Conversation
ESO Fighter's Guild: we took on a big contract to destroy Dark Anchors wherever they appear in Tamriel!
Oblivion Fighter's Guild: oh no we're losing jobs and members to the Blackwood Company, whatever shall we do?
Oblivion Gates: *literally right there*
#eso#oblivion#fighter's guild#i can't believe that it never occured to a single count or countess to hire the fighter's guild to deal with the gates#they just have some guards sit and watch them but otherwise do nothing?#like. once the hok has established the method of dealing with the gates then surely someone would be like#'hey maybe the fighter's guild could help combat the crisis by closing some of the gates?'#but apparently not#it's up to this one random and the bruma guard apparently#oblivion's guild does have one thing over eso's though#they have modryn oeryn#sure their guildmaster is pretty useless but eso's was a murdering meridia worshipper#and that's not even starting on the molag bal worshipper who's just vibing along. definitely up to nothing.#definitely never gave herself away by yelling 'by the mace'. a thing that only molag bal worshippers say.
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Despite Ruin’s misgivings, I managed to convince him to chill in a room at the Merchant’s Inn, while I saw to business that night. Ruin: “Stay out of trouble, this time.” Trials: “No promises!” Ruin: “...” He shook his head. “Then try to keep the body-count to a minimum. Or at least, don’t join the body-count.”
Once I had Nanny-Ruin off of my back, it was late enough that I could make for the Garden of Daeraloth to meet up with Armand Christophe. Surely, by now, I’d moved enough hot merch to get in the guild’s good-books. Armand: “I’m glad you stopped by. I have a... situation that you might be able to help with.” Trials: “If it’s about an alchemy accidnet; it’s the same advise they give for eating beans; snuff out your torch and crack a window.” Armand: “...” He eyed his torch briefly, before shaking his head. “No, this is about Hieronymus Lex. He actually collected taxes from everyone living here in the Waterfront!” Trials: I snorted at him with disgust. “Did he also call us all freeloaders while he did it?” Armand: “Yeah, and he talked about Bootstraps, too. Anyway, we need you to recover the money he stole from the poor.” Trials: “I’m totally on board, but may I ask why we’re doing this? I thought thieves were all in it for themselves.” Armand: “It has been tradition for a long time that the city not collect taxes from the poor of the Waterfront. It wouldn’t be worth the effort, and it would draw the ire of the Gray Fox, who has promised his protection to those of the Waterfront. Lex has broken that tradition, and thus tripped the Fox’s protection. We are thieves, but we are true to our word. So we ask you to do this task, as it will show the Elite who really runs this city. It’s a matter of pride.” Trials: “Huh.” I clicked my tongue, pensively. “Never had much pride. Never had much use for it. But I can understand wanting to help people. I’m in!” Armand: “Good. Find out where he’s keeping the taxes, and bring them to me. I’ll also need the tax records of what each citizen paid so we can return it.”
I had my job, and good ol’ Puny Ancus was sleeping on a bedroll near the Garden. It was a quick matter to hit him up for info, and after gracing his hands with a little gold, he pointed me in the right direction. The ‘South Watchtower’ in the Temple District.
Oh boy! Breaking into a guards’ tower seems like a really, really bad idea for a thief. But it’s the job the Fox has charged me with, and besides that, it’s to help people in need. So, in I go!
...yup, this really was a bad idea. And apparently these guys never sleep. Thankfully, I was born under the stars of the Shadow, and in my surprise, my Birthsign’s power kicked in, and rendered me invisible. The guard was confused. Understandably so. I’m sure he thought he’d seen a dorky Argonian just a moment ago, but now there was nothing there. He stomped around a bit, searching for me, but I was able to slip passed him and head further up into the tower.
