Greenie

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Sirine's Playlist

Meg's Playlist

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

A Drink, he said, To Old Times…

by Shafty and Greenie

---

13th of Midyear
Three Crowns Hotel
Gilane, Hammerfell

The library of this Hotel left little to want for. Anything from manuals on spells, biographies, fiction and non-fiction, fencing treatises, alchemy and gardening, and everything in-between. Latro had poured through the fencing treatises on everything from Gaius’s A Defense of the Phalanx in Modern Warfare to On Killing by some ancient Tsaesci warrior whose name he wouldn’t even try to pronounce, dated to a time that boggled his mind to think it had traveled from Torval and meandered through the countless years to rest in his hands in a dusty library in Hammerfell.

He shut the book, sighing. He looked to his firelit left, flames of the fireplace crackling like whips and sending light that made every shadow present dance across the rows of books on their shelves. Nestled among the books though was a fully stocked shelf of liquor, bottles of every size and shape from the mundane to magical upon it, a multicolored galaxy of alcohols from different cultures.

Naturally, he reached for the wine bottle first. A red from Colovia. A nice vintage, the cork still sealing the bottle’s secrets from the outside world. He thought for a bit to uncork the bottle and go at it alone, but he stopped in the task of finding a corkscrew or a knife. He thought of one person he hadn’t shared a drink, nor even a word with, in such a long time. Not since before all of this came crashing down on them. Meg, Latro smiled.

Perhaps a drink to old times would be a good way to loosen his nerves and get him back to a sense of normalcy. He missed her, truth be told, he missed everyone. He hadn’t spoken a word to any of them besides Jaraleet, Gregor, and Raelynn for gods knew how long. A shame, he thought, but that would change. He would make sure of it. He wouldn’t let even the tiny defeat of holing himself up in the library or any other place no one was at take hold of his mind and put his peace and soul in an early grave.

So, he made his way towards the woman that had been his drinking buddy once before but ever since, guided with the pointed fingers and words of the Hotel staff until he was standing at her door, holding the wine by the neck of the bottle, still unopened. He raised his hand to knock but paused. He didn’t know how the events of the past few weeks had gripped her. Would she send him away under the accusations of being nothing but a fair-weather friend?

No, he shook his head, rapped his knuckles lightly on the door, “Meg,” he said, “It’s, um, it’s Latro. Do you have a moment?”

After a little moment the door opened, and it was clear that Meg was surprised to see who was on the other side. "Latro!" she explained, a smile breaking out on her face as she quickly stepped back and opened the door. "'Course, c'mon in!" She hadn't really been busy since the previous night- having slept in once more after her night out in the men's room, she had woken up and shifted herself sleepily to her own room where once more she had decided to snooze in. Everybody was probably making preparations for Sora's escape plan, but there was nothing she really had to prep for aside from her nerves.

Grabbing at one of the chairs from the table, she pulled it out and motioned at it with her head. "Sit down. Doubt anyone's gonna be comin' here for a bit." She was beaming, looking a little excited. "How're y'doin'? T'was worrisome thinkin' you were caught up..." Looking a little sheepish, she pulled out another chair and sat down herself. "Sorry I didn' greet ya last night."

“Please, don’t apologize,” he said, easy smile on his lips as he took the offered seat, “It’s been a very hectic few days, not to speak of the past few weeks. I’m glad we’re both…”

He let his voice trail off, not wanting to remind them both of their mortality when everything else was reminding them already, “I’m glad I came to see you again.” He smiled, setting the wine bottle on the table, “I’ve come bearing gifts. For old times.”

He smiled as he unsheathed his knife, poking the tip of it into the cork and carefully twisting. Slowly, but surely, the thing was coming loose. He spoke as he worked, “I’ve been… well enough. I’d heard you met Sevari.” He smiled, glancing at her and chuckling, “Say what you want of the man, but I think he does have a good heart inside him. He saved my life before his own. Anyways, how are you? We haven’t spoken in…”

He shook his head and chuckled, finally pulling the cork free and sitting back down with a satisfied grin at a job done, “Well, let my silence speak on the length of time.”

Meg eyed the gift of alcohol and let out a chuckle. "Jaraleet'd pro'ly be yellin' somethin' about Sithis at me drinkin' again but he ain' here." She reached out for the glasses that were already resting on the table next to a pitcher of water and pushed them towards Latro.

"Aye, we haven' talked in a bit..." she agreed, giving the man a small smile. "But ain' like life's been simply lettin' us just live, eh?" Her smile wavered as she shook her head, looking at the table. "Aye, I met Sevari... he saved Jaraleet when me an' him were out tryin' t'figure out where Sora was. He told us they had you too..." She looked up and reached out, putting a hand on his arm for a moment. "Mara knows I'm happy yer back. Sevari said y'both were safe an' all but..." She let her words hang in the air.

"I'm doin'... well as good as I can' I s'pose." She hesitated a little before looking at the man again. "Made a friend with a kid on the streets-" She grinned a little and tugged at her hair. "Got m'hair cut 'cause of all this bloody heat." She nodded towards him, curiosity clear in her eyes. "An' you?"

“Why would Jaraleet be judging you for drinking?” Latro asked, brow cocking at the question. “He never caught me as the type to judge any time we’ve struck out together. Accepting, actually.”

Meg hastily shook her head. "Oh, no, I didn' mean it like that," she replied, in a hurry to make sure she didn't give the wrong impression. "He'd jus' worry is all. I got kinda really drunk at the party..." She gave the man a sheepish grin before continuing. “Guess both of ya been spendin’ lotsa time together? He tol’ me last night you an’ him were on a mission with Sevari…”

Latro stopped as he poured his and Meg’s cups. He cleared his throat, continuing on, “Yes, we were.”

“He’s my friend, I like to think. I never thought I’d find a friend in that man, but I’ve found him valuable and loyal in keeping me company through situations where I’m nervous.” Latro nodded, sipping his wine, his easy smile as he remembered his times with Jaraleet, “He’s definitely my friend.”

"That's good t'hear," Meg replied with a smile of her own. She'd always thought about how she was lonely and sought companionship, but her talk with Jaraleet from the previous night made her realize that he was just as vulnerable as she was, even if he didn't realize it, and even if others didn't. "Honest... I'm glad. He could use another friend."

She took a sip of her wine; grinning, she set it back done. "Lovely," she commented, feeling her leg wiggle under the table. "I don' believe I've tried this 'fore, so thanks." She took yet another sip, let out a satisfied sigh before leaning back in her chair. It was strange but this felt nice; it almost felt as if there wasn't an impending high risk mission that would take all of their strength and skills to survive. She eyed Latro; what could possibly be going through his mind? He was the closest of them all to Sora, her friend, her lover.

Biting on the inside of her lip, she sat up straight. "We're gonna get her back," she told him. "Count on it."

He forced his easy smile onto his face and turned away from her as he sipped at his wine. He cleared his throat and quietly took in a shuddering breath. As backwards as it sounded, he didn’t want to remind himself of Sora’s predicament. He did what he said he’d never do and he left her there.

There was no one else to blame. He wiped at his eye, trying to make it seem like there was something else in it other than a quickly-forming tear. He hoped to delude himself before the mission into thinking Sora was only out shopping or taking a walk around the Hotel.

Even that thought burned him, he sighed, “Yeah, with this crack team, I wouldn’t worry about anything,” he chuckled and decided to switch subjects, “How do you like it, the wine?”

Immediately feeling bad for bringing up a painful subject, Meg lunged at the change of subject like someone in a hole grabbing onto rope. She took another sip of her drink and licked her lips once she swallowed, giving Latro a grin. "Tastes won'erful," she replied, grinning. "I'm more an ale an' mead lass m'self, but its nice t'indulge."

Her head tilted and she tapped at her chin. “I never asked, you been t’Skyrim? Right outside Whiterun there’s a meadery, Honningbrew Meadery. De-li-cious.” Smiling she leaned closer to the table,resting her arms upon it and then her chin in the palm of her hand. “Used t’deliver for ‘em before I left for my adventurin’ life.” She wiggled the fingers of her free hand. “Sticky fingers- I gotta drink a li’l more than I should’ve.”

Latro nodded, throat preoccupied with swallowing the wine at first before he smiled, “Yes, actually, mostly the West. From Solitude to Whiterun to Falkreath. It’s a beautiful country, cold as it is.”

He sighed, remembering his travels with Francis, how they’d wandered almost the entirety of Northwestern Tamriel, indulging in cultures and watching Francis participate in duels. “I remember that Francis, my mentor, had taken our travels through Whiterun. He good-heartedly challenged one of the Companions there to a duel to first-yield.” He smiled, “Francis won. Good fighters, Nords, but a sword in the hands of Francis Martell just becomes a blur of steel. His bastard sword was commissioned from Eorlund, the man who works the skyforge.”

“Have you watched the duels in Whiterun? The Companions accept anyone worthy’s challenge. Honor and all that.” He said.

A look of enthusiasm came to Meg's face as she listened to Latro speak of her homeland. It had been so long since she'd talked to someone who knew of the places she'd lived in, visited them and enjoyed them. It gave her both a happy yet nostalgic feeling, a slight tightening in her stomach and a happy sting in her eyes. Talos, how she missed Skyrim.

"I watched a few duels, aye!" Meg got to her feet even as she spoke, eager to show something as she headed to where she slept. "Never fought in 'em myself- I was doin' delivery work mostly or helpin' Pa- we lived there, in Whiterun. Pa's still there, with his wife an m'li'l brother. My Ma- she used t'be with the Companions long 'fore I came along..." It wasn't long before she returned, her sword in hand. It was clearly Skyforge steel, and though it was old, it had been taken care of. Meg carefully set it down on the table for Latro to see. "This was my Ma's, given t'her as a reward for a quest. Pa gave it t'me when we reached Whiterun."

