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This one time I seriously considered buying a dick rose phone case.
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Most Recent Posts

<Snipped quote by DearTrickster>

Shouldn't there be 25 (or 24 with a free center space) for a bingo card? ;)

You have to get those five things in a row or single post to call BINGO, Ded. There's no cheatin'

Honestly given enough thought I could probably fill up a 24 slot bingo card with Odette and the shit she does.
Ambassador Bingo Sheet
If an Ambassador posts has all five of these things, it is Bingo

1. Parisian Tourist Spot
2. She Opens a Portal
3. Odette Patronizes Someone or Makes an Ominous Threat
4. Fey Shenanigans
5. Affectionately regards Mandate

Time: Afternoon - Day of the Satellite Attack
Location: Paris, France

The darkness of a stretching afternoon sunlight glowed over the statues of Sculpture garden of Musée Rodin. The Ambassador was called to the gardens to meet with one of the quieter creatures of Paris. Animals of various species found their homes in the ponds - toads most predominantly. Quite naturally they were all once human themselves, retaining some of their intelligence to avoid growing into pests. They watched from the water with the very same globulous eyes, silently pleading for help. The Ambassador had no control over the Fairy Lioness, simply gave her a quiet tourist destination. Luring the odd hapless human who may have disrespected the gardens, they now lived out their punishment and shortened lives as toads. If they lived out their lives they were among the lucky, the Lioness loved to save them for meals.

Of course, Bach followed at her side. Astutely eyes front and not paying much attention to the statues around them. His presence the least offensive but still so strongly associated with his mortal companion he was expected to show the same respect.

She walked with purpose today to see the very same spirit. Her long white romantic tutu style dress moved with her, a black heart shaped top with a large floppy yellow hat sat upon her head. A beautiful raw piece of amber hung at her neck on a gold necklace. She scanned along the statues knowing where the Lioness loved to hide. As she moved past a shadow imitating one of Rodin’s statues moved from the pose and followed The Ambassador.

She continued to walk finding her way down a rather unbeaten path, where grass grew more wild and she was barely within sight of the museum itself. Finally then did the Lioness reveal herself.

Her shadow gathered before the Ambassador, her head came first rising from the long shadow casted by The Ambassador, she towered above the likes of Odette. She was well over seven feet tall, draped in the skin of a lion. It’s jaw hung past the woman’s face casting it in shadow, her chin was dirty with bits of meat and dried blood. She neither smiled nor snarled. Her eyes averted, her hands clutched at the pelt covering herself shyly to remain somewhat modest. Native to France and among the wild spirits that did not approve of such meetings. She was rather happy to be left alone. Another family, light eating Sylphs wished for her presence down in the catacombs to hunt, they needed the glassy lenses of the rats, but they did not feel comfortable entering her den even as requests of favour.

The Sylphs liked playing with fractions of light, manipulating it through the lense of an animal’s eyeball or if they were lucky, a human’s. Unfortunately for them they weren’t proficient hunters. Odette didn’t inquire further but they asked for her to go on their behalf in exchange for a Soul Cleanse. A valuable little gift to lift veils, curses and hexes placed on the soul. Odette considered it would be useful in her work waiting with the White Witch. It sat as the crowning pearl on a circlet made of bones. Macabre as it could be.

The Fairy Lioness kept her eyes averted but was well aware of where The Ambassador’s attention was. One of the few faeries that did not pay favour to her for staying in Paris. She knew of The Ambassador’s protections, whispers told her of a mighty golem nowhere to be seen. The Lioness shifted on her feet, gripping her pelt.

Mighty Lioness. I am here on behalf of the Catacomb Sylphs. They seek out your help in hunting for animal eyeballs. They are willing to meet in the Notre Dame’s bell tower to discuss terms. Neutral ground.” The Ambassador began in Common Fey, staying still and not taking her eyes away from the Fairy Lioness. “I am simply a messenger.

Messenger, they did not have the courage to see me Ambassador? They send our Mistress. We have only met this once.” She shifted a bit closer closing the gap of personal space, Odette could smell the foul sour odor of her body. She appeared human but the way she walked was too strange. She spoke quickly, quietly, with no accent. “You smell strange, perfumed and soft. They do not have a daughter to feed me instead?

Odette shook her head, “Whatever terms they have to offer they did not inform me. They simply hoped the chance of a hunt would be incentive to meet with them.

The Lioness considered that, shifting again. “What- what do you have to offer me for my time? I have plenty to hunt here. I see no reason to trust the word of a soft, clean human. I would as easily eat you.

If you are hungry then that is all you needed to say.” She knew what she had to do to get the Lioness to comply. Odette stepped away from the Lioness, going to the pond just beyond where they were speaking. She stopped at the edge, seeing toads by the dozens swimming, eyes were directly on The Ambassador. She raised her hand, blue mist coating falling gently into the pond. The toads darted at the sight but she caught one straggler. Pulling it up out of the water levitating between her hands, immobilized. She thought briefly of how Mandate would have enjoyed seeing what was to happen next.

Odette reversed the curse, the toad grew back into a human woman. She was terrified staring at Odette, pleading to be free.

Still levitating, she brought the woman back before the Lioness. She made eye contact with Odette, feeling a certain dread plucking at her will. The Lioness croaked, “You would so easily offer one of your own people to me?

