Amaranth

Shadowrun-style Mass Effect adventure

Also yeah this probably enough people so I’ll start work on an OOC when I get home from work tomorrow morning.

Shadowrun-style Mass Effect adventure

Obligatory expression of interest.

@Scrub Mage

Shut up you’re the co-gm.

Shadowrun-style Mass Effect adventure

---

Do you like high-tech, low-life adventures in the seedy underbelly of galactic space?

Do you like tales of revenge?

Do you like mass effect fields?

The year is 2184 CE. Saren has been defeated, Shepard has been killed.

You're a freelance merc on a routine mission that takes you into Citadel space, but what's this? Banned from Citadel space AND a bounty on your head? For a crime you didn't commit? Looks like there's only one place for you. Omega. The galaxy's favourite lawless asteroid habitat. Maybe there you can get a nice glass of ryncol and a shot of neon and clear your name. And earn some credits, lots and lots of credits.

Anyway in this RP you will be taking the role of a mercenary in the Terminus systems, and for the time being, on Omega. The main overarching narrative will be concerned with the mystery of who framed you and why, but you'll have the opportunity to choose sidejobs that may or may not have an effect on the mainplot but will have an effect on your bank accounts. I think this works best with a smaller group so I'll say 4-6 players.

Hopefully I didn't forget anything, but if I did feel free to ask!

Star Wars: The Liberation of Arkanis

Working on a cs!

Star Wars: The Liberation of Arkanis

I’m interested!

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

From Different Worlds

by Amaranth and @Stormflyx

13th of Midyear - Noon - The Three Crowns Hotel
Gilane

---

Midday in Gilane was often the same, as Raelynn had come to notice. There was a certain bustle and business that was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Giant pans and skillets of food would be thrown onto hot fires behind food stalls and scents would permeate the air one by one. Saffron, garlic, paprika, chilli. She had grown accustomed to this. It was as if she need not look to a clock now, but pay attention to her nose to know that it was time for a meal. She weaved in and out of the crowds purposefully to the Three Crowns Hotel, wearing calf-length satin trousers in shades of cream and gold and a linen cropped shirt in a rich plum colour - she looked every part a Lady of Hammerfell.

With everything that had happened, it was easy to believe that the party had been here for weeks or months, but truthfully, it hadn’t been that long at all, and yet each day felt like an eternity. Does everyone else feel the slowing of time, too? She thought to herself as she ascended the staircase to the room she had shared with the girls. With Jude, Rhona, Mazrah, and… Daro’Vasora.

It had been a lifetime since she herself had been here.

She pushed open the door gingerly, not knowing if anyone would be inside. She only wanted to collect some of her things. A small knife, a bowl. Just things. Things she could have easily replaced, things that held no sentimental value to her - and yet, she didn’t look to her lockbox when she entered the room. Her steel blue eyes fell immediately onto the space where Daro’Vasora used to sleep. They observed the absence of the Khajiit. The way the bed sheet was still a little crumpled from where she hadn’t quite pulled it tightly into the board when she made it, the pillow still had the indent of her head. Some of her things sat on the table beside the futon - an empty glass, a plate. Just things that highlighted that Daro’Vasora was still gone.

Thoughts lingered on the morning that they had all bickered amongst themselves. She had been embarrassed and annoyed then - how she wished that mornings like that could have been the worst of her time in Gilane. She approached the bed pensively and placed her fingertips against the sheet, before whispering under her breath, “they’re going to get you out of there…” She knew it wouldn’t be her, she wouldn’t be part of Latro’s rescue team. Not in her state. She ran her fingers over the sheet once more before leaving it at last, making her way to her lockbox in the corner. It was then that she heard the soft footsteps of someone approaching…

Shakti had been so caught up in her own little world she had almost plowed into the open door. The young Redguard girl was running her hands along the rough wall as she walked along, staring off into space. She had made a habit of doing laps of the hotel grounds to keep herself from getting cooped up in her tiny room. If she let herself do only what she wanted, she knew that is what would happen. So she forced herself to take walks. Usually she would find someone to talk to or some sort of trouble to get into, but lately there was a tinge of darkness in her normally sunny heart. Something about being lied to and then being forced to be around the man who had caused her quest to avenge her father to stall so badly. It just… it just.. It was hard to deal with, okay?

She had tried to sew up her other tunic but she had quickly become frustrated and given up, just throwing on her other tunic and walking out in a huff. Both of them were equally er, loved (tattered) but the other one was made of a nicer cloth and so the fact it had been cut during her duel annoyed her further. Both of them were earth-coloured and loose-fitting tunic that had no sleeves and exposed her mocha skin and rather-scarred-for-a-teenager-arms.

The open door shook Shakti out of her reverie and she peered into the open room, not quite knowing what she was looking at. It was a rather lived-in room with a single occupant; a pale woman doing something to a bed. “Are… you looking for something?” Shakti asked, against the wishes of her brain. Unfortunately for her brain and its bad mood, sociability was in her nature and the words came naturally.

Suddenly disturbed by the presence, Raelynn pulled herself from her deep thoughts and she glanced over to the doorway, she looked the girl who stood there up and down. The new Redguard girl. She didn’t know a great deal about her. What was her name - she had heard it spoken at the party, but that was all muffled noise and drunken revelry. Shhhhh something. She narrowed her eyes in concentration before speaking, “I’m just collecting some things… I’ll be leaving soon,” her hands took out the items from the bottom of the chest, and she began placing them into her satchel one by one. Empty bottles, floral sprigs, and pouches of beetle scrub - ingredients. The girl was stood there still, and Raelynn once again narrowed her eyes in her direction, “can I help you with something?” She sighed, a long exhalation of air to show her impatience.

“No, it’s just that I do not think we’ve met.” Shakti wasn’t in the mood for introductions, not really, not now, but a small voice in the back of her head (probably her mother’s) told her that she should not project her own bad mood onto others. So Shakti dutifully pressed on with her introduction. “I’m Shakti, of the Alik’r.” Sands take you Mother, why did you raise me to be so polite? It’s clear that this woman is not in the mood to talk, so just disengage and walk away. “I just thought it would be rude if I didn’t at least tell you my name after seeing you twice now.”

She listened to the young girl with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Why, she couldn't have been older than twenty. “I see…” cooed Raelynn, her voice suddenly soft. “Well Shakti, it's nice to meet you. My name is Raelynn.” She was done packing up her satchel and so she rose to her feet slowly. Shakti was much taller than her, but her youthful demeanour diminished any chance of the Breton being intimidated by her size. She moved back over to Daro'Vasora's bed once more, she knew in her heart that she wouldn't be allowed back here. “Say, Shakti - would you care to help me collect her belongings?”

Shakti found the woman’s sudden change in tone of voice to be more than a little unnerving, nonetheless she couldn’t rightly refuse a request for help. “It is so lovely to meet you Raelynn. It would be my pleasure to help. It is the least I could do. I’ve only just met this company, I’m sure her presence is greatly missed by all of you.” She entered the room and strode over to the area that, judging by the amount of hair everywhere, must have belonged to the Khajiiti woman. Shakti had no idea what kind of possessions a tomb-raiding cat person would, well, possess and so looked over to Raelynn for guidance.

“Truth be told, I am not entirely certain what it is that she owns… Can't say I ever had reason enough to care. I suppose I shall start,” her hands tugged at the handle of the drawer, although it appeared to be so full with something that it was wedged shut, “here.” With it open just a crack, she slipped her fingers in and felt the recognisable leather cover of a book which she pushed down, springing the drawer open. “Well it appears she likes to write,” Raelynn stated as she took out several journals that had been stowed away. “So tell me, Shakti, how did you come to be with us? Or better yet, do you feel that you will stick around?”

“I joined the cause when some of your comrades freed me from Dwemer imprisonment. I hate the thought of my homeland being ruled by an elven empire. My grandparents fought the Dominion when they invaded and I feel it is my duty to fight the Deep Elves in turn.” She held her tongue for a moment, unsure of whether it was wise to share her other, more personal reason, “I also think the Dwemer are somehow tied up in the death of my Father, and it is something I intend to find out. On my own time, of course. I could never ask another to assist me in such a selfish task.” The last line was somewhat of a bending of the truth. In reality, Shakti felt like to ask someone else for help would almost be cheating. That to ask someone to walk her path with her would go against the spirit of the entire journey. Was that true? She didn’t know. The young Redguard pulled out various strange objects from drawers and packs that littered Sora’s living area and examined them, wondering where they should go and if they were even hers to begin with.