Sighing softly, she settled back down and sipped some more on her wine. "Divines know how much I miss it. I always wanted t'travel an' go places- now that I'm places, I feel like goin' back home. The snow, the trees, the night skies… even just watchin’ the giants an’ mammoths an’ hopin’ not t’get tossed or squashed like the last unlucky bugger-" She stopped herself from carrying on and gulped down her wine until her cup was empty.

Latro was given pause as Meg laid the sword before him. His eyes were orbs of awe as his fingers slowly inches closer to it, tips softly gliding along the leather of the sheath. It radiated quality and divine craftsmanship. This was a Eorlund blade. He knew. “My gods,” he breathed, “It is beautiful.”

“May I?” He asked his permission to pick the blade up and when it was given, he gingerly held it in his palms.

The crossguard and pommel were adorned with intricate knotwork indicative of Eorlund’s Nordic style. Francis’ bastard sword, although a blade from a different culture, still held the same motifs if not the overall shape. It was an elegant blade, he could see how gently the blade itself tapered towards the point, lending a good balance. The edge was well-used, nicks in the cutting edge of it could be seen in the patina but it was still polish-bright regardless. He put the blade back to rest in its sheath and set it down. A single breath escaped him as his gaze lingered for a few more precious seconds on the sword. “Beautiful,” he nodded, smiling to Meg and sipped at his wine, “You are so very lucky to be wielding a Eorlund blade.”

Meg flushed, rubbing the back of her head in an embarrassed manner. "Guess yer righ'," she replied with a small nod. Reaching over for the bottle, she topped her cup once more before continuing. "If I'm bein' honest with ya, I never really thought 'bout where t'was forged... more it belonged to my Ma..." Smiling sheepishly, she then took a small sip of wine before setting her cup back on the table once more. "I wasn' happy when Pa an' me had t'leave Riften, but Pa curbed that anger an' taught me how t'use a sword... gave me this after I got good." Her smile changed to one of fondness as she looked upon the blade. "Makes me feel close to a Ma I never really knew, y'know?"

“I know the feeling.” Latro said, voice soft as he placed a small polished stone upon the table next to Meg’s sword. “This is the only thing I have left of my family ties. I’ve lived with Francis for years until now and still this little rock has stayed with me longer than some friends I’ve had. It’s a piece of ebony.”

“I’ll sometimes just hold it and toy with it if I can’t sleep, which is more than you’d think.” He smiled wistfully, eyes on the table but mind wandering back a ways, “It was a good life I had. I just didn’t know it until I left it. But good comes and goes, I’m happy a few people took me in and now I have a new family.”

He smiled as he raised his cup, emptying the remainder of its wine in a few gulps, “I’m lucky to have the lot of you.”

"An' now I know the feelin'." Meg smiled back, a soft chuckle escaping her. "It's been what... two bloody months of... just everythin', an' any of us could've just decided t'head off, but we stuck together. Jerall, Imperial City, Skingrad, Anvil... Gilane." She gulped down half of the drink in her cup, letting out a soft sigh. "Travellin' with a group was never how I did things but... y'all're m’family now, I love y’all. Even the thought’ve havin' to leave y'all is... well... I try not t'think of it." She studied the wine in her cup before drinking more. "Seems like a kid's wish, eh? But maybe wishin' like a kid ain' tha' bad."

Latro smiled into his wine cup at Meg’s words. It struck something in him that had been dormant since Sora’s kidnapping and display. For the first time in a while, Latro felt good in somebody’s presence. “No,” he said, “I guess it isn’t.”

Meg couldn't help but smile back at Latro. There were quite a few times she felt that perhaps her views or ideas were deemed silly or naive. Hearing his agreement gave her some validation, and she felt herself relax even more. This was nice, two friends simply sharing a drink and for the time being, forgetting about the darkness of the world.

"We should do this more." Draining her cup, Meg leaned back, appreciating the moment. "Feels nice."

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

A Moment Apart

---

13th of Midyear, Late Night, the Governor’s Palace

It was strange how the mind worked. When Sirine had entered the room with Zaveed, the opulence had been overwhelming, reminding her of a life she'd lost. Now that he had left and she was there by herself, her mind was beginning to process things differently. Looking at the chairs, the bed, the curtains and sheets, she founds herself setting a price to each. It was almost a game- with the sound of the waves from the balcony, she could almost pretend she was back on her ship, readying to sell off all the goods she had plundered.

Smiling to herself, she let her fingers trail lightly over the bed, feeling the covers, the sheets, the pillow shams. They felt so luxurious- she felt if she allowed herself to sit down on the bed, she would end up falling asleep almost instantly. She didn't want to though... not yet. Having this sort of freedom at this time of the night had been unheard of. Even tonight she had been engaged in pleasuring a man, though as Zaveed had very astutely mentioned, the Redguard man hadn't had his release. Her mouth turned downward as she looked at her hands, wanting to wash them yet again, even though they were as clean as could be. She'd never have to go back to that life anymore, yet unseen stains remained.

Her hand twitched and she reluctantly allowed herself to clutch the coin around her neck. It seemed to her that she was treating it with more reverence than she had expected or wanted to. It was silly, and it still irritated her... and yet she didn't think she would get rid of it. It had been a jest, but she didn't think the khajiit really understood how it was to be given money and not expected to do anything to earn it. Her coin, her medallion… It was no mere septim. There was meaning to it.

She let go of it along with an annoyed sigh. It really was sentimental drivel, wasn't it? But he didn't seem to mock it or find it funny. If anything, there was a sort of understanding in his eyes… and this ignited a curiosity within her.

Who was he exactly? And who was Sevari, upon whose rescue banked the rescue of her brother?

Her forehead wrinkled momentarily; she turned toward the balcony once more, leaning over the railing as she looked out to the sea. It really was beautiful… it she stared long enough, she could imagine the sails in the distance, her colours flying high for all to see. Nothing but a dream now. What had taken her years to put together had been so easy for the dwemer to take apart in just minutes. She could still hear the panicked yelling, the screams, and finally the silence. Desperately swimming to the shore while trying to make sure she wasn't being watched or followed. The shock and utter fear when she realized she was alone and her brother wasn't with her.

Letting out an angry growl, she turned away from the sight of the sea, hands curled into fists. Here she was, peaceful in the lap of luxury, when her little brother was stuck out in the desert in a prison. Without warning her fist shot out and slammed against the wall. The sudden, stinging pain felt cathartic- she focused on it, her fast breaths slowly easing into calmer, measured ones. Carefully moving her hand away from the wall, she then inspected her knuckles to see if she had taken any damage. Aside from a few scratches, her skin was intact; she reckoned there would be light bruising at most. Shaking her head at her lack of control, she decided it might help to take a bath before heading to bed. The last thing she needed was a hand injury impeding in helping with Sevari’s escape.

Despite the fact that she felt a pang of guilt enjoying the Dwemeri comforts gifted to her by Zaveed, there was no denying that by the time she stepped out of her bath and pulled on a robe to cover herself, she felt like the pampered child of a rich merchant once more. It was strange and she didn’t quite know if she liked it, but it was what it was. Rubbing a hand through her still wet hair, Sirine made her way to the bed, deciding she might as well sleep the night away. Her hand hurt a little, but she’d had worse.

As expected, slipping between the sheets and laying down was as comfortable as she had thought. It was a large bed, much more spacious than she was used to on any occasion- she could very well have slept away in the middle and still be fine. Being who she was however, she rested her head on the pillows like a normal person and closed her eyes. It felt so odd that she was the only one there, and surprisingly sleep did not come to her. Perhaps she was simply too used to staying up late while entertaining people.

Without wanting to her mind wandered back to the tavern the night she had arrived there.

---

Every inch of her was soaked and chilled to the bone by the time the pirate reached Scorpion's Song. She had no coin on her- the only thing of value on her person was the dagger at her belt, hidden under her tunic. Light streaming out from the crack under the door as well as the voices from inside was enough to tell her this place was still in business. She had been here before, worked two years in fact… there was an inkling of hope that the owner may recognize her and let her stay the night at least. Pushing the door open, the familiar sight and smells were immediately noted by her, though they gave her no solace. Just the night, she told herself. The idea of having to spend more time here than was necessary made her skin crawl. All she needed was a night of recuperation, and then she would be on her way… wherever.

Sirine made her way to the counter, looking for the owner. Her eyes narrowed; it took a moment for her to recognize the man. Ten years had certainly taken their toll on the man known as Jamir- his weight had increased in all the wrong places due to excessive drinking, his face was heavily jowled, a few teeth missing, and dark marks prominent around his eyes. He stared at her for the moment before cracking a grin. “So you’re back, huh? No longer terrorising the poor honest sailors? What happened? I heard the grey skins have been destroying ships.” He sounded much happier than the news warranted. “Yours fell with the rest?”

“I need a room for the night.” The pirate ignored Jamir’s quips, not giving them the attention he sought. “I will leave in the morning, no worries.”

Jamir seemed to deflate, but he immediately jumped to the most important business at hand. “The gold then.” Putting his hand out on the counter, he waited, a satisfied look on his face.

Teeth gritting, Sirine barely managed to keep her face expressionless as she replied. “I don’t have the gold on me. I will pay you as soon as I can.” She pressed her hands against the counter, hating she had to ask for this but hoping against hope that perhaps he would be willing to let the gold issue slide for now.

“I’m running a business here,” Jamir replied flatly. “This ain’t a temple, it’s a tavern. I need all the septims I make. You can stay the night, you can stay longer, but you have to pay with work.”

There it was. She should have known better than to think this sleazy man would do her a favour. Why did she think ten years would have changed him? A fierce look came to her eyes as she grabbed her dagger and pointed at him with it. “I could simply end you this second and stay here as long as I wish.”

