hand and said, “Think on it. Don’t say anything just yet.”

“Alright,” Argis hedged. “I won’t.”

And without another word, he stumped into the house, letting the door close softly behind him, and leaving Lein standing alone on the balcony to finish the last few crumbs of his lunch.

Returning to the kitchen and washing the stubborn remnants of the gooey cheese from the plate, Lein heard the bath running and, a short moment later, the sounds of Argis washing himself. Lein knew he had to do literally anything to distract himself, and that this crush of his was getting stupid. His activities with Vipir had awoken him as much as they had satisfied him.

When the housecarl emerged a while later, his hair was wet and dripping into his clean linen shirt. His usual braids were missing, washed away in the hot water of his bath, and his beard was neatly trimmed once more. Lein swallowed and returned his mismatching eyes to his book.

“Thane?” he asked a moment later, getting Lein’s attention. Argis still hadn’t quite mastered calling him by his name all the time.

“Hmm?”

“How soon would you want to leave for Hjaalmarch?”

Lein closed the book, marking the place with a finger, and stretched out his lean legs where he’d had them propped up on the high stone shelf that guarded the fireplace, crossed at the ankles. Argis’ eyes tracked the motion but the housecarl remained silent. Lein pouted thoughtfully and said, “I sent a letter by courier to Valdimar, my housecarl at Windstad Manor, to say that I’d like to be there before winter solstice.”

Argis nodded, clearly running the maths in his head. “That’s a couple of weeks or so from now…”

“Yeah, so I’d need to be on the road in a few days. It’s a fair hike from here, and I might stop off either in Solitude or Morthal before hand.”

“Morthal,” Argis murmured.

Lein wondered what thoughts were slowly rolling through his head, but he just nodded mutely. After another few heartbeats of silence, he finally asked, “Have you had any more thoughts on coming with me?”

Argis blinked and looked a little bashful. “You… You still don’t mind if I come along?”

Lein had to work hard to contain the full force of his smile, but he practically felt his eyes glittering as he shook his head. “On the contrary – I’d love you to come along.”

“I thought you said you were a ‘lone wolf’.”

He cringed a little at that. “I am, most of the time. But honestly… I think it’d be nice to get to know you better. And it’s dangerous travelling Skyrim alone. Fuck knows, I’ve got the scars to prove it.” Argis was nodding a moment later, his eyes flickering almost imperceptibly to Lein’s chest. He knew the mess of scars and marks that lay beneath the fabric of his rich, green, linen shirt. “I’m going to start packing up my things and making preparations today, and I’ll aim to head out on Loredas morning at the latest.” He paused and scratched the neat stubble on his chin. “Maybe even tomorrow if you’re up for it.”

Argis nodded once. “I would like to come with you. I don’t have much I’d want to bring with me, just my sword and some spare clothes. I can be ready to go whenever you are.”

Lein yawned and slid a small slip of leather into the book in his lap to mark the page. Argis’ gaze went to the book and lingered there a moment. Lein looked up again just as Argis turned his eyes away. Lein narrowed his, but didn’t speak. It looked like Argis was about to say something and Lein decided to wait patiently, quietly, trying not to spook the impending question out of the man.

Eventually his patience was rewarded as Argis mumbled, “Thane, can… can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

Argis smiled at that. He sucked in an enormous breath and then asked in a big rush, “You said a while back, when you first got here that you... that if… that if I wanted to learn to read, that you’d teach me…?”

“I did,” he smiled gently.

“So… I was wondering if that’s still the case? If you’d still want to teach me? It’s always been something I’ve wanted to learn, but I’ve never had the chance… My parents never learned either… They were just farmers, you know?”

“I’d be honoured to teach you,” he said, sincerity ringing like a temple bell in his tone. “Perhaps it’s something we start do on the road. I’m going to bring a few books with me anyway.”

Argis looked embarrassed and grateful in equal measure, and Lein couldn’t help the lopsided smile that twitched on his lips at the sight of him.

“Thank you, thane,” he said, his voice deep and gruff. He cleared his throat awkwardly and then said, “Well, I’ll, um, leave you to your preparations then…”

Lein nodded, knowing that the big man’s admission had made him feel vulnerable, and so he didn’t linger, busying himself by fetching and laying out his weapons and supplies on the clear kitchen table.

“Alright,” Lein murmured to himself when he was done, rubbing his cold hands together.

He’d lost himself in getting his belongings ready, and had let the fire die down. The room had chilled, the smooth stone walls sucking the heat from the air, and he eyed the fire. He crossed to it and grabbed a couple of logs from the bronze log rack and dumped them among the embers. He brushed his fingers against his palms, feeling the crackle of magicka as he summoned a gentle ball of flames and set it down into the fresh logs. They began to smoulder immediately, and then bright golden flames licked up around the bark, snapping and popping as they caught.

“Handy,” Argis remarked with a  chuckle, and Lein turned to see him leaning against the wall. His heart lurched wildly at the sight of him. He had tied his hair back in a loose bun, a few strands falling around his face, and his arms were casually crossed over his chest, one leg bent with the ankle crossed over the other. It wasn’t the heat of the freshly-kindled logs that filled Lein’s face, and he was fairly certain that he didn’t imagine the slight twitch in the corner of Argis’ mouth either. The enormous man didn’t move a muscle but continued to stare at him.

“Yeah,” Lein croaked, rubbing his palms together subconsciously. “Well, what good is magic if you can’t use it to warm the place up a little, huh?”

Argis’ little smile stretched into a smirk and he huffed a laugh. “True.” He sighed and uncrossed his long legs, pushing himself upright off the wall. “What do you fancy for dinner?”

“What have we got left?”

“Well, since you asked me not to restock the cupboards with anything, not much,” he said regretfully.

Lein sighed. “We could head to the Silverblood Inn instead? My treat since I told you not to get any food…”

“Alright,” Argis smiled after a moment. “Sure, that’d be nice.”

“Give me a moment to get changed,” Lein said, eyeing the ripped trousers he was wearing and the fact that his feet were bare on the chilly stones. “I’ll be right out.”

When he emerged a while later, he’d have been lying if he’d said he hadn’t put on the nicest pair of leggings and boots he owned. The figure-hugging leggings were soft deerskin, dyed black, with a panel of deep russet brown on the thigh and calf, though the latter was hidden in his tall, soft leather boots. He was still wearing the green shirt, because he seemed to recall Lydia saying it set off his mismatching eyes nicely, and he had his hair loose for a change.

Argis was sitting beside the fire, staring into the flames as usual, when Lein entered the room. He wondered where Argis’ mind went in those quiet moments when he himself would have been reading.

He sighed, perhaps a little too loudly, and Argis caught the sound. He turned and stared for a heartbeat too long before coughing slightly. “Ready?” he asked.

“Yup,” Lein smiled, running a hand through his ghostly white hair. He could barely remember the exact colour it had been before he’d gone white. He sighed again as he twiddled the end of it through his fingers and picked up the housekeys.

“Everything alright?” the housecarl asked as he locked the door behind him.

“Hmm?”

“You seem… I don’t know… distracted?”

Lein looked up at him, craning his neck up from his five foot seven height – five foot eight if he really stood straight – to stare up at the man who was basically a foot taller than him. “Oh no,” he bluffed. “It’s nothing.” The slight flicker of a frown ghosted over Argis’ face, but it was gone when Lein added, “Nothing a pint or two won’t cure. Come on.”