What is she to me when you are hungry? She would have lived out the remainder of her life as a toad, now she has the honour of sustaining you.” She replied, cold in her offering. “Or does she not please you?

The Lioness considered, averting her gaze once again. “You speak well, I accept. Lay her upon the ground.

The woman whimpered, tears streaming down into her hair. Gently Odette placed her into the soft grass taking a few steps away. “I will speak with the Sylphs on one more condition, Ambassador.

Odette waited. Watching the Lioness huddle over her meal.

You are to watch while I eat. If it such an honour to provide my meal, you shall watch as my honourable guest.” She said locking Odette in her spot, unable to refuse. She grinned making eye contact once more, the full weight of the Lioness’ dreadful gaze upon Odette once again.

The Ambassador sighed, nodding. Bach sighed as well. “Very well.

The Lioness tore into her meal, The Ambassador muffled the painful noise to their vicinity. While the Lioness was vicious she was not quick, hoping to get a reaction from the human mortal watching the gore with disinterest. Prodding for weakness as many have tried to do before, the fey native to Paris often were upfront with their distaste of The Ambassador’s mortality and her Sight. If she was to see, she was to watch.

It was well past an hour by the time the Lioness stood back up from her meal. She was covered in blood down the length of her body, no longer attempting to hide it with her pelt. The pelt itself seemed to brighten with life, fur standing on end, dull eyes watching Odette now where the Lioness averted her own. The mess she left behind was unrecognizable, the Lioness plucked the eyes from the dead woman’s skull and offered them.

A guarantee for the Sylphs. I will meet them at dawn.

Unflinchingly Odette gathered the eyes into her hand, passing them to Bach. They disappeared into his breast pocket inside his jacket. “I will relay the message. Good night, Lioness.

The Lioness seeped back into her shadows, bright eyes followed The Ambassador - watching her exit the gardens. When the Ambassador was clear from watching eyes, they walked a short ways stopping into a cafe, Bach shifted his appearance - coming to appear as human. His horns and leaves disappeared, his eyes brightened from yellow to white with green iris. His suit trimmed to a tweed gray suit with a green tie, a small little cheeky green rose at his lapel. She sat easily ordering a cold drinks. Bach joined her, visible to the naked eye.

She slipped into French, “Truly, what a waste of time. Making me watch her eat, hmph.

Bach shrugged, “It is in her nature to challenge. I am surprised you did not protest.

I seem to be surprising you a lot as of late.” She commented pointedly, shortly the waitress placed the iced coffees before them shyly blushing away from Bach’s heavy gaze. “I wasn’t in a position to complain. She named me a guest.

Butting heads, you mean.” He replied with a wryly grin. “Something has been on your mind, I know that much. This business with the Americans has shifted your priorities some. Shifted from what I usually understand of your wants.” Turning to a serious note, “Tell me, My Lady.

She crossed her legs, looking out the window. “I am focused, I have a goal in mind and now more than ever does the prophecy really mean nothing to me. I don’t care if he was sincere or not.” She emphasized, meaning Puck. Bach relaxed at her disregard, perhaps finally able to put thoughts of it behind her. “I have always understood what we have now Bach, is not forever. My power will peak and then it will wane.

He inclined his head, “True, but you are young and full of vitality. My Lady you have done what many thought was impossible. You’ve secured true power.” He argued. “I couldn’t be more proud.

She was unconvinced. Losing patience she swiped her hand, blue light spreading quickly on the back of a few Words of Power, deafening the patrons in the cafe from their conversation. Growing sick of tip toeing around her words.

There is no security! All the Fey I have control over will outlive me by lifetimes, yourself included Bach. It does not matter how much power I have right now, the likes of lowly spirits such as the Lioness will keep pushing their boundaries with me.” She snapped, removing her hat she placed it on the table. She sipped her coffee, calming down. “We butt heads because now more than ever what connections I have are important, maintaining my connection to my humanity and all it entails. I need them as I need you. It is frustrating how it is seen as a weakness but provides a source of strength, a grounding.

He conceded, “We are as one.” Quietly adding, in a twinge of envy. “I am all you truly need.

She leaned across the table taking his hands in hers. “You say they are dangerous.

He bowed his head to their hands, frustrated as he was. “We operate better keeping our allies in the dark. Why you gave such access to Mandate and Silence, is beyond me. Now you are on the brink with White Witch.” He looked up, “Who is next? Forge? The closer they are - who is to say they will not be targeted by our rivals. Do you truly want a repeat of Thomas?” He said gripping her hands, “Titania is only the start of rivalries. She wants to stamp you out swiftly in an all consuming war if properly provoked.

She averted her eyes, emotion welling up from the pits of her stomach at Thomas’ name. Uncontrollable. “Swiftly. She would not dream of such a tactic if I wasn’t mortal.” Odette insisted, not dwelling.

Understanding dawning on him. “You want immortality? We have discussed it before-

She cut him off, “An apprentice would not be able to carry on my legacy. I am the only one suited for this work. The Fey need to have a stronger foothold here, not just in Paris. I need to see through building more permanent portals, more connections, more power and that ultimately takes time.

...Like Gwyneth?” He asked, guarding his expression. He withdrew his hands.