Jamir stumbled back, though not before he looked to the large man standing by the door. Sirine couldn’t help but cast a glance as well. It seemed the owner had his share of cronies, not only the bouncer but a couple of other men who seemed fairly armed and staring at her. If Bakih had been here, she would have been happy to tear them all a new one. But… she was alone, and as things stood, she would be the one who would end up dead.

Turning back to face Jamir, Sirine nonchalantly sheathed her dagger. He thought he could intimidate her? Very well then. She had played this game before. There was no denying that she was the one in need right now. She would simply bide her time until she could finally strike. Some coin and gossip might be useful in finding her brother in any case.

“It’s a good offer.” Jamir spoke up again, obviously feeling he was in the clear now and didn’t need to worry about his stomach being poked through.

“No, it's a shitty one,” Sirine replied. There was no need to mince her words just because she wasn't going to mince him. “Here is a good offer. You give me a job. I will work nights for you. I worked here two years and made enough septims that this place could be lined with gold. You know that as well as I do, otherwise you wouldn't have begged me to stay when I left previously.” To a nitpicking person it probably sounded the exact same as what he had offered, and truthfully it was. However, it was coming from her mouth, not his- he needed to realize he would be lucky to have her stay in this dump.

The owner sputtered for a moment before looking disgruntled. “Fine,” he muttered, lowering his voice. “You should know the drill, nothing has changed. You serve the men drinks, you take them to your room when they ask for it- make sure you charge them right-”

“Don’t fuck them more than they paid for,” Sirine interrupted crassly, uncaring about the words leaving her lips. “I know this already.”

Jamir shoved two tankards at her and motioned to the armed men in the back. “Then start with those two.”

---

Unwillingly, a drop of salty water trickled horizontally down her face, making a trail over her lightly freckled nose to dampen the pillow her head was resting on. What a fool I was, what a fool I am. Why was she even thinking of such things when she should be reveling in her freedom? Letting out a shaky breath, Sirine sat up in the bed, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hands. Maybe being alone and having a moment apart wasn’t a good thing after all if it left her plagued with unwanted thoughts.

She pushed the sheets away and slipped out of bed, toes digging in the lush carpet that lay underneath. Dark eyes swerved around the room before they fell on a table that was decorated with more than a few bottles of alcohol from across Tamriel. It was tempting, oh so tempting to simply head over and fill a goblet and drink until she could forget. But she wouldn’t, because that would simply mean she wasn’t strong enough. Sirine refused to be weak.

Closing her eyes, she took a moment to breathe in, holding it a little longer than usual, and then finally letting it out. There was no need for her to feel like this anymore. The past was the past, and she couldn’t let it continue to haunt her. No one could take advantage of her anymore, no man would touch her unless she wanted it. Morning would come soon enough, and she would no longer have to face the empty silence of the night.

Maybe she didn’t have to right now anyway.

Taking hold of one of the pillows from the bed as well as a sheet, the former pirate headed back to the balcony, from where she could not only hear the water and smell the salt, but see it as well. Settling down and making herself comfortable, she curled up and watched the sea, the waves seeming a lover beckoning her to come hither.

A soft breath escaped her, and it wasn’t long before she finally fell asleep.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Yer Gonna Pay for It

---

8th of Midyear, Noon, Three Crowns Hotel

It had been a tiresome night once Meg had returned to the Hotel with Jaraleet. So much was going through her mind. Sora and Latro captured. Jaraleet getting hurt. Raelynn being tortured. Try as she might to sleep, she found herself tossing and turning, restless despite feeling exhausted. When she finally did manage to catch some sleep, sunrise was only a couple of hours away. Even this sleep was reft of peace, nightmares attacking her mind, bringing images of the past, the present and the possible future. J'raij, Jaraleet, Sora and Latro, Zahir... all weaved their way through her mind, until she finally couldn't handle it anymore and forced her eyes open.

And that was when she realized she had overslept. Normally one to rise with the sun, it was a very rare occasion when she would sleep in so much that the sun was all the way up in the sky. Lurching out of bed and falling to her knees as her foot got caught in the sheets, she stayed on the ground for a small moment, caught in a bout of dizziness from the sudden movement. "I gotta..." She had to tell the others the information from last night, about Daro'Vasora and Latro, about Raelynn and Gregor, about the strange Sevari and the dangerous Zaveed. "Shit." Pushing herself off the ground and standing up, she pressed her palm to her still reeling head as she stumbled to the table, in desperate need of something to drink. There was no water, but wine was good enough for the time being.

A couple of gulps later, she set the bottle back down, rubbing at her face with both hands. "Mara help me..." A pang of hunger was felt in her stomach; she could have ignored it but then she was reminded that it wasn't just herself she had to worry about feeding anymore. She had clearly told him not to steal and that she would meet him outside the gates of the hotel a little after sunrise every day with some breakfast. Today she hadn't delivered. He was probably hungry and disappointed. She could deal with the latter easily enough, but the thought of him getting caught stealing didn't sit well with her. Once she made sure he was okay, she'd tell the others what was up.

Outside, the heat of the day was beating down with no mercy. She squinted as she looked up at the sun- oh how she missed Skyrim's skies. Things were just hot and hotter here in Hammerfell; maybe it was time for her to finally learn how to swim for a cool down? In any case, a quick sweep with her eyes was enough to show her he wasn't anywhere around. "Hm..." It would make sense he headed to the market then, since that was where he normally spent most of his days, according to himself. Perhap he returned to his little sanctuary in the alleyway? Meg pulled her wrinkled map from her pocket and straightened it. Now where was tha'... Ah. She'd thankfully had the sense to mark the spot on her some days back, just in case.

It wasn't long before she had reached his little hideout. She was slightly disappointed that he wasn't there, that would have made things relatively easy. Maybe wait here? The ground was as comfortable here as anywhere else, so she plonked herself down and leaned against the wall, waiting. An hour passed, and judging from the movement of the sun, a second hour passed as well. Meg finally pushed herself off the ground and stood up, feeling restless and worried. There was still time for sunset, but curfew wasn't her current worry.

"'Nough with the waitin'," she muttered. She would find him if she had to question every bloody person in Gilane.

---

There he was. The shifty fruits seller had mentioned a boy being chased by two thugs in the direction of the back alleys, and it seemed he was telling the truth. Meg froze in her steps, unable to peel her eyes away from the boy, taking in the sight of his cuts and bruises, patches of blood staining his clothes. His face was still pressed against the ground, eyes closed yet still tightening, showing her he was still... alive. Standing above him were two men taking turns at kicking the boy, sneers at their lips, muttering swears at the 'stinking thieving rat'.

It was the first time Meg had felt so much anger in her that she didn't spare a single thought, not about herself, not about getting in trouble if she was seen- nothing. Red curtains were drawn over her eyes and all she wanted was to make these men feel regret for what they had done to her little friend. And angry snarl trailing from her lips, the Nord woman charged at the man closest to her, headbutting him away from the boy. Clearly not expecting to be interrupted, the man stumbled back, giving Meg the chance to ram her boot against his shin. As he let out a cry of pain, she leaped at him again, using her body weight to knock him to the ground and then straddle him.

"You fuckin' piece o' shit." The growl barely escaped her as she punched him straight in the face, hard enough that she heard the satisfying crack of his nose. "You... don'... touch... m'... friend!" Each word was followed by another fist to the face. Meg ignored the pain in her knuckles, her fury giving her the strength she needed as well as a tolerance to any pain. The blood streaming from the man's nose, the swelling and bruising that had already begun- none of it triggered her mercy.

"You bitch!" The second man seemed to have recovered from his shock and was now rushing towards Meg, fist swinging down at her. She quickly ducked to the side and rolled off the first man, who was too busy whimpering in pain to try and help his crony. "Don't think I'll let you run away after that!"

Meg pressed a hand against the ground and pushed herself up to a standing position, just in time to meet a fist to her face. Reeling backwards, she could feel blood trickling from where her lip had split. It was no matter- if anything the stinging pain fueled her further. As the second man rushed to attack her once more, Meg did the same, charging once more and head butting him straight in the gut. The man lurched at the contact, stumbling back as the air was knocked out of him. Sparing no seconds to waste, she followed her attack with a hard boot to the groin, causing the second man to gasp as he fell to his knees. A second kick to the side of his head sent him to the ground, groaning in pain next to his fallen friend.

"Get this through yer thick heads," Meg growled, wiping at the blood on her lip. "Y'touch someone I love, yer gonna pay for it. Get the fuck outta here 'fore I pull m'sword out an' show ya what I can do with it." Ignoring the gasps, whimpers and cussing, she hurried to where Zahir was still laying prone. "Hey... I'mma get ya away from here." Her lips trembled at the state he was in, and she had to struggle against the dark thought of getting rid of those two men for good.

Managing to ease him onto her back, she was relieved when she felt him stirring. "Jus' hol' on tight," she murmured. Glancing at the two men behind her, she saw the second was struggling to get back to his feet. Shit. Using one hand to keep Zahir secure, she grabbed at her sword and pulled at it. The sound was enough for the second man to hurry to his friend and drag him away.

"Let's get goin'." Meg could feel the throbbing pain in her knuckles now, but she would have to ignore it. The sun was close to setting and she needed to get Zahir somewhere safe. Recalling an inn she had passed by on her way here, she decided that was the way to go. She wouldn't be able to make it back to the Three Crowns Hotel in time, but truth be told, she wasn't sure if she wanted to take Zahir there. Who knew the limits of the Poncy Man's generosity?

She let her sword slip back into the scabbard and started off on her own way.

---

A couple of hours later, Meg was sitting next to the bed of the room she had rented. Thank Mara for the gold Salosoix had paid her- she finally had a real reason to use it instead of just wasting it on sweets for herself and Zahir. When the innkeeper saw the beaten boy on her back, he had been ready to tell her to go away; a flash of gold coins was enough to change his mind.

