Dervish

Which setting would you like to see more of in Roleplays?

I'd like some space Westerns.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Rejoice

A Dervy Shafting
17th of Midyear, Early Evening, Alik’r Desert…

If the Alik’r feared detection by the Dwemer, they certainly didn’t show it. The camp was bright with fires and it was certainly as grand of a festival as one would expect from the New Life festival at just about any major city, or to commemorate the end of the Oblivion Crisis. Here were many different tribes of the Alik’r Desert joined together to celebrate victory, life itself, prosperity… just because. Daro’Vasora had some time over the festival been given a poncho, a pretty sky-blue thing with silver seams with some kind of lizard motif. She wasn’t really sure how it came onto her person; she recalled leaving the cave with Raelynn and Fjolte behind, and her head had still been swimming with images and sounds from whatever the Nord had been burning. She must have been shaking, because a voice that she wasn’t sure was real or not told her so, and before she knew it, she was covered in the poncho and her benefactor nowhere in sight. They must have assumed because it got cold at night that she was, as well.

Now the drugs were wearing off and she had regained full sensation of her limbs and senses, save for a minor tingling down her neck and spine, Daro’Vasora’s spirits had lifted considerably and she wandered aimlessly, taking in the sights and sounds of a culture that was far from her own. The Alik’r were people of a desert, not unlike the Khajiit of Anequina, but the way they carried themselves had a number of differences she found curious. She found herself enraptured by a fire breather and a sword juggler, their silky smooth movements reminiscent of the dancers not so far from where they were; she gasped and applauded when the crowd did, and she found laugher came easily to her lips.

It wasn’t long before the scent of roasted meat caught her nose, and before long she had a handful of boar kebabs with onions, dates, and tomatoes in her hand and some kind of frosted fruit ale that had been served from a bed of frost salts. She enjoyed her meal as she went along, looking at the impromptu marketplace, admiring the craftsmanship of jewelry and blades, and a few of the former prisoners who recognized her approached and warmly greeted her properly, thanking her for what her and her friends had done.

Daro’Vasora realized she couldn’t remember the last time she’d really been this at ease and happy, save for the brief spell of the oasis. Here it was easy to forget the invasion, the war, all the troubles at home. She wasn’t hiding in a cave with tensions riding over, nor in a posh hotel that could be raided at any time. Maybe it was Fjolte’s drugs… who cared? There was a lightness to the air, and the Khajiit almost felt like dancing.

Perhaps that was why she was gravitating towards the sound of music and the almost imperceptible thunder of people’s feet moving to the beat of a drum. It was there that she caught sight of someone she very much always loved to see. With quiet feet, she snuck up behind Latro and wrapped an arm around his waist containing the kebabs, pressing her head against his neck affectionately.
“Why hello there, stranger; come here often?” she purred flirtatiously before letting off a girlish giggle, offering the kebabs. “Hungry?” she asked.

Latro jumped a bit, he’d been staring at the small Dwemer box, but when he realized who it was his face broke out in a beaming smile. He looked at the offered kebabs and took one, a slight bow of the head and a wink to his lover, “Oh, this is my first time, actually.” He took a bite of the kebab, “You know, the woman I love wouldn’t appreciate me taking advances from such a beautiful stranger.”

That earned a bemused smirk. “Is that so? Maybe she should learn how to share.” Daro'Vasora said, curling her tail somewhat. “What does she have that I don't?” she pressed teasingly, her eye catching the box. That was curious.

“That thing's really caught your eye, hm?” she asked, having a quick drink before offering to swap it for the cube. “It's not like you to be fixated by an artifact. Figured out what it is?”

“No,” he shook his head, turning the box over in his hands while still looking at it. He remembered how the different colors tinged his emotions before he pulled his eyes from the box and looked at Sora, “No. I remember they were glowing different colors and they made me feel different emotions based on the color.”

“Anyways,” he put it away in a satchel he’d gotten, “That’s a nice poncho.”

The fact he didn't offer for her to take a look at the cube made her feel like he was hiding something from her, prompting a dejected frown. “Well, maybe we can solve it together. It's not my first strange Dwemer artifact I've mucked about with, won't be the last.” she said with an inflated sense of confidence before huffing a sigh, pulling the fabric of the poncho in front of her. “I don't remember how I got this. Turns out helping a friend out Fjolte's way is a bit of an assault on the senses.” she said somewhat evasively.

“You know him, do you?” Latro asked, his smirk and his tone not exactly matching, a certain suspicion ringing an otherwise innocent sound. “Should I be jealous at this most joyous reunion?”

An impish smirk crossed her lips. “Oh, but you have a girlfriend, remember?” she teased, concealing her face behind the cup of ale for a lingering, taunting moment. When she saw that he wasn’t amused, she held the drink to his lips. “I’m going to be honest with you, I always am. Do you trust me?” she asked.

“Oh, I do, Bluebird.” He said, using a finger to tip the cup a bit so he could take a sip, licking his bottom lip as it came away seductively, “I could show you just how much you mean to me. That cave was too cramped and quiet but I hardly think anyone would hear us here.”

Daro’Vasora reached up to caress Latro’s cheek and pinch his chin. “Now where’s the fun in that? I like to make you sing, after all…” she trailed off, shaking her head for a moment as she gazed up into his eyes. “So back in the old days of when I mostly solo delved and went through temporary partnerships frequently, Fjolte and I had gone on an expedition in partnership with a third party, who promptly betrayed us when they thought they could get away with it. You can probably guess how that went for them.” she looked over to where she had come from earlier, where Fjolte probably was. “Anyways, he cannot tolerate a few moments without hearing himself speak, and between coming down from a life and death struggle, wanting to get him to shut up for a few minutes, and well, my own… urges.” she let the last word linger with its full implication. “We ended up sleeping together, and well, he’s the last person I expected to be pulling out of a cell in Hammerfell.”

The Khajiit pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head slowly. “I feel like he’s going to find some way to rub it in my face, or bring it up at a bad time to rile you or me up because he seems like he feeds off of causing a scene. Trust me, he’s the last person I expected to come back into my life, and I don’t want you hearing rumours about him or me, especially from him. I want you to trust me, and know that my heart belongs to you. If my face could turn red, I’d look like a Nord with a sunburn right now.”

“Oh, now that I didn’t need to know.” Latro rubbed at his face. He looked to where her eyes went and shook his head, of all people they could’ve dragged out with them it was Fjolte. “I can’t promise anything if he opens his mouth and shit pours out. I might just close it.”

He sighed, growling and unable to look at his partner. He could feel the heat in his cheeks, “Well, I hope your certain urges are satisfied with little Reachfolk me.” He huffed, “I hope we don’t meet anybody I’ve fucked before.”

She leaned up to kiss him, pressing her lips gently against his own before whispering in his ear. “I just might like that.”

“Goodness,” Latro ran a hand down Sora’s back, tips of his fingers gliding along her spine to rest at the base of her tail, “How did an innocent man like me find you?”

Daro'Vasora giggled, flexing at Latro's touch. “What can I say? I've a weakness for pretty boys who can sing.” she said, pulling Latro into an embrace and burying her face against him. “So, do you know how to dance, or do I need to go find an eligible guy or girl and see where the night takes me?” she asked, gently rocking to the beat.

“I couldn’t guarantee their safety.” He smirked before Sora was leaned over backwards on one foot, weight held by one of Latro’s arms at her lower back before he took the lead again, her hand in his as she spun away from him and came back to coil up in his arms. His face was dangerously close to hers, “I know a thing or two. Fighting and pithy philosophy weren’t the only things Francis taught me.”

The remaining food was dropped to the ground by an outstretched hand before she grinned with half-shut eyes. She held her leg high against his pelvis and put a hand against his bare chest. “Is that jealousy I hear?” she purred impishly, playfully scratching his chest lightly as she twirled out from his arm, still holding his hand as she moved outward in a graceful twirl, her footfalls light and practiced as she reached the apex of her movement, leaning in to kiss his knuckles. “Then show me how you'll keep your cat from straying, my little Reachman.” she demanded in a sultry tone, playing on his words from earlier.

Latro chuckled, placing a hand that was firm but not forceful on the back of her neck. Their lips pressed together in a passionate kiss but just as Sora leaned in and just as he was beginning to feel the urge to let her, Latro pulled away and continued the dance with a flourish. He twirled around Sora, disappearing behind her back for but a second before reappearing and pulling her into an embrace. It was a nice game, he wouldn’t spoil it all at once by giving into his urges too early. He’d dangle it in front of her- and himself- until the need was so great it would be almost too unbearable.

Then, and only then, would he let her feel all the bliss and pleasure of his deepest gratitude and love. “Where did you learn to dance, Bluebird?”

She continued to move to the beat within his embrace, wrapping an arm across her body to touch his arm and then other reaching up to run her fingers through his long hair. “You learn a few things at court, and a few more when you spend years in the cosmopolitan center of Tamriel and take in the night life.” she replied with a smile, pulling away suddenly, her arms and legs moving like the mesmerizing flicker of flames as she stepped back, inviting him to give chase. He wouldn't be the only one playing cat and mouse with desire. With a finger, Daro'Vasora beckoned her lover with an inviting finger as she disappeared into the throng of dancers, glimpses of her showing between the gyrating bodies.

Latro gave his easy smile, following soon after. He’d long ago learned how to move through crowds but Sora was making a task of it. At least he had a good view of her swaying hips and behind as she moved through the people. As they breached through the mass of bodies, he grabbed Sora gently by the arm and pulled her into an embrace, kissing her deeply. “What now?”

“Now,” Daro'Vasora replied breathlessly after parting lips, “we lose ourselves to the night.”

---

It was hard to say when the dancing gave way to lust, and when passion guided them back to their tent to act on the tension, but Daro'Vasora and Latro had spent most of their night with barely a word spoken to each other and yet in perfect understanding. They’d both endured much, and tonight was about healing and remembering how to live for the moment and for each other. This was the first time in so long that they had together that wasn’t in hiding, as prisoners, or fearing for their lives. It felt like it was what life could be, a promise that things weren’t always going to be dominated by war and strife. They would still be able to find a life together that went beyond one forged by circumstances and conflict that would evaporate when the danger had passed.

Sometime after collapsing in exhaustion in each other’s arms after their love making, an intense romp that left both bruised, battered, scratched and sore in places that they both forgot were parts of their anatomy, they listened as the sounds of the camp died down and somehow managed to find some articles of clothing to maintain their modesty and headed out to the edge of the camp to look at the stars above, wrapped together in a blanket as they stared up in awe at the impossibly endless and bright sky, the stars like a thousand different candles.

After an indeterminate amount of time in blissful silence, still in one another’s embrace, Daro’Vasora finally spoke. “Have you thought about what comes after, for both of us?” she asked, exploring the back of his hand with a thumb. “I don’t want to wake up and find out none of this was real, that it won’t last forever.”

Latro took his moment, glancing sidelong at his love before he put his eyes back on the stars. He stayed quiet for some time until he worked at words he wanted to say, “I… Neither of us do.” He said, he looked at Sora and gave her a smile, “But I know I want to stay with you after this is over. I don’t have flings, Sora. I love fully.”

He looked back to the stars, “I’ve lived my life as if I didn’t have time for anything but a one, true love.” He sighed, “Now, I’d rip our fates from the Gods’ hands if it was not one where you and I
were together.”