Raelynn actually listened to the girl, taking a seat at the foot of the bed with Sora's journals in her lap, thumbing the pages - but she was neither peering or reading them. Hearing the young girl tell her story did tug at her. If Shakti believed her father's death was the result of the Dwemer, then her loss was incredibly fresh. “I'm sorry to hear about your father. You know, I often think that there is no greater duty than that to our family. It's very honourable of you, but a heavy burden to carry alone wouldn't you agree?” She tilted her head to the side, loose strands of hair slipping from the grip of her hairpin.

“I cannot lie, it is a heavy burden, and I am often not sure how to proceed. But I am the oldest, I must do this. It’s like you said, it is my duty to my family.” Shakti shrugged and stared at a heavily marked map of some place that she did not recognise. She flipped it many times to try and figure out the correct orientation. “I came to Gilane in search of a knight that served in the same order as my father. He knows something but I haven’t been able to question him properly. He’s the reason I ended up in a Deep Elf prison.” The memory made her forearm scar itch slightly and she rubbed it unconsciously.

The Breton nodded along with Shakti's story. She was so young, and yet so set on a path for vengeance, with the burden sitting on her shoulders. It was horrifying and amusing all at the same time. A quick smile curled up on her lips, and disappeared as quickly as it had come on. “How has your journey alone gone so far?” She asked, the sweet voice returning and her fingers stroking the spine of the journal in her lap. “Forgive me, but, you were captured once already were you not?”

“It has gone okay, all things considered. I haven’t made much progress but I could be dead. And yes, I was captured a few days before I met your company.” Come to think of it, that was pretty much the only time she had been in major trouble in a big city. Most of the other trouble she had been in had been with bandits or wild animals in the deserts. She had only been in Gilane for a month maybe, but she already missed the wide expanse of the Alik’r. Cities were so claustrophobic sometimes.

“I see.” She sighed sharply, getting up from the bed. She walked back over to the table and began to pile up each of the journals. She wanted so badly to read one, just a look, a glance. Anything to give her some insight into the Khajiit’s mind, but she didn’t - and only because she would hate for someone to read her own. “Do you think that you will continue with the group then?” She ask, looking into the girls eyes, in genuine wonder of her answer. She seemed to have a personal mission, unlike the rest of the group. “Most of them were all together at the start, before I wound up with them. I just got swept along for the ride… Perhaps you’re going to be caught in the riptide of it all too.”

“I…” Shakti caught her words and stopped to think her answer over. “I think my task aligns with the group, at least loosely. I can do the investigation part on my own, the others don’t need to help with that. But either way I won’t let the Dwemer occupy my home, and I do need help with that. So for now, I do not see any reason to part with the group.”

“We need more fighters - for the rescue, to travel with us. I'm not a fighter see…” Raelynn could tell that even under the baggy clothing that Shakti was lithe - and had the body of an acrobat, and that even at her age she would be a skilled warrior. “You have a fighter's spirit, don't you? Why, I think that you Redguards are born with it. But, never be afraid to ask for help, it doesn't make you weak.” Raelynn paid close attention to the girl, staring at her scars - she wondered just where they had all come from. “Besides, just about everyone in this company is far too curious for their own good, far too eager to help each other, and just much too interested in causes and duty, to pass up any opportunity to get involved in anything they should probably keep their noses out of…”

Shakti laughed a light, fluttery laugh at Raelynn’s last comment, even though she had no idea if the other woman was being humorous. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. I don’t mind it, not really. It is nice to not do everything alone, sort of.” She was still getting used to being around so many strangers. All her life she had spent either with her tribe, all of whom she knew very well, or alone, travelling. “Though, I have to ask. If you aren’t a fighter, what are you?” The idea that such a question might be offensive suddenly blasted its way into her mind. “Er, not that there is anything wrong with not being a warrior.” Pretty much all Redguards knew at least the basics of fighting, so the idea someone would know nothing was a bit shocking to the girl.

“I’m a healer and alchemist. I can patch up a wound without much thought, brew you a potion to boost you, but… I’m not much use front and centre fighting anyone. Unless that fight involves giving someone a dressing down - then maybe I stand a chance against the best of them…” There was humour in her tone, but a tinge of sadness too. Raelynn wished she was a better fighter - if only she was she might have been able to do more, and have been able to protect herself better recently. To protect Gregor, and Daro’Vasora too. She looked at Shakti with a smile, they were from completely different worlds. “But… You should stay with us, Shakti. Like I said, we can always use another sword, and we need all the help we can get to free Daro’Vasora.”

“I will stay. I do not mind lending my sword to such a righteous cause. Healing is a noble pursuit, you should be proud. Without healers such as yourself, I’m sure I would be dead three times over.” The girl laughed, but it was probably true. Shakti turned back to the pile of Sora’s things and started once again picking through them. “So where are you from, Raelynn the Healer?” She was dressed like a cosmopolitan Redguard woman, but it was obvious from the way she was sweating that she was not from here.

Raelynn smiled at Shakti, she certainly seemed like she was noble in her own intention too. “I'm from Daggerfall, but I spent a lot of time in Skyrim… Winterhold and Windhelm, and then in places like Riften. A truly beautiful province, and I do miss it actually…” She sighed, longing for the wilds of Skyrim again, the thick forest and deep snow, the chill on her skin, to be wrapped in furs. “Seems like so long ago now. That's what happens when you get older, time feels shorter and it slips away. I'm not old by any stretch, but you should enjoy your youth Shakti, don't let it run away from you while you're off chasing revenge.”

“I’ve heard so much about Skyrim recently. Seems like so many of your company are from there. I would like to trade dunes of sand for drifts of snow some day. It sounds so beautiful!” Shakti tried to picture what Skyrim would look like, but she had never seen snow, so it was fairly difficult. On the other hand, she would love to spend more time lazing around and enjoying the fruits of youth, but alas the young Redguard knew she couldn’t. Not while her father’s killer still lived. Maybe someday.

“It's wonderful. A wild place, far from where I was raised and yet it is very much my home. Hammerfell is a lovely place but, I'm afraid it's beauty has been tainted for me. There's so much blood amongst the sands…” Her gaze fell to the doors to the balcony, and she remembered standing there admonishing Mazrah and Daro'Vasora. She wanted to smile, but she couldn't manage it this time, and sadness sat in her eyes instead. “Such is life. It waits for no one and shows us no mercy, I suppose.”

“That is part of Hammerfell’s beauty, Raelynn the healer.” Shakti made a wide sweeping gesture as she continued her impassioned speech, “We have been fighting to protect this land that we call home ever since my people first arrived on the shores. First from Goblins, Orcs, and Men. Then the Empire, and even recently against the Dominion. Hammerfell is beautiful because of what we have sacrificed to make it our own! And I also really like the dunes at sunset.” The Redguard woman sheepishly turned back to sorting Sora’s stuff, slightly embarrassed at how passionate a speech she had just given.

As she listened to Shakti’s impassioned speech she was reminded of something that Judena had said in this very room, about the energy of youth. It made her smile, and she looked up at Shakti as warmth returned to her eyes. “I suppose you're right.” She stood slowly, and gathered Sora's belongings together at last. She considered the innocence of Shakti, her youthful nature and spirit. She had witnessed terrible things, but zest still remained, and she wondered if she could dig deep enough to find some of her own too. If it was still there - with people like Shakti around, perhaps enthusiasm and passion could be contagious once more. “It has been lovely to meet you Shakti… I'm glad you will travel with us, truly.” She thought about placing a hand on the girl, or giving her any kind of touch of appreciation, but she made her way to the door instead, things in hand.

“Remember,” she began as she turned once more to face the girl, “if ever you should need our help… Let us help you. You need only ask.” She smiled again, and motioned with her head to the bags, “thank you for this. Daro'Vasora will appreciate it, I promise.”

“I will do that. Water and shade to you, Raelynn the Healer.” Shakti gave a small wave as she said the traditional Alik’r greeting/farewell. A small part of her hoped she wouldn’t need to ask for help, but a larger part of Shakti knew she would need all the help she could get.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

A Meeting of Swords

A showdown by @Leidenschaft and Amaranth

8th of Midyear, 4e208
Outside the Gaptooth Grin Tavern
Gilane, Hammerfell

And the moons cast light upon blades...