Her eyes rested on the boy, who the inkeeper's wife had agreed to help clean up and clothe after Meg offered a few extra septims for her effort. At least all the grime and blood was off of him. A weak health potion had been offered for a price, and Meg hadn't been about to say no, even if she had known she could get it for less. Anything to ease his pain was a good thing.

"M-Meg?"

Meg jerked up and sat straight, gazing at the boy, who was looking back at her through swollen eyes. She smiled down at him, though her eyes were glazed and stinging from trying to force her tears from escaping. "Sorry I was late, Zahir." She reached out and gently passed a hand over his curls.

"I..." He seemed to struggle to speak but continued anyway. "I... I thought... you were gone. Like... Father."

"I'm sorry Zahir... I didn' mean t'make y'worry like that." Meg swallowed, feeling a wave of regret roll over her like water on the seashore. "Don' worry, I ain' goin' anywhere. Go back t'sleep... yer safe now."

She didn't know how long it would take for him to recover, but until then she wouldn't leave him on his own. Too many people she cared for were getting hurt, and she wasn't going to let herself fail yet another one. Raelynn... I'm sorry... I'mma have to wait a bit... Sora, Latro... She rubbed her forehead before covering her eyes so that the wetness would go away. Sevari said they were safe and sound- she would have to put her trust in him for now, she knew Jaraleet did. Her forehead creased. She'd have to tell her argonian friend tomorrow where she was. She knew he would worry... or she hoped he would.

But for now, she would hold her vigil over her young friend.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

A Day in the Life of Sirine Al Nahel

---

12th of Midyear, Early Morning, Scorpion's Song aka That Crappy Tavern

The sun wouldn't rise for an hour yet, but the same couldn't be said for Sirine. As they had for years at dawn, her eyes fluttered open and she found herself staring up at a very dimly lit ceiling. The candles she had lit before coming to bed were nearly melted out, letting out just enough light that she could make out the figure of a large man sleeping next to her. What was his name? Asher? Asif? Asfahan? It didn't really matter as long as she knew it when he wanted her to. But that was the previous night and this was overtime, something she didn't care for, especially if she wasn't going to be paid for it. With a barely hidden grimace, she slipped away from his grasp and let herself slide to the floor. Once she was sure he was still very sound asleep, she stood up and reached for one of the candleholders to light her way.

It wasn't hard to locate her clothes, and once she did, Sirine noiseless made her way out of the room and headed for the baths, wanting very much to wash off any remaining trace of the man she had lain with. All false smiles had left her face even before they had slept away, and for now the only expression on Sirine's face was one of passivity. Lighting a few candles for light and filling one of the bathtubs with steaming hot water, she eased herself in; after an initial gasp at the heat of the water, she let herself slip in further, enjoying the searing feeling. It was almost cleansing in a way.

After a little while, she reached to her neck, pulling at a small chain newly bought just the day before. That wasn't what caught her attention, though. She let her fingers slip over it until finally taking hold of a small golden disc, a septim with a hole pierced at the top through which the thin chain passed. Opening her eyes, Sirine gazed at the coin, flipping it from one side to the other, contemplating why exactly she had gone through the effort of intimidating that poor blacksmith to render the septim useless...

"Why?" he argued, clearly perturbed by her intentions for it. "It's a waste of a good coin!"

"Maybe, but it's my septim and I will do with it as I wish." Sirine pulled out another septim from her money pouch and slapped it on the blacksmith's working table. "I'm paying you for this. Now get to work otherwise I will take my business elsewhere."

It was unclear whether the other gold coin had spurred the man or the menacing look in the former pirate's eyes, but the deed had been done, and to the man's surprise he had found himself with another coin for the purchase of a chain.

Why was clearly on her mind as well. She sunk lower in the bath, dark locks floating in the water as she continued staring at the coin. It was the first one he'd given to her. Why had she chosen that one? Or any at all for that matter? Her forehead creased as she tried to come up with a reason that wasn't sentimental drivel, but alas, for the time being, such reasons were evading her.

"You better do as you said," she muttered as she sat back up, slightly annoyed with herself. "Or else I'll find your hide and make sure you do."

Soon enough she was bathed and dressed and frankly ready to leave the tavern, if only for a few hours. She made a small detour to her room to grab her bottle filled with water along with her rucksack, and once both were secured she slipped out of her room first and then the tavern. Once again her destination was the docks. By now the sun had risen, still dark but lightening as it rose higher and higher. By the time the Imperial Redguard reached the her lovely pile of nets, there was sufficient light that a person could walk easily without the need of any lantern. The blood spatters that had been there had been cleaned up by her when she’d had the chance, though there were still faint marks remaining. Sirine didn't particularly mind. Blood was part and parcel with the line of life she had chosen, she'd simply cleaned it because she liked tidiness.

Taking a gulp of water from the bottle, she then set it to the side and pulled out a roll of paper from her sack and spread it open on her lap. This was followed by removing a quill and an inkpot, and it wasn't long before Sirine was busy writing more intel she had gathered during the night. The fight night had been rather sparse with anything useful, though there was the mention of a fight taking place in the streets of Gilane that Sirine thought interesting enough to write down. The previous night however Sirine had managed to pick up something from one of the night's patrons, an old Breton seadog.

"The Sand an' Pearl," he hiccuped, wiping sloppily at his mouth as he set his tankard down. "Sittin' there are fancy-like. Tol' me t'get m'arse outta there 'fore he stuck a sword in me."

Sirine was actually familiar with that inn. It was someplace that relatively wealthier folk headed to, including her brothers and herself when she still travelled with them. It hadn't been odd then to see mer there, so she wasn't surprised to hear that the old Breton had seen an Altmer there... rather she was a little surprised someone like her current customer managed to sneak his way in.

Nodding to herself as she finished her writing, she carefully put her quill and inkpot away and then leaned back, waiting for the ink on the paper to dry. She watched the now bright blue sky, enjoying the sun as she listened to the waves. It felt as if it had been years since she had been out at sea. Every day at the Scorpion's Song felt as if she was being drained away, losing herself and the person she had become. Until two days ago.

Her eyes opened; she lifted the coin, watching it glint as sunlight hit against it. Focus. Purpose. Direction. That was what she had now. She would help find his sister, and in return...

"Just wait a little longer, Bakih." Her hand closed around the septim tightly, eyes narrowing. "We'll find you."

---

It was about noon when she finally returned to tavern, having bought some fruit for herself. While she did have the gold Zaveed had given her, she had decided to use it only in regards to important affairs and not for menial things like food and drink. For the moment the money she was using was what she made as a barmaid, which now that she thought about it really wasn't all that much in the grand scheme of things. Had she really been fooling herself thinking she could make enough money here to be able to... what?

Nothing. There had been nothing in her mind when she had come here aside from staying someplace inconspicuous and earning gold. And somehow, the solution to finding her brother would magically appear before her. She had never been that kind of person, one who relied on fate or coincidence or the help of others to further herself in life. The dwemer it seemed had changed all that, broken her so that she had no choice but to rely on a stranger with a handsome face and silver tongue.

Oh how she had fallen. The piece of apple she was chewing on seemed to have lost all of its former sweet taste, though she forced herself to swallow it; she would finish the whole damn fruit. Another bite, more chewing, and then it began- the stinging in her eyes. She could feel it all coming back to her, the grief, the anger, the helplessness-

No. Stop it. If she continued down this current direction of thinking, she would end up upset and incapable of doing anything, and this was something she refused to tolerate. She needed something to distract her, something to focus on…

As she passed through the hallway, she remember there was something she’d had planned which would certainly keep her silly emotions at bay. Glancing in the general direction of the tavern, hidden behind walls, she could hear chatter and laughter, and if she listened even more carefully, there was the sound of Jamir, probably sucking up to one patron or the other. Out of habit, she didn’t expect him to return to his room any time soon. Maybe it was folly, but it seemed she had been doing many foolish things lately. As long as she didn’t jeopardize her partnership, it wouldn’t really matter, right?

With her apple now finished with earnest bites and the core tossed away, Sirine quickly made her way to the owner’s bedroom, pushing open the door. Inside was the same as usual, a messy bed, clothes tossed about on the floor. Clearly no one had cleaned up, and she didn’t think anyone was planning to any time soon. Giving the hallway one last glance and making sure it was empty, she walked over to the dresser and pulled at the top drawer. Locked once again, but that was to be expected. Now where could a key be? Knowing her boss, she didn’t think he would actually put it someplace too complicated and hard to find on account of he himself forgetting where it was. Turning away from the dresser, she looked to his bedside tables. Maybe in there? Whatever key fit would be small judging from the keyhole.

The first table had nothing in its drawer aside from dust and a couple of empty bottles of mead… and was that a little spider in the corner? She didn’t waste time to find out, pushing the drawer back before heading to the other side of the bed to check that table-

Laughter could be heard clearly as a door leading from the tavern to the hallway was open. She knew who that belonged to instantly, and judging by the footsteps, there was more than one person. Damn. He was coming back to the room, completely out of habit. Did one of the other barmaid’s look particularly appealing today? Never mind that. She needed to hide, or else the only other way to get out of the current situation would be seducing the man, the thought of which made her want to throw up a little.

As the steps came closer, Sirine dropped to the floor and quickly crawled under the bed, grateful that it was larger than the cots she and the other girls were given. Spared from being seen, she was unfortunately not spared from the sounds that accompanied the tryst taking place above her head. Flat on her stomach and pretty much covered in dust all over, she put a hand over her mouth, very worried she might end up coughing or sneezing. Don’t. You’ll regret it if you do.