Klepper showed them into a quiet corner of the inn near a fire, and they were brought plates of steaming goat curry and a sweet mead that complimented it nicely. Once the mead was all gone, Lein ordered a pint of his favourite, malty ale, and Argis polished off another few pints of the same. They talked a little of the city of Markarth itself, of the Forsworn, but Lein noticed how Argis quickly closed off if he asked him too many questions about the Forsworn, or even about his own childhood. Yet again, he wondered what had happened to him, and whether his scars and the loss of his eyesight were tied to the Forsworn.

Argis asked him about the other cities, about his travels, and, tentatively, about the time he’d spent at the College of Winterhold.

A doe-eyed serving girl sashayed over to them as the evening wore on, and she leaned close to Lein, her eyelashes fluttering. Unashamedly, she gave Lein a clear, straight shot at her breasts in her low-cut dress. “Can I get you boys some more drink?”

Lein’s eyes went first to Argis’ face, and he watched as the housecarl’s eyes flickered up the girl’s body, lingering on the curves of her hips and the lines of her small waist, before darting over to find his thane staring at him. Instead of the customary blush which Lein had grown to expect whenever this happened, Argis smirked. He actually smirked. He said nothing; he didn’t move a single other muscle, but he smirked. Argis knewthe pretty serving girl’s efforts were completely wasted on Lein, and for some reason, that suddenly made Lein nervous.

“No, thank you,” Lein said darkly. “Not for me. I’ve never been very good at holding my drink, and I’ve had too much already. Don’t let that stop you though, Argis,” he said, trying instead to smile openly at him.

“Worried you won’t make it up all those steps if you do, thane?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

Lein wasn’t sure if it was the drink making his ears woolly or whether Argis’ voice really was that gravelly. “Worried you’re going to have to carry me, more like,” he grumbled, feeling his mood darkening. The last thing he wanted to do was impose himself on an unwilling housecarl. Worse yet, Argis knew about his preferences now. Of that he was certain.

Argis laughed and shook his head at the serving girl. “Thank you, not for me either.”

She pouted and reached for Argis’ tattooed cheek. “Too bad,” she cooed flirtatiously. “I was hoping you boys would stick around. You’re a lot easier on the eyes than the rest of these ugly brutes in here.”

Argis laughed again but looked back at Lein, who felt more than a little sad around the edges now as he stared into the flames of the nearby fire. For a while he’d entertained the idea that Argis might be interested in him, or at least in men, but the way he was staring at the girl wiped that hope clean away. Of course, he might be one of those rarer individuals who liked both, or for whom it didn’t matter, but Lein just knew his luck wouldn’t stretch that far. Couldn’t. Suddenly he didn’t want to stay in the inn, in the city, a moment longer.

“Hey,” Argis’ soft voice said once the girl had left them. It also sounded suddenly a lot closer. “Hey, you ok?”

Lein looked up and did a double-take. Argis was leaning forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees, brows puckered in a frown of concern. He was looking at Lein straight on, instead of tilting his head away slightly, which meant that Lein got a perfect view of his blind eye and scars. Gods, he was so beautiful.

“Yeah,” Lein rasped, something excruciatingly painful lancing through his chest. “Yeah I’m fine. Like I said, too much to drink probably.”

“You want to head back?” he asked, still leaning forward, still frowning. His forearms looked incredible, shirt sleeves cuffed up to the elbow.

“I think I will go home,” Lein said. “But don’t let me dampen your evening.”

Argis’ frown only pinched tighter. “Dampen my evening? I don’t have plans beyond this.”

“Maybe you should,” Lein half growled, standing and striding towards the bar, ignoring the way his head spun, leaving a handful of septims on the counter and nodding at Kleppr. As he turned away, he almost ran into Endon, who greeted him warmly in his rich baritone, asking him how he was. “Fine,” he replied curtly, “Thank you. Please, excuse me.” And he stalked out of the inn and into the cold air of Markarth beyond.

He felt sick, and it wasn’t just the alcohol sloshing around his stomach. “Like you ever had a chance with him anyway,” he snarled at himself.

Water gushed down the gullies and while he wasn’t truly drunk, he was far from his steadiest. He cursed his inability to manage alcohol. How many times had Vex teased him in the Ragged Flagon about getting drunk on two measly bottles of ale? How many times had Veezara and Arnbjorn drunk him under the table in the Brotherhood Sanctuary? Even tiny Babette could handle more than him. And yet here he was, still merrily making a fool of himself in front of Argis. He shook his head as he crossed the little bridge in front of the inn, miraculously managing not to slip off and land on his arse in the freezing water, and began to make his way between the deserted market stalls.

“Thane!” Argis’ voice boomed in the quiet evening, and he heard his heavy footfalls as the huge man jogged the distance between them like he was on was an early morning run. Lein almost cursed him for his tolerance. “Thane, wait” he called again, drawing level with him as he began to climb the steep staircase that overlooked the marketplace. “Did I say something to offend you?”

Lein sighed. He sighed like the weight of all Tamriel rested on his shoulders. “No, Argis. You’ve done nothing. You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m just…” he shook his head again, regretting it as it upset his balance a little. He put a pale hand on the rock wall to steady himself. “Tired. I’m tired, Argis. And I’ve had too much to drink.”

“Alright,” Argis said, his tone clearly saying he didn’t believe a word of it.

“I’m going home, and I’m going to bed. You should stay out and have some fun. It’ll be a while before we hit another town after tomorrow.” Nine know, you won’t want any fun with me, he thought sourly. He trudged away up the stairs and hit the first landing, turning his steps up towards the next staircase which led, eventually, up to the bronze door of Vlindrel Hall. He really had to focus hard in order to keep from swaying or tripping, but he was a pretty good actor, and he just about managed it.

Argis walked beside him all the way, and when Lein stopped in the doorway and turned to him, he stopped. “Argis?” Lein asked, confused.

Argis only smiled a soft smile. “I’m actually kind of boring,” he laughed. “I don’t need to stay out late anymore.”

Lein flashed him a confused frown, but said nothing. Turning way, he fished the keys out of his pocket and fumbled it awkwardly in the lock and cursed.

“Here,” Argis said, stepping round Lein and reaching for the key while it was still in his hand. When the smooth calluses of his skin touched Lein’s, he felt a jolt deep inside him. All the blood seemed to leave his head and pool in his groin. It was all he could do to stifle a moan. It wasn’t helped by the fact that Argis steadied him with a hand on his lower back as he took the key gently and put it in the lock, pushing the door open and stepping inside. He held it open for him, an utterly unreadable expression on his face.

“Thank you,” Lein managed to mutter as he made his way up the stone slope. He headed straight to the little kitchen area and grabbed a dwemer cup. Filling it with the icy water that flowed clean from the taps, he downed it in one before filling it once more. When he turned, he saw Argis had finished locking up the hall and was just entering the living room.

“Thank you for this evening,” Argis smiled. “You need anything else? Otherwise, I’ll head to bed. What time do you want to leave tomorrow?”

Lein couldn’t find words easily, but he managed to rasp, “Um, after breakfast? And you’re welcome.”