She shook her head, “After having some time to think of her life, I find myself admiring her. The sheer resolve, strength, and intellect it must have taken to attempt an immortality spell on her own. Storing shards of herself amongst her treasured items in a moment of surprise, able to exert control of illusionary worlds thereafter…” Odette said warmly, remembering her meeting with the witch. “I can only hope that my abilities grow to be strong as hers.” She squeezed his hands. “I want to be me...I want…” She gazed into his eyes, “I want these attachments to stay with me for as long as I can.

Immortality would be a start.

He stood leaning over the table planting a kiss on her forehead, “You will have it on our terms. I will… Restrain myself and trust you understand the consequences.” He said, the weight of his words not going unnoticed by Odette.

They drank their coffees in comfortable silence, both mulling over what they spoke of. The radio playing in the background stopped suddenly for breaking news. The Hounds of Humanity destroyed three American cities with blasts from a satellite. News tracked the sudden gathering of metahumans in Lost Haven, following live updates of the ongoing fight there. Odette looked to Bach, “I suppose the Hounds will no longer be our problem very soon. Here’s hoping they take a few of our enemies with them.

Where did you drop Mandate off again? Surely not Lost Haven.” He asked.

Oh goodness, no. She is in New York. She was quite cagey on where she wanted to go. My guess was to see where she was born, wherever that may be.” She replied.

What of the potion ingredients from Vegas?” Bach asked, “Can’t keep our favourite criminal waiting for his miracle.” He said sarcastically.

Erik has the ingredients and his instructions.” Odette ignored his tone. “I will drop it off when it is done. Bach, we need to be on the same page now. We can’t keep butting heads, understood?

Yes, My Lady. We are clear.

Introductions and Tall Tales

A collab with @DearTrickster and @MacabreFox

Solitude - 4th of Last Seed - Night

His mind was a whirlwind. Leif’s encounter with Sevine just moments ago tore at his heart. His feet carried him straight for the Winking Skeever. The night was young, and while the bottle of wine in his hand begged to be emptied, he could think of nothing else but what just transpired. Never before had he felt so lonely. Leif yearned to hold someone tight in his arms, to let out his anguish in pained tears. His chest rose and fell, his hands felt cold and clammy. He felt sick.

Leif pushed open the door to the inn, and stepped into the warmth of the tavern, patrons filled nearly every table, except for one near the window along the farthest wall. He made his way over to the table, where he sank into the wooden chair, his legs giving out from underneath him entirely. Some patrons glanced his way at the strange sight of a Nord man sitting alone that was bent doubled over, clutching at his head.

He gritted his teeth, grinding them as he covered his ears. It took several minutes for his racing heart to slow. Eventually he sat up, his eyes studying the wooden knotwork in the table.

One such patron was a visiting redguard woman, small in stature and finishing off the dregs of her dinner out of a bowl. Wiping her mouth she considered her tall tankard of mead, knowing full well she’d need to drink plenty more than her coin could cover in order to pass out for a few hours. Still, she stole a quick sip then pushed up from her table enough to wet her whistle. Having exhausted her stories earlier to other patrons she decided to approach the downtrodden Nord. Perhaps he’d be willing to listen, distract from his very apparent broken heart. It was apparent to anyone with eyes, some of those she sat with shook their heads at her.

Standing up from the chair, she grabbed her cloak and the mead. She draped her cloak behind the seat across from the Nord and put down the tankard of mead before him.

“Ahoy, mate! Drink up! Drown out that broken heart and listen up. Lend me your new ears and I’ll spin you a tale of danger!” Maj began with a hearty laugh, she fanned her hand out for dramatic effect. “ Excitement and reward await in my stories.”

She leaned against the chair with a big grin, “No need to mope by the window with good company about.”

“Whatta ya say?”

The woman before him caused Leif to release his head to look her over. He was puzzled at her approach, why would a woman of all people approach someone like him? His blue eyes blinked unsteadily at her, perhaps he could use the distraction from the bitter reality that consumed him.

“The seat is yours.” He said, his gaze shifting to the tankard.

“Good! I would be hard pressed to take no for an answer.” she replied. “Name’s Maj, Maj Noor by the by.” She dipped her head in greeting before taking her seat. “Expert conjurer and illusionist, former corsair mage turned mercenary. Try not to be too impressed.” She dusted off imaginary dirt from her sleeve. “What’s yours, friend?”

“Before you ask, the mead is safe. See?” She took another sip to prove it’s legitimacy. “Freshly poured from the casket.”

She made him smile, even though he didn’t think he could at a time like this, he couldn’t help but smile at this eccentric Redguard’s approach. On her insistence that the mead was safe, he accepted the fermented honey drink, overly sweet for his taste, but the warmth in the pit of his stomach was a welcoming one.

“Leif Raven-Stone. Former corsair, eh? I sailed on the Courtesan for eight years. Where did your travels take you?” He asked, surprised to have met another sailor, and a woman at that.

“Ah! A fellow sailor! Then I’m sure you’ll appreciate what I have to tell you. The ship I called home was named the Scarlet Harpy, a unique crew completely made up of women, with heavy emphasis on mages. We sailed all along the western coast of High Rock, Hammerfell, and as far south as Summerset and Cyrodiil. Proudly apart of the Republic.” Maj said, she was proud - ploughing by the past tense she used, Leif didn’t look the part to hear her troubles. “Good to meet you Leif Raven-Stone.”

He had a difficult time keeping pace with the rush of words coming out of her mouth, he did his best to keep that from showing on his face, however, a ship full of women, who would’ve thought?