---

It was Sevari’s experience that every city on the face of Tamriel had a slum. He was born in one in Torval and lived his childhood life in one in Senchal. Now, at the age of 43, it seemed like he couldn’t escape the grip of these places. He’d had more septims than he knew what to do with for doing the Empire’s thankless dirty work and no time and nowhere to spend it. He supposed he’d have just that if he decided to put in for a desk job in some Penitus Oculatus bureau in High Rock, but even if he wasn’t chasing vengeance he knew being cooped up in an office would only make him turn his blade on himself.

It was because of this that sitting out front of a lonely tea shop with a decent vantage point down the street of a seedy tavern that wasn’t any different than any other seedy tavern outside of Gilane, he felt most at peace. All he had to do was wait for Farukh to give the signal after leaving just behind this Khesh fellow. An easy enough night if Farukh didn’t run afoul of some group of outlaws for doing them the powerful slight of existing in their presence. For the short time he’d been partnered with Farukh, the man’s loud mouth and cheeky temperament helped him none on that front. He turned and glanced at the grim-faced Imperial dressed in the local garb just like himself. Quintus was everything Farukh wasn’t. That also meant he was a shitty conversationalist.

“You sure we should’ve sent Farukh in there and not you?” Sevari asked.

“Mhm.” Quintus grunted.

Sevari pursed his lips, that was the most he’d heard out of Quintus since they’d met at the rendezvous point a few hours ago. Sevari shrugged, “Alright, then.”

It was a few wordless moments after that an armored man with a wicked looking sword stepped out of the tavern and into the streets, walking in the opposite direction of Sevari and Quintus. Farukh followed soon after and raised the bottle of rum he’d had, laughing loud into the night. No doubt he’d actually had some of it while in there. Sevari wordlessly rose from his seat and pursued the man who was apparently Khesh. He’d have to make this quick, it wouldn’t be long before his cover-duty of being a Dwemer Secret Police lackey would call upon him to do something. He passed Farukh, who slurred out a giggle and nodded at him. Khesh was a good distance in front of Sevari, he didn’t want the man noticing he was following.

Shakti too had tracked the armoured man, following his powder-blue cloak as it billowed in the night breeze. She had followed him, yet again, on one of his pub crawls. This time, however, she was not about to confront him in a tavern. She rubbed the scar on her forearm as the memory of the battle slipped into her mind. She had trailed him from a distance and loitered outside each tavern, periodically peering into the establishments to make sure he hadn’t slipped her. Her own tattered cloak was wrapped around her face like a scarf, partially to hide her face, and partially to keep the cold night air out of it. Shakti had no idea how many dive bars and lounges and corner-clubs there were in Gilane, but this man seemed to know all of them. She needed to find a place to make her move, to find out what he knew.

The door to the tavern swung open and her mark exited, swaggering along, smelling of alcohol and sweat. Shakti pressed herself against the stone of the building, willing her body to become inconspicuous. She had no idea if the man had gotten a good look at her the last time they crossed blades, but she wasn’t about to take a chance. The knight did not notice her and passed further into the street, followed a few seconds later by another patron who was brandishing a bottle and chortling heartily. Shakti ignored the other man and focused on her target, sliding slowly along the shadows of the other buildings.

Sevari so far had followed unimpeded, eyes scanning the rooftops, windows and the streets before him in between keeping them square on Khesh’s back. Almost suddenly, Khesh rounded a corner into an alleyway, quick enough to give Sevari pause. He looked around the streets, every second more precious than the last. He grit his teeth and decided to follow directly. Had he been noticed? Turning in to an alleyway was a sure way to draw out any tails one might have, but if he was to nab Khesh and figure out his connection to the Caliph’s sons and the plot to put them on the throne again, he was going to have to dive headfirst into this trap.

It wasn’t the first time he’d stumbled through a shit situation armed and armored only with hope. He ducked into the alleyway to find a nice hideaway. A small hut had been fashioned into a makeshift bedroom and a fire was already going just outside of it, stoked by a balding but sinewy-muscled and sharp-featured Redguard.

Who noticed him almost immediately. “You were followed!?”

Khesh flinched and looked back just in time to see the firebolt cross the distance between the man who’d casted it and the air where his companion had been, the ball of flame passing close enough to singe his face and discomfort his eyes. Surprisingly agile, the balding man beared down on Sevari. The man leapt toward Sevari, unsheathed his sword and made a slash for Sevari’s belly in one smooth and lightning fast movement. With a lifetime of drills and real-world experience behind him, Sevari half-drew his sword from his scabbard just in time for the man’s blade to rake across it instead of his stomach in unthinking reflex. Sevari’s blade cleared the rest of its scabbard, pommel striking the bald man in the teeth and sending him back spitting blood.

Without any time in-between, Sevari sent a thrust off-course from his chest with the flat of his blade, in the same motion redirecting his own sword’s trajectory and opening the man’s neck in a spew of arterial spray that spattered his face and neck like a warm rain. Almost in the same moment, Khesh’s blade was coming at him quick, whistling through the night air, Sevari throwing himself out of the way and putting his palm out before him. A brilliant flash of light blinded Khesh and sent him clumsily swiping at nothing with frenzied and ugly cuts at the air. Sevari now free of the danger, he stepped forward and batted through the most telegraphed swing of a sword he’d ever seen with his own blade. Grabbing up Khesh’s arm and wrenching it over his shoulder, he threw Khesh over him almost effortlessly, knocking the wind from him. Before Khesh’s eyes could readjust to the dark night, a bolt of lightning took the last of the fight out of him, leaving him sprawled and twitching on the ground but alive. Sevari spat off to the side, sniffling and flicking the blood from his blade, “I thought you lot were supposed to be dangerous.”

In a moment almost as quick as the lightning he’d let loose earlier, his shoulders pinched back and he looked over his shoulder at the soft patter of footsteps.

There were flashes of light, grunts, scrapes, the clash of swords. Clearly, something had gone wrong. She had noticed the man she was tracking duck into an alley, followed by another man. Then a shout. That’s when the fighting began. Shakti picked up the pace, not willing to let her quarry die without at least telling her what she needed to know.

She skidded to a stop outside the alley and peered at the scene that lay before her. Two men lay on the ground, one clearly dead, red pooling at his neck. The other, her target, seemed merely incapacitated. A third man stood, wiping the blood from his blade. “Hey!” Shakti called out, “That man has a lot to answer for, I will not let you kill him!” She puffed the words out in to the cold night air. She had no idea if the other man was going to kill the Knight, but she was not about to give him the chance. She stood, her hand on the hilt of her sword, waiting for the man to make his move.

Slow as slow, Sevari turned, blade oriented with the point towards the ground and in one hand. He eyed up the girl before him, nothing new to him, honestly. He’d seen every fighter and every assassin there was to see in the twenty-odd years of his life he’d spent mingling among them. His eyes caught on the sword though. It was a thing more elegant, less curved and a blade thinner in breadth than a scimitar. It was a blade closer to the one he used.

And that was all the difference.

It remained to be known if she could use it though. Deciding time was of the essence rather than the much tempting test of his skills against her otherwise unspoken of ones, he spoke simply and plainly, “Put the sword back in its scabbard.” He let a beat pass, considering her in her stance, “Walk away from this.”

Shakti watched him turn around. He seemed calm. Like a sand-viper ready to strike. It reminded her that she needed to watch her own breathing. Control. “I cannot do that. Not unless you are going to hand over that man, alive, to me.” She flexed her hand on her hilt, left hand around the scabbard, coiling her muscles to draw. The cold breeze fluttered her tattered scarf and she exhaled a few deep breaths into the chilly night air through the material.

He knew better to charge at her blindly. Anyone who wielded a sword of that make, he learned long ago, should be approached cautiously. After all, to how many had he proven that to when they stepped to him with violence in mind? With the pace of a glacier, he shifted one foot just a little more behind him, legs sinking into a loose stance and ready to either pounce in and close the distance as quickly as he could or dance away from a strike this girl could try him with. The breeze sent a chill through him, making him sigh. The point of his sword rose from the ground ever so slowly until he had it behind him, held in a high guard. The length of the blade held at an angle so as not to reveal its true length, its true reach.