Argis’ smile was easy and relaxed as he nodded and headed to his bedroom, but Lein couldn’t relax.

He sat up for a long time, staring into the embers of the banked fire, watching it die. He had never felt so conflicted about someone. Vipir and he had locked eyes across the murky water of the Ragged Flagon Cistern and he had just known, instantly, that the man wanted him. This? This was something else entirely. The man was in his employ, and he had no idea what to do. “Urgh,” he snarled to himself. “What a fucking falmer turd of a mess.”

He leaned forwards on his elbows and let his hair fall down around his face. He stayed like that for a long time, and only crawled into bed when midnight had long gone and passed.

He woke screaming and soaked in sweat three hours later.

Chapter Five

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[bdfanfic]

You Only LIve 18 Times #13

It was well after dark when Deej finally returned. Dar-Amon had actually made a little more progress on the screen as the male argonian had put him back in the window when he kept mewling towards it. However, he had to be careful not to alert him to what he was doing.

The two argonians greeted each other with a hug and Deej took Dar-Amon off the window and he let her pet him for awhile as the two settled into their bed for the night.

Skalen patted the bed beside him, asking his mate, “How did work go?”

“Busy. They expect to go out again tomorrow afternoon so we’ve been prepping the ship both inside and out. Some crazy argonian tried to sabotage her, and they said something about a khajiit that tried to do the same thing. Can you believe it? We had to go through every damn system making sure all the valves and controls were back in their proper place. It was a mess!”

“Oh, I heard! We had a new group of recruits in to to do ballast training and they were all talking about it. She came over with them, but they didn’t know her. The altmer seem to think she and the khajiit are working for Elsweyr.”

“I sure hope not! That would mean they know about the ship! We’re supposed to be secret. If word gets out we’ll probably all be out of a job.”

“I know.”

“Say Skalen, do you ever wonder what they’re doing when we’re out at sea? They never let the crew see anything. Just order us around.”

“Oh, I’ve wondered plenty. Those tubes they launch seem to be the main purpose. And you say the whole ship vibrates afterwards?”

“Oh yeah! Violently! I thought she was coming apart! One of the compartments completely filled with a burst bulkhead before the argonians inside managed to patch it and pump out the water. If there were any altmer in there at the time, they’d be drowned. It was a huge shake to do that, I promise you! I still think it was some sort of explosion.”

“Well, they never told us that we’d know all their secrets. Still glad we joined?”

Deej crawled on top of Skalen and they touched tongues. “As long as I can live with you here, I’m fine.”

Dar-Amon decided now might be a good time to return to his blanket-bed and he padded off across the floor, unnoticed.

“Yeah. Me too. But this may not last forever.”

“Don’t say that. You’ll jinx it.”

“I hope you’re right, but if we ever get pregnant, we should go back to the Hist anyway.”

Deej wrapped her tail around her mate’s tail tightly. “That would be awfully nice. Wanna try again?”

“Forever I want to!” Skalen smiled and she snuffed out the candle with her fingers deftly.

Dar-Amon had been watching, fascinated. The biologist in him was suddenly alert. While argonian bodies had been prodded and examined plenty, as far as he could tell, no one of any other race had ever actually seen argonians copulate - and the argonians wouldn’t talk about it.

Though the candle was out, and the room was certainly dark to any human or argonian eyes, his khajiit eyes had plenty of light from the moonbeams coming in through the window. They might as well have been kissing under direct sun to the gaze of a khajiit. And if he might have some not-quite-so-pure reasons to watch them as well, he still convinced himself he wasn’t being some common voyeur. He was doing it for science!

Two hours later, the argonians finally parted for the last time - Skalen rolling back to lie beside Deej on the bed.

“Damn, Deej. You were fantastic! Something gotten into you?”

“Just you, Skal. Just you. Maybe if you let me have a pet more often, you’d get more of this!”

“Lady, I don’t think I could take much more of you! I swear I felt you up to my chest!”

“Heh. Same!  I could feel you under my scales.  I bet one of us is pregnant this time!”

“I almost hope not. I want to do that again tomorrow night.”

“Hell with tomorrow night, I’ll wake you up in the morning!”

“I dare you!” he said and leaned over her.

The two argonians opened their mouths wide to apply their tongues to each other’s, before professing their mutual love. A few minutes passed, then Deej nudged Skalen.

“Skalen?”

“Yeah?” he replied sleepily.

“I think something’s wrong with Mekal.”

“The cat? Why?”

“Look at him. Does that look right to you?’

Skalen slid over his mate and lit the candle again.

The cat was backed up against a wall, shivering, his eyes wide and staring at the two.

“Aww. Poor thing. I think we scared him. Come ‘ere Mekal. Come on, I won’t hurt you.”

The cat’s eyes just stared at him, as if the mind behind them was completely blasted by something he’d seen.

“Silly cat,” Deej said, and stood up. The cat’s eyes kept staring at her lower body for some reason. She picked up the shivering cat. It didn’t resist, and it began to calm down after she’d talked to it softly for a while. Skalen returned to the bed, but Deej sat up with the cat long into the night, singing it argonian lullabies until finally it went to sleep between her breasts.

***********************************************

“Ropes… wake up,” Ra’Jirra whispered.

The argonian shifted a little, and Ra’Jirra had to nudge her.

“Mmm?”

“Your turn. I’m tired.”

Wears-Only-Ropes got up off the blankets that their captors had thrown in and groggily traded places with the khajiit.

“Oh!” she whispered when she’d seen the work Ra’Jirra had done. “You’ve almost got it loose!”

“Almost,” Ra’Jirra yawned. “Wake me when you’ve finished it. I’ve got to get some sleep.”

“You let me sleep longer, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. A little. If we manage to get out of here in the morning, you’re going to need energy to get away.”

“That was foolish, but I thank you anyway, Ra’Jirra.”

“Don’t mention it. Just get that damned plank loose. I’m tired of looking at it.”

The guard had come in a few times, with food and drink as well as to change out the pot, but he fortunately hadn’t been interested in looking about the place and left as soon as he’d accomplished his task. Wears-Only-Ropes tried to talk to him, but he didn’t say a word even in Jel.

“Well,” Ra’Jirra thought to herself as she fell to sleep, “At least we’ll have a way out before too long.”

She never really had much hope of the Alfiq rescuing them. In fact, she was more worried for him. He was a pretty small khajiit, after all. Maybe some kind argonian took him in. The world could be a dangerous place for a little cat like him.

[that-boy-needs-therapy]

Fortuitous that you have no soul, Khajiit Chapter 3: Dragon’s Breath and Tunnels

Fire engulfed the roof of the inn, heating the beastmen to an unbearable degree as they made their way to the other end of the building. The only way down that could be seen was a hole in the floor, blessedly free of fire that could possibly set Rajin-jo's fur alight, and the two wasted no time climbing down in an attempt to escape the encroaching flames. Even once downstairs the two could hear parts of the roof caving in with loud cracks, and ash fell down from the hole they passed through. Time was of the essence, and they couldn't stand still for too long if they wished to make it through this blazing inferno alive.

Sprinting for the door, both men heard people screaming, one voice being recognized as the imperial soldier who was calling out prisoner names earlier. Nererius grew nervous at the idea of running into a soldier at the time, but put aside his concerns long enough for he and the Khajiit to make it outside. Overhead the great dragon flew, screeching into the sky and raining fire upon the soldiers and civilians below. The sight of which the argonian would not soon forget.