“In fact, this is my first time in Skyrim, by the gods is it cold. I was warned too. Only a little upset this is my last night here in the frigid province before heading back to High Rock. The food is warm the drinks are delicious. Would visit again given the chance.” Maj said. “Where did the Courtesan sail?”

“You wouldn’t have enjoyed sailing aboard the Courtesan then,” he gave a soft chuckle, “Our ship carried goods across the Sea of Ghosts, sailed from Windhelm to Dawnstar, and from Dawnstar to here. If you’re not careful, the ice will freeze you in solid.” He swirled the pale amber liquid inside the tankard. Leif’s eyes rose to settle on Maj, studying the woman now that she sat across from him.

She had striking features, dazzling bright green eyes, a hooked nose that suited her face well. She had two scars, one on her brow, the other on her bottom lip, splitting the natural lines of her full lips. Her skin was dark, common for a Redguard, as was her hair, though she kept it off to the side.

“What has you headed for High Rock?” Perhaps the threat of the Kamal had frightened her enough to send her home.

“Aye, I reckon that’d be too cold for me.” She agreed with Leif, she was by no means accustomed to anything colder than Wayrest’s temperate winters. “I joined this mercenary company headed for the Rock tomorrow. Hoping to earn some decent wages, I’ve got some plans of my own but that is an entirely different story that would surely turn you blue.” She waved off that idea, she was happy to get even a small chuckle out of him. Not all hope was lost.

She couldn’t be… no… she had signed on with the company? Their company… the one he held a contract with, God’s no. Leif forced himself from admitting he too, was contracted with them. He wanted to enjoy the moment and not think about the possibility of seeing her die like so many others had.

She coughed into her fist, a wicked grin spread across her face. She picked up the candle at the table lifting it up for added effect. Summoning a little magicka in her hand, passing it through the flame. “So- my story tonight is the Wailing Stones of the Blue Divide. It’s a ghost story.”

Adding with a cheeky remark, “Let me know if you get too scared.”

He mustered a half smile, and waved a hand, “Enlighten me.” From the sound of it, he hadn’t heard this tale before.

“For some history, the tale of the Wailing Stones is a infamous shipwreck area. They protrude from the sea taller than you could see past the crow’s nest. Ships are mysteriously pulled into its waters and bashed-!” She slammed her fist on the table making the tankard shake spilling a few drops of mead. “-Against the rocks!”

Quietly she said, pulling the candle back up, “...Gone forever in one swift current.”

Her commotion drew some eyes, but their attention now was on the story she told, Leif’s own gaze fixated heavily upon her.

“On quiet nights when the waters are calm and the wind blows gently,” She blew gently on the flame of the candle. “If you sail near those stones you can hear the cries of previous shipwrecks. You hear them clear as if they’re standing right beside ya.” She was looking directly at Leif. “Mark my words, I’ve heard these ghostly cries for myself.”

“There ain’t no lie about it.” She said solemnly. “The first time I heard about it I called bullshit, ghosts don’t exist!”

“The night I heard them was after we plundered a uh-” She looked around at the largely Nord and Imperial crowd, catching eyes of a few argonians as well. “Aldmeri Dominion, wiley bastards were transporting some goods back to Summerset.”

That got her a nod or two of approval. She stood from her chair putting one foot on it and pointing at Leif. “Sweet fruit and fresh food in our bellies we decided to head back to Hammerfell. The twin moons were pale slivers, a cool fog rolled in behind us as we passed the stones catching sight of them. Our Captain not the superstitious sort, she gave the stones plenty of berth regardless.”

“I was starboard side, watching the dark stones as we passed. Strange shapes gave the base of the stones a sort of spiky silhouette.” She whispered behind a hand toward Leif, “Three guesses what the spiky bits were.”

She continued, “I squinted through the fog and suddenly felt like I was being watched.” Pausing as she looked at Leif then a few listeners.

She acted it out, looking confused as she turned about at her waist. “There was nobody around, everyone had been below decks or aloft keeping an eye out for trouble. I felt the hair on my arms raise up as if someone walked over my grave.”

“I backed away from the railing, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Something kept me there. That’s when I heard them…” She said trailing off, changing the tone of her voice to something withered, sad and desperate, “‘Please… Please! Help us… We are hungry… Cold… Lonely…!’ They pleaded, right into my ear.” She said. “Scared me half to death.”

Some listeners chuckled nervously, Leif as well. She had a knack for storytelling, as evidenced by the hair on his forearms standing on end. He rubbed his arms vigorously.

She resumed her ghostly voice, “‘Spare us, turn away, don’t draw near…’” She turned her back to the crowd feigning as if she was crying herself. “I couldn't take it! I ripped my gaze away to turn around.” In her hands she started up an illusion spell, she looked to Leif winking. The very fake ghostly visage appeared in front of her person. “When I did… A ghost stood right there!” She turned sharply around hopping up on the chair. “Dead as dead!” She appeared as a gruesome ghost with an axe buried in her head.

She startled a few, some gasped while others jumped out of their chairs. She chuckled good naturedly, snapping her fingers the illusion disappearing to reveal herself once more. “We sailed away and even when I fell asleep that night I dreamt of the voices.”

A smile crossed his lips as the tale came to an end, he drummed his fingers against the wooden table top, before letting out a long and slow whistle.

“You’ve got a knack for storytelling, lass. Ever think of it as a profession?” He enjoyed a good story, “

and Maj had certainly delivered with her eccentric theatrics, the illusion magic added a certain quality not often found amongst entertainers.