The sound of the crickets were all that broke the heavy silence of the moment, but it did nothing to ease the tension. The moons lit up her blade beautifully, shadows from the fire playing with the lines of her face. Even now, he was reading her every move, and he’d no doubt she was doing the same.

“I think you know I can’t do that.” He spoke low, eyes never breaking from hers, searching for any tell or any sign she might strike. “Whatever answers you need from him, I’d be more than happy to pass along once I’m through.”

“I really wish you had a better answer.” Came her reply, sword twirling in the cold night air. Finally she settled on an idea. She would test his spirit and have her own tested in return. She slid her right foot in front of her body and tensed her left foot in the back and sprung forward like a snake. “Ki!’ Shakti shouted as she thrust her blade out towards the man’s chest, exhaling her breath as she moved.

Sevari’s sword came down at an angle, batting away the girl’s sword that was set on biting into his chest. He quickly transitioned into a thrust of his own in an effort to gain some space to work with.

Her thrust parried but still intent on seizing the initiative, Shakti slapped the man’s riposte away but refused to give ground she had gained in her lunge. She returned her sword to its neutral position in her centre attitude. Perhaps it was unwise to corner a dangerous man such as this. The thought had crossed her mind, but she wanted to keep him off balance and with little room to manoeuvre.

His lip curled in contempt as she foiled his own thrust and returned to her stance. The two gave a moment of silence in their dance, but Sevari was tiring of this already. He wasn’t sure he should leave any more than the one corpse, and who knew who else could stumble upon this little game this little girl was playing. One thing remained to be said, she wasn’t as harmless with that sword as Sevari first thought. With no more time to waste, he sent a downward slice her way to gain back the offensive.

The Redguard girl easily sidestepped the attack, but instead of immediately counter-attacking she merely inched her blade slightly closer to the man. This, combined with her position being shifted slightly to the right meant that to keep Shakti firmly in his centre, he would be forced ever closer to the wall of the alley. Of course it did leave an opening for him to dash past her, but Shakti calculated she could punish him accordingly if he took that risk.

Sevari was growing ever more annoyed. The events of the past few days did nothing to help keep his head, but he was determined to at least have today be a victory. With a growl, he slapped her blade away from himself and made to dash for Khesh. A searing pain cut him short and he stumbled back, wildly slashing to make this girl step back. Finally, Khesh was behind him and so was the exit out of here. The girl came at him again, making a thrust for his face that he leaned to the side against, not having any time to think.

He followed the lean with stepping to the side, thrusting from his hip looking for purchase but only leaving a small push-cut along her side. He held his sword out at the ready to ward any attacks off and chanced a look at himself. It was then he noticed his robes sticking to his back. He didn’t want to think on how bad it was, only the task at hand to worry about. “You’re stumbling into something much bigger than yourself, girl.” Sevari shook his head, “And right now I think you’re on the wrong side.”

The Redguard girl felt her side and grimaced as she realised she had taken a cut through her tunic. She had given as bad as she had got though, which was to say fairly superficially. Still, she felt her temper rise, “Don’t be so quick to predict the future when it is not yet off the loom!” Shakti spit back, “Leave the traitor-knight here and we can be done with this!” She kept her sword-point aimed at him but made no attempt to attack. He seemed to be losing patience, perhaps she could force him to make an error. However, she needed to remain calm and collected to do that. Control, control, control! her mind screamed. Maintain poise! She had read that in an ancient Yokudan scroll. There was no need to be reckless, at least not yet. She still felt the urge in her heart to press the attack, to go for the final cut, but she fought to restrain herself. If she made a mistake now, it meant certain death.

Sevari clenched his jaw, his eyes squinting in anger at the insolence of this girl. One thing he could say was that she was a good swordswoman. He wondered who had trained her, she was able to keep her own against him and he’d been fighting for twenty years. “No. You have far outlasted your stay here.”

With that, a blinding white light emitted from his palm. He scrambled towards Khesh, who was again beginning to stir. This fight had set him back a bit, wondering where Quintus was. He kicked Khesh in the side of the head as he made to get to his feet, dropping him back to the ground with a pained grunt. Just as he slapped his hands onto Khesh’s collar, he heard the sharp crack of a Dwemer rifle. He jumped back with a surprised growl at the sudden loud bang. “Away from the man, now!” Sevari looked at the Dwemer just as the look of recognition spread across his face, “Sevari?”

“I’m working, you fool.” Sevari said, “Get her!”

“Who?” Sevari looked behind him and was met with an empty alleyway. With an annoyed tsk he rose to his full height.

“Just get him, then. Bring him to the Governor’s Palace.” Sevari said.

As the Dwemer soldiers hauled Khesh to his unsteady feet, Sevari turned back to the alleyway. Who was that girl? He’d have to look out for her, if not to ask her what in Oblivion she was doing messing with his mission, just to ask her where she had learned what she knew and who gave her that sword. “Sir?” Sevari stared after where she had probably made her escape from, he heard the Dwemer soldier ask again, a bit louder, “Sir?”

“I’ll catch up. Just go.” He said, following after a few moments of thinking.

A few minutes of running later, Shakti stopped in a darkened sidestreet and bent double to catch her breath. One hand on the pommel of her sword, now safely back in its sheath, the other hand on her wounded ribcage. In between breaths she lifted her tunic up to check the wound. It was lightly bleeding still but it did not look fatal. “Oh good. At least I won’t bleed to death in an alley.” She wiped some of the blood from her side and wiped it on the wall. After all, this was her good tunic, the one she wore on important missions and she did NOT want to have to wash blood out of it. She peeked out into the street to see if she was followed. It didn’t appear so. She rubbed her eyes. They still stung from the bright light that was clearly intended to stun her. Instead, she had heard some commotion behind her and had half turned. The bright flash and the sound of footsteps convinced her it was time to cut her losses and run. Still half-blinded, she had torn down the road as fast as her legs would carry her.

Exhaling and starting off back towards the Three Crowns, she reassured herself that although she hadn’t managed to get away with the Knight, she had managed to escape with her life. That counted for something, right?

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Shakti's thoughts on the Party as of 4E208

---

Brynja: Ah, who? Oh. I think she was part of the party that helped me break out of prison? I haven't been introduced to her yet.

Meg: Meg! She is so sweet! We are from such very different places, but I feel a kinship with her. Like she's a sister from a far away land. I only just met her, like most of them, but Meg is the one I would never forgive myself for if something bad happened to her. She was instantly kind to me and opened up about her homeland, which I get the sense she misses, like I might if I ever leave the sands of Hammerfell.

Calen: Shakti laughs. He seems good-hearted but I'm not sure if I can ever forgive him for taking advantage of my ehh... impaired state and feeding me those tales! He is quite attractive though. Did I just say that out loud?

Raelynn: Who? Breton girl? There are like five Breton girls in the Three Crowns! Oh. I do not think I've met her.

Latro: I haven't been properly introduced to him. He is pretty though. Guys can be pretty right?

Rhona: Who?

Nanine: I like her. She is strong willed. Her sword scares me. (Why is it black and glowing???) When she broke me out of the wagon I saw her disintegrate metal with magic. That also scares me. I still think her clinky-clank armour is worse in a fight than no armour though. (Sorry Nanine!)

Alim: Fellow Redguard? I haven't gotten a chance to speak with him! We have so much to talk about!

Anifaire: High elf? I saw her at the party dancing with the other Redguard. I don't know her though. I hope she's not a Dominion spy. I will have to kill her if she is :)

Mazrah: Maz! So loud! She helped rescue me! She is like a rowdy sibling that you admire for breaking all the rules and encouraging you to do the same thing. She was the first person to come see me after I got back to the hotel and she was so friendly and she even helped me get healed after I got cut on the arm. What's not to love about her? Why doesn't she wear clothes? Do Orcs not wear clothes? I hope she wears clothes in the desert, or else she will get a nasty sunburn.

Judena: Argonian! Ju-den-a. I have not properly met her, but Meg told me about her. She literally broke me out of my chains and I NEED to get around to giving her a gift for that. She was also the first Argonian I've ever seen. Freaky. Is that mean??

Jaraleet: Another Argonian! I don't know him though. I heard he did something bad?