“Haming, you need to get out of there!” the soldier called out to the child, tone desperate and fearful for the young boy. The child in question, young Haming, was desperately trying to help his father stand, tears in his young eyes and fear in his voice. Over the sound of chaos they could hardly hear the soldier and with Haming farther away they could not quite make out what he said. But, all too fast, the dragon made its descent. The child made one last desperate plea to his downed father, who only smiled sadly in return, before he finally turned and ran. “That's it, you're doing great.” The soldier said half-heartedly, eyes still glued to the boy's father.

Then the dragon landed, and burnt the downed father to a crisp.

“Torolf, No!” Cried the Imperial Soldier, Haming crying out a desperate 'Father!' in return. An elderly man in iron armor kept hold of the child as they all hid behind a wall, while the dragon again took off to the skies.

“Hadvar what do we do now?” The old man asked, eyes trained above them. The soldier, Hadvar, replied solemly.

“Get Haming out of here, find your way to the gate and climb over if you must, just run!”

Rajin-jo stared at the unrecognizable corpse of a man once called Torolf, heart in his throat. His mind flashed with memories of death and fire, and his own desperate voice calling out for.. for... “Rajin...” Mother, his mother.. He could not remember her face, but her voice, she.. “RAJIN!” The khajiit snapped out of his trance, turning to Nererius with wide eyes. He shook in his boots, quite spooked. The argonian took notice, and calmed himself. “Hey,” He said “We're going to get out of here, okay? Hadvar here told us he knows a way around the dragon, through the keep.”

“I... Yes, yes Khajiit understands.. Let us go then, the sooner we are away from this beast, the better.” With that agreed, the three made their way to the keep. They passed behind desolate buildings, the dragon swooping down to perch upon the wall they hid against and burning yet another man before their very eyes. Rajin-jo was becoming less level-headed, but kept as much focus as he could on the task at hand. He was sure he'd be fine once they were out of danger's path.

Quickly they ran, Hadvar taking lead and weaving them through rubble and bow-wielding soldiers. Past burnt bodies and strewn corpses. The voices were growing quieter now, with fewer survivors as either dragon or debris took their lives, or the scant few managed their escapes. Finally, with little time to spare, they found themselves outside the keep. Ralof, of course, had somehow gotten there first, and Hadvar was less than pleased to see him. Neither beastman payed their bickering any mind however, and Rajin-jo shouted above them.

“Is this really the time for arguments?! A dragon has attacked for the first time in what appears to be long enough they were considered mere myth, and you two fools choose to fight?! Let us escape together instead of committing to petty squabbles! This one is tired of the shenanigans!” And my, did that shut them up, hearing the Khajiit rage. Of course, he had a point. Their lives were in danger, and what good did it do either of them to continue letting their qualms get in the way of their survival at a time like this? Maybe it was best to just work together for the time being..

“Truce, Ralof?” Hadvar asked, holding a hand outstretched.

Ralof hesitated, but he, too, conceded. “Truce, Hadvar.”

Above them the dragon roared, jolting the quartet back into action. Hadvar ushered them into the barracks side of the Keep, stating that there would be weapons inside, and they all ran in as though death itself was biting at their heels. Given the circumstances, it quite nearly was.

“Where to go now, Khajiit wonders?” Rajin voiced, sparking to life a small orb of light in his palm. “We are within the keep, but to which way is the exit, Hadvar? This one wishes not to stay here until the dragon leaves.”

Hadvar shakes his head, pointing towards the gated entrance to the room. “We go through there, the keep comes out through a cave system, and that will take us out further down the hill towards Riverwood. It was intended to evacuate civilians in case of attack, but unfortunately we weren't prepared for a dragon.”

“When is anyone prepared for a dragon.” came Ralof's somber reply, as they heard more rumbling roars from outside.

“Khajiit says we keep moving, that thing could burst through a wall any moment.”

Nererius nods in agreement. “He's right, it burst right through the watchtower earlier, it could do the same here.”

“Damn,” Hadvar cursed, “Alright, lets keep moving then.”

The party of four made their way through, occasionally having to fight imperial and stormcloak alike, all taking one look at the group and declaring either Ralof or Hadvar traitors to their respective causes. It was an especially morose moment for the two men when they came down to the 'interrogation' room. The interrogator did not even bother to speak to them upon noticing Ralof, and the four faced off against the old sadistic man and his assistant.

While Nererius fought with a dagger, and the humans with swords and shields, Rajin-jo used magic. Simple spark spells, for simple foes, but his precision was a tad alarming.

The assistant came barreling at him with a hammer, to which Rajin-jo responded in kind with a swift kick to his midsection, barely scrambling away in time to avoid the hammer coming down upon him. He then stunned the larger man with a powerful shock to the head, and Nererius came to his aid with a stab to the man's back, clinging onto him with his powerful claws so the thrashing assistant could not knock him off. After a moment, he stopped struggling, the blood loss too much to bear, and he perished fast. Ralof and Hadvar finished off the elder Torturer at the same moment, and the four took a minute to breathe.

Ralof seemed distraught, holding his head in his hands. Hadvar, too, seemed less than happy, but he took steadying breaths and held his cool. The two beastmen did not say anything, but both knew that it had to be distressing to have to kill people they probably knew, maybe even fought alongside. For Hadvar this situation could end up especially deadly, if anything about their time in the keep got out. For Ralof it was much the same, but the likelihood of this information making it back to his superiors was much smaller by comparison, though not impossible.

One-by-one, they all finally calmed down from the fight, and began to search for supplies as they had done in other rooms. Hadvar and Ralof ignored each other for the most part, which was rather typical, but did not show any outward hostilities for the time being. Hadvar wandered closer to the cages in the room, and noticed a dead body inside. “Hey, Khajiit, come here a moment.”

“This one is called Rajin-jo, or Rajin for short. You may use his name, do not call me 'Khajiit' or 'cat'.” Spoke the Khajiit, still coming closer to see what the man wanted.

“Sorry, I won't do it again. But look here, do you think you could get it open? We might be able to use whatever the poor sod had on him.” Rajin-jo sniffed at the request, eyes narrowing in contempt.

“So, you think that since I am Khajiiti, that means that Rajin-jo can pick locks? Typical.”

Of course, Hadvar had the decency to look sheepish, but that didn't change the fact that he'd stereotyped Rajin. Nererius, witnessing what was happening, came over to try and defuse the situation. “I can pick locks.” He said, earning him a mixture of looks from the other three men in the room. “What? I was put on that cart for a reason, you know. But that's besides the point.”

With a flourish Nererius pulled out a knife that he acquired from the kitchen, and a lockpick, likely pilfered from the evidence chest in the corner of the room. “Do watch, I love to show off. At least, when I know I won't be arrested.” The argonian snarked, smirking with pride. The skill was useful for anyone in a pinch, of course, so neither of the other three men could really complain. They all gathered around to watch him work, and with little effort at all the lock was open and Nererius was inside, looting the body.