A part of Daro’Vasora felt guilty about what he had said; much of her life was defined by casual, meaningless flings. She worried that if she admitted that, or the strange but wonderful intimacy she shared with Raelynn recently, would wound him. Would he think her unfaithful, someone who would abandon him when he began to bore her? It made a pit sink into her core, and she wished she knew the answer. “You’re so sure of yourself. I appreciate that.” she said quietly, pressing herself closer against him, her eyes no longer skyward.

“I just don’t know if I deserve that devotion, this is all new to me and I never want it to end, but what happens if I mess up? I’ve never been in a relationship for long, Roux was the longest by over a month and well, he betrayed me. I spent so much of my life after not forming strong attachments to people, I don’t know if I will ever be able to match this vision you have for me.” she said with a heavy sigh, squeezing Latro’s hand. “I love you, more than anything, and I know me telling you about Fjolte irritated or upset you. I’m sorry for that; I just never want to lie to you.”

Latro’s gaze didn’t falter from the moon as he listened to Sora. He didn’t even find the words for her until a long silence had started to nudge him towards speaking anything. He was zealous, just not good at these things. “Oh.” He said, then found it to be a supremely lame excuse for an answer, he looked at Sora in his arms, “Sora, there’s thousands of people who will condemn our love just because we look different. Just because we can’t have children. I don’t care. I love you, all I need is for you to love me, never lie to me, always be honest whether or not I’ll be upset.”

He gave her his easy smile, “I just need you to trust yourself that this is real. I trust in you that you will not leave me and I hope you trust me that I won’t do that to you. That’s what it’s about, isn’t it? Trust?” He chuckled, “And if we keep the reasons we started loving each other in the first place close to our hearts, then any fight we have can be weathered. It is good to be brave, no?”

A chuckle escaped Daro’Vasora’s chest. “Now where have I heard that before?” she asked with a smile. She looked up to meet his stare, drinking in the richness of his eyes. “I know this is real, I know it in my heart of hearts. I love you, Latro of the Reach, with everything that I am; I promise to always be honest with you, to never give up on you when times get tough, when life seems impossible. I know my parents would like you.” she promised, holding him tighter. “I just hope you can forgive me when I stumble, when I don’t know what I’m doing. My heart is true, I’m just a mess.”

Latro chuckled quietly, grasping up a fistful of sand and letting it trickle down to the ground, “That makes two of us, love.” He breathed in, taking in the warmth of Sora’s body against his, “I don’t know what the future will hold for us, but I know I’ll be right beside you when we find out. To think, I never thought we’d be on such an adventure.”

“So, now that we know we’re not going anywhere… what is it you want out of life?” Daro’Vasora asked. “No kids, just us. Let’s assume these cave-dwelling assholes get stopped and life goes back to normal, or close to it. What do you want to do, where do you want to live? That kind of thing.”

“Normal.” He said, shrugging and frowning, “Be normal. Go back to what I was. Just a traveling bard whose biggest worry is… is finding an inn before nightfall, or… what my next song is going to be when I get there.”

“I don’t want to fight wars anymore. I don’t want to be a hero with the gates of hundreds or thousands depending on me.” He shook his head, kissing Sora’s forehead and leaning against her, “I just want us.”

The Khajiit reached up to caress his cheek. “Well, I don’t think there’s going back to that just yet. Besides, think of all the inspirations for songs we’re living right now. I don’t think I can ever give up what I was doing before, doing expeditions and digging up history. It’s the thrill of the hunt and discovery, finding these things you’ve only read about in books that are older than your great-grandparents. It’s like finding out a fantasy or myth you enjoyed as a child was real, and you were the one to bring it to life.” Daro’Vasora said dreamily, looking back up at Jone and Jode and wondering if her ancestors were looking back at that moment.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t do both, don’t you? We can travel Tamriel, and who knows? Maybe if we pull this off we’ll be able to open doors to places we’ve always dreamed about. I always wanted to see Summerset.”

“Fine,” he nodded, “Just… No heroics. Travel sounds nice, though. I haven’t been outside Northwestern Tamriel, I wonder what Elsweyr is like. Ever been?”

Daro’Vasora shook her head. “No, which seems odd, considering the border was only a few kilometers away from Leyawiin. With all of the tension with the Dominion, the fact that a lot of ruins get buried by the desert, and, well… a sort of rejection of what I am, I just never came to pass. I spent most of my time in the Cyrodiilic wilds, Skyrim and Morrowind from time to time. Maybe it’s time for me to fix that?” she pondered.

“Perhaps,” He shrugged, “Sevari once told me it’s filled with nothing but shit. He’s a very angry man. And to think, most other Khajiit want nothing else but to go back.”

“I always took the saying, may your roads lead you to warm sands as a way of expressing finding your way back home. Most Khajiit I've met from the Confederacy seemed wistful and nostalgic for their homelands. Many, I think, are exiled.” Daro'Vasora explained. “Maybe Sevari's angry because he doesn't have a home or a place where he feels like he belongs?”

“He seems like a man who’s been without hearth and home for some time.” Latro frowned, “I can relate some. Before I found Francis, I don’t know what I was doing. Sure, I could play a lute but my life was just one day to the next. I never planned out more than a day in advance.”

“Life is blurry when your only interest is poppy-wine and where to be the most alone to enjoy it.” He said, his voice solemn, “I’m only lucky Francis found me. Put me on the right path to find you some years later.”

That brought a smile to Daro'Vasora's lips. “Right? Now you don't have to drink the entire bottle on your own.” she chuckled, leaning fully into him now. “You give Francis all the credit for your own accomplishments, you know that? I know he helped refine a lost soul, but you would have figured yourself out eventually. Besides, as if I wouldn't have heard your music in some forlorn tavern and subsequently try to get enough drinks into that handsome singer so he'd sleep with me.”

Her fingers intertwined with Latro's, amazed that despite all of the differences like smooth skin of his fingers in contrast to her dark fur and long, sharp claws. He placed her other hand over the back of his own, her eyes meeting his own. “I feel like nothing would have ever kept me from finding you, not in a thousand lifetimes... I am more sure about you than anything in my life. I am honoured that you chose me, that despite everything, despite who and what I am, I am yours and you are mine.” Daro'Vasora said with gentle reverence, bringing his hand up to kiss his knuckles.

“I will always find your song.” she promised.

Latro sighed through a heavy smile. Not in so long had he heard words that were so good and meant only for him. That the look in Sora’s eyes were so sincere, he was almost having to wipe at his own pair. “Maybe I should give myself more credit.” He chuckled, nuzzling a cheek on Sora’s mane, “And I don’t think you’d have had to put so many drinks into me in the first place. Your words, your face, your body, your mind. I would have grown smitten by the end of our first conversation.”

“Well, by now, I’m sure I’ve told you enough about my tribe, my status as the Chieftain’s and Witch-Mother’s son, next in succession and all that. What of you?” He asked, “You said you’ve been at court. You must be important, Lady Sora.”

The Khajiit giggled playfully, running her hand across his chest. “Oh? Some might think you have a fetish, my love. How did I miss your sly looks at camp in the mountains?” she purred, a seductive smile on her lips before she let out a bark of a laugh.

“By everything in Aetherius, no, I was never important. My mother is Count Caro's scribe, my father owns a major merchant company on Topal Bay.” Daro'Vasora explained. “I was invited to fancy dinners, even know which way to line up my forks and spoons, dress up all proper like, dance and curtsey and all of that other bullshit pageantry that comes with being in the presence of nobility. My family's just served Leyawiin since the Empire rolled in and murdered one of my ancestors, as he is so keen to remind me every time I see him.”

The Khajiit rolled her eyes. “He most certainly would have hated to see me get defiled by one of those filthy invasive humans with your strange flat faces, and how do you trust one with no tail? How am I supposed to tell you all apart when you have no fur patterns?” he said in teasing exasperation.

“However would I know?” Latro shrugged and put his hands up, “I have a hard enough time telling Meg from Gregor. At least the Gods made it easy with the fur and tails and muzzles.” He laughed.

“Shame about Sevari’s ilk though, forever cursed to walk the lands looking more man than Khajiit and not being able to recognize their reflection from the person next to them.” He sighed and shook his head, “The prejudices of men and mer, even betmer. It’s boggling to the mind, but I guess difference is terrifying.”

Daro’Vasora was quiet for a moment before gently, almost imperceptibly, nodding her head in agreement. “I never wanted to give him much validation, but I always felt that the Ohmes and Ohmes-Raht must feel so estranged from the rest of our kin, to look and walk like Men and Mer and miss much of what make Khajiit ourselves. For many, it must really emphasize that they belong nowhere, to be rejected for not being Khajiit enough, not Bosmer enough, not Man enough. Even for the Tojay, most find their ways down to the Tenmar forests to live in the trees because they are of such different forms than the rest of us.” the Khajiit sighed, staring up at Jone.

“The Moons give us everything, but they must feel like such a burden to others. I’ve never felt comfortable in my own skin, to walk the world of Man while being a cat, always gazed at with suspicion and distrust. It’s part of why I was so difficult in the beginning with the group, you know? I’ve spent so long expecting to be hurt or disregarded by strangers, no sense in playing nice and might as well share the discomfort.” Daro’Vasora said, a hint of remorse tinting her tone. “It’s why I never expected you to like me back… I rather thought you would have gone the other way in the Imperial City when I sought you out.” she admitted shyly.

Latro sighed, “Sora,” he chuckled almost incredulously, as if she was expected to know how obvious it was that he’d at least become her friend, “Sora, you were all I had down there. If I hadn’t found you or you found me, more like, I think I’d be dead. You saved me, and I didn’t think you would.”

“I was shivering, getting frostbit. Hypothermia was on my heels. You stayed with me, when I was terrified of dying.” Latro squeezed Sora in his arms, nuzzling his cheek against hers. “You were and still are my light in that darkness. You always will be.”

“Plus, if you don’t remember, I was a right smug bastard then too.” He chuckled, letting go of Sora save her hands in his own and kept in his lap, “Always talking down Gaius and that one Altmer. Mortalmo.”

He bowed his head with closed eyes, voice heavy as it should be, “Gods rest his soul. May he find peace with them he couldn’t find with us.”

Daro’Vasora shook her head. “Is it bad I don’t feel much towards him? I mean, no one deserves to die an early death, but after everything we’ve seen and endured… well, it’s hard to make room for people you aren’t close with. It’s hard to think of everyone I’ve seen die in Imperial City and Anvil as people, just the scale of it…” her voice trailed off. “I just kept trying to find you, find Judena and get the fuck out of danger. And here we are marching back into it.”

She hesitated for a moment, shivering despite herself. “We’re going to be crossing the mountains to the East and heading into the Reach, into Skyrim. We’re going by your home.” she said, letting her words sink in. “If that makes you uneasy, we can find another way. I just don’t know what’s waiting for us there, for you.”

That made his face harden some. The prospect of going back there after his exile, he didn’t know if they’d be friendly with him. And if they didn’t much care to see his face around those parts, what they would do to the people with him. His peoples were perhaps not the Mad Witchmen of High Rock like the old times, but it was still a bad prospect of an axe to the head as it was a sacrificial dagger to the throat.

He shook his head, “I’m going to have to be comfortable with it. Or at least shoulder it and keep my teeth together.” He looked to Sora, frowning, “I’m not going to postpone our march just because some bad feelings.”

“Besides, I don’t know who is in charge anymore. Maybe they won’t even know who I am and we can pay or trade with them for passage.” He shrugged, “There’re more Tribes than just mine in those hills. I don’t mind taking those high passes if you don’t. If anything, it’d make it easier on us, I might still know a little of that high country to get us through quicker.”