Daro’Vasora: She found my sword! She is very fair and level-headed, and listened to my story and gave it back without even getting angry. Not quite what I expected. I hope she reconsiders her stance on tomb robbing though. I will forgive her for it though because she bought me goat's milk and dates! Most of the others seem to look to her for leadership, or at least guidance. She reminds me of my mother.

Gregor: Imperial? Beard? Black hair? Black clothes? Is he mourning? I do not think we have met.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Frippery

A Greenie & Amaranth collaboration

Three Crowns Hotel, Gilane
2nd of Midyear, Afternoon

Shakti sat in a windowsill and watched people come and go. She had snatched some food from the kitchen when no one was looking and from an empty table in the dining area and eagerly munched away as she observed the comings and goings of the various residents of the hotel. Some she had recognised from her rescue and subsequent milling about the ground of the place, but others she had not recognised or perhaps they were guests. It was a hotel after all, so she had to assume they had legitimate guests. Either way, Shakti watched them as she ate and ate as she watched. She had a bowl of stew and a piece of bread which she swirled in the hearty broth as she nibbled on it. She washed it all down with a swig from her canteen which contained water. Almost as good as goat’s milk. Almost.

"Food pretty good, eh?" After refraining from eating for almost a whole day, it was no surprise that Meg had pretty much inhaled her lunch and then gotten herself seconds. Her stomach a little filled now, she had started eating slowly rather than shovelling stew soaked bread in her mouth, so she had the opportunity to actually looked around herself and do a little people watching. Morning most she recognized, having seen them about since her arrival. There was however a face she had only seen once, the Redguard Brynja and the others had rescued. Having been distracted by her own mission and other news, Meg hadn't been able to introduce herself, until now.

"I'm Meg, by the way." She offered the young woman a smile. "Or Megana, but call me whatchu want. Sorry didn' get a chance t'meet you 'til now."

Shakti jumped a little at the voice. She hadn’t seen the other woman come up beside her, being too busy eating and staring to pay attention to her periphery. She swallowed a bite of food and responded, “Oh hello. Yes, it is very good, though I’m mostly just hungry. It is good to meet you Megana, I am Ta- Shakti, is what they call me.” She cursed herself for slipping up. She wasn’t used to codenames yet. Hopefully it wouldn’t matter, this new woman seemed friendly enough so far. Looks could be deceiving though. Shakti grinned back and tore off a piece of bread and offered it to Megana.

“Oh, thankies!” Not one to say no to offered food, Meg took the bread and took a hearty bite from it, enjoying the taste and texture. “Mmm…” Yes, refraining from food really did help remind a person how enjoyable eating actually was. Meg could only imagine how it had to be for Shakti, having been stuck in the prison. Her ventures underground in Skyrim had often and rather accidentally taken her to cells with long dead prisoners, some Imperial supporters, some of the Stormcloaks, others just having been in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was nice to know that this young woman who was kind enough to share bread with a complete stranger had been saved from such a fate by her companions.
“That’s a lovely name y’got there,” she commented once she’d swallowed and cleared her throat with a gulp of water. “Hm…” She decided not to comment on the fact that Shakti mentioned it was what she was called. “How’re you findin’ it here? The Three Crowns I mean, I’m assumin’ you’re from here, Hammerfell that is.”

Shakti took another bite of her bread as she thought about Meg’s question. Well, the city was nice enough, although she missed the desert and its open skies. It was somewhat claustrophobic in the tightly wound city streets and alleys. “I, I think I like it here. I am from the Alik’r desert and I miss it but... But Gilane isn’t so bad. The hotel is nice as well, even if the room they gave me is a bit, er, small.” Shakti kicked her feet a bit as she swirled some bread in the soup and took another bite. “I do not recognise your accent. Where are you from? Is it anything like this? I know the weather here can take a bit of getting used to. Or so I’ve heard, I have not actually been outside Hammerfell.” The young Redguard offered a sheepish smile to go with her comment.

“Woah, the desert…” Meg had a hard time even imagining how the weather out there had to be. Roasting in the desert sounded just about right, if Gilane felt so hot and sticky to her. Mara please don' let the desert be a place we gotta visit…

“Oh, I'm from Skyrim!” She was quick to jump on the much cooler topic. “Not like here at all… it's cool all year roun’, an’ some places there's always snow, like Winterhold. I've seen lotsa Redguard in Skyrim, even an Alik’r warrior once.” She couldn't help but notice the sheepish smile on Shakti’s face. “Some months ago, Skyrim had been the only country I roamed 'round. Stick with us an’ I'm sure you'll be seein’ lots more of Tamriel than y’ever thought was possible.”

“There are Alik’r in Skyrim? In the snow?” The notion somewhat surprised Shakti. She had never really seen snow before. It got cold in the desert at night, but it did not really snow. She wondered if it was like sand that was always cold. She tried to picture what that would be like, but it was hard to picture it in her mind. “I hope I get to see more of Tamriel. I’ve heard tales of what it is like, but to see it in person… It would be wondrous!”

“Aye, there are,” Meg replied with a grin. It wasn’t often when she found herself more knowledgeable on a subject that someone else, so she was relishing the moment as much as she had enjoyed her food just a few minutes ago. “Pro’ly just passin’ through, never really chatted with ‘em. But I did know a few Redguard in Riften growin’ up, and when I moved t’Whiterun.” She nodded in agreement to seeing more of Tamriel. “Aye… it’s pretty damn amazin’ how the differen’ places can be, just by usin’ your own two feet t’move ‘round.” She looked out of the window; catching sight of the sky, she nodded toward it. “Even the sky here looks differen’ from what I was used t’seein’ back home… I’m hopin’ maybe tomorrow I’ll feel better an’ get t’know Gilane more.”

She looked away from the window and once more set her eyes on Shakti. “So… how’re you findin’ the others?”
“Well, aside from you I’ve only spoken to two others, maybe three. There is the tall Orcish woman, Mazrah. She seems like she has a good heart, if a bit, er rough. There is also the Khajiit, Daro’Vasora.” Shakti put a hand on her sword, “She had my sword, and I traded her for it. She too was very kind, but she also seemed troubled by things. I also briefly met an Argonian, though I do not know their name, only that they freed me.” She had seen a few others stalking the grounds of the compound, but they had all seemed troubled by something. It seems there was a shadow of something hanging over the members of the group, though Shakti could not begin to guess at what it could be. Especially when she had been so consumed by her own problems with recovering her sword.

Meg nodded. "Y'mean Judena," she provided, an instant smile finding itself on her face as she thought of the older argonian woman. "She's been with us since the beginnin', pro'ly one of the sweetest person I ever met." She thought something over for a couple of seconds before continuing. "Don' be surprised if she doesn' remember your name at firs'. She can be forgetful, but she's someone y'want on yer side." That and there was just something about the older argonian that made you like her... even Durantel hadn't been immune.

"I haven' met Mazrah yet, but if Sora- er, Daro'Vasora trusts her, then so do I. An' the same goes for you." She offered the Redguard a smile and her hand.

“Judena. Got it.” Shakti said, trying the word out. “Yes, she did seem rather kind in the brief moments we interacted. I had never seen an Argonian before her.” The Redguard clasped her two hands around Meg’s outstretched hand, slightly unsure of what she was supposed to be doing. She did however, know that a smile begets a smile in return, and so she beamed back at the Nord woman. “It has truly been nice to meet you, Megana. However, it is almost midday and I must practice my sword-forms. I hope we will speak again soon!” With that, Shakti hopped off of her perch and bowed to Meg.

Meg stood up as well and returned the bow, feeling it was probably the nice thing to. "Aye, t'was nice meetin' you as well, Shakti! Hope t'see y'around again!"

Finishing her bow, Shakti raced off towards a deserted courtyard, no doubt intent on practicing her attitudes with a sword in the warm afternoon sunshine.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Swords & Smithies

An Amaranth and Dervs collab

Gilane Streets, 1st of Midyear, Late Afternoon

After her meeting with Megana, Daro’Vasora hurried back to her quarters and retrieved the sword she’d obtained from the prison officer and decided she needed to move quickly with it before things got worse in the city; she wanted to get a new scabbard for it, or a decorative box, at the very least, and have a blacksmith appraise it for value and point of origin. It was a curious thing, one that even without a smithing background, she could appreciate the fine craftsmanship to it; had it been discovered as an antiquity, it would have been one of the nicer finds she’d ever made.