It was a tedious affair, simply waiting for the two on top to hurry it up. She was quite sure it would barely take a few minutes, but this was a rather uncomfortable position she found herself in. The most she could do was simply cover the lower half of her face in her arm and wait… Her eyes narrowed a little as she heard something clink against the floor from the shaking bed. Reaching out with her hand, she felt about until she finally touched something metal. It took only a little more feeling to realize she had found what she was looking for. So he kept it hidden under here… For a man who was normally a little careless, it was not as obvious a place as she would have expected, which begged the question: what was hidden in that drawer?

After what seemed like hours but was probably no more than a few minutes, Jamir and his current chosen were finally finished with their shenanigans, and it wasn’t long before they finally left the room. Sirine knew very well why any of the girls would want to spend extra time with him- more gold was more gold after all. Well, that wasn’t her problem at the moment. Waiting until she could no longer hear footsteps, Sirine grabbed the small key and wriggled her way out from beneath the bed, quickly standing up once she was in the clear. One look at herself and her shoulders slumped- she was going to have to bathe and change into something new.

But first… glancing in the direction of the door, she quickly headed back to the dresser. The drawer unlocked like a breeze and she finally pulled it open. Inside was gold, quite a bit of it in fact, enough for her to wonder why in Oblivion the Scorpion’s Song was such a detestable place as well as why his employees were paid so little. Along with a few other useless trinkets, she saw a couple of rolls of paper. Curiosity got the better of her and she pulled one open. Her eyes flitted over the page as her lips twisted into a dry smile. She reached for the second roll as well and was greeted with more of the same.

So not only are you a rat, but a snitching rat as well. I can’t say I’m surprised. Jamir was exactly the sort who would pretend to sympathize and support insurgents while giving names to the dwemer if only to keep his own hide intact. It was pathetic. For a moment she thought of simply leaving her findings, but then she folded both papers and hid them in her tunic. Who knew when random bits of knowledge could come in handy? Perhaps Zaveed could make something of it.

---

Night showed itself much more quickly than Sirine would have wanted. Having bathed, changed and eaten some more of the fruit she had bought, she had been busy copying down the names from Jamir’s list into her own notes as she’d rather read her own handwriting than his. She barely finished before it was time for her shift. Putting her things away safely, she left her shared room with a sigh of resignation, ready for yet another night of playing pretend with drunken men and the occasional women. False smiles and even falser words were no big feat, and it wasn’t long before the Imperial Redguard found herself lead away.

Her mind wandered, slipping into a world of its own, leaving behind the man, the room, the tavern. There it was… her home. Salt water and crashing waves, the sound of open sails flapping in the wind. Bakih’s eager voice and smile, always ready to learn. Calum with his serious talks, someone she could trust. Samer with his often lewd jokes that caused her to snicker along with him. Peaceful times before she realized the world wasn’t the land of wonders she had believed it to be. If she reached out, she could almost feel the spray of water as it hit against the side of their ship…

And just like that... it was all gone. Her customer left the bed to get dressed and Sirine turned to her side, hand wrapped around her coin as she gazed at the wall, looking for someone who wasn’t there.

Soon… soon.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

That’s My Spot

by Dervish and Greenie

---

10th of Midyear, Early Morning, Gilane Docks

The sun had barely peeked over the horizon, but to those waiting it meant the long night had finally passed and they were finally free to venture forth with their day. For the once pirate and now barmaid named Sirine, it meant she was finally off duty. It meant she could finally leave the confines of the cramped and stale smelling tavern and breath in some fresh morning air. Pushing a couple of rebellious locks of hair away from her face, the Imperial Redguard breathed in deeply, closing her eyes as she took in the scent of the city. Dusty roads and sand remained, but at least it was free from the scent of terrible hygiene.

Still, this wasn’t where she wanted to be anyway. Carefully securing her rucksack over her shoulder, she stuffed one hand in her pocket while the other held onto a bottle of wine that seemed a little too full by regular standards. Taking another deep breath of fresher air, the Imperial Redguard started on her way down the street, her steps deliberate and purposeful, as if she knew exactly where she was headed. Which she did, for that matter. It was her daily habit after leaving the tavern in the morning to make her way to the docks, sit down near the water and while away a couple of hours as she contemplated the waves crashing against the shore. It was a time of peace and sorrow, when she could finally be herself without having to worry about others seeing and assuming things.

The scent of the salty seawater had already greeted her halfway to her usual resting place by the docks, but it was never the aroma that truly made her feel at home. It was the sound of waves even before she could see them that had her quicken her step, a soft smile lingering on her lips. It was the sound of home…

There was somebody in her home. Sirine found herself a little surprised to see somebody else here so early in the morning- normally it was just her. It was a little disconcerting, truth be told, but there were a myriad of reasons why someone would be here. There was no need to act as if something was amiss. From what she could see, it was no Redguard or Dwemer, and a little more scrutinizing has her realize it was a khajiit; there was no mistaking those ears.

“That’s my spot,” she commented, words rather mild as she made her way over, dark eyes lingering over the blood spatters. "And now it's bloody..." That last bit was more to herself. She didn't seem particularly upset, just a little curious.

Zaveed’s eyes opened slowly, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and adjusting to the new morning daylight. He was being looked down upon by some Redguard-looking woman that looked vaguely familiar. He groaned, the aches and pains of his many wounds still throbbing despite being healed, and he looked this newcomer up and down studiously. “Yes, that tends to happen when you pick a spot to die and end up disappointed.” he croaked, his throat feeling incredibly dry. He coughed, relieved that blood didn’t erupt like it had been. His second chance at life wasn’t off to a great start.

“Don’t I know you?” he asked suddenly. “Tavern girl? Scorpion’s Song? I admit I am not as presentable as I would like, but I would like to imagine I leave quite the impression on my better days.”

"Perhaps," was Sirine's reply, casting a glance at the man. It was hardly a surprise if he recognized her from the tavern as that was where she spent most of her nights. "I don't recall seeing you there myself, but that could very well be due to being preoccupied with other... affairs." Giving the khajiit man a placid smile before settling down cross legged, she set to pulling the cork out of her bottle.

"You sound terrible," she commented dryly. "Now that you've been cheated of death, how about not sounding like you're still sitting with a leg in the grave?" Cork now out of the bottle's mouth, she took a gulp of the liquid before offering the man the bottle. It wasn't actually wine though- the bottle was merely a holder of water now.

Gratefully and labourously, he reached over to take the offered bottle. Expecting liquor, he nearly recoiled at the bland and unexpected taste of water before realizing that’s what it was. Drinking deeply for several gulps and feeling like the drought ridden fields that were his throat had finally seen rain, he sighed appreciatively, running his tongue across his teeth and gums. “Many thanks, my dear. Is this more to your liking?” He asked with an easy going smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Raising an eyebrow for a split second, Sirine's mouth lifted in a smirk. "Yes, that is much better, my ears don't feel assaulted anymore. As for my presence-" She looked to the water and motioned at it with a nod "-this is my spot. I come here on a daily basis; frankly I was surprised to find anybody here so soon after sunrise." Glancing back at the khajiit man, her eyes trailed over the blood stains. "Do you normally find yourself dying around docks, or was this perhaps a once in a lifetime goal?"

“An unexpected detour, I’m afraid. Ran into an overzealous admirer of mine and things might have gotten a tad carried away.” He replied, trying to sit up a bit better; his back was getting sore, and he was pleased to find he could still move decently well. “I was looking for someone important to me, but you know how the city is these days; interesting things lurk in dark alleyways. You seem oddly possessive over a bundle of nets; is it that you were hoping to catch a man here?” he grinned cheekily, feeling much more revitalized after the water, which he drank from again.

"Of course, I'm sure a man with your charm and wit has to spend a lot of time ducking into alleyways." Her common sense and sharp eyes knew he was hardly telling the truth, though part of what he said rung familiar to her, enough that she looked a little closer at the khajiit, if just for a moment. Someone important you say...

But for now she pushed that thought to the side, focusing on his cheeky remark with yet another raised eyebrow. "If I am, would you consider yourself caught?" Without waiting for a reply, she reached out and rested a hand on the netting closest to her. "Best be careful, I know very well how to use these." She tugged at it twice before letting go, returning her hand to her lap.

He regarded her with amusement and a sly grin. “I would be disappointed if you didn’t. And it would appear if it is good enough for fish and crustacean alike, it seems to be good enough for a Khajiit.” he said, wrapping his fingers through the rope, a frown crossing his face as he remembered his ship and his crew, lost to the waves and the Dwemer alike. What was he doing, throwing his lot in with them? His words he threw at Sevari, many times, came to mind; You always have a choice.

“I know this may be quite sudden in our newfound relationship, my dear, but could I trouble you to help bring me somewhere where I could wash up and get a change of clothing? I’m used to being showered in blood that belongs to anyone but myself, and I am not enthused at looking like a homeless cat again.” Zaveed admitted, his eyes meeting hers.

Sirine met his eyes with her own before looking the man over yet again. Homeless cat seemed almost a generous term for him in her opinion, and she could certainly sympathize with the need of not wishing to look like someone had just dragged him of the gutter- she just wasn't sure if she should.

Well, in his current state, there isn't much he can do... Letting out breath, she gave the khajiit man a nod and held out her hand in an offer to help him stand. "It isn't much, but I can show you the way to the tavern. The employees have their own bathing area in the back, as you can imagine. I may even be able to procure something less… decorated for you to wear. First though, a name would be nice. I would rather not have to keep calling you 'the khajiit man'."

Taking her hand, Zaveed pulled himself up to his feet with a pained grunt. “Zaveed of Senchal, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” the Khajiit replied, stretching with yawn before limping over to where his dagger still remained from the night before after Raelynn tossed it from him. It was still covered with his blood, and he offered a disdainful cluck of his tongue. “That won’t be good for the finish. Such mistreatment of a fine blade.” he said, wiping it off on his trousers and examining it, thinking it would wash off with a bit of solvents. Regardless, he slid the dagger back into its sheath at his back. “As much as I’d love to call you beautiful, my dear, I’m afraid I should also like a name. I seem to be having a run of good fortune lately, and I would like to keep it that way.”