“If you’re sure,” the Khajiit cautioned, looking to meet his gaze. “It’s the most direct way with the best odds of surviving off the land without supplies, so on a map it’s very inviting. I just am never going to ask you to put yourself at risk because of bad blood.” she sighed, shaking her head. “We all need to get through intact, all of us, and I can’t lose you, especially if I know it was preventable. I’m honestly pretty scared.” she admitted.

“Latro… when I picked up that Lexicon, I knew everything changed.” Daro’Vasora said. “It was a way to end all of this, and before that moment I was resigned feeling like that we were just fighting against the inevitable and now everything is very real. This plan I have, the danger, all of it. I know it will work, I believe that in my heart, but what if we get there and it’s impossible? Is it better to pass on the torch or just let the world unfold as it will, or is it better to try and do the impossible and lose everyone I care about for nothing?” tears flowed freely now and she sucked in air between her teeth.

“If you were in my position, with everyone looking up to you and making these kinds of choices, what would you do? Am I doing the right thing, or am I being irresponsible and gambling with lives?”

Latro sighed and chewed his lip. He understood, truly, mostly because he didn’t know a lick of how to lead these people, neither. He shook his head, “We all, each one of us, know what we banded together for. Everybody.” He said, “And if they don’t, I’d remind them just what we’ve been doing the past months and let them take their leave if they were ignorant to the fact that we’re not running from this war,”

He looked into Sora’s eyes with a hardness that used to be unfamiliar to him, “We’re the ones fighting it the hardest.” He softened some, stroking her arm and squeezing her wrist reassuringly, “The ones fighting it on our lonesome, almost. Everybody who’s stuck with us this far has been gambling the entire time, and they know it. I know it. You think I didn’t know it was a gamble with some mad fucking odds to prostrate myself in front of Zaveed just to make sure I could be with you and force Sevari into acting?”

“You don’t think it was a damned mad gamble to assault the Palace with not even twenty people? Or that Prison back there?” He thrust his thumb over his shoulder as he said it. He nodded, giving a smile to Sora and folding her up in his embrace, “Me, everyone, we’ve done the impossible twice already because of you. Because of each other. We’ll do it however many times we need to until this is done.”

Daro'Vasora pulled herself into Latro, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face into his chest. “Thank you. I needed to hear that, I really did.” she said, holding him close for a few moments longer, taking in his comforting scent before falling back onto her knees.

“As many times as it takes.” she promised, suddenly laughing nervously. “By Alkosh, I've been a mess the past few weeks, haven't I? You'd think by now life and death stakes would be a tad routine.” the Khajiit smiled, wiping her eyes with the back of her arm. She took a few moments of meditative breathing to relax herself, and she opened her eyes with a loving smile.

“For what it's worth, it was pretty much a turn on to see you do something stupidly heroic for me. I guess we're all in this together, huh? It almost seems like a rite of passage to risk life and limb to save each other.” Daro'Vasora observed, thinking back. “I don't think I ever thanked Meg for what she did for me when I was captive, and Jaraleet. I should probably talk to both of them soon.”

Latro laughed at that, shrugging and nodding, “Yeah, well, I’m glad I have that effect on somebody. I’m glad it’s you.” He chuckled, scratching at his stubbled jaw. “Maybe you should talk to them. Better late than never, they’ll appreciate it.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll make some time. Tonight, it’s about us.” She said as she ran her fingers across her chin, grinning. “You know, you might look good with a beard.”

He smiled, giving a small chuckle at that, “You think? Always made it harder to hide. No one can tell it’s me with just a little makeup and a change of clothes, I can disappear. I used to like that fact. Nobody knowing if it was me or not.” He looked to the sand, scrunching his bare toes deeper into it, nodding, “But I don’t think I’m going to hide anymore. No more disappearing, running. I’m right here,” he smiled, “Nothing can change that.”

Daro’Vasora smiled, kissing him lightly. “You don’t need to any more, we’re no longer facing the world alone; this is so much more than surviving one more day. We’re fighting to live, to make sure that we have a tomorrow we can be proud of. Besides… do you know how much of a shock it was seeing you in dress and make-up?” she asked with a grin. “You know that’s a skill you have that I never had to learn, right?”

“Be glad.” He said, “It was one part necessity, one part desperation and sorrow. Rough men like pretty boys. I’m tired of being invisible. I am Latro, I am Finnen Pale-Feather, all of these things. When we go to the Reach, it won’t be gentle for me or any of us.”

“But when has it been recently? We, all of us, we still have each other. That’s all that matters.” He nodded. “Finnen the returned son. Chief Finnen Pale-Feather of the Crow-Wife Clan. Has a ring to it. If they won’t accept me, I will change them.”

“That was insensitive of me… I’m sorry.” She said, holding him close. “Wherever our road takes us, I will stand by you, no matter how hard it gets. And Latro?” she leaned closer to his ear. “You were never invisible to me.”

He turned to her, gave her his easy smile, and they kissed as a breeze brought chills and the sound of cricket-song.

Making a plot: How do you do it?

@Skyswimsky This is really solid advice, and if I were a new player, I would find this incredibly helpful. Kudos! :D

@Ace of Jacks Everyone's got a different style, but I think there's some fundamentals I think really help ensure a game's success.

Basically, if you get an idea, do not start an interest check until you are prepared. Imagine it like going for a job interview, you want to be prepared, do your research, sell yourself and your vision to people who have dozens of interest checks and running roleplays vying for their attention. You want to set yourself off on a strong footing, and that involves a lot of prep work, and like Sky said, sit on an idea while working on it for a couple weeks and see if it's still something that's strongly going to hold your interest. The hardest part of GMing is forcing yourself to keep the game moving forward when your inspiration and energy are tapped.

A big way around that, I found, is asking players to have detailed histories for their characters and actually incorporating aspects of their personal stories in the main plot and doing similar things to really make the game feel like "our story" rather than "my story". After you have core players in a game, you'll want to do things so they feel invested in the game long-term, and that really is facilitated by letting them have some agency in creating their own side stories that run parallel to the plot. Let them make some NPCs, and talk with them to encourage and shape ideas; not every idea is going to work, but you can definitely help make something work. Players all have great ideas, it's just a matter of helping them shape them.

I always explain GMing to people like it's framing a house and players are the ones doing the drywall and painting. You build the foundations they can grow off of, but they're still following your structure and together, you make a house. The biggest bit of advice I can give is this; always keep ahead of your players and set and stick to deadlines. Try to think of an overall plot you want to follow, like your beginning, middle, and end pieces. think of NPCs, major plot points and events you expect to cover, and so on so forth. You can always change details as you go and the game changes, but always have those major pillars in mind. Think of your villains and the antagonists; a game needs some kind of conflict, and you want to make sure that whatever is the source of it is interesting.

Worldbuilding is really key in this area, and there's no such thing as too much on the GM side, but you want to give enough lore and info for players to reference and build characters off of without asking questions. Basically, think of yourself as a player, what would you in particular want to know if you were looking at the RP? For some lore that's not plot relevant but it helps flesh out governments, races, technology or whatever, I tend to do a codex section in hiders so people can look at it if they so choose for answers while the main bulk of the OOC gives the main information people would need to start the RP.

The most basic of story structures is who is your bad guy, what are they trying to do, and how are your heroes going to stop them? I find it really helps to occasionally do posts from the bad guy's POV for some plot reveals that the characters don't know about but players can anticipate in the future. You do want to have some surprises, but as a rule, it never hurts to keep your players informed and having enough of a mystery to keep them going. Think of how a novel goes, often chapters follow the bad guy's POV and part of the fun is the anticipation of where that information the reader knows comes to affect the hero.

I kind of have this general guideline for when I make an RP or a character sheet where A happens because of B, resulting in C. For example,

Cindy decides to become a swordswoman because bandits killed her brother, and so she seeks out a mentor. The mentor takes her own because she reminds him of his own daughter, and she trains with him for years. Now a proficient warrior she travels the lands to protect villages, but this has drawn the ire of the bandit king. The bandit king has had his operations ruined because of Cindy, so he hires expert mercenaries to kill her.

It's a very simple format, but it gives justification for aspects of a character and the story and the resulting consequences, and those you can keep building off of indefinitely. And from there, you can put together a simple but effective plot pretty quickly. As a rule of thumb when it comes to roleplays, assume everything is going to take way longer than you expect. You can be stuck on the same fight scene for weeks and months if you're not careful because you tried to make it too complicated. You have to keep the plot moving, and that's why it's important to set deadlines for stuff. But going back to my devices for a plot,

The Bandit King has returned to reclaim the realm of his birth, and he's raised an army to conquer Fantasyland. Cindy lives in a village near the border, and her village is razed and her brother killed. Cindy spends years honing her skills and body and mind to fight the Bandit King, but she needs help. Cindy travels across Fantasyland recruiting capable adventurers, bringing fame and attention to her cause. Cindy and her friends fight off the Bandit King's minions, but they find something greater at stake when they rescue a mysterious princess. The mysterious princess was the Bandit King's bride, and she escaped him before his exile because of the power she wields. Cindy and friends now know if the princess is captured, her power could destroy any army and the Bandit King can rule the world. So Cindy and friends set out to find the mythical artifacts of the Kings and Queens of old that were ordained by the Gods, and they have to beat the Bandit King to them and his bride. With the artifacts in hand, Cindy and friends set out to confront the Bandit King one and for all. The Bandit King is defeated despite having his own artifacts, but now Cindy and her friends are now effectively demigods. What happens next?

Come up with your pillars for your plot and worry about fleshing out the first couple missions for your game and setting the stage, so to speak. And even when the game is going, make sure you take the time in the background to start working on the next part of the game; you don't want to run out of track before the train catches up.

Persistent Characters vs "One-and-Done" Characters

@Mistiel You never felt like it was worth giving a character another shot? That's curious!

Persistent Characters vs "One-and-Done" Characters

I've got a foot in either end of the spectrum.

I reuse characters in fandom settings if I feel they didn't get a good run because of a game's early death, I still have a story I want to tell with them, or it's a series/ sequel. Like Harbinger said, it feels like a waste of time and energy if you spend days researching and creating a character only for it to get snuffed out in a few weeks because a game died. If a character is adapted to the new RP and setting, I don't see the problem.

On the other hand, there's something stagnant about reusing the same character across different genres and games and it brings to mind Theseus' Ship; if you replace every plank of wood on a ship across it's life, is it still the original ship? I had a conversation with a good friend of mine about her habit of reusing characters but basically changing everything but the appearance and name... if a character is so vastly different between incarnations, aren't you technically playing a different character?

Personally, I get bursts if inspiration for different ideas so while I have a handful of repeat characters, I write and create so many more original ones because it makes sense for different games. It's all very circumstantial.

Where I take exception and issue with people reusing characters is when it's an obvious author insert and/ or it's the same character across different RPs with no changes to accomodate the new setting. I've seen it a few times on the guild and it's definitely enough to make me steer clear. You need to respect a GM's setting and lore and make your character work for it, not awkwardly cram in a failed post apocalyptic setting character into a fantasy RP and then into a slice of life romance and then into a scifi setting with virtually nothing changed.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

hey gang!

Thanks for being troopers the past few months here; I know the posting pace has been insane and I apologize for that. I've talked to a lot of people and the burn out is real, and several feel left behind. That's obviously unacceptable, and I apologize for pushing you all this hard to get to the end of Act 2.

So here's the plan going forward.

We're going to take this time to wind down for Act 2, resolve plot threads and set up for Act 3. Take your time, relax, and don't feel pressured to write. This is a chance to cool off.