Its design philosophy seemed to be primarily following Yokudan or Redguard preference for curved blades like scimitars, which offered an incredibly long and effective cutting edge that wasn’t ideal for heavy armour, but given the climate where full plate seldom made an appearance due to heat, it was a great weapon to use, especially from camel or horseback. However, there seemed to be some Akaviri inspiration on behalf of the creator; the blade was long, and its curve wasn’t nearly as pronounced as a scimitar and it was somewhat narrower, like the katanas that the Tsaesci, the snakemen, of Akavir who had once been predominant in the Empire and the founders of the Blades, who continued their weapon and armour tradition of Eastern philosophy. It was possible that the weapon had once belonged to a Blade, or a former one, and had brought it to Hammerfell after he had left his service. An exile or defector, perhaps, from when Hammerfell broke free of the Empire? The Khajiit was fairly excited; there was a lot of personal history to this piece, but what?

The leather grip, perhaps stingray, was done in katana style but the pommel and general shape of the grip was done in a very scimitar-fashion where it was clear the weapon was meant for one-handed use, although the raindrop-shaped pommel was wide along long enough to allow for extra grip should the user need the leverage; the brass was worn down and encased over the iron, likely to imitate a much more expensive and ornate design which might have used gold plating instead. However, the entire weapon was clearly well cared for and made with an eye for detail, and on top of that, it had clearly been used by an experienced swordsman; it was a tool of conflict, not a show piece.

Latro was going to love it.

As she walked through the marketplace, she carried the weapon easily at her left side and had her features concealed under a long cloak that was to conceal her features, namely her snout and tail, and hopefully was inconspicuous enough that guards who were looking for her might overlook her appearance. They were, afterall, probably after a Khajiit with a mace, and not a Redguard blade.

Shakti had resolved to get her sword back. She was going back to the prison complex and retrieving her sword, Dwemer be damned. She might need to be rescued twice, but if she came out of it with her father’s sword, it would be worth it. She was not going to be the Nasaaj that lost the familial blade. She’d rather die. Literally. The young Redguard stalked through the sunbaked afternoon streets, her messy hair being made messier by a cool breeze that snaked its way through the buildings and alleys of the town. She had tucked her temporary dwemer shortblade in through the back of her belt for quick access. Not that she wanted to use it. Some superstitious part of her felt that the more she got used to that blade instead of her blade, the less likely she would be to find it.

She did need to find the prison again though. Thankfully the outdoor market she had wandered into was fairly populated and so asking for directions would be a breeze. Shakti approached the first fellow Redguard she saw that looked friendly enough to chat up and began, “Water and shade to you friend, do you think you could point me to the prison? My friend is being held and I need to post bail for him.” She put on her warmest smile and tone of voice as she asked her question and the merchant smiled back. “Water and shade to you, young lady. Of course I can point it out. I’ll do better and draw you a map.” The man sketched out a crude map and marked the prison with an x before handing it to Shakti, who gratefully accepted it. Something caught her eye though. She couldn’t be sure but… “I must go before he goes stir crazy!” The young nomad said as an afterthought as she disengaged from the merchant and darted her way past a crowd to try and catch a glimpse of what she had seen.

The blacksmith was just ahead, if the sign of a sword superimposed on an anvil was to be believed. Bellows of dark smoke came from the back, suggesting that its furnaces were well underway. The Khajiit entered the shop, which had its heavy doors open inward to allow whatever breeze could be caught to help cool down the stifling building. Daro’Vasora approached the counter, setting the blade down on the counter and waited for an attendant or the smith himself to appear.

It turned out the smith was a swarthy Redguard woman. Daro’Vasora pulled down her hood, as to not hide her features and draw suspicion of the smith. “Hey, I recently acquired this blade on an expedition to the North, and it seemed to be quite a bit different to most of the other blades I’ve seen people in this region carrying. I was wondering if you could appraise it, or tell me something about it.” she asked.

The smith picked up the sword, studying it appreciatively. “It’s been around for quite a few years, I can say that much. It’s definitely not a military or guard sword; it lacks proof marks and it seems a bit too personalized to fit in with any outfit I’ve come across. The steel looks like it’s high-carbon, which tells me the owner was really wealthy or had quite the benefactor for it. I can tell you that the craftsmanship is rather exquisite, but there’s a lot to this sword that doesn’t seem like any of the other smiths I know or work I’ve seen in Hammerfell.” she looked up with a concentrated pout. “Without knowing the history about this thing, I can’t really give you a price point for what it’s worth on a market, but I’ll tell you this; it was definitely worth something immeasurable to the owner. Are you planning on selling?” the smith asked.

Daro’Vasora shook her head. “No, I was planning on gifting it to a suitor who is quite a swordsman, he saved my life on one of our expeditions gone quite awry. I was hoping to have a scabbard for it, or at least some kind of decorative box. Seems like a bit of a shame to carry this thing loose out in the open.”
The smith nodded in agreement. “Doesn’t take much to embolden a thief, flash a bit of wealth and it’s like bleeding by sharks. Although, with the Dwemer curfew, my shop’s been safer than ever.” She snorted. “At least that’s one of the few good things to come out of all this. Tell you what, it’s a strange curve to the blade, but I might be able to find something in the back for it if you can wait a short while.” She gestured at a table off to the side. “Warm wine, but if you’re parched, please welcome yourself to it.”

“Please, take your time.” The Khajiit said with a smile, and she left the counter as the smith took the blade.

Shakti pushed her way past a haggling merchant and would-be customer as she struggled to tail the figure that seemed to be carrying her blade. She could not properly tell who it was, but it was someone, and it was her blade. She would recognise that unusual curve anywhere. “Gods above!” She swore under her breath as the figure disappeared into what seemed to be a smithy. She reached simultaneously for the door and her blade but exhaled and realised she should not be so hasty. She took a step away from the door and decided to peer inside the window.

Her eyes grew wide in horror and disbelief as she managed to catch a glimpse of the smith taking the sword, HER SWORD, into the back of the shop! “Desert take all of you!” She swore again and decided she really shouldn’t be tarrying around out here while her sword was due to be melted down into horseshoes. Shakti opened the door to the smithy, as calmly as a pot of water about to boil over could manage and slipped into the shop. She cleared her throat and tried to put on her best ‘Don’t-mind-me-I’m-not-about-to-lose-it’ voice, “Water and shade to you, stranger. Pardon my interruption but, that blade. Where did you get it?”

Daro’Vasora looked at the newcomer, a young woman, quizzically. She hadn’t seen her when she entered the shop, she was certain. Maybe just someone who caught sight of it in the street?

Honesty probably wasn’t the best option here; telling a stranger you broke a guard’s arm and stole it from him wasn’t a very wise thing to do. “I was on an expedition to the North, got jumped by bandits. One of them had the blade, I thought it looked valuable, so I brought it in to be appraised. Do you think it would be a nice gift for someone?” she asked cordially.

So she was lying. Interesting strategy. Shakti took a deep breath. She realised that this conversation was like a duel. Her knowledge that this Khajiit stranger was lying gave her the upper hand, and losing her cool would cost her momentum. She had to play it slow and carefully. Strike with intent. First, she would test her opponent’s defence, “That is not where you really got it, is it? Come now, where did you really acquire it?” She tried to keep her voice cordial and warm but some simmering annoyance and evidence of her thread-bare patience boiled through. Perhaps speechcraft was harder than swordcraft.

The Khajiit shrugged, the girl was being a pest right now. For all she knew, she was a kid who was bribed with the barest minimum of coin to rat loose tongues out to the guards.

“Believe it or not, I don’t really care. Why the interest?” Daro’Vasora asked, drinking from the glass provided. She really wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated by a teenager.

“I am simply interested because it is my blade. It has been in my family for generations and I would like it back. I know you stole it from the prison guards, who stole it from me.” Shakti’s tone changed from friendly to neutral-bordering-on-hostile in an instant, her facade of friendliness dropped like a piece of meat in a duneripper’s lair.

How on Nirn did she know about the raid on the guard outpost raid? The Khajiit stared back at the first girl and her sudden hostile infliction, tempting to snap back that it was no longer her sword. Instead she pulled the Redguard to the side, keeping her tone low. “Shut it, or we're both in a world of hurt. You cannot trust people to not be sympathetic to the wrong people now, understood? Tell me how you know about that particular ordeal. As for the sword, I'm only going off of what you tell me, so who are you?”