"Sirine," she offered in reply as she looked away from the dagger he had picked up, her interest a little piqued as she herself carried a dagger on her person, though for the time being it was hidden. "Or Siri. Whatever is easiest to say, I don't mind. Beautiful is fine as well, but only if you pay me first." She let that out so easily that it was hard to tell whether she was joking or serious.

Pulling a coin from his armour, he placed it gently into her hand. “Beautiful Sirine it is, then.” he grinned with a wink, gesturing for her to lead the way.

As she started walking, she decided to keep the conversation flowing. Banter was a useful source of information after all. "Zaveed of Senchel," she repeated. "Your accent differs from the other khajiit I have met though- am I right in assuming you haven't been to Elsweyr in a while?"

“You are very astute of hearing, but that would not necessarily be correct. It is my home base out of Senchal, but I spent much of my time at sea and different ports with a diverse crew of sailors, I imagine it has worn off on me in ways I do not readily acknowledge.” he replied, keeping pace easily despite his limp, his hands resting on his axes. “In Pelletine, it is less common for Khajiit to use third-person manners of self address due to being more developed and cosmopolitan than the North. The Khajiit of Anequina, the ones that speak often of warm sands, are likely the ones that you are accustomed to. They tend to be more spiritual than their brothers to the South, and they produce a number of nomads. Perhaps it would help to think of it in a similar light as Nibenese to Colovians, Stronghold Orcs to city Orcs, Green Pact Bosmer verses those who live outside of Valenwood. Same skin, different souls.”

Unknowingly flipping the coin in her hand, Sirine listened to Zaveed as she lead the way. It was interesting to be sure, and enlightening as well. She had never sailed that side of Tamriel even when she was working with her father and brothers, so the little she did know of the cat people was from former shipmates. "Yes, you're quite right," she agreed with a small smile. "I've heard about warm sands more than I can remember.

"So a sailor..." she commented after a small pause, more to herself than Zaveed, though she did spare a glance at the khajiit man. With that knowledge in mind, she could certainly see him on a ship. It did beg the question of why he was here of all places, but Sirine knew better than to ask that of a stranger she just met. There was one thing she could very much relate to with this meager knowledge, however.

"I can see why you would wish to come here even on the brink of death." She looked out at the distancing waves before turning back to continue leading the way. The yearning she felt to return to the sea was never really gone, simply quelled with more important tasks.

Zaveed smiled sadly, looking out to the gentle rolling of waves. It truly was a beautiful day. “Being out at sea was the one place I felt at home, like the laws of the lands and the restrictions that are shackled to you no longer apply. I was a king aboard my own vessel, my sailors were my retainers. I thought if my body had to be in agony, my heart and soul should be at peace near such a place. So much the better I am still here, so I may actually find myself aboard my own ship once more, to feel the shifting of the planks beneath my feet, that sudden shudder when the sails catch a strong wind. I miss the salt, the colourful waves that shine like gemstones. It’s been a few weeks, and already I am itching to get off of dry land and return where I belong.” he chuckled, feeling somewhat sheepish for waxing nostalgic with a stranger. “I must apologize for droning on; it must be a tale you’ve heard from far too many drunken tongues. Normally I’m not so… what’s the word… hyperbolic, wistful? Surviving things you should not have tend to bring out the world in ways you never dreamed of, it is like seeing things with new eyes.”

"Staring into the mouth of death does do wonders for the soul," Sirine agreed, her voice light even if her thoughts were much more somber than his seemed to be. "And yes, I've heard drunken tales of the sort, but it isn't an unpleasant one... and I very much doubt you are drunk- I washed that bottle more than enough times before filling it with water."

She gave the khajiit an easy smile. "So no need to apologize. The feelings you're describing are well known to me- I spent most of my life out there as well. In fact, I was told I was born at see. The crashing of waves against wood was the lullabies I used to sleep to as a child." With that said, she decided she might as well take a chance and ask the question flitting through her mind. "Why would you chose to come here of all places? The Dwemer certainly haven't made the seafaring life easy."

“Ah, so you do understand.” Zaveed smiled pleasantly, appraising Sirine thoughtfully. “And intoxicated, certainly not, except for perhaps blood loss. On the upside, less blood means it will take less wine for me to be put into an agreeable temperament.” he grinned before shaking his head at her further inquiry. “It is a long tale that I’d rather not get into with a stranger, as lovely and generous as they may be. Suffice to say, I lost everything in a storm, was not familiar with the seas and hit a hidden reef that stranded me here under the Dwemer’s all too thoughtful care. There are worse places to end up, to be fair, and certainly with worse company than what I am enjoying at the moment.”

Sirine allowed herself a chuckle and nodded in response to Zaveed. "That's fair," she agreed before continuing with a smirk, "it's good to see you haven't lost so much blood that your wits have left you as well." She looked ahead at the path, shading her eyes a little as the sunlight streamed between the roofs of the buildings lining the street. "And I suppose it's fair to say there are worse places than Gilane." She didn't hate the place, in fact she quite liked her father's home. It was the others who made it their home that caused her to flee. Until now.

"Over there," she called out, quickening her step as she pointed ahead at a medium sized building that stood a little apart from the rest. "Have you been here before?"

He looked over to the building, forgetting the name of it as he tried to remember. “Can’t say it was one of my usual spots, but I think I’ve been here before. Cheap drinks and crap food, as I recall.” he glanced over at Sirine. “I hope you aren’t the cook.”

It seemed like an out of the blue comment and it caught Sirine off guard; a spontaneous laugh left her before she could stop herself. "No, that isn't me, though I'll be sure to relay your message to the cook." She allowed herself to give him a wink before shaking her head. "This place is terrible and you'd be better off not eating here. Take it as sound advice- there is a reason I don't eat here, and you shouldn't be dancing so close to death having just evaded it."

She paused at the front door for a moment before shrugging and continuing onward to the side of the building instead. "No need to head through the tavern itself," she muttered. She actually didn't want to be seen by the owner, knowing he would most probably see this as a chance to work her overtime, but there was no need to mention that to Zaveed. The side door wasn't too far away, set one step high in the wall, clearly having seen better days. Reaching in her pocket, Sirine pulled out a single key and unlocked the door after a few tries. A slight frown creased her forehead as she mentally cursed Jamir, the owner, for not actually fixing things he said he would; the moment passed and she nudged the door open with her boot.

"In here." She stepped up and inside before moving to the side for the khajiit. The scent of alcohol, perfume and sweat permeated the dank hallway that lead further into the building. A door to the right would lead to what was considered the baths. "I'm fairly certain most are still resting after a busy night, so you shouldn't have any interruptions. I'll find you something to wear- you continue through that door there." She pointed it out for his convenience.

Smiling and offering a bow, Zaveed took Sirine’s hand and kissed it gently on her knuckles. “You have my thanks.” he said, walking down to the baths, a series of somewhat dirty stone basins that were by a large cauldron of heated water. Using a bucket to fill one of the tubs and draw the curtains, Zaveed disrobed and neatly folded his tattered clothing and armour in separate piles, while keeping his weapons close to him, pistol on a shelf just above where his head would be. Finding bland smelling soaps and oils, he climbed in and felt the warm water relieve his brutalized body, letting out an almost inaudible gasp as the hot water burned his sores, but quickly faded as he relaxed.

Sirine blinked a little before nodding in response to the khajiit's thanks. Clearly a charmer, she was sure his words and actions had worked on many women before. Perhaps even she would have been caught if she were younger. Right now though, she simply allowed herself a silent laugh as she headed for the sleeping quarters instead. Ignoring the door that lead to her shared room, she continued further until she came to the last door in the hallway. Pursing her lips momentarily, she pushed it open the slightest bit and peeked inside.

Sleeping inside with no care in the world and one of his barmaids by his side was the owner. Sirine couldn't keep from making a face- he was the last person she would want to lay with- but she was happy to see he was there and clearly spent; at least that meant she wouldn't have to worry about anyone else sneaking into the room. Keeping her footsteps light, she made her way to his dresser and carefully pulled at the top drawer. It was locked. Sirine kept that in mind for the future before pulling at the second one; this slid open easily enough, revealing quite a few pairs of clothing. She grabbed the top pair and hastily crept back out of the room.

Once outside, she looked over her plundered goods. In hindsight, it might have been better to pick something that was a little plainer- the tunic was a rusty orange and the trousers that accompanied it were a light beige- but Sirine refused to return to that room. Zaveed would have to make do with these, and she dared say he'd probably look better in them than their current owner. Without any further delay, the Imperial Redguard headed to the baths.

Cautiously she peeked inside; when she saw the curtains were drawn she stepped inside, clearing her throat. "I have clothes for you, I'll leave them out here."

The Khajiit smiled gesturing for her to leave them next to his current clothing. “I appreciate it.” he said sincerely, not at all abashed at his indecent exposure. He ran some water over his face and over his mane, appreciating the cleansing water. He leaned back against the curvature of the tub, his arms draped over the side. “You’ve been far kinder to me than you’ve had any right to. After recent experiences, it’s… unexpected, but pleasant. Tell me, Sirine, how do you feel about the occupation, the Dwemer?” he asked conversationally, rubbing the grime out of his hands.

"What, are you telling me that I did something no other kind soul would have?" Sirine let a hint of sarcasm sound in her voice, though she followed it almost immediately with a smile, setting the clothes down next to where his old ones were, though she did make sure the area she set them was relatively dry and clean. And then, even if it was merely for a second, she visibly stiffened at the question thrown her way. To be fair, she had been the one to bring up the subject earlier so she couldn't fault him, but it wasn't something she had expected to be asked.