When I feel like we're caught up, I will end act 2 and we will have a 2 week rest period between acts; no posting will be done, but feel free to plot! We'll have some fun little chats to review the last act and our character stories in Discord.

And lastly, when act 3 gets going, we're going to use less giant set pieces and focus on smaller scenes with singular posts. Instead of big combat collabs, we're going to focus on shorter posts or smaller collabs with some more breathing room. Posting will be less breakneck pace and there will be a lot more chance for personal agency; the theme is switching up from Assassin's Creed to Breath of the Wild, in a sense. Act 3 will be about resolving personal stories and making a long journey as a team while addressing lingering plot points before we reach the big finale.

Thanks for everything, guys. You're all goddamn incredible and I couldn't imagine doing this without any of you. <3

Character Sheets: Where do you stand?

I take a pretty harsh view of digging through profiles to judge people. Matter of fact it's a good way for me to end up blacklisting a GM and passing otherwise-good roleplays by. If you want to judge someone, you should judge them in the present rather than in the past.

@Sierra

Can't speak for everyone, but in the 7 years I've been GMing, I've had some hard lessons about running games and currently, I've been keeping games running for well over a year at minimum the past few tries. That comes down to vetting players and following a two-stage application process, through character sheet reviews, and some quick homework on an applicant. If I see someone hasn't been able to last in an RP for more than a few weeks or months, or cause drama and friction, or they join multiple RPs at once and commit to none of them, I'm not taking the chance because I have been burned way too many times. I tend to get upwards of around 20 applications every time I run an RP and I usually have 8-10 slots; I'm taking the best sheets and most consistent players with the best personalities every single time.

Is it harsh? Sure, but I'm tired of having flakey and problematic players because I want someone willing to invest in a 2+ year roleplay.

The beautiful part of this forum is there's enough options out there that if you don't like something, you don't have to join it. I won't apologize for or change my methods because a few people think it's unfair or invasive because at this point, I'm aiming for quality and a good community that will see a game through to the end. Considering my current RP is over 1.5 years running and in the third and final act, I feel pretty validated.

Let's Talk: The Discord Discussion

I love Discord. It's done absolute wonders for being a tool for keeping a group of players active and invested and genuine friendships to form; I think that it's kind of been so successful in my roleplay it feels weird being in another roleplay without one, and for discords to not be very active if they do have one.

I think a lot of the criticism people have for Discord stems from problems that already exist and GMs not enforcing rules and good behaviour, or creating subchannels for different purposes; on my discord I have a general chat (for just OOC hangout), a roundtable discussion (to talk about characters and posts, events that came up, etc), a collab discussion (for players to talk about planning a collab or working out details in it while writing it), and a few others that I wouldn't consider essential but are there because players requested them, like a meme channel and a nsfw channel and a music channel for sharing songs and playlists.

I basically have a very simple rule I hold myself to; announcements get posted OOC as well as Discord, and if there's any toxic or malicious behaviour, I pretty much have a zero-tolerance policy. If someone's got a history of shit talking other people, arguing with others, and generally just being a real asshole, they're gone. Bye bye. Go find another RP to trash because it's rare to find an RP community that's genuinely mutually supportive and interested in each other as people and players alike; my RP group has frequent discussions about each other's characters, like their history and relationships, prospective interactions with other characters, their goals, etc. We talk about the posts that go up and stuff we like about them, and off topic, I like having a place where players can feel comfortable talking about anything without being judged for it.

One thing I've seen kill so many fucking Discords and RPs and drive players away is if toxic people are tolerated; there's places on the internet to argue politics all day (let's face it, the only people who want to talk about politics all day are the ones who are so set in their ways are the ones who will never, ever challenge their views or listen respectfully to counterpoints), and I don't see how tolerating racist, homophobic, or sexist bullshit is even a thing. I can't count the number of times I've had people come to me in private and talk about being uncomfortable or feeling unwelcome by someone because of really toxic behaviour, and those people are way better roleplayers than the toxic people almost all of the time.

Onto good stuff, I actually find discords promote a more organic discussion for RPs, and it only works if players actually try to participate, and it's that reason I kind of think that discords are best saved until after the game's been established and you have core players, but I know that's unrealistic. The best thing a GM can do is to set posting deadlines and enforce it; you cannot wait for everyone, and from personal experience if you hold up a game for one or two players, you're going to lose momentum and interest fast and then your RP is at a real risk of dying. That's where Discord is handy; you can set out alerts to everyone, say "hey you have until this date to post before I move the game along" and actually have a discussion with players if they're stuck or need a hand. It's about helping everyone out, not punishing them; even if they don't make the deadline, that's perfectly fine! We all have periods where we're in a slump.

Discord's made the RPing experience way more personal and enjoyable for me, and it's helped realize a potential I never really had with Skype or anything else. Like any tool, it can be misused and abused, and not every single RP needs to have a Discord, but for people who genuinely want to talk real time and plan stuff out organically with multiple people, it's a godsend. The GM still has to do heavy lifting to keep the game active and moving along, and you need to enforce some basic etiquette rules (keeping shit posting out of general chat and eliminating toxicity are huge ones), but not having it these days is kind of like doing math without a calculator; it takes way longer and not nearly as easy.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Lock and Key

16th Midyear, 4E208
Alik’r Oasis
Late Afternoon…

---

“I hope you lot managed to rest well the past few days, because this is it; we’re about to embark on the journey to the prison to retrieve Alim, Bakih, and the lexicon which will hopefully be how we save Tamriel from invasion and hopefully not get us all killed in the process. Still with me? Good. We’ve got work to do.” Daro’Vasora said, looking at the gathered group, including Sevari, Zaveed, and Sirine, who while they were all clearly outsiders had managed to make some inroads in their time together so their presence didn’t seem nearly as jarring. Daro’Vasora had Zaveed’s pistol on her hip, opposite of the mace, and her hastily assembled adventuring gear was at least sturdy and secure enough to do the job.

“Now, we don’t know what we’re walking into, but in my experience, there’s not a ruin I haven’t been able to find my way into or around, and Dwemer were fond of hidden passages, one obvious, the others not-so-much. Not much is known about this location other than it had been buried in sand up until their return, so we’re marching into the unknown. This is where they’re sending their prisoners, and it can only be so large. We do not even know it’s name.” She continued, studying the people around her. Her friends, companions. It wasn’t that long ago that she looked at them as liabilities she would leave when the job was completed.

How things changed. She thought to herself.

“It’s called Kutrack, or some other such nonsense one can only utter when one’s mouth is filled with food and being rather impolite with dinner guests.” Zaveed spoke up, stepping up to the table and unrolling a large scroll he’d had on his person, revealing a crudely drawn map.

“Apologies for my lack of artistic talent, but while searching for Sirine’s darling brother in the Dwemeri archives in the Governor’s palace, I’d stumbled across some of the plans and layouts for the facility they’d drafted up for their general ambitions for the place. Turns out leaving a place unattended for thousands of years to be shit upon by goblins leaves a lot to be desired for retail value, yes?” he grinned.

Daro’Vasora didn’t say anything at the intrusion. Despite her feelings for Zaveed, he’d clearly done a lot more research than any of them. His eyes met hers, and she gestured for him to continue.

“Right, so as our esteemed leader has rightfully pointed out, there is two ways in that I’ve been able to document that are accepted. First is the obvious; the main gate. I’ve been to this place myself, but rarely past the entrance to turn over fugitives. Roux was taken here and… processed.” Zaveed said, not daring meet Raelynn or Daro’Vasora’s eyes. “Chances are word of my probable defection has not become widely known to the Dwemer since other than my relationship to Sevari, they’d have no reason to suspect I’ve been unfaithful, and from what I’ve heard, they have bigger problems to focus on at the moment than an officer who hasn’t checked in for a few days.”

“So, what are you proposing?” Daro’Vasora asked flatly, staring at Zaveed. In turn, Zaveed grinned at Sevari and offered a wink with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Oh, he’s not going to like this…”

Sevari looked up from cleaning his pistol, “Eh?”

---

Dwemeri Prison Ruins Kthrakz

Raelynn did not enjoy having her hands bound and being at the mercy of Sirine, Zaveed, and Sevari too should things go haywire. But this was the only way for her to be sure the trio wouldn’t abandon everyone else after Bakih was liberated. Sure, the Imperial had said she wouldn’t do such a thing - but, throwing herself into the mix as an insurance policy made her feel better, even if it had not made Gregor feel better… Now that she was in the midst of it, hands bound, she didn’t like it so much. This was temporary though… It was temporary. The mage kept repeating it to herself in her head, trying to ignore what was happening with the Khajiit brothers to her right.

Brilliant idea Raelynn, go and be a prisoner… She chastised herself. Teeth gritted, posture tense, Sirine was behind her - probably enjoying herself, having her on a leash like this. Still, she had her hair bunched up atop her head, lockpicks stowed in the birds nest sat on her crown. She was ready to assist them in the best way she knew. “Like this do you?” she muttered through pursed lips indignantly. At least when it came to it, she definitely looked like a disgruntled prisoner.

"I wouldn't particularly say that I do," Sirine replied rather easily, looking at the back of the shorter woman's head. Leading Raelynn was simply a necessity to free her brother from the wretched prison, and truth be told, the former pirate was a little worried about the healer's safety. Preparing for the worst, she expected there to be bloodshed- perhaps a bit of her desired there to be- but it was the dwemer and their accomplices’ blood she wanted spilled, not one of their group's.

Zaveed wasn’t wasn’t lying; Sevari trusted Zaveed. In all the years he’d known the man, he never lied. And no, he didn’t like this. His bound wrists itched, which unlocked an anger in him that willed him to snap at anything. Still, he could feel the rope tied around his wrists tugging every so often and a hushed giggle from Zaveed that made him want to crack his forehead against his damn snout.

“Keep at it, little brother,” Sevari growled, “I might mistake you for a guard when the time comes. Things get awful chaotic in a scrap.”

“Be quiet, you curr! How dare you be so boldly defiant of the law as decreed by our new management?” Zaveed declared with a cheeky grin, offering Sirine a wink as he prodded his brother’s back with his pistol. “It’s not like I would know anything about a life outside of the law, no sir. Captain Greywake? Hardly know ‘er.”

“Fuck off.” Sevari mumbled and rolled his eyes.

“Can you both cease?!” said Raelynn from their left, their incessant bickering was getting to her.

"Probably best to ignore the boys while they squabble," Sirine advised, voice both dry yet tinged with amusement, recalling her words to Sevari earlier in the day.

“You say that as if they haven’t been doing this the whole time…” she hissed, sending a sidelong glance in Zaveed’s direction.

"I'm sure they have been," Sirine replied with a nod, hand lifting momentarily to hide the smirk that found itself on her lips. "But it's the nature of brothers. Trust me, I have three of them."

The Cathay shrugged apologetically towards Raelynn. “Oh, give us a break; we’ve decades to catch up on.” Zaveed explained with a smile before turning his attention back to his brother. “You seem awfully dour for a man who’s spending quality time on a wilderness walk with his brother and a very good friend. Wasn’t that what you were after, in the end? And look ahead, there’s some shade and some very helpful people that would love to meet you.” Zaveed said, looking ahead to the mouth of the ruins of Kthrakz.

It was an impressive structure that seemed to come out of the ground like a maw in the sands, a pillar of rock with ornately carved figureheads and pillars with a large pair of double doors that were large enough to march Centurions through and had been coated with a special paint that had been mixed with the sands over the years, presumably to prevent wear from the elements and to prevent the alloys from becoming unbearably hot to the touch. They were not far off now, and a pair of guards stood out front to greet them.