“Whoa!’ Shakti exclaimed involuntarily as she was swung to the side by the Khajiit woman. Her hand instinctively grasped for the Dwemer shortblade but she restrained herself when it became obvious the Cat-woman wasn’t going to shiv her in the stomach with her claws. The Redguard girl talked fast, keeping her voice low, “I am Shakti of the Alik’r, I was imprisoned before being freed by an Orcish woman. Her name is Mazrah. She told me about the other raid. She even suggested one of you might have taken it. I did not believe her. I appear to be wrong.”

“Mazrah.” Daro’Vasora replied, shaking her head. It certainly was a figure that left a bit of an impression, and it certainly lined up with what she’d heard. Still, news of this Redguard joining the ranks was completely new; the Khajiit had no idea.

Then again, I was the one who brought Mazrah into all of this without saying a damned thing to anyone. Daro’Vasora reminded herself, clearing her throat.

“Well, that checks out. Who else was there, where are we staying? Do you know who we work for?” Daro’Vasora asked, desperately wanting to believe that this girl was authentic.

“I do not know who you work for, I have not spoken with any others. The only other I interacted with was an Argonian, she carried a staff and freed me from my shackles with some sort of magic. Your base is at the Three Crowns Hotel, that way. I have a room there as well.” Shakti jabbed her thumb in the direction of the hotel as she finished her rapid fire answers. She felt like a cornered Mitana-cat, like the ones she had seen in cages on the docks of Sentinel. She even felt the hairs on her neck standing up.

The Khajiit sighed, her posture going loose, and a chuckle escaped from her throat in relief. “Well, isn’t this something. I believe you, we could have avoided this particular engagement if someone had elected to tell me about you. You’ll have to excuse my Argonian friend, her memory isn’t what it used to be, even before I met her. Truth is, you’re right how I came across the sword. I was attacked by an officer trying to find a manifest and I took it from him when I managed to take him by surprise, because it is a nice blade and I didn’t want him running me through when my back was turned.” she glanced towards where the smith had disappeared. “And don’t worry, I’m not getting it melted down or whatever you think I’m doing. I was going to give it to someone I cared about… I didn’t expect its owner to show up.”

Shakti’s face lightened up and tension seemed to leave her stance, an audible sigh of relief escaping her lips. “Oh good. I was afraid you were going to sell it. It’s not like I have the money to buy it back.” Her tone had reverted to its usual friendly and sort-of-melodic-but-not-quite-in-tune state and she offered a grateful smile to the Khajiit. “I, er, hope you weren’t expecting me to pay you for it.” She quickly added, realising that perhaps expecting the Khajiit to just give it up for free might be a little too naïve. Shakti reached behind her back and pulled out her Dwemer shortblade and offered it to the other woman, hilt first. “I know it is not quite equal but perhaps you can still give your friend a gift.”

The gesture was of kindness and utterly unexpected. The Khajiit’s hands wrapped around the offered scabbard and she offered a slow blink as she processed it. “You… you don’t have to do this.” Daro’Vasora said, unaccustomed to generosity from strangers, especially when she clearly was in possession of the girl’s rightful property. “Don’t you need this, why don’t you sell it?”

“It seems our paths were woven together for a reason. I think you should have it. “ Shakti encouraged her with another smile and pushed the blade fully into the Khajiit’s paws. “I don’t need any other blades, and I do not need or want the gold. Besides, I just took it off of a guard anyway. I cleaned it and sharpened it as well.”

“Well, that makes two of us, yours just might be a tad more sentimental, however.” Daro’Vasora said, accepting the blade outright and fastening it about her waist. She noticed the smith coming back through the door with the Redguard’s blade. “At least allow me to return the generosity.” she said, approaching the counter.

The smith was holding a scabbard that almost looked like it was an exact fit for the blade, and its finish even mirrored that of Shakti’s sword, as if it came from somewhere similar. “Well, it took a few tries, but I remembered this one came in a few months ago and never seemed to belong to anything. I thought the curious blade might belong to it, and what do you know.”

Daro’Vasora smiled, reaching for her coin purse. “To what do I owe you for this?” she asked.

“40 gold, it’s pretty nice, but it’s not much of a use to me if I can never find a blade to seat in it. Usually I’d charge three times that rate for something of this quality and scarcity, but honestly? I’d just be happy to have the shelf space back.”

A few heavy coins were placed on the counter in a stack, which the smith took. “Would you like a receipt?” she asked.

“No, I can’t imagine it’ll be returning any time soon.” The Khajiit said, placing her hands together and bowing. “You have my thanks, and may Zenithar look over your business.” she said. The smith smiled, slipping the coins in her apron before disappearing to the back. The Khajiit turned to the girl. Taking the blade in its scabbard and offering it to the Redguard, she asked, “So Shakti, was it?”

The Redguard girl could barely contain her delight at seeing her beloved sword again. She was practically bouncing up and down at the prospect. And that scabbard! It was a perfect fit but, it was nicer and in better condition than the old one. Where did the smith get such a thing? It was very similar to her old sheath as well, and yet slightly different. There was an air of familiarity to it, for certain. Shakti knew it from someone or somewhere. She had seen it before, but the memory was like an early morning fog over an oasis in the Alik’r. She watched the Khajiit pay for the scabbard and eagerly accepted the blade when it was offered to her. “I know this sheath,” the Redguard girl mumbled under her breath to the nameless gods of the desert, “But from where?”

It didn’t matter, at least for the moment. Shakti held the sword up to her face and pulled it halfway from its sheath, inspecting the blade to make sure it was still in good condition. Satisfied, she returned it to its place and hung it, blade up, from the empty baldric around her torso and waist. The familiar weight did more to ease her than a million mulled wines or Potions of Calm Mind could ever do.

Shakti mussed up her own hair and responded to the Khajiit. “Well, my real name is Tariyeh, but don’t tell anyone else that. Shakti is my middle name. What’s your name?”

“Daro'Vasora,” the Khajiit said, offering a hand. “Or Vasora, if you prefer. It's good fortune we met today, I just would have preferred knowing you were with the company before showing up at the smithy.” she replied with a smile. “If you're hungry, I'd be happy to grab something to bite with you to hear your story, Shakti.”

Shakti shook Daro’Vasora’s hand and nodded in agreement. “I am glad we met as well. Sorry we were not introduced before. Things at the hotel seemed busy and I tried to keep out of trouble.” Also she had a wounded arm, but that wasn’t the point. “I would love something to eat. Do they have goat’s milk around here?”

“Only about as much as sand.” The Khajiit grinned. “Come on, let's see what catches our fancy. At least the occupation hasn't spoiled good cuisine.”

Her sword in its rightful place, Shakti led the march out of the smithy and back out into the hot afternoon bazaar. The smells of a hundred different foods wafted and mixed freely, but Shakti could pick out a few that she recognised. She smelled roasted duneripper steaks and goat legs, she spied fresh dates and was further drawn to the bleating of goats and the promise that it made.

A few minutes later, the two were seated at a shaded table with a pitcher of goat milk between them and a pair of lamb kebabs a piece with some honey dates on the side. Daro’Vasora started off with the dates; she always liked food she had to work through. “So, you’re from the Alik’r?” she asked.

In between bites of date and sips of goat milk, Shakti found time to answer. “Yes, I’m from a tribe that lives in the Alik’r. We move from place to place, all around the desert. It’s our home. Where are you from? Where do you call home? Many Khajiit come to Hammerfell for the warm climate.”

“Leyawiin, in the far South of Cyrodiil, it’s pretty close to being tropical swampland, but I’m still not quite used to this dry desert heat. I can’t imagine living out in the desert like your people or the nomads of Anequina down in Elsweyr. I never had many occasions to go to either here or there because it’s simply not a good place to look for ruins, you run out of supplies chasing rumours.” Daro’Vasora explained between bites.

Shakti tapped her chin, “I’ve heard of Leyawiin once or twice. I should like to see it one day.” She finished her glass of milk as Daro’Vasora elaborated. “The desert can hide many secrets. I’ve seen many tombs and been in many ruins in the Great Alik’r. I know a man who lives in one… under the sands! You must know that the desert does not like thieves and if you take, you must give in return. I have borrowed a few books from ancient places but I do my best to put them back when I pass by again.” Satisfied with her answer, Shakti went back to happily munching on her meal.