Relaxing a bit, Maj replied, “Thanks, there’s only so many times you can rehearse that one.”

“I’ve got better shit to do. I’ve got a few good stories in me but you won’t see me running over to the Bard’s College for lessons.” Maj sat again leaning into her chair. “It’s just for fun, presentation is two thirds of what it takes to be a corsair. You have to back it up of course and I do.”

She shrugged easily, “I’d rather earn my keep.”

“Fate is a fickle thing.” Leif sighed when she mentioned earning her keep, “The company you spoke of, I’m contracted with them as well.”

Her brows shot up, clearly surprised. “Why didn’t you say so? Not that it would effect the story… Tell me about what it’s been like. Gustav highlighted some of the exploits but never went into detail.” She asked.

“I wanted to forget… and listening to your story helped.” Leif shook his head before leaning back in his chair, raking his fingers through his long brown hair.

“We’ve lost so many. I don’t know how we’re all still alive either.” He racked his brain searching for the right words to say, because that was just it. There was just so much.

“Ask me what you want to know, that would be a better place to start.”

Turning to a serious note she asked, “These Kamal I keep hearing about. Ice giants, monsters out of stories. Are they true? Describe them to me.” Maj gave him a hard stare. “Don’t sugarcoat it. I want the truth.”

He nodded solemnly, “It’s all true. They’re the beasts of nightmare. Taller than any man, eight to ten feet tall. Terrifying creatures. They travel on ships made of metal, and they themselves wear seemingly impenetrable armor. Though they’re not all invincible, they do have a weakness towards fire. Fire salts, fire magic, anything with a flame can help kill them.”

Maj nodded, sitting back in her chair thinking. “I can conjure one mean flame atronach. Are their minds susceptible? Can we manipulate what they see and how they feel?” She paused. “Has anyone tried?”

“Not to my knowledge, no.” Leif shrugged, it was an interesting concept to say the least.

She tapped the table. “Are there other mages in the company? Mages that can bring the heat?”

“From the new recruits, and the old company combined, there’s one that comes to mind. Niernen Venim. Dunmeri lass that comes from Morrowind. Other than that, the rest of us are your typical grunts, foot soldiers, sellswords and the like. There are a few other mages, but none specialize in Destruction really. There’s Ariane, and Marcel, they both have a knack for mysticism. Don’t quite understand it myself. Tsleeixth, an Argonian, he can sling around some lightning. Other than that, it’s just restoration, alteration, conjuration and illusion I’ve seen used. Most of those who were skilled enough in destruction either left the company, died or are missing.” When he finished, he reflected on what he had just said. Most of the company didn’t have the fire they needed to handle the Kamal, but they had been creative nonetheless. Sevine and him had constructed the sling on top the wall back in Windhelm where they helped launch fire salts, and flaming pots of oil. Of course, that did little to slow the entire Kamal assault, but it did help in giving those on the frontline a chance to scamper back through the gates.

She nodded decisively. “Good. Good. I’ll be of use, if we can figure out how to crack their minds open like a melon we’ll have another advantage.” Not showing her fear in the slightest, Leif needed some hope as she was sure others did as well. Fresh blood to relieve the war weary. She gave herself more credit than that, while there were quiet and sweet moments aboard the Scarlet Harpy their livelihood was fighting and violence. If the vets in the mercenary company needed a breather she was more than happy to comply. Revelling in the chaos she was capable of creating.

“Worry not Leif! The bigger they are the harder they fall! Words to live by, especially for the small.” She clasped his shoulder. “With the might of a sword and the whisper of a spell we are well equipped for monster and disaster.”

He shook his head at her words, a half smile on his lips, “Why? Why join the company?” She was such a peculiar woman, he couldn’t help but wonder as to why she had put the quill to the paper in the first place.

Without hesitation she replied, “Gold of course! There’s opportunity in war. It’s a tad more complicated than that but as I said earlier, it is a very blue and sobering story. One not for the ears of a man hoping to distract himself from such things. Believe me.” She smiled to herself. “I am not so easily scared away, when one bounds Oblivion to their will monsters are a regular occurance.”

“We can certainly drink to that yes?”

“I suppose I can.” Leif nodded in mutual agreement. He had half the mind to invite her to his bed for the evening, nothing intimate, unless she so desired. It had been a few months since he had had the companionship of a woman, and he would much like to hold someone in his arms again. He took a swig of the mead before pushing it across the table towards her, grimacing at the overly sweet taste.

“So… Maj… have you a partner or a suitor?” Why not? He might as well ask.

Maj eyed him then took a swig of the mead. She leaned across the table to pat both of his cheeks, “While you have humoured my story tonight, you will not be humouring me in bed Leif Raven-Stone. You will not find a mend for your heart in me.”

“And you lack the proper… Uh set up.” She gestured at him generally. A crimson hue spread across his cheeks, at first he misunderstood her, but then it lighted upon him like candlelight in the darkest hours of night. “How about you tell me a story from your days on the Courtesan?”