“You’re doing a wonderful job, by the way. You are selling this indignant prisoner act quite admirably; I wish I had even a fraction of your talents, brother.” Zaveed said, shoving Sevari along. Sirine handled Raelynn in a similar fashion, at least to keep up appearances.

“I’ll show you my goddamn talents when this is over, you ass.” Sevari looked back and glared at his brother’s cheeky grin, ear to ear and wide as the seas. “Alright, it’s time.”

He sniffled and quieted himself as they approached the gates, blowing out a breath and steadying his nerves. The walls grew with every step and by the time the guards hailed them to stop it almost hurt Sevari’s neck to look up at the top of them. All across them, there wasn’t a single place in the smooth surface that Sevari could scale with his climbing claws. Even from outside, he felt like he couldn’t escape this place.

Least not without the help of several stubborn and steadfast companions willing to risk life and limb to do the impossible just to see his face again.

He’d better like whoever the fuck Bakih and Alim were.

“State your business!” One of the guards spoke from the twenty or so stride distance between his throat and Sevari’s hands.

Zaveed stepped forward, arms wide as if he were greeting and old friend. “Greetings, Btzmahz was it?”

“It’s Kragren.” The guard replied dryly, clearly displeased at having to have stepped out of his shaded retreat to approach the menagerie approaching him. “No one here goes by that name. It’s not even a name.” his rifle was held with the barrel down, but still quite at the ready. “Are you lost, Khajiit?”

“Ah, no. You see, we’re coworkers.” Zaveed replied, pulling his Ministry of Order badge from his bandoleer. “My deputy and I have brought a pair of very special prisoners that I’ve been hunting for some time now, the traitor to our dear Governor’s trust, and one of the ones she requested personally.” he pulled Sevari forward. “Just dropping dear old Sevari off at the daycare. He’s been a very bad boy.”

The guard’s face didn’t register the name, prompting Zaveed to sigh and pulling out a piece of blank official stationary he wrote upon with the capture order and a hastily forged version of Major Kerztar’s signature; it definitely wasn’t anything close to the Major’s penmanship, but the Cathay was counting on these Dwemer out in the middle of nowhere not having intimate knowledge of that bit of scribble to question it overly much. They just needed to get into the door.

“Let’s get inside out of this damned heat.” The guard said, motioning for them to follow. “We’ll sort you out where it’s comfortable.”

“Huh.” Sevari said in appreciation of Zaveed’s gambits working yet again.

“What’d you say?” The Guard turned back to him, glowering down his nose, which was upturned to look up at Sevari’s face.

“Nothing.” Sevari frowned deeper, “Fucker.”

The guard stamped down on his foot and Sevari bared his teeth at the heel of his boot crunching into his toes. With both hands and holding his foot to the ground, the guard shoved Sevari in the chest and pitched him to the sand. Sevari huffed, the breath throwing up sand from around his face as he gritted his teeth to look up at the guard. “Watch your step.” The Mer sneered and waved them on, “Come on.”

Zaveed grabbed Sevari by the arm, helping pull him to his feet, grateful the guard wasn’t paying too close attention to his knot job. “Mind not brutalizing my prisoner? If he can’t walk, you’re dragging him all the way back with you.” Zaveed called to the back. Securely on his feet, Zaveed patted Sevari on the shoulder affectionately and the small group continued on their way towards the maw and hopefully Bakih.

"Let's go," Sirine ordered, urging Raelynn to continue forward as well with a light push, just for a little extra insurance that their act played out without fault. That being said, she really didn't think she had to worry- Zaveed's silver tongue was clearly working on the dwemer guards. She had been worried that they might treat him with suspicion, especially after his defecting, but it seemed news traveled slowly up and down the desert. A smirk danced upon her lips; it would have been quite interesting to listen to the privateer's words at sea whilst dealing with another pesky crew. Bakih first, she reminded herself. And then the rest. Soon they would be far away from this oppressive heat and sand, and good riddance.

---

Back at The Oasis...

“The other way in is through a natural cavern that’s been somewhat caved in, but otherwise still intact. They installed a locked gate, but this is an underground reservoir not too dissimilar to what we have here. It is where the ruins gets its drinking water and process water for their steam contraptions.” Zaveed showed on the map. “As I understand, at least one of you can summon atronachs. Do that, clear out around here of debris and you have yourselves a way to sneak into the ruins undetected. Be warned, some tunnels are still infested by goblins; the Dwemer only have bothered securing the primary infrastructure and gating off places they haven’t cleared yet. They probably won’t be monitoring anywhere you find those skeever-faced runts skulking about like they’re people, but you’ll still be fighting fucking goblins. Just be prepared for Dwemer past any locked gates.”

“So where does it lead out?” Daro’Vasora asked.

“Right here…”

---

Dwemeri Prison Ruins Kthrakz

The badge flashed. “Zaveed of Senchal, agent of the secret police division of the Ministry of Order.” Zaveed said, flashing his badge at the Dwemer clerk who approached with an entirely too heavy tome in his hand to study the grey-furred Khajiit’s features before going over the records to verify his identity. A handful of guards stood around, preparing to take the prisoners off of Zaveed and Sirine’s hands once the authorization went through.

As the clerk retreated to a desk to check over his files, Zaveed pulled one of Sevari’s half-burnt cigars from one of his pouches and ignited it in a small container of fire salts before guiding it to his brother’s mouth with a grimace. “I don’t know how on Nirn you tolerate this crap.” Zaveed observed, keeping a careful eye on the clerk’s body language.

Sevari smirked, a bearing of fangs, “You just live your life hard and shitty so that this shit doesn’t seem like as much shit as the other shit.”

“Well, shit.” One of the younger guards that still held the telltale soft eyes of a rookie grunted from his corner with raised eyebrows and a nodding head.

“You are truly a poet, a man with unmatched talent for the spoken word.” Zaveed rolled his eyes. “One of these days, I’m going to have to acquaint you with the salted air of the sea, some grog, and the joys of good company. You won’t ever want to sully your lungs with that shit again.”

“You speak as if he’s ever going to see the sun again, the traitor.” Another guard grunted, his weapon’s safety being disengaged with a click. Zaveed merely shrugged at the man with a wink.

“Man’s my brother. Allow us some final moments of normality, will you? Fucking killjoy.”

Sevari leaned out from behind Zaveed with narrowed eyes and an impish little half-smile, “Yeah, allow me some final moments of normality, you fucking cock-throater.”

“Why, you-“

“Stay your hand, Corporal!” The Clerk shouted with a suddenness that made almost everybody in the room flinch.

“Yes, corporal.” Zaveed sneered. “Remember your discipline. Know your place, drop and give me twenty, all of that.” he said with a dismissive wave of the hand. He looked back at the clerk and noticed a tensing in the mer’s shoulders.

“Well, Sevari,” Zaveed said in a low tone. “Let’s hope I’m as talented at tying easily escapable knots as you are at the spoken word.”

Almost simultaneously as the last syllable left Zaveed’s mouth, Sevari stood, two unfettered arms throwing open the cloak around his shoulders to reveal pistols in his hands. In less than a second, not that one needed to be a marksman in a space like this, Sevari discharged the two guns and the angry Corporal’s face exploded onto his friend next to him, who was clutching his bloody chest wound as well.

Raelynn shrieked as she was sprayed with the Corporal’s blood. A bad day to be dressed in white. She backed into Sirine, her hands held out expectedly for her to remove the bindings, as she struggled to manage it amongst the chaos.

Sirine's reaction to the blood was completely the opposite. She was grinning as she pulled her dagger from its resting spot at her waist, the blade as sharp as ever after after she had taken care of it the previous day. "A little blood never hurt anyone," she quipped, her tone very different from before. Without wasting a moment, she undid the rope that bound Raelyn before motioning behind herself with her head. "Well, not someone else’s anyway- you best get behind me, I'd rather not have yours mixing with that."

“Hurts people when it’s not in their bodies, Sirine,” she retorted with a smirk as the girl cut her free. She shook her hands, allowing the blood to flow back through. “You tie a better knot than your friend,” she remarked, unable to believe she’d just made a joke over it. Something about the moment had allowed her that sense of safety.

"Yes," Sirine agreed, "but they're not the ones I'm concerned with at the moment. And somehow..." She smirked at the comment about knots. "I'm not surprised, I'm quite good at tying people up." Stepping before the healer, she was swift in striking at an incoming dwemer guard, ramming her boot into his stomach so that he stumbled back. Just as quickly, she lunged forward, stabbing at the mer's exposed throat with her dagger, her smirk shifting to a satisfied smile as she pulled it out. Ignoring the blood that poured onto the ground, she turned away to look for her next victim.

Zaveed’s axes were out in a flurry, one of them thrown at one of the other guards who was fumbling with the safety of his weapon as the blade buried itself in his shoulder. Zaveed was upon him, sweeping the Dwemer’s leg as he went to raise the weapon with a single hand and kicking the Dwemer to the floor. The mer screamed in pain as Zaveed stood over him, prying the weapon from his hand and bringing the axe down into his throat as a volley of shots landed around them. “You’d think they’d spend more time on training…” he murmured, hoisting the rifle and aiming at the guards on the walkway, returning fire with the repeating weapon as his hand worked the lever.

Raelynn ducked as the others fought - bullets and blades flurrying. The noise inescapable. She shuffled across the floor on all fours to the desk with the paperwork and tomes. There had to be some paperwork here to suggest where Sirine’s brother was. She’d gone through clerical information before for her father, and at the College - it was usually organised in a certain way. Whether the Dwemer held to such a standard would remain to be seen. “Your surname, Sirine?” she called out, hoping the Imperial could hear her over the noise.

Sirine kicked away the guard she had just finished with, shaking the blood off her dagger as she looked for Raelynn, a little annoyed the healer had disappeared from her side. Thankfully however, she heard her name called, and following the direction of the voice with her eyes until she saw where the Breton woman was. "Al Nahel," she called back, eyes narrowing slightly before she slammed a shoulder into another dwemer, attempting to make her way to the desk.

Her thumbs ran over a tome as she pulled it from the desk. It was heavy. At least his name was going to, hopefully, be at the start of the entries. She flicked through the pages, muttering under her breath, “Al Nahel… Al Nahel… Al Nahel…. BAKIH!” she called out, finding his name there, “Al Nahel, Bakih. Thirteenth of Second Seed. Allocated level seventeen, west block…” She looked up to Sirine who had made her way to the desk. “That’s him!”

All around had exploded into chaos with men shouting their last words or just meaningless battlecries lost on Sevari’s ears, too focused on taking aim and squeezing the trigger on some poor fool who couldn’t duck fast enough behind a crate. He worked the lever, the spent casing spinning over his shoulder as he slapped in another round. It was like a feeling of being home after a long journey, just his weapon in his hands and a room full of enemies.

He took aim, tracking a guard along the walkways a few steps before he squeezed again, stock jolting in his shoulder as the barrel barked out smoke and fire. The Mer dropped. “How’s the search, Princess?” He asked, not heeding a shower of sparks past leaning away from it while he reloaded his rifle, “I’d like to not be getting shot at sooner rather than later.”