“Dagger, Mage clothes, a spell book-” Rajin-jo snatched it up with great glee, leaving Nererius to roll his eyes and rub his hand where the Khajiit's claws had caught his scales. “-Some coin, and a potion of magicka. Not much, but the coin might come in handy later. Most of this I suspect would be better suited for Rajin-jo, since he seems to be more magically adept than the rest of us.”

“Oh this one would be very pleased to take the magical items off your hands, indeed. Rajin-jo is in need of a new set of robes.”

The search continued for another full minute before they were made alert to the dragon again, the black beast's roars echoing far above. Hadvar pulled out his bow, face set in a grim line. “let's get out of here.” Said he, leading them through the hall of cells, and out the back. They all followed closely behind, keeping low and quiet. Rajin-jo listened to their surroundings, while Nererius kept a trained eye on everything.

To the group's luck, they made it through the remainder of the slowly deteriorating keep with little resistance, all the way up to the drawbridge that finished the transition from Keep, to cave. Rajin-jo watched the walls as they passed through, seeing the stonework shift from clean and dry, to wet and mossy, and finally to broken or unfinished cave wall. Sconces and torches were few and far between, with light coming from cracks above made ever greater by the ground itself shaking violently with every roar from the dragon in the sky.

They passed through a den of frostbite spiders, and by oblivion it was the least pleasant event for Rajin-jo since they made their escape into the keep. “Oh this is revolting!” He cried out, sending a burst of lightning hurtling towards the largest spider, his ears flat against his head and tail wrapped tightly around one leg in anxiety. Skyrim truly was nothing like Cyrodiil, being ever-cold and mountainous, and having giant spiders roaming about willy-nilly to boot!

In his moment of panic at the sight of foes he'd never faced before, behind him creeped another spider which he failed to notice. Rajin-jo had his attention focused forward, blasting any spiders he saw. Before he knew it, he was being pinned down, and-

“Rajin-jo!” Nererius yelled, ramming into the spider full-force and slicing it down its midsection before it had the chance to right itself. The spider let out a chittering cry as it perished, legs curling in on itself. Rajin-jo panted for a moment to catch his lost breath as he slowly stood. He turned to thank Nererius for saving him, only to catch his sour look. “You need to be more careful, fool. I figured you more careful than that.”

And oh, that just cemented it. Attractive or not, Rajin-jo was determined to make this scaled annoyance's life like oblivion itself came to life.

For the moment though, he held his tongue, and simply walked after Hadvar and Ralof, who were waiting for them at the other end of the den. They'd be out of here and towards Riverwood soon, then he'd have his fun.

[tcrmommabear]

So I got Skyrim today!!!

And I figured… Eh, why not?

First one, in the top left corner- Haru.

I made her a Nord, for no particular reason except for the fact that most people choose Nord their first time through. She’s petite, with short cut hair. Also, I know she doesn’t look too much like the original- Im horrible at this kind of stuff.

In the right corner, we have Toto! I made him Wood Elf because they start off with the ability to command animals. And yes, I know all the others can *kind of* do that, but there is no way all those crows showing up at the end of the movie was just Toto having “a couple friends” in the area. I lowkey tried to make him a bit bird-like? Don’t judge, I’m trying here.

Bottom left corner is, of course, Muta. I dunno, I felt like making him a giant Orc. Muta’s just a giant brawler, and what better race for him than an Orc? He’s got scars on his face and light brown hair. I dare you to make fun of his tiny ponytail.

Last, but not least, is Baron. I had to make him a Khajiit, as nothing else could really fit him. I didn’t even attempt to change him that much, as at that point I really just wanted to begin playing the game. But, I’d imagine Baron looking more like a house cat, instead of the bobcat-type figure he is.

But those are all the Bureau members I made!

I would have made Louise (Khajiit) and Persephone (Redguard), but I was desperate to play the game.

[theskyrimlibrary]

A Dance in Fire v3

A Dance in Fire Chapter 3

by Waughin Jarth

✲•······················▃🖋️······················•✲

Mother Pascost disappeared into the sordid hole that was her tavern, and emerged a moment later with a scrap of paper with Liodes Jurus’s familiar scrawl. Decumus Scotti held it up before a patch of sunlight that had found its way through the massive boughs of the tree city, and read.

Sckotti, So you made it to Falinnesti, Vallinwood! Congradulatens! I’m sure you had quit a adventure getting here. Unfortonitly, Im not here anymore as you probably guess. Theres a town down rivver called Athie Im at. Git a bote and join me! Its ideal! I hope you brot a lot of contracks, cause these peple need a lot of building done. They wer close to the war, you see, but not so close they dont have any mony left to pay. Ha ha. Meat me down here as son as you can. Jurus

So, Scotti pondered, Jurus had left Falinesti and gone to some place called Athie. Given his poor penmanship and ghastly spelling, it could equally well by Athy, Aphy, Othry, Imthri, Urtha, or Krakamaka. The sensible thing to do, Scotti knew, was to call this adventure over and try to find some way to get back home to the Imperial City. He was no mercenary devoted to a life of thrills: he was, or at least had been, a senior clerk at a successful private building commission. Over the last few weeks, he had been robbed by the Cathay-Raht, taken on a death march through the jungle by a gang of giggling Bosmeri, half-starved to death, drugged with fermented pig’s milk, nearly slain by some kind of giant tick, and attacked by archers. He was filthy, exhausted, and had, he counted, ten gold pieces to his name. Now the man whose proposal brought him to the depths of misery was not even there. It was both judicious and seemly to abandon the enterprise entirely.

And yet, a small but distant voice in his head told him: You have been chosen. You have no other choice but to see this through.

Scotti turned to the stout old woman, Mother Pascost, who had been watching him curiously: “I was wondering if you knew of a village that was at the edge of the recent conflict with Elsweyr. It’s calling something like Ath-ie?”

“You must mean Athay,” she grinned. “My middle lad, Viglil, he manages a dairy down there. Beautiful country, right on the river. Is that where your friend went?”

“Yes,” said Scotti. “Do you know the fastest way to get there?”

After a short conversation, an even shorter ride to Falinesti’s roots by way of the platforms, and a jog to the river bank, Scotti was negotiating transport with a huge fair-haired Bosmer with a face like a pickled carp. He called himself Captain Balfix, but even Scotti with his sheltered life could recognize him for what he was. A retired pirate for hire, a smuggler for certain, and probably much worse. His ship, which had clearly been stolen in the distant past, was a bent old Imperial sloop.

“Fifty gold and we’ll be in Athay in two days time,” boomed Captain Balfix expansively.

“I have ten, no, sorry, nine gold pieces,” replied Scotti, and feeling the need for explanation, added, “I had ten, but I gave one to the Platform Ferryman to get me down here.”

“Nine is just as fine,” said the captain agreeably. “Truth be told, I was going to Athay whether you paid me or not. Make yourself comfortable on the boat, we’ll be leaving in just a few minutes.”

Decumus Scotti boarded the vessel, which sat low in the water of the river, stacked high with crates and sacks that spilled out of the hold and galley and onto the deck. Each was marked with stamps advertising the most innocuous substances: copper scraps, lard, ink, High Rock metal (marked “For Cattle”), tar, fish jelly. Scotti’s imagination reeled picturing what sorts of illicit imports were truly aboard.