"Well, it hasn't been easy," she started, forcing her mind to remain focused and not veer in an emotional direction. She had helped him, yes, but that hardly meant she trusted the fellow. "People have been living here in freedom for many years. To suddenly find oneself restricted by people who by all rights are supposed to be dead is quite a lot to swallow." And even as she said that, she knew that wasn't even the reason she hated them. The dwemer could live wherever they wished for all she cared- the sea gave her all the freedom she needed. At least… until they took him.

“And you?” she decided to ask, head tilted to the side in a show of exaggerated curiosity. "It's only fair that I receive an answer as well."

Zaveed stared up at the ceiling above. “In my effects, you’ll find a badge belonging to the Ministry of Order. I am one of the Dwemer’s foreign field agents charged with keeping this peace they are imposing. From your hesitation to tell me, you know the consequences of saying the wrong thing to the wrong people, but fret not; you’ve nothing to fear from me. I was forced into this position by the same elves to gave me the rather fetching choice of serving them or dying in a fighting pit. I hunt down terrorists for them, and recently, that’s become a rather complicated endeavor for me.” He looked down at her, his face a mask. “And to answer your question, no, very few people I’ve met in my life have done for me what you have, as simple and obvious as it may seem. One of these terrorists… I’m alive because of her. I am uncertain how to proceed.” he admitted.

Her hand twitched. She wanted to stay calm and only habit was forcing her to keep a straight face. Inside her mind was another story, a turmoil as the rebellious side of her urged her to pull her dagger from its sheath and strike him down.

Stop. He's not the one. But her anger remained. She helped an ally of the dwemer.

Her eyes remained on the khajiit for a good moment. "Well, all that blood certainly makes sense now." She took a couple of steps closer to the tub, eyes narrowing as she closed in on him. "I have nothing to fear from you, you say? I've heard that sort of lie many times so you'll have to forgive me if I don't immediately trust you're telling me the truth. Then again, I haven't been completely honest myself." She stopped by the side of the tub, grabbing the edge with both hands as she stared at Zaveed. "My thoughts on the dwemer? I hate them. They took someone from me, someone important, irreplaceable. The only thing I fear is that they won't pay for what I lost."

And then just as quickly she stepped back. What folly. She had let her emotions have the better of her after all. Calm yourself down. She took another step back, slowly breathing in and out, reminding herself that she was the one in control here. No one else

"I think it's clear to me how you should proceed." Her voice no longer held the heat from before. "You mentioned you were looking for someone important? That should be your focus."

“And it is. My sister, she’s missing somewhere in this city. She was a part of the Dominion envoy that was attacked, and I was trying to find her when I ran into… it doesn’t matter at this point.” Zaveed said, letting the woman process these emotions. He grabbed Sirine’s wrist, although not roughly. “I hate them too, you know. I’ve been forced into a life that has torn me in many directions, and my brother as well. Who did they take from you? What would you do to pay them back?” he asked quietly.

Sirine looked at the hand on her wrist, her first instinct urging her to pull away, but she squashed that almost instantly. She had already broken her mask once today and she had no desire to show any more vulnerability.

A humorless laughed escaped her as she shook her head. "My brother. We would have left, at night, without a trace. Gilane was never a haven for us, it was always the sea." Another laugh left her. "The dwemer? I wouldn't have given a fuck about them, about the Dominion, about anyone. But they touched him..." Her voice trailed a moment and she shook her head. "If I knew what I could do, I would have done it already, Zaveed of Senchal. But-" She spread out her hands. "I am but a tavern girl who serves drinks and turns tricks."

“Do you know who did it? The ones responsible for taking your brother from you?” he asked, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he started at the Redguard woman. “The way you carry yourself, you are more than just a tavern girl, aren’t you?”

"How could I possibly know who took him?" Sirine shook her head. "If I did, then that would be so much simpler, wouldn't it? I wouldn't be in this conundrum. I would have simply taken care of those people myself." She was tempted to ignore his last question, but the look in his eyes was enough to tell her that was no longer a choice, not with all she had revealed. "At the moment, this is all I am. But you are right... before I was forced here, I had my own ship, my own crew." It was hard to keep the wistfulness from her voice. “I was what people would call a pirate.”

Zaveed rose from the tub, unperturbed or uncaring about his undress in the state of finer company, and he toweled himself off, the three nasty wounds on his chest and through his back very much visible. “I am Captain Greywake, privateer of the Aldmeri Dominion, and for over a month now I have been little more than a slave to the Dwemer. I have done what they asked of me, as brutal and unflinching be as it may, all with the hopes of being a free man once more, a king upon my ship and ruling the waves. I was one of the best, and most feared. I will do everything in my power to reclaim my glory.” he said, his posture more erect and his hand clenching in a defiant fist. “I have no love for the Deep Elves, I care for my brother and sister, my crew, and my freedom. Everything else can rot.” he said, slipping on the clean trousers, fastening the string closure.

“You are wasted in this place. You and I are both castaways on an Island ruled by despots, and you could do so much better. You help me find my sister, and I will find your brother if he yet lives. One day I will stand upon the deck once more, and fly my colours proudly, but until then, I must play the Dwemer's game. It is much easier to move on the inside than to be hunted by them, yes?” he asked, slipping the orange tunic over his head. He looked to the woman with appraising eyes. “I am not your enemy, and I owe you a debt of gratitude. I offer you the choice of standing at my side and taking fate into your own hands, or languishing in this place with a few extra coins for your troubles.” he said, reaching into his armour pocket and placing a stack of coins on the shelf- a week's wages for Sirine.

For a while after Sirine couldn't find the words to speak what was going through her mind, despite her extensive vocabulary. At first it was the surprise at seeing the man completely naked and uncaring of the fact- she hastily looked away when she realized she had been staring. Then there was his actual words, even more attractive than he was. What she wanted, no, what she needed had eluded her for so long with her having no idea how to find it, and right now it was being offered to her on a silver platter simply because she had chosen to help a downtrodden looking man find a bath and some clothes. It seemed almost too good to be true- her heart clenched as she wrestled the choices she had. Eyes catching sight of the gold on the shelf, she had only to think of her previous night. So much useless work for only a few coins, none of which would truly help her. It was obvious what she had to do, and not taking the chance would simply leave her in regret.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke up. "Well then, looks like I was the one who was caught in the net." She looked away from the shelf and back to Zaveed, taking in the sight of the khajiit in the clothes she'd stolen. It pleased her that she had been right- he did look better in them than Jamir. "I accept then. I'll help you find your sister, you help me find my brother."

“Magnificent, my dear.” He grinned, fastening his armour and weapons to his frame. Before long, he stood as defiantly as proud as ever. He picked up the stack of coins and held them out to Sirine. “This should help you reacquire your gear, weapons and tools of your trade, then. I require time to recover, but I shall use it to try and locate your brother. I'll need his name, description, and the date he was taken to get started. If you are willing to suffer such indignities of a few more nights working in this den, I will require you to keep an ear open about a Thalmor ambassador and a female Khajiit with a greatsword. Patrons have loose tongues for gossip, and half the reason I come to shitholes like this is intelligence. When I come back in a few nights time, you will never have to step foot in this place again. Is this agreeable?”

Having carefully stown away the coins in the inner pockets of her rucksack, Sirine looked back to Zaveed as she readjusted it on her shoulder, giving him a nod. "It's agreeable," she replied, managing to return a smile that was more or less sincere. "A few more days here is better than a month or a lifetime. As for my brother, his name is Bakih. Bakih Al Nahel. He doesn't look a thing like me though. Around your height, light brown eyes. His hair is distinctive, almost a reddish brown I would say." From the way she described him, it seemed as if none of the family's Redguard genes had ended up in him.

A sound in the distance caught her ear and she realized it was probably best to conclude this meeting of chance quickly. "Probably best you leave now," she suggested. "I'd rather our partnership not be immediately sullied by my boss realizing I stole his clothes for you." She motioned towards the exit silently before heading out herself.

The Khajiit chuckled, tapping the axes on his hips as he stepped out the door behind her. “Oh, don’t worry about him. I have a particular way of winning people over, my dear.” he said, stepping closer to the Redguard woman and stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I will have answers for you, I promise. You’ve shown me great kindness, Beautiful Sirine, I will not forget it.”

Stepping away and yawning loudly, he took off back into the Gilane streets, humming a pleasant tune. His limp seemed to have disappeared as he strode with purpose away from the tavern and into the crowds.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Sirine Al Nahel

aka

Siri

Race: Imperial (Redguard father)
Birthsign: The Thief
Sex: Female
Age: 32
Family Origins: Gilane, Hammerfell | Anvil, Cyrodiil

Appearance: At first glance, Sirine looks like any ordinary Redguard woman. Standing at about 5'6 and weighing around 130 lbs, she shows a wiry figure that carries little fat and mostly muscle due to working at sea for the most part of her life. Dark skin clearly shows her Redguard blood, and the freckles that accentuate her skin are from constantly being under the sun and near the salty sea water. While her face is surprisingly unmarred by scars, the same cannot be said for the markings on the rest of her body, most of them from rope burns, accidental cuts as well as other more serious scars that Sirine does not like to talk about.

Round faced with high cheekbones and a slightly pointed chin, signs of Sirine's mixed heritage can be seen with her smaller lips and slimmer nose. Her eyes are a dark brown and set under long black brows, accentuated by long dark lashes; a good candidate for being termed doe eyed, they make her seem almost innocent and naive. As for her hair, despite the fact that cutting it short may be a little easier for her to handle, she quite enjoys leaving it long and open. Once upon a time it was a near black, but now it is a sun-kissed brown, her wavy unruly locks falling below her shoulder blades, decorated with beads of different colours.

As for Sirine's clothing, she is one who dresses primarily for comfort, but this does not mean she likes to look frumpy or dowdy. She enjoys wearing tunics of different colours, though preferring darker shades to light ones. More often than not her sleeves are pushed up or rolled up to her elbows to keep out of the way. Disliking tight pants, she prefers wearing pantaloons instead, stuffing the excess material in her calf high leather boots. A belt cinched tightly around her waist completes her assemblage.

