#oc: daro'zirr

[ansu-gurleht]

hm actually. i could steal daro'zirr and make them the child of a veteran of the elsweyri war (i don't have a better name for that war atm). they were kind of a fun character i wouldn't mind using them again for this

[vosh-rakh]

note: this is technically the last chapter of “a window, open and closed.” i don’t know which chapter that is, though. just the last one. but i’m uh. i just wrote it so i’m kind of really feeling it and as a result i don’t have the sense to like, post it after the rest of awoac. so...here.

- - - - -

They had not spoken in years until Uuloril and daro’Zirr invited Hla-eix to a reunion of sorts. She was reluctant, but knew she had to go. They were her friends. She had saved the world with them.

She did not know it was because Daabush was dying. If she had, she would not have come.

Uuloril was the one who told her when she arrived at the estate. Daro’Zirr was pacing in front of the door, their tail twitching anxiously. Uuloril did not look much older than he had when Hla-eix had met him, his altmer blood sure to last him another century or two before he shows significant signs of aging. The only sign he was any older than he was that day in 4e201 was that the youthful innocence he’d had then had been drained from his face by the decades since. 

Daro’Zirr, on the other hand … their once bright red fur was paled with grey, their mane long but with half the hair length from the root stark white. Despite all the energy the khajiit had been known for, they seemed subdued, tired. Their pacing was accompanied by a limp suggesting poor hips, their eyes were dark and sullen, and their anxious claws shivered with frailty.

“...said maybe a few more days with this treatment, but that was a few days ago, so...Are you okay?”

Hla-eix was focusing on daro’Zirr’s condition too much that she forgot Uuloril was talking. “What?”

“You just seemed...you know, distracted, or -”

“Of course I’m not okay!” She grabs him by the collar as she realizes what he had asked, her voice quickly raising to a scream. “Are you? You would be. So goddamn detached and self-concerned. Just another fucking inconvenience, huh? Never mattered to you. You never gave a shit about him! You -”

She stops. He’s crying, tears shattering on his cheeks, smiling so sadly. “I loved him, too,” he says.

She lets go. Daro’Zirr steps in between the two of them. “What the hell is wrong with you?” they whisper harshly. “‘Detached and self-concerned?’ You’re the one who ran away. Daro’Zirr and Uuloril stayed with him. We stayed together. But you ran away!”

Hla-eix stares blankly. It’s worse up close. She can see the wrinkles under the fur, deep as canyons. And their voice is strained like a frayed rope. Not long now until -

“Of course,” they say, shaking their head and stepping back. “Not even listening to daro’Zirr. Fuck off.”

“He, uh,” started Uuloril, wiping the wetness from his eyes and under his nose, “wanted to see you. He asked for you.”

“Of course he did,” Hla-eix said, but the malice she tried to lace the words with just felt like lead on her tongue. She walked towards the door, but her attempt to push past Uuloril was so feeble he just stepped aside himself. She put her hand on the door handle. She could not turn it.

So she just stood there for a long moment. She tried to break free, and the only way she was able to was to breathe the words, “I can’t.”

Uuloril was right beside her. He put his hand over hers and slowly turned the knob for her.

He was lying in bed. A healer sat in a chair next to him. Hla-eix only looked at her.

“Scales,” he croaked. “You made it.” 

He was hit with a coughing fit. The healer’s hands reached over to his throat, glowing with golden restoration magic, and Hla-eix’s eyes couldn’t help but follow them to his face. 

She immediately covered her eyes with her hand, to avoid seeing him, and tried to play it off as rubbing her face. It probably looked more like wiping away tears. Once the coughing fit subsided, she looked again, this time at Uuloril, who sat on the other side of the bed from the healer, Daa’s weathered hand in his. Daro’Zirr leaned against the wall, their arms crossed, keeping a weary eye on Hla-eix.

“Hey,” Hla-eix says, her glance shooting between Uuloril, daro’Zirr, and the healer, trying not to look at Daabush. “Long time no see, I guess.” 

Uuloril looks to the healer. She nods solemnly. He looks down at his and Daa’s entwined hands, teardrops staining their skins. He nods back weakly. Hla-eix decides to look at the ceiling instead.