Without wasting anymore time, Raelynn scanned the tome further for Blackmoore, finding him there. “Alim is here too - level sixteen…” She dropped the tome to the floor and stood back up, hands fumbling over the desk for anything that could suggest which level they were on now. “We have to get to seventeen, and then to sixteen. That’s where we’ll find the others.” There was sudden desperation in her own voice, now that she knew that Alim was here - this mission had not been a waste. He was here. “He’s really here, he’s alright…”

Unknown to the Breton woman, one of the dwemer guards had caught sight of her by the desk, rummaging through the files. Thinking her an easy target, he swiftly closed in on her, raising his blade to strike and end her where she stood. Unfortunately for him, Sirine had taken her self imposed duty of keeping the healer safe rather seriously. Sword now in her other hand, she brought it up swiftly to parry the blow, grunting under the weight of the swing. "Oh no you don't," she murmured, sounding almost enticing as she used his shock to shove her dagger through the openings of his armour, not relenting until her dagger could go in no more.

Kicking him off of her blade in a rather ungraceful manner, Sirine then backed towards the desk. "Any idea which level we're on?"

“Currently it looks like we’re on level eight…” Raelynn replied, watching the Dwemer guard bleed out on the ground, for a moment she locked eyes with him.

---

Back at The Oasis...

“Well, I don’t want to say thank you, but…” Daro’Vasora said with narrow eyes.

“You’re welcome.” Zaveed beamed with a theatrical bow.

“If your information is true, it’s going to be a big help. What assurances do we have that you three aren’t going to rat on us as soon as we part ways?” She pressed, arms crossed.

Zaveed sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, after my rather persuasive arguments earlier, I thought we’d have been past this point in our relationship.” he sighed, exasperated. “We’re going to get Bakih out, and we were going to be doing it regardless of your assistance or not. Likewise, you have your friend you wish to rescue and the bauble that can do… the thing you proposed.” the Khajiit shrugged.

“I do not know how much more I can tell you to alleviate your concerns, Daro’Vasora. You held a gun to my head because I wanted you to be able to move on from this so we can focus on doing what’s actually important, namely saving people we care about and kicking the Dwemer where it hurts. They basically enslaved Sevari and I; much like I keep trying to tell Gregor, I have no animosity towards any of you, and I cannot change what I had done to you, but we’re in the midsts of a shitty war none of us really desire to be a part of.

“Allegiances change, as do people. Your Poncy Man betrayed you; I’ve never lied about who I am or what I’ve done. It will have to suffice.” Zaveed said, gesturing to Sevari. “And if none of that is good enough for you lot, then trust that my loyalties lay with my brother. The reason I’m here in your charming company is because he willed it so, and I am not going to lose him again. He wanted to help you lot, and in extension, so do I.”

“Fine. I’m hoping I don’t end up regretting this.” Daro’Vasora said, rolling her shoulders and looking at the gathered people, friends, strangers, and former enemies alike. “Look, Zaveed’s right about one thing; none of us wished to be here, in this war, in this desert… well, except for Shakti.” the Khajiit said with a smile before turning back to the crowd.

“But we’re here because we have people we care about on the line, and none of you turned your backs on me when I needed to be saved, and like hell I’m going to turn my back on Alim, or the rest of the prisoners. We’re shutting that place down, people; Gilane was a bust, and we all suffered greatly within its walls, but it doesn’t mean we lost. Look around you; how many of you would have even looked at the people you’ve trusted your lives to before all of this began? How many times have we served a common cause and put our lives on the line for each other?” Daro’Vasora said, slamming a fist into her palm. “That means something, and it’s why time and time again, we do not back down. We. Do. Not. Back. Down.” she stressed every word, an intensity in her emerald eyes as she met the gaze of each of the people around her.

“When we met, I was a brat, a real selfish piece of shit that only cared for earning a name for herself that wasn’t Daro’ and a good chunk of coin on the side. People came and went out of my life; they were expendable, and I couldn’t rely on anyone but my wits and knowledge. All I know is over the past two months, I’ve befriended you, come to love you and come know you as people, and right now I can’t see a difference between you and my own flesh and blood. I made mistakes, I fucked up; you stayed by me and gave me strength I never knew I had.” she paused, placing a hand on her chest as she let the words sink in.

“Let me return the favour. You chose me to guide the way in these uncertain times, and you risked your lives to get me out of bondage. I have a plan for how we win this thing, and I will need each and every one of you to believe in me like I believe in you.” Daro’Vasora said, placing a hand over her heart as she began to walk the circle of people, looking them all in the eyes.

“What we did at the Jerall Mountains was a mistake, one with consequences we couldn’t possibly anticipate. We activated a device that destroyed the mountain and allowed the Dwemer to return; it was that or be overrun by Falmer, but we had no idea what the function of it was, and ever since that day, we’ve been on the run trying not to die like so many others. Imperial City, Skingrad, Anvil, Gilane… so many cities have been engulfed by this war, and the despots that call themselves leaders are preying on innocent lives. Zegol, Gaius, Balroth, Durantel, Rhea, Roux… remember the fallen, remember what these Deep Elves have taken from us. If we quit now, they all were lost for nothing, their sacrifices meant nothing.” Daro’Vasora exclaimed, her teeth bared and tears in her eyes.

“And I am so fucking tired of running, being at the whims of those who wish us harm. Those who would see us dead or used as expendable tokens. The Rangers, the Poncy Man, whoever. Now we do this on our own, and either people can join us, or they can step aside. We’re doing this with or without their help.” the Khajiit snarled, wiping her muzzle with an arm as she stomped forward, a dangerous intensity in her gait.

She stopped in front of Sevari and Sirine, staring them down for several unspoken seconds. Her tone was lower, inviting people to listen as her voice dampened, pensive but with an edge. “Many of you wonder what the fuck I was thinking, inviting them along, but let me ask you this; how many of you would have chosen differently? Sometimes, we put our pride aside for the greater good. This is a journey where we can’t be picky about the people we walk alongside, and sometimes we need to do thing that our hearts scream at us no.” Daro’Vasora said, her eyes narrowed, teeth bared. Suddenly, her disposition shifted to something softer, more reflective. She placed a hand on Sevari’s shoulder.

“Maybe enemies can become friends, and maybe they can offer things that mean the difference between life and death. I have been brutalized, embarrassed, forced to choose between the lives of my friends.” she looked to Zaveed with a nod. She held her tongue for a pregnant moment before letting out a resigned sigh. “I choose to forgive you and let go. I won’t forget what you’ve done to me, or the others, but I choose to believe your words that you want to help, and we’re not going to win this fight on our own. What say you? All of you? No more running, no more fear and loathing. Let’s show these fucking Dwemer what happens when you take from us. Let’s show them the meaning of fear and loss. Let’s show them that we will never give up.” Daro’Vasora exclaimed, grabbing her mace from the table and holding it high.

“Who’s with me?!”

“I!” Latro was the first to stand, raising his fist. He had a smile for Sora, perhaps she had taken his, well Francis’ words to heart. Surety, he smiled. Hope and luck and courage.

Nanine stood next, commiting the sight of the Khajiit with mace raised to memory. That’s a sight that deserves to be drawn. She drew her own blade and raised it high, smiling. “We will do it.” For the first time in the long time, they had a plan and weren’t just struggling to survive or make sense of their situation. It was good to have purpose again.

“Hell yeah, sister.” Mazrah slammed the foot of her spear on the ground and clasped her free hand to her heart. The big Orsimer had a smile on her face and a glistening wetness in her eyes -- she was a sucker for a good rousing speech. “These gray-skinned shits won't know what hit them.”

"I've been travellin' with you since Jerall, Sora." Meg looked to the khajiit woman, the determined look in her green eyes stronger than ever. Her leg was for all purposes healed, although still a little weaker than it normally would be. However, there was absolutely no way she would let that keep her behind when all of her friends were going out to risk their lives. Standing up and crossing her arms over her chest, she continued. "An' I ain' 'bout t'stop now, y'know! You can count on me."

Gregor watched silently as some of the others pledged their allegiance, but it wasn't until Megana had spoken up that he felt the need to pitch in. The way she stood with her arms crossed over her chest, defiant, was endearing and even a little inspiring: the young peasant girl ready to take on the most dangerous people in the world. Daro'Vasora's speech was good, truthfully, but Gregor had always had more of an eye for the small and understated moments of beauty than grand gestures. His hand found Raelynn's as she stood next to him and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “You have my sword,” the Imperial said with an encouraging nod in Daro'Vasora's direction. “We're with you.”

The blonde mage was not one for grand gestures either, and while the likes of Mazrah and Latro would stand to attention to Sora’s rallying speech, Raelynn remained quiet on the sidelines, her steel blue gaze travelling over the faces of the company. She felt Gregor’s hand around hers, and at the moment he spoke she took her other hand and placed it over his forearm, nodding her head at his words. Her eyes met those of Daro’Vasora and she nodded again. “I have spent the afternoon creating supplies for you all with what I have been able to source in our Oasis.” She and Gregor were stood by one of the crates from the caravan, she had managed to make a handful of potions from the Glowing Mushroom and various other ingredients she had harvested in the caves.

“If any of you need me to check you over before we leave, I will be here.” She nodded again with a finality, public speaking to a group of rebels was not really her strength. She kept it precise and to the point. In a hushed tone, she spoke up towards Gregor, “let’s talk - I know you’re not happy about this… We can find a quiet spot in a moment.”

Aries had remained silent for the planning; this was nothing that she was personally invested in, and it was better to hide among the crowd and comfortably assume her disguise for now. She wasn’t particularly moved by speeches in general, instead critically listening and picking out the flaws as she heard them, but she raised an eyebrow at the mention of one of their actions being responsible for the dwemer’s return. That was a question for another time. During the speech, her eyes traveled the crowd and fell on Sevari, giving him a glance that spoke more words than Sora could even if Akatosh granted her all the hours to say them. If she was really going into the dwemer’s prison, then that was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. Depending on who they find, then maybe this charade could finally end.

Shakti stood next to Mazrah and raised both of her hands as the Orc shouted in delight. The Redguard girl couldn’t help but give a cheer of her own. The Alik’r belonged to the Redguard, to her, no one else. Certainly no dwemer. She was excited to bloody their noses again. As the others gave similar yells of encouragement, Shakti’s eyes also searched the crowd for a certain blonde-haired Nord boy. She found him tending to the pony by the nearest watering hole, making sure Danish was well groomed and healthy, fed and watered, and that he'd be well off in his absence. But Calen was not absent minded during the rally -- he looked back at the group with a smile, albeit a nervous one.

Jaraleet had remained silent through Daro’Vasora’s speech, his eyes briefly turning to look at Meg as she addressed the Khajiit woman. In spite of himself, he couldn’t help but smile at seeing the determination of the Nord woman. “You have my blade as well, Daro’Vasora.” The Argonian said as he turned to look at their leader, giving her a slight nod to go along with his words.

Anifaire was not accustomed to loud gestures, but listened attentively to Daro’Vasora’s speech. The determined words, of enemies and Dwemer and friends, she used to fuel the anger she had been kindling since the previous day. It was a comfort that others at her side were not about to forget Alim. She sat, hands clenching the edges of the rock until her knuckles were white. She wanted Alim out of a Dwemer prison, and she wanted the Dwemer gone where they wouldn’t be taking anything from her again. She focusing on those thoughts and feelings, the idea of more violence, more burning and blood and the memories of watching her companions hack and slash at living beings, and having a part in it, pushed as far back as she could manage, the fears slipping unwillingly to the front of her mind from time to time. Determined not to be afraid of those things anymore, she held onto the anger alone.

---

“I’m sorry I got roped into assisting Sirine locate Bakih. I’m sorry I’m going to be with Zaveed. But you understand why, don’t you?” Raelynn asked, now that the group had dispersed to get the last of their preparations done. She took both of her Imperial’s hands tightly in her own, and smiled up at him comfortingly.