It took more than those few minutes for Captain Balfix to haul in the rest of his cargo, but in an hour, the anchor was up and they were sailing downriver towards Athay. The green gray water barely rippled, only touched by the fingers of the breeze. Lush plant life crowded the banks, obscuring from sight all the animals that sang and roared at one another. Lulled by the serene surroundings, Scotti drifted to sleep.

At night, he awoke and gratefully accepted some clean clothes and food from Captain Balfix.

“Why are you going to Athay, if I may ask?” queried the Bosmer.

“I’m meeting a former colleague there. He asked me to come down from the Imperial City where I worked for the Atrius Building Commission to negotiate some contracts,” Scotti took another bite of the dried sausages they were sharing for dinner. “We’re going to try to repair and refurbish whatever bridges, roads, and other structures that got damaged in the recent war with the Khajiiti.”

“It’s been a hard two years,” the captain nodded his head. “Though I suppose good for me and the likes of you and your friend. Trade routes cut off. Now they think there’s going to be war with the Summurset Isles, you heard that?

Scotti shook his head.

“I’ve done my share of smuggling skooma down the coast, even helping some revolutionary types escape the Mane’s wrath, but now the wars’ve made me a legitimate trader, a businessman. The first casualties of war is always the corrupted.”

Scotti said he was sorry to hear that, and they lapsed into silence, watching the stairs and moons’ reflection on the still water. The next day, Scotti awoke to find the captain wrapped up in his sail, torpid from alcohol, singing in a low, slurred voice. When he saw Scotti rise, he offered his flagon of jagga.

“I learned my lesson during revelry at western cross.”

The captain laughed, and then burst into tears, “I don’t want to be legitimate. Other pirates I used to know are still raping and stealing and smuggling and selling nice folk like you into slavery. I swear to you, I never thought the first time that I ran a real shipment of legal goods that my life would turn out like this. Oh, I know, I could go back to it, but Baan Dar knows not after all I’ve seen. I’m a ruined man.”

Scotti helped the weeping mer out of the sail, murmuring words of reassurance. Then he added, “Forgive me for changing the subject, but where are we?”

“Oh,” moaned Captain Balfix miserably. “We made good time. Athay’s right around the bend in the river.”

“Then it looks like Athay’s on fire,” said Scotti, pointing.

A great plume of smoke black as pitch was rising above the trees. As they drifted around the bend, they next saw the flames, and then the blackened skeletal remains of the village. Dying, blazing villagers leapt from rocks into the river. A cacophony of wailing met their ears, and they could see, roaming along the edges of the town, the figures of Khajiiti soldiers bearing torches.

“Baan Dar bless me!” slurred the captain. “The war’s back on!”

“Oh, no,” whimpered Scotti.

The sloop drifted with the current toward the opposite shore away from the fiery town. Scotti turned his attention there, and the sanctuary it offered. Just a peaceful arbor, away from the horror. There was a shudder of leaves in two of the trees and a dozen lithe Khajiit dropped to the ground, armed with bows.

“They see us,” hissed Scotti. “And they’ve got bows!”

“Well, of course they have bows,” snarled Captain Balfix. “We Bosmer may have invented the bloody things, but we didn’t think to keep them secret, you bloody bureaucrat.”

“Now, they’re setting their arrows on fire!”

“Yes, they do that sometimes.”

“Captain, they’re shooting at us! They’re shooting at us with flaming arrows!”

“Ah, so they are,” the captain agreed. “The aim here is to avoid being hit.”

But hit they were, and very shortly thereafter. Even worse, the second volley of arrows hit the supply of pitch, which ignited in a tremendous blue blaze. Scotti grabbed Captain Balfix and they leapt overboard just before the ship and all its cargo disintegrated. The shock of the cold water brought the Bosmer into temporary sobriety. He called to Scotti, who was already swimming as fast as he could toward the bend.

“Master Decumus, where do you think you’re swimming to?”

“Back to Falinesti!” cried Scotti.

“It will take you days, and by the time you get there, everyone will know all about the attack on Athay! They’ll never let anyone they don’t know in! The closest village downriver is Grenos, maybe they’ll give us shelter!”

Scotti swam back to the captain and side-by-side they began paddling in the middle of the river, past the burning residuum of the village. He thanked Mara that he had learned to swim. Many a Cyrodiil did not, as largely land-locked as the Imperial Province was. Had he been raised in Mir Corrup or Artemon, he might have been doomed, but the Imperial City itself was encircled by water, and every lad and lass there knew how to cross without a boat. Even those who grew up to be clerks and not adventurers.

Captain Balfix’s sobriety faded as he grew used to the water’s temperature. Even in wintertide, the Xylo River was fairly temperate and after a fashion, even comfortable. The Bosmer’s strokes were uneven, and he’d stray closer to Scotti and then further away, pushing ahead and then falling behind.

Scotti looked to the shore to his right: the flames had caught the trees like tinder. Behind them was an inferno, with which they were barely keeping pace. To the shore on their left, all looked fair, until he saw a tremble in the river-reeds, and then what caused it. A pride of the largest cats he had ever seen. They were auburn-haired, green-eyed beasts with jaws and teeth to match his wildest nightmares. And they were watching the two swimmers, and keeping pace.

“Captain Balfix, we can’t go to either that shore or the other one, or we’ll be parboiled or eaten,” Scotti whispered. “Try to even your kicking and your strokes. Breath like you would normally. If you’re feeling tired, tell me, and we’ll float on our backs for a while.”

Anyone who has had the experience of giving rational advice to a drunkard would understand the hopelessness. Scotti kept pace with the captain, slowing himself, quickening, drifting left and right, while the Bosmer moaned old ditties from his pirate days. When he wasn’t watching his companion, he watched the cats on the shore. After a stretch, he turned to his right. Another village had caught fire. Undoubtedly, it was Grenos. Scotti stared at the blazing fury, awed by the sight of the destruction, and did not hear that the captain had ceased to sing.

When he turned back, Captain Balfix was gone.

Scotti dove into the murky depths of the river over and over again. There was nothing to be done. When he surfaced after his final search, he saw that the giant cats had moved on, perhaps assuming that he too had drowned. He continued his lonely swim downriver. A tributary, he noted, had formed a final barrier, keeping the flames from spreading further. But there were no more towns. After several hours, he began to ponder the wisdom of going ashore. Which shore was the question.

He was spared the decision. Ahead of him was a rocky island with a bonfire. He did not know if he were intruding on a party of Bosmeri or Khajiiti, only that he could swim no more. With straining, aching muscles, he pulled himself onto the rocks.

They were Bosmer refugees he gathered, even before they told him. Roasting over the fire was the remains of one of the giant cats that had been stalking him through the jungle on the opposite shore.

“Senche-Tiger,” said one of the young warriors ravenously. “It’s no animal - it’s as smart as any Cathay-Raht or Ohmes or any other bleeding Khajiiti. Pity this one drowned. I would have gladly killed it. You’ll like the meat, though. Sweet, from all the sugar these asses eat.”

Scotti did not know if he was capable of eating a creature as intelligent as a man or mer, but he surprised himself, as he had done several times over the last days. It was rich, succulent, and sweet, like sugared pork, but no seasonings had been added. He surveyed the crowd as he ate. A sad lot, some still weeping for lost family members. They were the survivors of both the villages of Grenos and Athay, and war was on every person’s lips. Why had the Khajiiti attacked again? Why - - specifically directed at Scotti, as a Cyrodiil - - why was the Emperor not enforcing peace in his provinces?