“Could you...leave us alone for a minute?” Uuloril asks. The healer nods gently and leaves the room.

“Come,” Daabush says, his voice so hoarse. (Hla-eix can look away, but she wishes she could listen away too.) “Sit by me. Please.” He waves towards the healer’s seat, now vacated.

She does, keeping her eyes as far from his shriveled body as she can. 

“I’m glad you came,” he says. His eyes are burning a hole into her head, and she tries, she tries so hard to ignore it, to resist. But she can’t help but finally look at him.

He’s so pale, like his wrinkled skin is so thin that she can see right through to the bone. His eyes are set so deep in his head, but their fire hasn’t ever gone out. His hair, once long and ebony-black, is patchy and ash-grey. His once massive muscles cling weakly to his skeleton. He reaches up towards her with a shaky hand. She hesitates before accepting it; its shriveled boniness fits cold and awkward in hers. He squeezes, but the reminder the gesture gives of the comfort these hands once gave her just makes it worse.

She can’t bring herself to look at his face too long, so she looks at their hands again. “What … Is it … How bad is it?”

Daabush swallows thickly and closes his eyes. “Any time now,” he says. “Potions stopped working a week ago. Spells stopped working yesterday.”

“Why did you bring me here? I told you. I didn’t want …”

“I wanted to see you. I missed you. We missed you. Even daro’Zirr.” He coughs again, but manages to force it down himself. “And I know you missed us.”

“No.” But the word wouldn’t have convinced even the healer outside. “I didn’t. You … I told you. You shouldn’t have … I could have stopped this. I told you I could. But -”

“But I don’t want that,” he says, opening his eyes again. “Just like Gus didn’t want it. I’m not afraid.”

“Bullshit.” She looks him in the eye. “Of course you are. Everyone’s afraid of dying.”

“But everybody dies.”

“You didn’t have to!” She lets go of his hand and looks away. “You could have stayed young and done so much more with your life. You could have - we could have done so much together.”

“I’m content with what I did with my life. It was enough.”

“No, it’s not. You could have done more. You could have done it with me.”

Daabush doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes half-focused on Hla-eix, the other half on something beyond. A memory? Or something else?

Then he swallows, and says, “You don’t look a day older than when I met you.”

“Of course I don’t. The Serpent keeps me. It could have kept you.”

“You haven’t aged,” he continues. “And you haven’t changed.”

Her eyes snap back onto his. “What?”

“You haven’t changed. Always so … afraid. Running away from everything. Pushing people away when they get too close. Afraid of change. Afraid of losing things, so you throw them away before you can lose them.”

The dam she was bracing her entire being against this whole time breaks. She keeps staring at him for as long as she can until the world becomes too murky, and his face is a vague blotch of light. Then she collapses on top of him, her body a thousand earthquakes, and her face a million tsunamis. 

“I’m sorry … just … please don’t go. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave.” 

“It’s not your choice to make. It’s mine.” He places his cold gentle hand on the back of her head. “But I’m sorry.”

It is not the glorious death in battle that many orcs dream of and pray for. There is no great triumph, no heroic sacrifice. There is Uuloril, holding Daabush’s hand so tight, his golden face awash with tears and snot; there is daro’Zirr, kneeling beside him, their face in their claws; there is Hla-eix, body shaking, screaming into his chest. There is a family, damaged by time, but a family, together, nonetheless.

It is not the honorable death expected of a savior of the world. But it is a good death.

[ansu-gurleht]

i like how my dragonborns turn out size-wise. like daro’zirr is a pahmar-raht, so like 8 feet tall, hjaalgus is like half-atmoran, so about 7 feet tall, then you got hla-eix and daabush who are a little under average height (about 5′8 and 5′10 respectively) and uuloril who is short for an altmer at about 5′9. and then there’s zaibi who is just made of random bones, not even all from the same person. gus tried to at least make her mostly symmetrical, and had to use mostly nord bones, so she turns out to be about 6 feet tall, and just a little bit taller on one side.

[ansu-gurleht]

okay, skyrim time. zaibi is oldest, having been about 25ish when ashiri died - so 218 i think? she spent some of that time dead, though. then it’s hla-eix, who is  207. uuloril is about 120. hjaalgus is in his 70s. daabush is in his late 30s/early 40s. daro’zirr is late 20s. and finally moving on to the handsome timeline, she is in her 30s.