The Khajiit allowed a smile to purse her lips, knowing full well her typical expeditions were not of the respectful sort the young Redguard abided by. “Probably for the best, it’s been my life work to rediscover artifacts lost to time and procure them for clients, historical collectors, nobility, ancestors of sorts, simply rich people. We Khajiit tend to have this way of looking at the world where if something is left unattended, it’s unwanted and it’s a shame for it all to go to waste. So, if some ruby inlaid sword that was held by some Emperor eight hundred years ago commands a price equivalent to some patron’s happiness, I provide that service. I’ve always loved history, the stories of the world. There’s nothing like that rush of discovering something that you only read about in stories and holding it with your own hands, knowing you were the one who made that discovery.” she held her hands out in front of her for emphasis, looking at a pair of Dwemer soldiers marching past with rifles slung over their shoulders. “And sometimes, history shows up in the most unlikely of places.” she murmured.

Shakti nodded grimly. She understood that some people had to do unsavoury things to make ends meet. Still, disturbing the sacred dead to rifle through their possessions, only to pawn them off to some rich noble? The thought was nigh unthinkable. Surely the dead would rise from their graves before they would let some adventurer cart off their prized helmet or sword. She had felt anxious merely borrowing texts from ancient temples, let alone marauding a crypt! With actual dead in it! However it seemed like not the wisest decision to verbally chasten her new friend (who had explicitly mentioned it was her life’s work) about her job, so the Redguard girl held her tongue. Surely they wouldn’t make HER maraud a tomb? Would they? She internally shuddered.

“Yes, I see what you mean. It isn’t something I would choose to do, but not everyone is me thankfully. Did the Dwemer really come marching out of the ground after all this time?” Shakti asked in a hushed tone.

Daro’Vasora rapt her claws on the table, feeling somewhat uneasy of how much she should tell the new addition, or even admitting that the Dwemer returning and occupying Shakti’s country and killing her people was likely the fault of her new friends, so she decided to feign some ignorance. Wasn’t it enough to be actively trying to fix the problem?

It’s not like you’re the one who activated the damned device, Sora… but you didn’t exactly try to stop Rhea, either. she thought grimly.

“I have no idea where they came from, the ground, the sky, some rift between worlds… You’d have to talk to someone who spent the better years of their lives studying the theoretical causes of their disappearance that one. The others and myself, we saw the Jerall Mountains erupt in a cascade of energy, and a few days after returning to Imperial City, airships swooped in from the sky and Dwemer troops overwhelmed the city, killing everyone who got in the way, and many who didn’t.” Her rapping turned into digging a gouge with a nail on the limestone as her voice grew terse. “But yeah, it’s them all right. I studied their ruins for so long I was able to cross reference what I found with the new materials these ones brought with them… they’re basically the same as when they disappeared in the First Era.”

“That’s… horrible!” Shakti exclaimed, her voice getting a little louder than she intended. “I can’t imagine what things you’ve seen. I had hoped this was the only place they had occupied. “ She took another bite of her food, “I’m sorry to have brought that up. Surely the memories it brought up were not pleasant.” She could tell by the look on the Khajiit’s face that they were not. “Let us speak of nicer things. Have you traveled much? I’ve never been outside of Hammerfell, I would love to hear of things beyond the deserts.”

Daro’Vasora waved a dismissive hand. “Look, it is what it is, and everyone’s got an awful story from the past couple of months. It’s why I’m doing what I’m doing, why I’m trying to find ways to bite back at the Dwemer. The prison break, rescuing you from a transport, capturing an administrator… bits and pieces to see what starts to break. But I’ve been around, mostly around Cyrodiil, but I’ve been in Eastern Hammerfell once or twice, the sites of a couple of the old Orsiniums, High Rock, Skyrim, Morrowind. Always wanted to travel to the Dominion to see how the Ayleids changed when they went to Valenwood, or the traces of the Aldmeri heritage in Summerset, but it’s hard to get a visa as an Imperial citizen, even if you are practically neighbours with people who are supposed to be your mortal enemies… never stopped father from trading with Dominion merchants, even after the Great War cost him a leg.” The Khajiit smiled, remembering her father’s endless tenacity and unflappable spirit. “The world is a big, incredible place and it’s strange to think of how much the world can change moving even a few miles from home, but even halfway across the continent, people are still people. Even the Dwemer remind me of people that I’ve met in my travels, I’m not sure if that makes it easier or harder for me.”

“You really have seen most of the continent!” Shakti’s face lit up in amusement and excitement, “Has everyone in your group traveled as much as you? How long have you been in Hammerfell?” She felt a little guilty about bombarding the other woman with so many questions even though they had just met, but… but she just HAD to know! “You are right, these Dwemer don’t seem too different from any other elves. A man I know who fought in the Great War told me it reminds him of that. Just different elves, he says.” The war technically ended in a stalemate, although most Redguards considered it a victory by another name. Was this one going to end the same way?

Shakti’s enthusiasm was infectious, to say the least, and Daro’Vasora found her heart a bit warmed by this girl who seemed to be bright eyed and full of wonder while everyone else in her life seemed consumed by despair and anger; it was a good reminder that people like Shakti were worth all of the hardship, they were the ones who were going to put the world back together in the end. “Honestly? It’s only been a few short days. We arrived near the end of the month and immediately fell into what has had to been going on since the occupation started. The Dwemer here are different than those we fought in Cyrodiil… a part of me almost feels guilty about all of this.” she said, remembering what happened to Nblec Mazrak, who seemed to have been a good man who was tortured to death by people she had started to consider friends.

“Oh so you have only seen Gilane?” Her eyebrows raised in surprise, “You’ve yet to see so much! I’ve only been in Gilane a few days myself, a few of which were stuck in prison, but I already miss the open dunes of the Alik’r. There is something magical about the sands. I’ve spent my whole life out there and I still have not seen all of it. I doubt the Dwemer have either. The desert makes easy prey of the unprepared. Still, I am glad these Dwemer seem less likely to, er, kill then the ones in Cyrodiil.”

“Hasn’t been much of an opportunity to leave, I’m afraid.” Daro’Vasora admitted, looking towards the crowds passing in the street. It all seemed so normal, even with Dwemer mucking about and guards questioning people as they passed. She turned her gaze back to Shakti. “Magical, huh? You must be pretty in tune with your surroundings to get that sensation, I just see a uniform sea of dry death. I suppose it’s partially my duty to let you appreciate the wonders of a city; your experiences so far haven’t been stellar, it seems.”

“The true beauty of the desert lies below and above the sands. The stones in the desert are truly beautiful. And the way the dunes shimmer like a sea under the twin moonlight! Oh you should see it!” If nothing else, Shakti’s passion for her home bled out of her words. “What do you think is beautiful about the city?”

There was an artist to Shakti somewhere in there, it was hard not to smile. “Perhaps you can show me one day, when things are less… adversarial. Gilane is beautiful, I admire the way it blends ancient Yokudan sensibility with Dwemeri architecture and modern Redguard sensibilities, like the domed roofs and stained glass, how everything seems to catch the light and show a certain illuminessence. It’s far more beautiful than home, and most of Cyrodiil, truth be told.” Daro’Vasora replied, taking a thirsty drink of her own milk, which stayed on the fur on her lip.

“I’ve never really liked the city, but… but I think you are right. It does have its own charm to it. It feels like you could disappear in the crowds and no one would know.” Shakt tapped her chin as she took a bite of a date and finished her thought. “I suppose we should head back to the hotel soon, we’ve tarried long enough.”

“You are probably right. Well, cheers, to making new friends in unlikely places.” The Khajiit replied, raising her cup.

“Yes, cheers!” Shakti agreed, matching her cup to the Khajiit’s. They both took one last sip of goat’s milk and Shakti sighed contentedly. “Just when I was getting used to sitting down it is time to keep moving. We will speak again soon, I am sure of it. Oh, and tell me how your friend likes the gift.” The Redguard girl placed two of her three coins on the table and watched as Vasora did the same.

Offering one last bow, Shakti turned and headed back towards the hotel, father’s sword at her side.