At the top of the Watchtower, I found Hieronymus Lex’s private quarters. The man himself was asleep in the bed nearby. I thought briefly to dunk on him by picking his pocket, but thought better of it. I had a job to do, and robbing his desk right under his nose was probably just as good of a dab as picking his pocket while he slept. It only took a little jiggle of the locks to crack open Lex’s desk, and after that, I was plundering the pittance he’d collected in taxes, as well as the records. It’s actually pretty sad; I think the largest sum was from someone named “Ormil”, who got shaken down for a mere seven coins. And someone named “Hillod” apparently got roughed up for being broke! Because, apparently, having no money is a crime is this Hist-forsaken city! Huh. Someone named “Myvryna Arano” was listed as ‘exempted’. I wonder what that’s all about? But I had what I needed, and quickly I slipped back out the way I came in, rushing my way over toward the Waterfront and the Garden of Daeraloth to report my success to Armand. Armand: “Have you recovered those taxes?” Trials: “Sure did!” I handed over the records and the bag of gold. Armand: “Ah! The Gray Fox will be very pleased. We will make sure this gets back to the people!” Trials: I hold up a fist and beat my chest. “Yeah, power to the people!” Armand: “Can you believe that fool, Lex, even bothered to collect this paltry sum? You can keep it. I merely wanted the Watch to know they went too far.” Trials: “And your way is a much more effective strategy than my plan; making snarky comments behind their backs about how they’re all fat and lazy.” For my efforts, Armand promoted me to “Footpad”... kind of a crap title, especially considering how many bandits and highway men have threatened to ‘turn me into a pair of boots’. Well, I’ll just need to hurry up and get promoted out of it. Armand: “Good, glad you’re eager to move up the ranks. We have another job for you. The guild has received a ‘request’ to obtain a unique statuette. It is a bust of Llathasa Indarys, the recently slain Countess of Cheydinhal.” Trials: “...’Luh-Lah-Thah-Sah’? You mean the extra ‘L’ isn’t silent?” Armand: “No, and neither was she. Why do you think someone wanted her dead? “Anyway, we need you to go to Cheydinhal and pinch it. You’ll be paid a modest fee for your efforts. Now get to it!” Well, now I know where I’m headed after Bravil. But for now, I reasoned it was worth it to, first, get some rest. Then, the following morning, I went about to see if there was anything else to do in the Imperial City. I still had some hot merch to move, but with Bruma, ironically, too hot to travel to, I needed an alternative to Ongar.
Huh. A shop in a back alley, next to a Bathhouse? Looks like the kind of place that might move merch without asking too many uncomfortable questions. Worth a shot, I think. In, I went, and I met the proprietor, Derrien Venoit. Carefully, I broached the subject of moving some of my ‘wares’. Of course, I normally wouldn’t dare show hot-stuff to any usual merchant. Even I’m not that silly! But he had that kind of face that told me he was cool, so I offered him one of my specialty items.
Derrien: “Now, ain’t it funny? A little bird just told me that some of this stuff here was stolen, and now you stroll right into my shop and sell it to me.” Trials: I sweated. “IDidn’tDoEet!" Derrien: “It’s cool, my scaly lass. In fact, I’d certainly have no qualms about buying other things you’ve ‘acquired’. Quite on the contrary. I might even have some tips for you about where to find worthwhile loot.” Trials: I furrowed my brow at him. “...whoa, we talkin’ some kind of deal, here? Because I might be inter--are you a guard!?“ I got in his face, and jabbed a finger into his chest. “Because you gotta tell me if you are! That’s the rules.” Derrien: He reeled back, but smiled, and brushed my hand off of his chest. “Oh, I’m no guard, believe me. I’m on the level, babe. “Here’s the deal; you pay me for information. I tell you about a hot score. You pinch the item, and sell it to me. You get what you can haggle for it, plus a modest Finder’s Fee. Then I turn around and sell the item to an interested buyer for a profit. We both win, wouldn’t you say?” Trials: I considered the offer for a moment, scratching my chin, before laying gold on the table. “I’m in. Whatcha got for me?” I know I promised Ruin I’d stay outta trouble, but this is just too good of an opportunity to pass up. He laid out the first gig for me; Talos Plaza resident Ulen Athram bought a big, gaudy ring for his wife. It’s a bit too heavy and cumbersome to wear all of the time, so the pair keep it in their house. Derrien’s buyer wants that ring... because apparently they just like trashy baubles that are more showy than practical. Whatever. It’s none of my business. I just need to pinch the item and get it back to Derrien for sale. Who knew that taking a risk on selling so stolen props to some random bloke would pay off with more work? The job in question was pretty quick and easy. I arrived just in time to see the man of the house, Ulen, leave the home. Even though it was broad daylight, no one was looking my way save for a few beggars, and I already knew the beggars were cool, so I broke in. The lady of the house was still in, but she hadn’t noticed me. I moved like a shadow, and was upstairs in short order. Searching room after room, I found a locked jewelry case... with an especially complex lock. Curses! Even with the new picks I bought from Shady Sam, this lock was, perhaps, beyond me.
But I wasn’t going to be stone-walled. Not by some stupid lock. So I tried, and tried, and tried, continuing to rattle those tumblers. Jiggling my pick around in the lock, I got a feel for it, little by little learning a thing or two about how the locks were structured, what it felt like when you hit them in juuuuuust the right spots... asking the locks out for coffee and Sweet Rolls this Friday, that sort of thing. Finally...! [Critical Success!] I’ll be the first to admit, I got lucky. I slipped that pick in exactly the right spot, bumped the tumblers in just the right way, guessed the right kind of coffee the lock liked best, and it all just clicked, and the jewelry box popped open for me. Within, I found the ring... by the Nine was it a big’un. It weight a whole pound! I think you could melt it down and get a whole brick of gold out of it. I swiped it and stole out of the building quickly. Though after buying my hot goods earlier, Derrien didn’t have the gold to pay for the ring, so he told me he’d hit up the bank tonight and pay me tomorrow, and to just sit on it for now.
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