[ansu-gurleht]

might as well talk about my oc’s opinions on the colovian fur helm too. i think i’m just gonna do the dragonborns + a few extras just bc i have too many goddamn ocs

hla-eix hates them. they’re too tall and too bright and suck at blending in. daabush, on the other hand, likes them bc they keep his head warm in the cold skyrim climate. uuloril wore one as a disguise once but finds them tacky. daro’zirr delights in them but doesn’t usually wear them, since they don’t fit their giant pahmar-raht head very well. hjaalgus is bald and proud and would never put on ANY hat. zaibi wears them ironically, especially when she’s a skeleton. she thinks it’s hilarious.

malcius, being a colovian, is required by law to wear them whenever the opportunity arises. ku-vastei is too busy wearing a medium helm, usually her trusty dreugh helmet, to bother with such frivolities. saf’divi thinks they’re cute. talin has also worn it as part of a disguise, when he had to pretend to be a colovian noble - he passes remarkably well as an imperial.

[ansu-gurleht]

okay i have confirmed daabush dies before daro’zirr. i wrote the “last chapter” of a window open and closed a while back (i’ll rb it in a sec if you’re interested - spoilers obviously since awoac isn’t finished yet, i just got ahead of myself) and in it daro’zirr is there for daa’s death. old, but there, and still alive

[ansu-gurleht]

i forgot that daro’zirr speaks in the third person most of the time - good to remember though. my other khajiit oc, saf’divi, speaks in the first person, despite being raised in elsweyr, as a result of her time with her father in valenwood. i guess i transferred that over to daro’zirr in my head, as well

[ansu-gurleht]

also, here’s daro’zirr. i obviously had to make them suthay* instead of pahmar, and unfortunately since they’re “female,” they have the dumb “girly walk” thing going on. not at all how they would actually walk. also this is literally the highest weight setting and they’re TINY. i should have just used a “male” base for them tbh. the female khajiit are like a foot shorter than males

* - that’s the playable stock in skyrim right? could be wrong

[ansu-gurleht]

i wonder if the dragoncrew become like, reluctant demigods with cult followings after defeating alduin. their cults can take on more religious meaning and significance, but not always. they are mostly considered as political factions which serve the people of skyrim regardless of religious affiliation.

hla-eix’s not into the idea of being a leader or anything, even though she kind of is a natural one, so she takes a very hands-off approach to her following. her cult develops into a kind of righteous murder cult, generally considered part of the nova morag tong movement, and many argonians, dunmer, and multiracial people seek refuge there, as well.

daabush’s cult, seeing as he’s malacath’s champion, is an extension of a malacathian cult, often featuring elements of hircine worship. kyne is also honored there, with many animals being tamed rather than hunted. part of the cult’s agenda is reducing the stigma against giants, and reestablishing positive contact with them. people with anger issues of many sorts seek refuge in this cult, including those with violent outbursts who wish to tame them. 

hjaalgus’s cult is a sort of death cult, seen as a “middle way” between the arkayn priesthood and the worm cult. the traditional elements of the skaal are worshiped there, as well as the practical but honorable necromancy its founder, uzmoga, formulated, based on her orcish traditions. the grieving seek refuge among this cult, seeking ways to handle their pain, as well as hope that sovngarde awaits for all.

uuloril’s cult is a magical one, aiming to educate skyrim on its nature and practical uses, so as to reduce the stigma against it. working with the college of winterhold, the cult established schools all across skyrim, where the curious can learn the ways of magic, even in small doses, without the requirement of literacy. literacy is also taught there, too, for those who wish to broaden their horizons. uuloril is very active within his cult, trying his best to spread acceptance of the magical arts and their users, as well as educate the populace so as to lessen the chance reactionary movements such as the rebellion may arise in the future.

daro’zirr is also very active within their cult, which is a martial cult focused on the traditional martial arts of their homeland elsweyr, tying them in with the martial traditions of skyrim. this cult often collaborates with the companions to solve minor problems in the lands, and daro’zirr has managed to bring in many elsweyrn masters to come to teach and train its members. those with conditions such as adhd seek refuge here, where they can be trained in techniques which help them to focus their concentration, and use their valuable and unique traits most effectively.