Gregor’s jaw worked while he looked away, though he returned Raelynn’s firm grip with unmistakable devotion. “Yes,” he said at length and a sound escaped him that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “But that doesn’t mean I think it’s worth it. If something happens to you and I’m not there…” He trailed off and let the words hang in the air before he finally met Raelynn’s gaze again. “I’d trade everyone’s lives here to prevent that from happening.” His words were honest but he surprised even himself a little with how callous the depth of his love for Raelynn made him. He shrugged and smiled, just a tad sheepish. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s true.”

“I’ll look at you however I want…” She cooed, unable to prevent the smile that formed on her face, warming up her eyes considerably with a happy glow. “It will be worth it when we get Alim back, and everyone gets out. I help them find Sirine’s brother safely, they’ll be grateful…” Raelynn tilted her head to the side and nodded slowly, knowing that Gregor would understand her implication. The mage stepped closer to him and began to work her hands slowly up his chest, her voice quieter, and an audacious expression resided where the innocent smile had been, “besides Gregor… After this is all said and done and we leave Hammerfell, we’ll have an entire world before us again.” Her voice was so quiet as it tapered off with her last words that she practically mouthed them, her lips only inches from his.

He had to admit that she was right and that it was smart to get and keep the triad on their side, but Raelynn’s explanation still drew nothing more from Gregor than a reluctant ‘hmph’. It was what she said after that, and the way she did it, that was cause for him to slowly take her in his arms, his hands running down her spine to the small of her back. He couldn’t resist the temptation and kissed her. “I know, you’re right,” he sighed. “Just this one mission and then they’ll be gone.” He looked her in the eyes and lost himself in her wondrous, glacial gaze, like he so often did. “I wonder if we’ll go to Skyrim eventually,” he murmured. “Would be nice to see the place again.”

Her head found its way to his shoulder, and she rested it there, savouring the moment of him - of them, together, like this. The mission was going to split them from each other temporarily. So she wanted to have as much of him while she could, before everyone had to get their head in the game. She almost regretted having spent her day deep in alchemy and not rolling around with him. Raelynn rose to her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek, his beard ticking at her lips and chin. “Mmm, it would be nice. Skyrim is… My second home in a way, it would be certainly special to get to explore it with you…”

“Mine too,” Gregor said, his eyes soft as the lingering warmth of Raelynn's kiss on his cheek spread through him. “I spent most of my time in dark caves and ruins and dungeons but I have fond memories of the views and vistas I saw on the road and the evenings of sitting by a warm fire with hearty food and drink. It's a shame we never ran into each other before. I met Calen for the first time in Skyrim, did you know that?”

“I didn't, actually,” Raelynn said with surprise in her voice and a smile. At the mention of his name, she glanced out to find Calen in the crowd. It occurred to her that she hadn't spoken to him in quite some time. “I spent most of my time traveling from place to place and setting up in taverns. I don't know how much you would have liked me had we ever met back then.” She looked him in his eyes, finding herself once again thoroughly enraptured by them, their darkness - and the intensity buried within them. “What can I do for you? Before we leave?” She asked, wanting more and more to put him at ease and be with him.

Briar had often asked him the same question while she looked at him with the same eyes. Gregor's answers had been mundane and simple; play with my hair, make me that meal I like, come with me to the bedroom… It all seemed so trivial now, but he supposed that was true. Trivial requests for trivial times back when his life was innocent and he already had everything he needed. Now, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, Gregor realized he wanted, needed, something even more simple and yet far more meaningful.

He pulled her tighter in his embrace and whispered in her ear. “Just hold me.”

“I can grant you such a request,” she said quietly with a smile, and wrapped her arms around him, letting her hands hook over his shoulders from behind, her body pressed to his and her head against his chest. She knew the moment would not last too long, and was expecting someone from the group to break them up with complaints of an ache, pain, or ailment. Raelynn hummed against him and as she had done many times she breathed him in and closed her eyes. Leather and steel, and today there was something else to his scent - something rich and earthy, from nights of sleeping upon the moss she thought. She liked it. She squeezed him tighter just then, taking in every detail of the moment so that could think upon it later.

“I love you,” Gregor said, just low enough for her to hear, and he poured all of his affection, devotion and passion into those three words. It felt like they were standing in the eye of a vast hurricane -- enjoying what could only be the briefest moment of serenity, with a wall of violence and destruction behind them and yet more ahead. “Stay safe. Come back to me in one piece,” he added, his voice heavy with the lump in his throat. “Please.”

Raelynn smiled at him, and let her fingers gently tickle the nape of his neck. He was so passionate - it almost made her want to split from him into dangerous situations more often if this was the level of intense attention she would get. “And I love you…” she breathed against his neck, words only for him. “I promise, and you must make the same one. Stay safe, and return to me as you are. After this is done we can go back to being simply us.” She wanted so badly for him to just be hers again for a while, no interruptions from the group. The mage also wanted to take care of the friend that was residing in amongst Gregor’s belongings.

---

With the group dispersed to make their final preparations after Daro’Vasora’s speech, Jaraleet didn’t waste time in seeing to his own preparations for the upcoming journey. Luckily, there was little that he needed to do before he was ready; namely, he had to take down his tent and to fold the bedroll that he had used and both tasks were completed in a matter of moments. With those task complete, there was something else that he wanted to do or, more accurately, there was someone whom he wanted to check on.

“There you are, I was looking for you.” He said as he finally found Meg, sitting near her tent and cleaning up her sword. “Getting ready for the mission?” He asked her softly, a note of concern in his voice, as he sat next to her.

Meg looked up at Jaraleet with a smile, happy to see the Argonian came to see here. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps she should have been the one to see how he was doing... it seemed to her as if he was always checking up on her rather than the opposite. "I am!" she replied with a small smile and nod. "My leg's all better now, mostly. I mean, there's kinda an ache but, like, it won' make things hard for me." She set her sword down on her lap, turning slightly to face him. "Looks like we ain' gonna be together this time."

“Good, good, I’m glad to hear that.” The Argonian said with a smile, glad to hear that, aside from the ache, her leg seemed to be fully healed. “It goes without saying….but don’t overdo it, ok?” He said, concern plain in his voice once again. He bit his lip slightly when she mentioned that they weren’t going to be on the same team for the upcoming mission, letting out a sigh after a moment.

“Yes, that seems to be the case.” He said, frowning slightly. “Can’t say I’m too happy about that...but we’ve both got our respective tasks to accomplish, don’t we?” He smiled weakly, shaking his head slightly.

“I’ll be fine,” Meg hastily assured Jaraleet, not wishing him to be worried or stressed out even before their adventure to the prison began. “I’mma be careful, an’ ‘sides, there’ll be the others there. Maz is strong, Latro’s there, Sora’s there…” She reached over and placed a hand on his, smiling reassuringly. “Tha’ bein’ said, you better be careful as well. Don’ think I forgot ‘bout tha’ time y’went out with Sevari.”

Jaraleet chuckled in spite of himself before smiling fondly at Meg. “I suppose you got me there, can't exactly ask you to be careful with my record can I?” He said, his smile widening slightly when he noticed her hand over his. “I know, I know.” He said in response to her reassurances, shaking his head slightly. “But still, I can't help but worry. There are far too many unknowns for my liking.”

Meg shrugged slightly before speaking. “It’s always been unknown though, no? Like, Skingrad, Anvil, even Gilane… we didn’ really know anythin’ tha’ was gonna happen… ‘least this time, we’re the one’s goin’ ahead first. We’re like up here-” she raised her free hand in the air above her head “-an the dwemer, they’re down there.” She lowered her hand so that it was near the ground.

“Hmmm, perhaps…” He replied, frowning slightly. “I suppose I'm just a bit used to having a bit more information than we do right now. Skingrad, Anvil, Gilane, in all of those places we at least knew more than we do now. Or I suppose I should say there were less unknowns than now.” Jaraleet said, chuckling weakly. “Sorry, I'm not making much sense I guess.”

“Well…” Meg looked to Jaraleet and gave him a small poke in the side, trying to lighten his mood a little. “Think of it as an adventure then? I mean, I know it ain’ really, we’re goin’ t’rescue Alim an’ the other man…” She paused momentarily before continuing. “Maybe not knowin’ somethin’ can better sometimes.”

Jaraleet was silent for a moment, pondering on Meg’s words. In the end, he let out another sigh before smiling at the Nord woman. “I suppose a little uncertainty once in a while might not be so bad.” He said finally, shaking his head slightly. “In my….line of work I’m used to having an amount of certainty, so to speak. To act after weeks of planning, at the very least.” He explained to her, shaking his head slightly. “I suppose it is rather foolish of me to think I can act like I did when things are like this, isn't it?”

“I know for sure that nothin’s been happenin’ in the las’ two months that’s been anythin’ like the rest’ve my years I’ve live.” Meg sounded a little rueful, but her smile remained. “We’ll be a’ight, I’ll be careful.” She prodded him once more, this time a little more forcefully. “Don’ worry too much though, got it? Don’ want yer brain so busy with wha’ might be thought that y’end up missin’ what’s righ’ in front.”

Jaraleet laughed slightly, shaking his head for a moment, before smiling at Meg. “Yes ma’am, got it.” He said, his tone slightly teasing. “Really, thank you Meg.” He continued on, moving slightly closer to the Nord woman. “For worrying about me, I mean. And for trying to cheer me up.”

"That's wha' friends are s'posed t'do, y'know." Meg smiled back at the Argonian, ignoring the part in her mind that told her that he meant more than just a friend. Reaching out, she gave Jaraleet a tight hug, resting her head against him, enjoying the closeness. "Same for you, thanks for all yer help. Don’ worry, we'll- Mara'll keep us safe."

“I suppose you are right.” He said, deciding to not comment on the fact that she seemed to worry about him more than was usual for a normal friend or how her actions seemed to contradict her words. Still, he gladly returned her hug before he smiled at her as she said that Mara’d keep them safe. “I hope you are right Meg. I hope it is not time for us to be called from this world.”

“Not for a while,” Meg replied, conviction strong in her voice. “We’ll be fine.”

---

After Daro’Vasora’s speech, Shakti made her way over to where she had spotted Calen earlier, tending to his pony, or horse. She didn’t actually know the difference. His smile that he had flashed seemed to lack its usual easy confidence. “Calen, something troubles you?” She began, unsure of how to approach this any other way but directly.

“Huh?” Calen muttered at the sound of his name, turning away from Danish as he groomed the pony, to find himself pleasantly smiling at Shakti once again, only for that smile to capsize as he asked her question. “Oh, uh…”

Calen didn’t think much of it, until he realized his hand unconsciously reached for the scar on his chest. He looked down and found himself rubbing a spot above his diaphragm.

“Um… I’m fine.” He lied. “Just every time we come together for a big plan like this, it usually precursors nothing good. I suppose it gets me feeling anxious.”

He turned back around and continued to brush Danish’s coat. He continued, “This just helps me take my mind off of things.”

Shakti nodded, it seemed a logical thing. To be afraid of injury, especially after a wound as severe as the one he had been through. Still, this anxiousness never really happened to her and she considered, for a few moments, why this was.

“You’re afraid of being hurt again? I suppose I am too. I’ve been cut up quite a few times in my life. Though I suspect never as bad as you.” She chanced a sly smile before finishing her thought, “I never really think about being hurt. I just go into things with a goal in mind. The details usually work themselves out.” She had no idea if this was helpful or not but she had said it already so she might as well let it sit in the air for a bit.