“Perhaps another time, there’ll be many an hour aboard the Kyne’s Tear on our way to Jehanna. Best get some rest lass, we’ve a long voyage ahead of us. And, well, thank you for being an admirable storyteller.” Leif rose from the table where he dipped his head towards her. Part of him was truly exhausted, and the other part was shame. What could he say? He needed to clear his head with a good night's sleep.
Day 1 - Shore Leave - Real Subtle
A @DearTrickster & @Mortarion Collabo-Supremo

Time: Morning
Location: Hydroponic Gardens, Nexus

The quiet rumblings of a small group of protestors were met with a couple militia personal telling them to break it up. They argued back and forth, the same old peaceful protesting versus disturbance and disruption. Concerned citizens puffing up their chests, raising their voices over the calm albeit frustrated personnel. The artificial light of the Nexus was softly bright.

Dex sat astride one of the benches, dressed in her civvies. A dark blue sweater, with dark black pants. A scarf draped along her neck sitting outside her cowl. The hood was pulled up, as turian style forgoes covering the back of the head it snuggly sat behind her mandibles. Sleeves rolled up to the elbow. She watched with mild interest while the small discreet camera perched on her shoulder pad recorded. She didn’t know why she was recording, it was really none of her business. Later she’d reason it’d be for understanding the breakdown between the Nexus and the Exiles, keeping a stiff eye on security.

She saw, quite possibly the lone batarian wandering through, off kilter. She squinted watching him. Seeing the red limb she knew it was Khosin. “Hey! Khosin! C’mere.” She called to him, waving him over.

Being one of the few Batarians on the station, and even more rarely one of the fewer that had been thawed off before the arrival of Ark Hyperion, Khosin had grown accustomed to the feeling of being watched by everyone, and would have most likely kept going towards his quarters were it not by the voice that beckoned him over.

Dex.” He thought, immediately recognising the voice. He turned his head around towards the source of her voice and easily found her, the cybernetic prosthesis with which she was waving him over was an easy enough tell for him to recognise her amongst the crowd of protesters and militia personnel that had gathered in the hydroponic gardens.

“Hey Dex, making a documentary?” He asked jokingly once he arrived to the spot where she was sitting, somewhat discreetly motioning to the camera that was perched on her shoulder. Without waiting for her reply, he took a seat next to her and took a drink from the hip flask that he was nowadays carrying near-constantly when he was outside of his quarters and not at the Vortex Lounge. “It’s been a while since we talked, huh?” He started, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure of how to start the conversation.

You look like shit.” She leaned forward taking a strong whiff of what she knew was alcohol. “For fuckssakes Khosin. You can drink the water here. Might be lacking in a few sand grains but you don’t have to be drunk before Noon.

She elbowed him, “Try to be a bit more subtle about the camera huh? Still can’t keep a secret worth a damn.

Dex rumbled through her sub harmonics, looking to the protestors. “I leave and suddenly everyone thinks cybernetics and losing limbs is the cool new thing.” She shook her head, eyeing him. “Even if you’re not in one piece... Good to see you.

“Hmmm, what’s new under the sun?” Khosin asked, chuckling, in response to Dex’s astute observation about how he looked. He shook his head a bit about her comment about him drinking water and not needing to be drunk before noon “Hmm, I’m afraid that water doesn’t helps much with what’s here.” He said, tapping his head briefly in manner of explanation before he took another sip.

“Sorry about that, but I have gotten a bit better. If I was that bad I wouldn’t be here, would I? It’s not like I have the cleanest record.” He said with a low whisper, massaging the spot where she had elbowed him with his natural hand.

“Ah, yeah, you never knew how I lost my forearm.” He said, falling silent for a few seconds “My mind wasn’t in the game and I fucked up, let's put it that way.” Spoke the Batarian, it wasn’t exactly a full explanation but Dex was smart and she’d be able to figure out what he meant. “It’s good to see you too here Dex, I know I’ve...well, I haven’t been exactly the most warm guy ever, it's not like I went to talk with you or any of the other ex-Riggers after that stint on Site 1, but I’m glad that you are here.”

She stared him down, rumbling continued out of her subharmonics. Her mandibles were pulled tight against her face, the epitome of stern for a turian. Taking a deep breath in through her nose, she huffed. She wasn’t done wringing him out yet. “Almost as cold as our team medic.

Slow down on drinking will you though? You’re poisoning your insides out with that shit, at the rate you’re going Andromeda will be the short stint before you’re dead or know the rest of us survive.” She paused thinking she was done, “And! I heard about your reckless bullshit stunt on Eos, if Lieutenant Tannyx hasn’t already told you as much.

Fuckssakes.” She said with a note of bitterness. You’re better than this.

Khosin fell silent as Dex continued on with her tirade, letting her get it all out of her system before he spoke again. “I’m not.” He said quietly in response to her claim that he was better than this “What’s the better me Dex? Tell me.” He asked, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice, “The attack dog of the Hegemony? The pirate attacking Alliance ships on behalf of the Hegemony? Or the slaver that went AWOL and participated in the Mindoir raid? Or maybe it’s the merc that I became when I had my little crisis of conscience a little too late?” He whispered quietly, the bitterness replaced with weariness by the end.

“Let’s be honest Dex, I’ve never been better than this.” Khosin said, shoulders sagging slightly “I’m just a waste of space, going through life like some drone. About the only unambiguously good thing I’ve done in my life is my work with APEX right now.” He said with a sigh, shaking his head.

“So, what does it matters if I’m reckless? If I get hurt? Or if I’m drunk?” He said, shaking his hip-flask at the last bit of what he had said. “Please, do tell me because I don’t know.” Finished the Batarian, taking another swig of the alcohol on the hip-flask.