[ansu-gurleht]

i just realized, i don’t know where hla-eix goes when she dies. the rest of the dragonfam is mostly a toss-up between akatosh and shor: gus stays in sovngarde where he dies; zaibi goes the ideal masters both times she dies; uuloril almost goes to akatosh but his association with trinimac pulls him towards malacath, along with his husband daabush, who is so strongly associated with malacath it was completely out of the question where he’d end up; daro’zirr goes to akatosh, but is given vacation days in sovngarde and the ashpit to visit their friends (all of them get this btw). but hla-eix......maybe the spiral skein? she’s somewhat associated with mephala, but not greatly......she might have gone to akatosh, but akatosh didn’t want her and she didn’t want to be there. she probably ends up in sovngarde with her faux-dad gus. although i bet the qyruath vitreous might stake a claim on her........much to ku-vastei’s wrath

[ansu-gurleht]

i think tonight i will start a new uuloril playthru. the vitreous one was mostly just to get an appearance going for him, so i don’t mind abandoning it after just one sesh. but uuloril started out as a character i made in skyrim, and most of his traits were derived from his alternate start experience:

he was a member of the thalmor at the embassy, and was given a menial job to pick up supplies from solitude one day. on his way out he stuffed as many potions, soul gems, scrolls, ingredients, and staves from the embassy as he could steal and carry semi-inconspicuously into his bag, and he never actually went to solitude. he fled south on foot through dragon bridge, then through hjaalmarch and morthal, then south across the mountains towards whiterun, where he ultimately runs into hla-eix, daro’zirr, and inigo (i’ll have to redo that first meeting fic sadly).

he would have much preferred to travel by carriage along paved roads rather than by foot, but he knew his trail would be easier to to lose for any potential thalmor pursuers if he traveled via wilderness instead of common roads and their attendant stopping points. it’s not like that actually helped much, bc he was being chased down by one of the thalmor’s best dissident hunters, an ohmes khajiit by the name of hatarjah. she chased him across skyrim and caused a lot of problems for the dragonfam along the way until they managed to kill her. i think she’s going to replace the thalmor khajiit assassins that get sent after esbern and malborn and the dragonborns and stuff. she’s just kinda always there as a background threat to everybody until the ldbs kill her, defeat alduin, and then go on to remove the thalmor from skyrim and also snuff out the stormcloak rebellion for good measure, and use the intermediaries of the greybeards and paarthurnax (who they refuse to kill) to establish a freer, more equitable skyrim for all.

idk exactly what uuloril’s plan was in leaving the thalmor. he didn’t necessarily view it as like, pure desertion, he kind of had an idea to make it to helgen in time to meet general tullius and emissary elenwen and petition them to consider certain policy changes in skyrim so as to help end the war peacefully. uuloril wasn’t like, a talos worshiper or anything (although after he runs away the thalmor assumes he is), but he didn’t see why they had to kill people for worshiping him. plus, he didn’t necessarily understand the thalmor hostility against anyone who wasn’t an altmer (or to a lesser extent, bosmer or khajiit), although coming to terms with his internalized racism was definitely a long difficult road for him.

but when he meets the other two dragonborns (+inigo) and finds out he’s dragonborn as well, he realizes that it’s probably not a good idea. plus, they straight up tell him helgen was burned to the ground by a dragon, so yeah.

[ansu-gurleht]

i have decided to officially declare heights/builds for the dragoncrew

hla-eix is 5′10. she looks kinda wiry but is deceptively strong. very flexible, which makes her nicely suited to second story work. after learning how to do mabrigash shit (around ~150 years old), she uses that magic to keep her looking fairly young, approx. thirties in human years

daabush is 6′. very beefy dude. may appear somewhat chunky but the chunk is padding for the steel below. he is a big man, stuffed full of love and also crushing things. surprisingly good at sneaking around (for hunting and such) despite his heft

uuloril 5′4, making him the shortest of the dragonborns, ironically despite being an altmer. but there’s basically the same amount of altmer in him despite his short stature. a small soft boy who’s also kind of an asshole

gus is 6′5, making him the tallest of the dragonborns. he’s basically a goddamn atmoran. enormous lad, but he’s not got a lot of meat on them bones. that’s partially bc of his age (he’s like ~80 come the events of skyrim) but he’s also just always been on the thin side. 

honorable mention: zaibi is 5′3 and all bones babey. jokes aside, in life (and later in vestige form) she was a healthy woman, no extremes either way. she had the muscles she needed to survive in the ash waste, the girth such generally meager living allowed, and not much else.