“I was to meet another Cyrodiil,” he said to a Bosmer maiden who he understood to be from Athay. “His name was Liodes Jurus. I don’t suppose you know what might have happened to him.”

“I don’t know your friend, but there were many Cyrodiils in Athay when the fire came,” said the girl. “Some of them, I think, left quickly. They were going to Vindisi, inland, in the jungle. I am going there tomorrow, so are many of us. If you wish, you may come as well.”

Decumus Scotti nodded solemnly. He made himself as comfortable as he could in the stony ground of the river island, and somehow, after much effort, he fell asleep. But he did not sleep well.

✲•······················▃🖋️······················•✲

[leopardfang15]

Sarashi Dovahkiin Bio

Alrighty... Sarashi’s bio. Honestly, if anyone except @zilverdex and @softlytea look at this I will be impressed.

Alright so my Khajiit Dragonborn Sarashi was my first Dragonborn ever. Fun fact I accidentally skipped the naming step so she was named Prisoner for my first ever play through of Skyrim. But since I’ve wanted to write a Skyrim story I’ve needed to flesh this character out more and give her a general bio so... here we go. I’ll post her backstory somewhere else to keep the post from being too long.

I’m just going to do little bullet points of random information.

Sarashi is pro Aldmeri Dominion. Does she agree with every single thing they do? No. But does she at least understand why they do it? Yes.

She is a sneaky archer who, contrary to the stereotype, has never stolen from an innocent person or pickpocketed anyone.

Grew up with four siblings. Three older and one younger.

Hates Skooma and everything to do with it as it destroyed half her family. It’s also the reason why she had to leave Elsweyr.

She loves History and reading history books but otherwise she is very easily bored with other academic writing. She learns best by doing. Ex: she learned Frostbite Spiders are venomous by getting bitten by one.

She is very high maintenance when it comes to personal hygiene. When on a job she’ll just wash off to get rid of blood and rotting Draugr guts but when she actually bathes it is a process. Redoing her dreads, splitting them, special oil for her dreads, shampoo for all of her fur and then brushing her entire body. It takes a while.

She’s scared of snakes. One of the things about Skyrim that is better than Elsweyr is their lack of snakes.

Sarashi’s fur floofs up when she’s angry. And when she’s scared. Also, when she’s flustered.

She hates electric destruction magic. The electricity makes her fur frizz out and gods forbid you purposefully zap her. She looks like a pinecone. A very angry pinecone.

She loves dogs. Most Khajiit don’t (and the feeling is mutual) but she adores them. She pets every dog she sees and anyone that doesn’t have a home she tries to adopt them.

The magic she studies the most is Conjuration and Enchanting. She’s just average with destruction and she sucks at everything else.

She’s also pretty bad at alchemy, especially with healing potions.

She is very polite, even when threatening you. She can even turn a compliment into a threat. “You have such pretty eyes. It makes me want to... pluck them out and wear them as earrings.”

If they had laser pointers in Skyrim, she would totally fall for that trick. Use a Septim to shine a light on the ground and she’ll try to catch it, or at least follow it with her eyes very intently.

She likes barrels. Not because of what you can find in them. She likes to hide in them. She’s like a modern day cat with a box.

She always says please and thank you and expects others to do the same. She’s turned down jobs because the person offering was rude to her. But, if you remember the manners your mother should have taught you, you’ll be fine.

As opposed to gold, she prefers silver. She also really likes sapphires.

Some people address her as mother in a teasing and sometimes mocking way because of her manner obsession. She kind of likes it. If she hears it she’ll point out other issues like a mother. “No elbows on the table.” Or “stand up straight.”

She likes chin scratches, but would rather die than admit it. (Last cat stereotype, I swear)

Sarashi loves to dance. She can’t sing or play an instrument but give her a beat and she’s off.

The Dominion soldier who saved Sarashi from the soldier of the Empire ended up being Sarashi’s first crush. Her siblings teased her about If forever and still do.

In the College, her friends would probably be Faralda and Brelyna.

Nirya‘s comment about Ancano made her very uncomfortable. Though she will admit his hair is amazing, though never to him.

She named her familiar (from the Summon Familiar spell) Ancano to spite him. He thinks of dogs as uncivilized beasts who know nothing about personal boundaries or privacy. It should be pretty obvious where Sarashi made the connection. (I do plan on keeping Ancano alive. My first DB and my first Skyrim crush shall have many adventures almost dying and almost killing each other.)

SPECIFIC CHOICES MADE IN GAME

Fled Helgen with Hadvar. Though she’s not the Empire’s biggest fan, between them and the Stormcloaks, she’d choose the Empire.

Does not join either side. She has bigger things to worry about. Like the end of the world.

Chooses to destroy the Dark Brotherhood.

Won’t kill Paarthurnax but would gladly hand over Delphine to the Thalmor.

During Season Unending, she lets Elenwen stay. Alduin threatens the whole world, including the Summerset Isles. Regardless of her opinion on the Thalmor leader (which I myself am still unsure of) she feels that as a leader and representative of her own country, Elenwen has the right to stay.

She refuses to let this be a land dispute about the Holds and eventually just snaps at both Ulfric and Tullius. It’s one of the few times she is very publicly rude. (THE WORLD IS ENDING!! THE WAR WONT MATTER IF THE WORLD CEASES TO EXIST! I am just barely holding it together and it would be wonderful if you two could actually help instead of bickering like cubs!) She basically tells them to just deal with it and let her use Whiterun to capture a dragon.

She sides with the Dawnguard.

She kills Namira’s cultists.

Gives Azura’s Star back to Azura.

Kills the werewolf in Hircine’s quest.

Kills the Forsworn king.

Refuses to kill Barbas during the quest for Clavicus Vile.

That’s it for now I guess. Wow this was long. If anyone wants to send me questions about this or...I don’t know...whatever. Let me know.

[bdfanfic]

From Elsweyr With Love #6

“I don’t know,” said the grate.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You were supposed to follow her!”

“Dammit, I’m not one of your agents. I have a very specific skill. It’s my specialty and I’m good at it. But I’m not a spook. I’m not good at trailing people all over the damn city! And while we’re at it, we need to talk about my pay. My typical job is a quick hit and gone. This is taking a lot of my time.”

“Oh no,” La’Dasha thought. “I’m losing him.”

“How much do you need?”

“Depends. How long does this need to go on?”

“You know the plan. Once they’ve met it should be over quickly.”

“I want my normal pay, multiplied by the number of days this takes.”

La’Dasha made a quick calculation.

“I’ll have to go back to my employer. I don’t have that kind of money.”

“You do that.”

“But you think she got the device last night?”

“I think so. I didn’t see her come back last night, but she’s in her room.”

“I know that. Do you know where he is?”

“Yes. I trailed him last night to a small hotel. He’s there.”

“Stay on him. I’ll watch her.”

“Will do.”

“And Failian? I know this isn’t what you do. I’ll make sure it’s worth your while, okay?”

“Hmm. Next time, get a spook to do your legwork. Or do it yourself.”