Dex stared, slowly turning into a glare. The rumbling in her sub vocals increased. Words weren’t going to get blood flowing to his brain.

I’m sorry for what is about to happen to your face.

She grabbed the flask ripping it from his hand and crunching it in her prosthetic hand. She tossed it away then grabbed him by his scruff. She stood over him, Khosin looked up at her with eyes that were blank and fogged over. Swinging back her left fist she cracked it against his jaw, fast and hard. She let go of his scruff then sat down beside him once again.

Listen here, asshole.” She snapped. “Don’t keep being an ass when you’re already in shit.

That’s a really shitty way to talk about my friend, comrade and fucking teammate. If you don’t value yourself - others do, like me.” She said. “Survive to see the Arks arriving, survive to see another settlement. Fucking survive in spite of all your bullshit.

“Listen here Dex, I don’t mind the punch. I’ve gotten worse during my training in the Hegemony.” Khosin said, his demeanor suddenly growing serious as he sat upright, each of his four eyes bearing into Dex’s “Do you have any idea of what this ‘bullshit’, as you’ve put it, entails?” He said, his hands balling into fists, “Because, let me tell you, you have no idea.” He spoke, bitterness palpable in his voice.

She averted her gaze but stayed quiet, because she really hadn’t.

“Have you seen packs of savage varren being released inside of hospitals? Have you seen hundreds of people’s corpses being used to feed varrens?” He whispered to her, “Have you seen whole schools slaughtered, just because someone didn’t feel like bothering rounding them up?” He hissed to her. “I have, and that shit follows me through all days and nights, so if I were you I’d be careful and not call that bullshit, because you’ve no idea the kind of guilt I’m carrying with me.”

“And don’t worry about me dying anytime soon, I don’t plan to kick the bucket until I am sure that the Initiative is safe and sound in Heleus. You might not like it, but this is the sole good thing I’ve ever done and it’s why I get up every morning; to give people like you, people that still have the chance, the opportunity to have a new home.”

She was silent for a few moments, still madder than hell. “Then how about this, pull your head out of your ass. The Khosin I knew back with the Riggers cared enough to not end everything prematurely by diving into a fight blindly. He cared enough to realize that being alive was more effective and he still believed he had a fucking chance. Go looking for him at the bottom of a glass. I’m done.

She stood kicking the ruined flask away. Not sparing a glance behind her.

“You know, before we left the Milky Way, my family hated me.” Khosin said quietly, uncaring if Dex heard him or not, “Disowned me, actually, they didn’t contact me ever after I got them out of Hegemony Space, not even when I told them that I was gonna join the Initiative.” He said quietly, his mood growing somber, “You know why? Because they found out.” He finished, looking down at the spot where his ruined flask had fallen before Dex kicked it away.

She stopped dead in her tracks, turning on her heel. She marched back up to him, losing what little cool she was able to dignify walking away with. She screeched in his face at full volume. The sound she made was a mix of a gutteral hiss and bird-like growl. She stood back up to full height then finally walked away.

Protesters and militia alike were staring at her display, considering what was more important with a possible random fight breaking out. Dex’s swift exit helped them relax. What became of Khosin after she left was outside her current concerns.
Mid-Morning, 5th of Last Seed
Solitude, Outside the Winking Skeever

Sea dried and well worn leather boots tapped to an off key song, toes indecisively pointed in different directions just outside The Winking Skeever. The musty smell of the city carried on the crisp sea breeze, the sun shone dully through overcast skies and while it was a considerably warm morning some would still find it chilly. Behind the pair of boots was the distinct rattling of a thin tin pan just outside the Inn’s entrance.

“I hear the sounds of a kind heart with a heavy pocket, please let me help you relieve you of that.” A beggar asked of the Redguard woman loitering outside the doors. “If only to afford breakfast.”

She turned her bright green eyes on him, sweeping an observant eye up and down. With hair black as the sea on a starless night, barely tamed into a twist at the left side of her head. Silver studs winked from her earlobes, while her dark green cloak wrapped at her collar. It looked to be in good shape, tenderly mended with practiced hands. She wore a rich maroon red jacket with a long skirt, it hugged her torso. She bent down to her hunches crouching to speak to him directly, the full force of his smelly stale unwashed body and the strong soured smell of mead hit her. He smiled kindly, hopeful for her acknowledging his existence. Noticing the purple bags under her eyes, looking as if she hadn’t slept a wink even at the Winking Skeever. “I will not offer coin but I offer you instead is far more valuable.”

He was puzzled until she roughly patted his shoulder - a point he would go onto complain to his friends later. His expression soured immediately.

“Good luck, perhaps you will feel better after washing up at the Temple of the Divines.” She said not unkindly.

He glared, “Oh, fuck off.”

She stood again, walking away with a shrug. “Mayhaps you will find coin comes easier if kind patrons weren’t keen to your mead-rich body odor.” She tapped the side of her crooked nose.

He grumbled to himself, waving her off to go away.