[ansu-gurleht]

might make talin and nef friends in the fourth era ca skyrim and/or diagnaquest. i needed someone to be decrepit talin’s “nurse” anyway so

like, nef’s retired to skyrim to herd mammoths at this point, as all giants do, and she has this special saddle on one of her mammoths where talin sits when he’s not pumped on magical steroids and she helps him out and protects him when he’s weakened like that

some enterprising hero (probably one of my dragonborns, idk who tho) might see some poor old man strapped to a mammoth in a giant’s camp and be like “oh no, i must rescue the poor old man” and go to attack nef or w/e, they get absolutely trounced by her, and talin’s like “nef, please, be nice to the kid. probably just wanted to say hi”

“but they drew a sword on me. and charged at us. yelling ‘i’m going to kill you, foul giant!’”

“oh! a misunderstanding then. youngster, don’t worry about me. nef and i are old friends. you should probably also reconsider your stance on giants. especially your stance on running headfirst into giant camps and thinking that’s a good idea”

now that i think about it, it’s probably daro’zirr who does it. being a pahmar raht, they’re probably almost as big as nef (although at this point, nef’s probably grown out to skyrim giant size, obv) and might not see it as too much of a challenge, naively, bc daro’zirr is a bit of an idiot

[ansu-gurleht]

a family can be a 200yr old half-dunmer argonian assassin and her himbo orc boyfriend, an 80yr old skaal shaman and the reanimated skeleton of his mabrigash wife, a depressed khajiit mercenary and his pet dragonfly, a nerdy ex-thalmor wizard, and a nonbinary khajiit thief

[ansu-gurleht]

i’m committed to making the last few decades of hla-eix’s life less shitty. after daabush dies she reconnects with daro’zirr and uuloril and tries to make amends for running away on them out of nowhere. somehow she even makes up with uuloril, they bond over having both dated uuloril’s dumbass orc himbo husband after his death. she is actually there for daro’zirr during their last year or two, like she should have been for daabush. she and uuloril support each other as the longer-lifespan dragonborn survivors of the alduin crisis. she “makes up” with zaibi after all the false deaths and returns and decides to move on from trying to make her proud or whatever. she (maybe) meets her mom ku-vastei after she gets out of oblivion. she gets to relive the fleeting experience of having “children,” or of having someone she cares about and wants to protect and be a “mother” or “mentor” to, that she had had with deek and sisei in wayrest, in kendra. and she dies surrounded by her friends, her surrogate daughter, maybe her immortal demigod mom, and probably at least two other actual gods, and after a long life well lived, she dies happy

[vosh-rakh]

Daa,

Something’s come up. It’s Uuloril and daro’Zirr. He went missing first, and then they went to find him. Now they’re both gone. If you don’t hear from me in a week or two, your ass better come looking for me. And them too, I guess.

I don’t want to lose any more of us.

- Scales

With a note like that, she should have known better than to expect him to wait. 

Uuloril had been invited to meet someone; he had told daro’Zirr where he was going; Hla-eix followed daro’Zirr’s tracks, because the khajiit always traveled recklessly. But Hla-eix’s investigation left very little for Daabush to go on, the clues mostly destroyed or no longer useful, and Hla-eix knew how to move in secret, minimizing her trail.

Fortunately, on top of being among the last Dragonborns, Daabush was damn near the best tracker in all of Tamriel.

He followed her across Skyrim, never catching up, but the faint trail was fresh enough he knew she couldn’t be more than a day ahead of him. He knew he wouldn’t find her before she found their friends, but hopefully whatever happened, they could hold out one extra day for him to arrive.