**************************

The day was overcast. She had begun to wonder if it ever rained here. But even if the clouds didn’t produce, at least they would block the damn sun. She took a taxi to the restaurant they’d first visited and ordered breakfast. Sarosh showed up a few minutes later and ordered the same. The restaurant wasn’t completely empty, but there were few enough that no one was within earshot.

“And?” he asked over his dark chocolate.

She smiled. “Everything checks out.”

The Redguard’s face relaxed. “Told you so. I’m going to meet her today in person. There’s a caravan leaving for Cyrodil tomorrow morning, just west of town.”

“That should be perfect. Khajiits?”

“Mostly, but there’s plenty of other races too. Everyone prefers to travel in a group across the border. Raids aren’t common, but they still happen sometimes.”

She nodded. The ancient tradition of trading by caravan had still not completely died out for the khajiits, but it was fading. However, traveling in large groups still had obvious advantages. It wasn’t the fastest mode of travel, but it was the safest.

“One thing. Before we go, do you mind going back to that alley with me? I’d like to have one more look around.”

“Sure,” Sarosh said, downing the last of his morning drink. “Lead on.”

They got to the alley where the fight had been. It was deserted now of course. She saw the bloodstains at the back of the alley, pretty much just as she’d expected. Then she looked up towards the building on the left. Three stories. A pretty far distance.

“Hold these,” she said to Sarosh and took off her shoes and handed him her gun from where she’d kept it concealed, strapped around her thigh under her skirt. Her outfit wasn’t really made for climbing, but it would have to do. She hiked the skirt up over her hips and began to climb.

“Nice,” came the expected response. “But pink?”

“Shut it, soldier. You’re lucky I’m not going commando.”

“Am I?” Sarosh said.

She scaled the wall with ease, then stepped over the ridge at the top.

The roof was nearly flat - only a slight angle allowed the water to run off to the edge where it drained out. Pretty standard. It wasn’t yet too hot and the tar wasn’t sticky yet. She looked around and over the edge until she felt she was fairly sure she stood near where the gunman must have been. Then she looked around. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was looking for. The footprints in the tar could have been from anyone, but they didn’t look very old. The tread was deep. New shoes. Probably human, though that was hard to be sure of.

And then something caught her eye. A small bit of metal shining a few feet to one side. She dropped to look at it before picking it up.

It looked like dwemer metal. Just a small cylinder, empty. She recognized what it must be instantly though. She pocketed it and climbed back down the wall.

She handed it to Sarosh.

“Dwemer metal for sure, but reworked,” he said definitively. “I used to do metalwork. This is impressively done though.:

“Do you know what it is?” Ra’Jirra asked as she put her shoes back on.

“Not a clue. Hollow. Looks like it used to hold something.”

“It did. It’s a shell casing for a bullet.”

“So it was a gun.”

“I don’t think there was ever any doubt of that,” Ra’Jirra said as they walked out of the alley. “But it’s not an Elsweyr design. We use steel.”

“Everyone does. Dwemer metal is getting hard as hell to find anymore.”

“It’s a sure bet Hammerfell wouldn’t use it. But everyone?”

“No! Not everyone. The Dominion.”

She nodded. “I think so.”

“What the hell does the Dominion have to do with this?”

“I don’t know, but…”

Suddenly something hit her in the jaw. Hard. Very, very hard. She went down, stunned.

Vaguely she was aware of shouting and a struggle, but everything was blurry. She tried to clear her head, but it was slow.

She saw a shape in front of her. It resolved into a face. One she recognized.

“Detective Royan,” she said, on the ground and still trying to shake it off.

“Ra’Jirra,” he said with spite. “How’s that jaw feel?”

It was more her cheek, but she wasn’t going to argue. She glanced to where Sarosh was laying on the pavement. She looked up and down the street. No one was around. The detective pulled her back into the alley, out of sight.

“You cost me my job, bitch. Killed my partner and got me fired. Feeling proud of yourself?”

“Listen, you gotta know I didn’t....”

He kicked her in the thigh. She let out a scream. No one answered, but the man looked around. He wasn’t sure. But then he pulled a blade out of his pocket.

“No one’s gonna help you now, cat. Looks like it’s just you, me, and my little cat skinner.”

The smile on his face scared her. But she still couldn’t get her body to work properly. She was helpless.

“I want to hurt you first, cat, but I haven’t the time.”

“I didn’t kill him, dammit!”

“Sure you did, cat. I was there. Remember?” he said and knelt on her chest. She tried beating at him, tearing at him with her claws, but it had no effect. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her throat.

It wasn’t the first time in her life she was scared to death. But it never got any easier. She struggled with all the energy she had, but he was too heavy and too strong. She spat at him, but he didn’t even stop to wipe it off. She saw the blade approach and she screamed as loud as she could. It didn’t even slow.

For the second time in as many days, a sound like thunder exploded in her ears. Unlike the last time though, she felt the hot blood cover her as the body thumped atop her, the knife clattering away.

She pushed him off with her hands, though they felt like clubs, but she was breathing hard and it wasn’t just due to the effort. She had expected to die, and she was literally shivering with fear. Her eyes were wild as she looked around. She saw Sarosh, struggling to stand, her gun in his hand.

“Come on, Raj. We’ve got to move!”

He got to his feet and managed to help her up. Her body was beginning to work again, but she was still trembling. She looked at Sarosh and then back to the body of Royan, then down at herself. She was a red mess.

They looked up and down the street. There were some people looking around a few blocks away, but no one nearby. Saroush helped Ra’Jirra take off her shirt and skirt, then put his own shirt around her. She fumbled at the buttons but couldn’t get her fingers to work right. Sarosh helped her button it up, then wrapped her old clothes inside-out so the blood wouldn’t show and they walked as calmly as they could back towards his hotel. Just a shirtless man and a khajiit in pink panties.

There was no one at the desk, so they went back to his room.

“S..same room?” Ra’Jirra asked.

He nodded. “Lay down Raj. You’ve had a tough morning.”

She did as he suggested, and he lay down beside her.

“N… no f..funny business,” she managed.

“No Raj. No funny business.”

She looked at his eyes. They were normal eyes. Not dark, not handsome. His face wasn’t chiselled and his hair wasn’t shoulder length. He didn’t even have any fur, unless you counted that fuzz on his chest. But right now, he struck her as the most handsome man she had ever seen. She kissed him, but he pulled away.

“Stow it, soldier,” he said.

“Sorry. I’m… a little overcome.”

“Yes, you are. Just relax, okay?”

“Thank you, Sarosh.”

“You’d have done the same for me, I’m sure.”

“The Inspector’s going to be pissed.”

“Yeah. Probably,” he said, but he put his arm around her neck and pulled her to him. His chest was hairy and he was still sweating from the fight. And yet, she did feel better.

“Ra’Jirra, I can’t stay in the city any longer. Once you’re better, I’ve got to go.”

She nodded. She had at least some immunity here as an unofficial representative of Elsweyr. He was a nobody. And now he was a murderer. Of an ex-secret police member. He did have to leave.

“The caravan?” she asked.

“Yes. I’ll meet you there. I’ll get the message to Romanov before I leave.”

Suddenly she relaxed, as if something in her head had finally relented from being tensed up for too long. Her eyes drooped and she stared blankly at his chest.

“Goodnight, Ra’Jirra. Sleep for a bit,” he said, and she did just that, feeling his chest rise and fall against her cheek. She felt… safe.