Maj Noor was well out of earshot to hear him and in a state of excitement. After joining a mercenary company speaking with a young decorated Nord, Gustav - clearly the backer of the successful company. Gustav couldn’t help but highlight some of their latest work. He seemed impressed by her bravado and seemingly larger than life exploits as a Corsair, she told him tales of danger, excitement and rich rewards with booty aplenty. Conveniently skipping over what the fate of the Scarlet Harpy currently is. He saw value in her skills as a mage, he decided to recruit her then assigned her under a breton named Ariane Fontaine. Miss Fontaine coldly shooed her away after finding out what Maj’s expertise lied in. None to interested in speaking further than gathering very base information. Maj was confident they were able to pay their employees reliably after seeing Gustav and Ariane, both dressed finely and speaking just as fine.

Maj was looking forward to seeing Skyrim for the first time, her time there cut short as they would be sailing to High Rock instead of staying within the province. Over the past days before Kyne’s Tear was scheduled to leave she frugally spent what coin she earned on her voyage to Skyrim, stocking up and taking in the sights of Solitude. As a coastal city, it was large and bustling in the best way. Everything Maj hoped for, it provided convenience in the shops and a slice of Skyrim’s culture.

While the bed was soft and clean at the Winking Skeever, the food freshly bought and prepared. Maj still had a difficult time adjusting to being back on solid ground. The entertainment there was mildly depressing to watch on the other hand. An Altmer juggler being jeered while he juggled large balls, she felt the waves of misery rolling off him. It had the former corsair excusing herself from witnessing the pathetic display.

She intended to visit the Temple of Divines before shipping out, early as it was. While she rarely prayed, sparing one for Kynareth would have been prudent considering the name of the ship. The brisk walk to the temple helped energize Maj, the sun warmed her face even if the considerably warm breeze had her pull her cloak tighter.

She stepped into the great stone Temple, stone arches smoothly led down toward the altars. Some were kneeling before them while priests and priestesses dotted the Temple going about their day-to-day. Her footfalls making little noise as she approached, sunlight was just beginning to peek through the windows - bright shafts casting upon the sacred arrangement of altars. A few were in front of Kynareth’s altar praying. Maj found an empty pew with clear sight of the altar. She removed her sketchbook flipping to a fresh page. While her thoughts wandered as she sketched, she silently offered up prayers. She prayed for safe winds to fill Kyne’s Tear's sails - swift but sure currents to carry them to Jehanna. Finally she prayed for her mercy if she were to conjure a storm and the tide to be kind to their arrvial. It felt nostalgic to be in the Temple and praying to Kynareth. Maj so often joined her stepmother - Annalise in her prayers if only to spend more time with her. One of the Nord priests approached her after a couple of hours, the details were taking shape around the drawing.

“Hello child, how do you fare this blessed day?” His hood was drawn up and sleeves rolled up. His hands were soft as was his voice.

Maj paused, “Well enough.”

He curiously looked over her shoulder at the sketch and murmured approval. “A wonderful impression of our Lady Kynareth’s altar.”

“Thank you.” Maj said nervously hoping he wouldn’t be interested in seeing what else she had drawn. Maj had a good understanding of structure and shape for objects. While she excelled at drawing anatomy, however that anatomy was often without clothes.

He asked anyway, “Have you other pieces of art of our Lady Kynareth?”

Uh-” She began he was already reaching to turn the page back. “No! No!”

He flipped back to a page catching a glimpse of her nude lover drawn in a depiction of Kynareth, a bird delicately drawn in her hands, beautifully depicted but blasphemous to the eyes of a holy man. His mouth popped open in shock. Maj snapped it shut, “Good day, thank you for the compliment - must be going. Have a ship to catch! Goodbye!” She escaped the pew and left the agape priest behind. She quickly stowed the sketchbook into her backpack legging it to the docks.

Noon, 5th of Last Seed
Solitude Docks - Kyne’s Tear

It was easy to find the ship floating at the docks. Maj dodged past busy fishermen, travelers and sailors all with somewhere to be. She climbed aboard the Kyne's Tear, shoulders back her chin in the air taking a deep breath in through her nose. Cargo was being loaded, final preparations for departure being made.

She grinned at the sight, feeling immediately comfortable. She spied the leaders of the company at the stern of the ship. Taking an honest look over everyone she saw present merc or otherwise. She sat at the railing feet hanging off the sides, she pulled out an apple shining it over her opposite shoulder. There was a fairly decent mix up of men, mer and beast. A couple Khajit and Argonians. Nords, imperials and even redguards. She spied the pair of bosmer, one looking the part of a warrior while her extreme opposite was a priestess. The few Dunmer ranging from various attitudes by just one look. And the orc! He stuck out like a sore thumb, smiling and talking. She tried to guess who some of vets were - name dropped previously by Gustav. One face she recognized was the gaunt one of the juggler at the Skeever, she suddenly found her apple to be far more interesting averting her gaze.

It wasn’t long before they launched, the anchor being dragged up from the dredges of Solitude's bay. Sea breeze whisking at her hair, Maj found it increasingly difficult not to smile. The Sea of Ghosts welcoming her back.

@Peik Good point! I will clarify she's not a trained fighter but certainly physically capable.
@DearTrickster, great work. Maj is a unique character with personality corresponding perfectly to her background and skills.

There's a few typos, and I advise you to read over the sheet and fix them. Besides the typos, I have only one nitpick. Maj is familiar with the Daedric alphabet, yet she carries a Daedric alphabet translation book.

Once you address the issues above, and anything @Peik may bring up, you can add Maj to the roster.

Sounds good, will make those edits and wait to hear from Peik.
@Peik @Gcold @Dervish Okay! Sheet is complete!

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