After a week of chasing, Daabush entered the Dragontail Mountains, and thereby the nation Orsinium. He might have been excited to be here had the circumstances been different. At the border he was stopped by orcs in heavy orichalc armor.

“Halt, outsider,” said one, supposedly the leader, in Orcish. “State your business.” 

“None of your business,” replied Daabush. His Orcish was fairly rusty.

“You come here, you make it our business,” said one of the other guards.

“I can really make it your business if I have to. Move aside.”

“That a threat?” The guards drew their weapons in trained unison.

Daabush had not bothered to bring his bow for this quest. Whatever was stealing his friends from him demanded a more personal touch. He pulled a massive warhammer from his back, but did not bother entering a combat stance. “A promise.”

One of the younger guards stepped forward to attack, but his boss held him back, and said, “Wait. Is that…?”

“By Malacath,” exclaimed another. “It is. It’s…”

As every orc recognized the hammer and its gravity, they whispered in awe, “Volendrung.”

Daabush stepped forward until he was almost tusk-to-tusk with the captain. “Unless any of you want an express trip to meet the one who gave me this hammer,” he said, “you are going to take me to the city. Now.”

- - - - -

The capital city of Orsinium, Orsinium Major, was nested in a deep valley surrounded on all sides by a veritable wall of mountain faces. It was only accessible via a network of natural tunnels carved into the rock. The orc from the border patrol who led him there had to give Daabush to the guards who roamed those halls. They attempted to rebuff him as well, but his heavy badge as Malacath’s champion forced their hand.

When he emerged into Orsinium Major, he could not help himself this time to be a tiny bit awestruck. The entire city was built like a temple, perfectly arranged and carved from stone, every building from abode to smithy to palace a monolith to the strength and fortitude of the orcish people. Orcs, goblins, ogres, trolls, and even ogrim walked its streets like priests of Malacath (or Trinimac), and though Daabush had long ago distanced himself from his people, his chest was filled with pride to witness their works.

But then he remembered his purpose, and continued his investigation.

After asking around to no avail, Daabush resorted to more subtlety in his search. The approach proved fruitful, if only because the subtlety of his target was less than impressive. The facility was poorly hidden. If you looked hard enough, the entrance to the cave was visible from over the city’s walls. And Daabush had eyes like a hawk. All it took the old hunter was a bit of climbing to reach it.

The hole in the side of the mountain was watched by two orcs in even heavier armor, but brass rather than orichalc. (Daabush did not care to wonder why.) They were braver than the border patrol, and seemed unimpressed by the artifact Daabush wielded. But their bravery was misplaced. One had his chest caved in, and the other Shouted off the mountain.

The first chamber of the caverns was mostly empty, except for some brass machinery that Daabush couldn’t quite place. Were these thugs operating out of some dwarven ruins? It seemed irrelevant to him until one of the machines spoke.

It was some kind of perforated cone hung from the ceiling. It had a thin, metallic voice, speaking Cyrodiilic. “Ah, you’re here, Daabush gro-Dren. Come, your friends and I are waiting for you. But, if I may? Please do spare my researchers. They will not harm you. I cannot make the same promise for the soldiers, as they are sworn to defend our work. Make your way to us as you must. I eagerly awai-”

Daabush smashed the machine into a thousand brass pieces. He didn’t bother to see if it communicated both ways, because he couldn’t stand to hear any more of the transmitted monologuing. If they were to exchange words before Daabush tore him apart, they were going to do it face-to-face.

He did decide to oblige the speaker’s request to spare the civilians. But he relished destroying the armed orcs like they were skeevers. Deep into the mountain, with a trail of mangled corpses and weeping scientists behind him, Daabush kicked down the door to the lab.

Inside were four cages. Three of them held Uuloril, daro’Zirr, and Hla-eix, all chained and gagged, while the fourth and central chamber contained a small orc whose brief startlement became a wide smile when he saw Daabush.

“Wonderful! You made it.” He clasps his hands together. “My name is Ogash. I hope the soldiers didn’t give you much trouble? Ah, no, of course they didn’t. With friends like these,” gesturing vaguely at the caged Dragonborns, “of course you would be more than capable of taking care of them.”

“Let them go. And maybe I won’t paint Orsinium with your guts.”