“It makes one question their mortality.” Calen said with a nod. “What happens when I'm finally dead and gone? What will the world I'll never get to see look like and what kind of legacy will I leave behind? I mean, I hope I'll one day see Sovngarde, but I'll never really know until that day comes, will I? Assuming I've any consciousness left.”

Finally after what seemed like a lifetime of watching Calen brush his horse, Shakti spoke again. “He’s a beautiful horse. He is a horse, right?”

“A pony, technically.” Calen corrected. “Any horse fourteen hands or smaller is a pony. Danish is fourteen hands, so he's just shy of making the cut.”

Shakti didn’t know what else to say about the pony subject. She had never ridden a horse or a pony. There were horses in Hammerfell, just not in the Alik’r. Shakti preferred to do her own walking. The Redguard changed the subject back to afterlife, perhaps against most social conventions, not that she knew or cared really.

“When I die, I’m going to the Far Shores. All--most Redguards go there when they die. Or so I’ve been told. I don’t really plan on dying anytime soon though so I do not think too much about it.” Shakti explained as if she was explaining her lunch meal, almost too casually. For some reason the subject of death and the afterlife never seemed to concern her. The only death that had ever affected her in a major way was her father’s. She tried not to think too hard about why.

“It’s not too different from Sovngarde if my studies haven’t failed me.” Calen replied. “Warrior culture and what have you, though the difference I think lies in the Hall of Valor being a non-stop celebration.”

Calen had a minor fit of nervous laughter before muttering to himself, “Warrior cultures, huh…”

Shakti grew concerned at the anxiousness and uncertainty in his usually bright laughter. She had no idea how to comfort him or to ease his fears. This was the first time she had ever truly worried about someone else’s mental state before diving into danger. Like a duneripper out of the dunes she was utterly clueless as to how she could help.

She placed a (what she hoped) was a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps we can sing songs to take your mind off of the danger? I know you like singing, I’ve heard you sing to yourself and to others.”

Shakti couldn’t help but feel like she was floundering.

“Most songs coming to mind are rather dour.” Calen admitted with a nervous chuckle. “But let me think if I can’t find one that’s…”

Then Calen thought for a moment, smirked, then started to sing a slow and haunting shanty,

“I heard, I heard, across the sea of sand,
On a wind sweeping ‘cross the land…
‘Beware, beware,’ an awful whisper warned,
‘Beware, beware, of…uh, Shakti.’”

The sudden abrupt ending disrupted the flow of the verse, and Calen’s smirk disappeared, which he replaced with a shrug and a ‘well what can you do?’ look. He followed it up with a quick comment, “What can I say? Improv songwriting is difficult.”

Shakti laughed at his song and clapped him on the back jovially. “I love it! The end could use some work though.” She hummed the tune again and spun away from him, giving him a wave. “We can work on once we are finished with this mission.” The Redguard girl smiled her best comforting smile and left Calen and his pony, humming his tune.

“Beware, beware,” she murmured, “Beware, beware, of me.”

---

It looked as though everyone was getting ready for the next leg of the journey. Some were preparing their arms and armor, some were packing down their campsites, and others were having their last minute conversations. Aries had very little to take care of aside from a suitcase that was being kept on the merchant wagon. She idley spun a single diamond ring on a finger from her right hand, mentally preparing herself for what lay ahead of them. She spent the morning with a cloth soaked from the water of the spring, scrubbing off the dirt and sweat from her skin and rebraided her hair. It was harder to do so by one’s self, but she had plenty of practice in the last couple of months.

Among the crowd, however, there was someone who seemed uncertain and uneasy with the coming night. Not the Nords nor Judena; it was the Altmer. The neurotic one that was quiet during the briefing before the palace offensive. The one that looked as though she may have one day come from money, but was long ago cut off from it The one Sevari had suspected of some kind of Thalmor loyalty. It was only one of his hunches, of course, but it was cause enough for concern; then again, she was here and not with the Dwemer. Regardless of where her loyalties might’ve lied before, she was in the thick of it along with the rest of Samara.

It was kind of pathetic. It wasn’t Aries’ place to do anything about it, but she had a role to play. Assimilate, gain trust, make friends with the enemy -- that was her job for the longest time. More importantly, she wanted to make sure that the elf’s weakness wouldn’t be a liability. She had already been too late to intervene with Samara twice before to save them from themselves.

So with careful, measured steps, her pace brought her before Anifaire. Nervous and shaky as dusk slowly fell upon the twilit desert. Instead of a critical gaze that would betray her earlier thoughts, however, she looked on with a gentle sort of tenderness. Like one would use when approaching a wild deer. Her nose and chin, slightly tilted downward, and her eyes coyly aimed up as if looking above a pair of spectacles that didn’t exist; she said, “Excuse me, my lady?” She said. She wasn’t sure exactly of her status, but it was a safe gamble to assume she would have appreciated the respect. “Are you doing well?”

“I’m…” Anifaire wasn’t certain how to answer. She was nervous, shakily fussing with her hair and clothing, wishing the anticipation would be over and they would simply begin. In truth, she was terrified, shaky and uncertain, afraid she or someone else was going to die later. She had tried to grab onto her anger about Alim’s capture, but it eluded her and she was left only with her fear. Trying to get it back, she said, “I’m all right. It’ll be fine.” She flipped her waist-length hair back over her shoulder, unable to decide where to put it, her pins lost. Since Gilane they had slowly dwindled in number, leaving her without enough to put her hair in its usual bun.

Aries’ eyes fell on Anifaire’s hair as she fidgeted with it and her clothes, the tell-tale sign that she was not alright despite her denial. She scanned the woman up and down for a moment before looking back up at her.

“Your hair is quite long. Beautiful, of course, but long.” She said, before taking a few steps toward the wagon. “Would you allow me to help you fix it up?”

Anifaire was surprised by the offer. She nodded and offered a small smile, pushed her hair behind her back. The Altmer had barely spoken to Aries before, truly, the only impressions she had were from the mission to rescue Daro’Vasora. Fidgeting slightly, she recalled how the woman had conducted herself, and most vividly, slitting a Dwemer throat. The memory had stuck with her in the following days, and being met with her face to face was unsettling. However, the woman was on their side. She would help find Alim, like the others.

“Please do,” she agreed.

Aries gestured for her to follow, and so she did. She led the way toward the merchant wagon that was commandeered by Zaveed, Sevari, and their little friend, before sitting her down on the edge. Anifaire’s anxious reaction to her offer had not go unnoticed even amidst the general sense of anxiety she exhibited, though she pretended not to notice. There was a peculiar sense of comfort in having the altmer’s back turned toward her. Not being in her direct eyeline and seeing her expose every vulnerable part of herself to her gave Aries a strange sense of power and control over the situation, even in an interaction as little as this one. Living for so long without it, she learned to cherish the little things.

“Where do you come from?” Aries asked as she went to work, reaching around Anifaire and pulling her hair back.

It was almost as if the woman could read her mind, how following the thoughts of slitting throats, Anifaire felt the tingling sensation of Aries’ nails brushing along her neck as the strands of hair were pulled away from her face. Having her back turned was unsettling, and a light shiver ran down Anifaire’s spine. She folded her hands in front of herself, ignoring her discomfort as she recalled the corpse of the Dwemer Aries killed in Gilane slumping to the ground. She could never do such a thing herself, she thought, but to help Alim...

“I’m from Alinor,” Anifaire replied. “And you?”

“High Rock. I’m a merchant from Shornhelm.” Aries replied with a half-truth. She might’ve been a Breton from High Rock who dipped her toes in trade, but she never much enjoyed the craggy landscape of Rivenspire. As she pulled Anifaire’s hair back, she decided that she didn’t know so much about altmer styled braids, and hoped that she would settled for one that was decidedly Breton. As she went to work, she craned her head around to get a better look at the doe-like expression on Anifaire’s face, she couldn’t help but see her as anything other than what Sevari described her as.

Aries sighed and decided that it was best to show at least a little bit of her hand if it meant gaining a little bit of trust from these people.

“I have it on good authority that you have certain… associations, if you will, with a particular Anvil-conquering organization. Is that true?”

“Oh… the Thalmor?” Anifaire asked uncertainly. “I suppose so. My family is rather involved in politics, but my mother and I occupied ourselves with learning magic instead. My sister is an agent… somewhere.” She really didn’t know, anymore, now that she had been out of contact so long. Last she had heard was Valenwood, a good year past.

She hesitated after she was finished, shifting her weight as though she might have to jump off the edge of the wagon; others had poor reactions to her connections in the past and her back was turned. Still, the hands working her hair were relaxing, and surely this woman wouldn’t attack her like those Redguards in the street.

“Don’t you worry, dear.” Aries replied, feeling the tension in the Altmer’s body. Her words wounded calm and understanding, even if Anifaire’s admission weighed on her chest like an anvil; too preoccupied with carefully monitoring her own words and reaction to think about how absurd it must’ve sounded for a human like her to be referring to an elf as dear, given how elves age. Aries continued, “I know you mean well. The mere fact of you running with us and not onto that Thalmor ship speaks volumes. We can’t choose our families.”

Anifaire relaxed, letting the Breton continue the braiding. She almost nodded but stopped herself as it would be disruptive. “Right,” she agreed, though she had never thought there was anything particularly wrong with her family until she was actually away from them. Lately, she wasn’t sure what to think of them. Still, knowing she wouldn’t be hated for her family’s affiliations was a comfort. “Thank you.”

Aries was applying the finishing touches of the braid; with the Altmer’s long hair and towering height, the braids were wrapped around her her head twice like two crowns, before the rest of it was pulled into a braided bun in the center. It was awfully elaborate, admittedly, but if what she could glean and assume from Anifaire betrayed anything of her heritage, then surely she wouldn’t mind. There was only one problem, though -- she needed to secure it. Aries thought carefully for a moment with some hesitation, before sighing and telling Anifaire, “Would you mind holding this in place for a moment?”

“Oh, sure.”

With that, Anifaire held the braids in place while Aries returned to the wagon where her suitcase was stored. Looking over her shoulders, she then procured a key and unlocked it. Inside was an elegant, silky, red dress with a complementing gold-colored toga and other matching jewelry like a golden wreath circlet, similar styled armbands and necklace -- she hesitated for a moment, her eyes betraying a sense of longing, before reaching in and procuring a comparatively simple hair clip; but it was golden in color, it’s sheen like the sun itself, and had a fine engraving on it. She locked the suitcase after herself, and returned to Anifaire’s side.

“This is a lucky clip.” Aries said, flashing the golden piece of jewelry in front of her.

“It’s beautiful!”

“Yes, and valuable. That’s why I don’t wear it often.” Aries said with a chuckle as she began putting it in Anifaire’s hair. “Don’t lose it, okay? I would like it back at some point. I suppose I’m just sentimental like that.”

Anifaire nodded, reached one hand up to feel the new braid in her hair. It was different, but she liked the change. She smiled, and turned back to face Aries. She was surprised at the kindness she showed. “Thank you. I’ll be sure I return it.”

Character Sheets: Where do you stand?

Here's something to consider with post history: some roleplayers don't have an extended library of posts to choose from. Many are new, many more may dabble in different sections and individual roleplays of varying standards — you wouldn't want to make a hasty generalization: "This person wrote like this once or twice; they will definitely write like this for my roleplay."

@Karkinos

Of course, especially with new players. But if someone does have a catalog of repeat instances? Ho boy.

I have a hard time joining RPs if I don't know the GM these days. I've made way too many character concepts and spent too many evenings working on them to have them go to waste because the GM can't be bothered to keep the plot moving.