Ogash frowns. “Oh, well, you see. I can’t quite do that yet. I do hope you don’t get too heated over it.”

“I can show you heated, alright. Let them go.”

“Show me that fire, then, little dragon. I’m dying to hear it!”

Hla-eix yells through her gag and fights against her restraints, but it’s too late. “Yol Toor Shul!”

Daabush’s shout never reaches the orc in the cage. Suddenly his eardrums are filled with ringing like a bell’s long echo, and he cannot move an inch.

“Excellent!” exclaims the small orc, opening his cage. “Give me one moment, please.”

Only Daabush’s eyes are mobile now, and he looks around the room. The walls and ceiling are covered with more of those metal cones, and they stare at him like laughing eyes. His captor moves over to a large machine and fiddles with it for a moment, pulling levers and flipping switches. It prints out something on a long scroll of paper, which he scrutinizes with a growing frown.

“Damn. Still useless to me…” He glances at Daabush’s frozen body with a slight smile. “You’d think the thu’um would be more interesting, and more scientifically important.” He crumples up the paper and tosses it behind him. “Oh well. I’ll release them then. You’ll find I haven’t harmed a hair on their head. Or tail. Or a scale on their skin? What a fascinating bunch, but not for my purposes.”

As promised, Ogash begins to open the cages, unlock the chains, and remove the gags, starting with Uuloril, who seems very shaken by the entire ordeal. Next is daro’Zirr, who tries to bite the orc as he ungags her, but can’t quite manage it. Last is Hla-eix, who says nothing and does not resist.

Once the three are freed, Ogash operates the machine again, relinquishing Daabush from the ringing and paralysis. Daro’Zirr catches him as it happens so he doesn’t fall over. Once back on his feet, he tries to swing at their captor, but stops his arc just before hitting Uuloril square in the face. “He’s letting us go,” the altmer says, his voice dripping with exhaustion. “Leave it be. No more bloodshed.”

Daabush stares into Uuloril’s eyes for a moment, then grunts and puts Volendrung away. Ogash smiles at Daabush, and he really wishes Uuloril would let him kill the orc anyway.

But then there is a flash of steel and a spray of warmth on Uuloril and Daabush. They stare at Hla-eix and her bloody blade and face as Ogash starts screaming.

“Oops,” she says. “I’m sorry. I think I slipped. So very sorry.”

“I don’t think she’s sorry,” Uuloril whispers to Daabush after stepping back to hide behind him. “Or that it was an accident.”

“You don’t say,” Daabush says, rolling his eyes.

Daabush bends over and picks up Ogash’s severed arm from the floor. “Here,” he says, holding it out to the wailing orc. “Let me give you a hand.” He hits Ogash so hard that the amputated limb breaks with several sickening snaps, and the orc is unconscious before he hits the ground. His body starts thrashing about, blood spewing everywhere, as the last Dragonborns leave Orsinium to go home.

---------

“I need a new lab. New facilities.”

A smith is fitting Ogash for a prosthetic as a healer tends to his swollen face. Across from him, shrouded in darkness, is the King of Orsinium.

“You don’t say,” she says, her eyes scanning the reports in her hands.

“New guards, of course. More of them. And almost all of my assistants quit.”

“Both are replaceable.” She flips through a few pages. “You, however, are not. Even if you’ve given me nothing so far.”

Ogash frowns and says nothing. But then he suddenly straightens up in his seat, then squeaks in pain. The sudden movement caused the healer to accidentally press too hard on the bruised mound supposedly hiding an eye. He composes himself, and says, “I have an idea. But I need a more remote lab. And more funds.”

The King puts aside the reports and leans forward, the shadows peeling from her skin like a sunburn. “What’s this new idea that will dig even deeper into my coffers?”

Ogash runs through historical, geological, mathematical, metaphysical, and tonal data in his head. “There’s a few more things that need checking. But this could really work.” His mind races through dark tunnels, navigating their twists and turns, searching for something that could change everything. “I need some of your best and most loyal to accompany me into the deep tunnels. Very deep.” 

He swats away the smith and healer with his remaining left hand so that he can lean in towards the King and whisper, “If we find what - who - I think is down there, I can make your nation something truly great.”