Equipment:

• Orcish dagger- This was something that was given to her by her father's old quartermaster Tulgan on her sixteenth birthday. Though she prefers hand to hand combat, Shireen keeps the dagger on her person at all times, knowing very well that a blade works wonders in times of need.
• A dark brown cloak which doubles as a blanket
• An old Rucksack (items within mentioned under Misc Possessions)

Misc. Possessions:

• Near 150 septims
• A flask with varying drink
• A health potion she managed to steal off a customer
• A couple of pieces of bread, a few pieces of cured and dried meat, a wedge of cheese
• A roll of paper, a quill and an ink pot

Family and Associations:

• Sulaim Al Nahel - Father (deceased)
• Amaria Sivarius- Mother (59 years old- unknown whether alive or dead)
• Calum Al Nahel - Eldest brother (40 years old)
• Samer Al Nahel - Second eldest brother (37 years old)
• Bakih Al Nahel - Little brother (27 years old)

Favoured Skills: Highly Proficient

• Athletics- Having spent most of her life on a ship has made Sirine into the tough, enduring woman that she is. Physical tasks are no trouble for her, whether they include something more stationary like lifting heavy objects or something like running and swimming long distances

Moderately Proficient

• Acrobatics- Just as with her skill in Athletics, working on a ship molded her in such a way that she is quite nimble and sound of balance, something rather required in her line of work.
• One handed (dagger) - Sirine was taught how to fight with her orcish dagger under the guidance of her father’s quartermaster and uses it as her primary way to attack.
• Mercantile- Learning the tricks of the trade was something Sirine took to from a young age and had put into practice for quite a few years.

Somewhat Proficient

• Speech- Having been taught to speak eloquently and being somewhat practiced in talking to many folk for business purposes, Sirine can be quite persuasive when she means to be, and perhaps even a little intimidating.
• Hand to Hand- As her father hadn’t wished for her to learn how to use anything larger than a dagger, Sirine had taken it upon herself to learn how to use her fists as weapons instead.
• Sneak- This was a skill learned later on in Sirine’s life, forced upon her due to her path in life involving ambushing and looting ships.

History: Sirine is the third of four children to Sulaim of Hammerfell and Amaria of Cyrodiil. Sulaim al Nahel's family had been quite the seafaring merchants for years, so naturally he was quite proficient in the same business as well. What differed with him was that he caught the eye of a lass on one of his journeys Cyrodiil, a young Imperial woman by the name of Amaria. The Sivarius family was well known merchants who were also their business partners. The tryst of the two youngsters strained relations between the the Al Nahel and Sivarius family. However, the simple solution of marriage provided them a way to not only keep the lovers together but also made their business dealings even stronger.

Sirine was born ten years laters. Her two older brothers were eight and five years of age and so not too dependant on their mother. She was in fact born at sea on a journey returning home to Hammerfell. Though she spent quite a lot of time with her mother in her early years, two older brothers and a crew of mostly male sailors ensured that she was more of a tomboy that the proper girl Amaria had grown up as. Though this was not something that brought either of her parents any concern, they were worried that their children would enjoy the seafaring life more than the whole point of why they spent time at sea. It was for this reason when Sirine was near ten and her little brother Bakih was five, her parents decided that Amaria and the children would remain in Hammerfell for a few years to further their education.

Though Sirine missed her previous life as a traveller on a ship, she did actually enjoy the different subjects that were taught to her by hired tutors. She could read and write and spoke quite eloquently, her mind was sharp where money matters were concerned and she could easily tell tales that would fool her own mother. All in all, it seemed as if she was educated enough that she could help her father on his business ventures along with her older brothers, Calum and Samer. It was with much cheer that the now thirteen year old returned to her father's ship and resumed life at the sea, quite like returning a fish back to its home into water.

Sirine fell into the routine of things very quickly. There was still a lot to learn about working on a ship, and though her main job was keeping tally of the numbers in the books, she often found herself helping the crew with more physical tasks. She had always been a strong girl, but manual labour kept her body fit in the same way working with paper and ink kept the wheels in her mind turning. Along with this, she found herself quite interested in learning combat. A favourite with the quartermaster, an orsimer named Tulgan, she was taught both hand to hand combat as well as how to use a dagger. Sirine had actually wanted to learn how to use the orc’s great sword, but her father had been adamant that if she was to wield a weapon, it would be something small and not very obvious.

Love found Sirine when she was fifteen years of age. At least, she had thought it was love. A sojourn in one of Anvil’s inn’s led her to meeting a charming young man who very easily convinced her to spend night with him. One night’s rendezvous turned into something that lasted a couple of weeks until the young man seemingly disappeared without a trace. Heartbroken though she was, Sirine guessed he was probably like her, a sailor on a ship who didn’t stay any place for too long. It seemed almost romantic to think of it that way, and she quite fancied that perhaps she would meet him again one day. What she did not take into account was falling pregnant. It lasted only a couple of months so this knowledge was not known by anyone aside from her brother Calum who she had confided in, but its effect was enough that she kept away from romantic relations for a good few years, focusing solely on her father’s ship and his business.

She was twenty years old when hurdles began to shove themselves in her path. By this time her father had decided it was time for him to stay on solid ground and leave the business to his children. Calum had the makings of a captain and Samer was quite the merchant, rivalling him, while Sirine had always been good at keeping notes and making sure their money matters were in order. As the old couple wished to rekindle their old passion for one another, fifteen year old Bakih was sent to live with his older siblings. Calum and Samer were busy with their own affairs so it was up to Sirine to take care of her little brother as well. It was something she took to as easily as bookkeeping; she quite enjoyed spending time with him and found it fun to be the one teaching rather than the student.

It was during one of these teaching sessions with Bakih that Sirine came across some inconsistencies in the books with the money that was kept safe to be delivered to her father. Unsure who to suspect, she kept this knowledge for herself for the time being, simply keeping a wary eye on the dealings that were taking place. It took a few months and some bribing a couple of members of the crew to discover that both Calum and Samer were taking more than their percentage of their commissions from the profits that were made. Upset by this dishonesty and the fact that they were cheating their own brother, she decided to confront them about the issue. The two of them tried deny it at first, and when she continued to demand them to confess, they simply scoffed at her. Displeased with what she had hoped for a simpler reaction and perhaps solution, she decided to bring the news to her parents the next time they returned to Gilane.

The subject was broached the day after they had reached the city and rested for the night. What Sirine had not known was that her brothers had already spoken to their parents and convinced them that she had been the one pilfering more than her share of the percentage she was supposed to receive. To further ensure that their parents didn’t trust her, Calum had mentioned the five year old news of her failed pregnancy, which had her parents both aghast as well as heartbroken. Trying to prove her brothers wrong by showing her parents the books and inconsistencies had a little more success, but not what she had hoped for. Her father seemed to believe that perhaps it was time for her to return to the land while he returned to take his seat at the head of the family business to make sure that there was no hankypanky going on. Infuriated by what she felt was stupidity and injustice from her parents side, and in particular her father, Sirine rejected what he said rather verbally, losing her cool as she called out her brothers as being cowards and liars. Knowing this would be deemed unacceptable behaviour on her part, so before anyone could say anything else to her, she gathered her belongings and left the Al Nahel estate, heading out to port.

Finding work was not something the young woman was familiar with, having grown up with money as well as a steady job provided by her parents. It was hard to find anyone who would hire her as a laborer on their ship, but then Sirine didn't wish to work for anyone else's vessel anyway… at least that was what she had convinced herself. It was quite easy to find work as a barmaid however, and for a few extra tricks she found she could earn coin that would eventually be used to gain a small boat of her own. Truth be told she hated her job, from pouring drinks to tolerating the touch of strange drunk men, but her mind was always on her final goal.

It took two years for her to finally earn enough septims to finally leave her detestable job as a barmaid and buy an old boat of her own. It was small and dingy, but it was all hers and she had big plans for it. What she hadn't had in mind was her brother Bakih joining her in her quest to make a name of herself. It turned out he had run away from home and had been in search of her for a few weeks before finally catching up with her in the bar she was still working at. Sirine was concerned about his plans to tag along with her, but the resentment she felt against her family for disbelieving her was even stronger and she was happy to have a familiar, loving face by her side. It also turned out he hadn’t simply left the house with the clothes on his back but had brought along a small chest filled with septims, though he was quite mum about where he had procured that from. Truth be told Sirine was wary, but she needed the septims to help in procuring wares to sell and make a profit out of.

Her first few journeys were successful and for the first time since she had stormed out of her parents’ estate, Sirine felts something akin to satisfaction. Sure it was a small boat and sure, she and her brother literally had to do all the work in maintaining it, but she was strong, and most of all she was finally getting her life back together, doing something she loved. There was also the dangerous satisfaction that she had been selling to some of her brothers’ customers, and since they already knew her from before, nothing seemed too odd in their eyes about this new arrangement.

Alas, it took only a few months before that risky bit of business was discovered. Her brothers did not delay in tackling their problem with some force from their end. Paying men to sabotage the vessel was no big task for the two brothers who by now had made quite a name for themselves, Calum as a seaworthy captain and Samer as a shrewd businessman. It didn’t take more that a few destruction runes to sink the boat after being triggered by Bakih unknowingly stepping on one when he and Sirine were readying to head out on another mercantile venture.

Sirine was naturally upset by the destruction of her boat but more so by the injury her little brother sustained from from the boat destroying. After making sure he was taken to a healer’s and paying good septim to make sure he was well taken care of, Sirine left for her parents estate, ready to settle matters once and for all. She was sure this had to be her brothers at work once more, and though she may have been gained a few of their customers, she didn’t see how it even affected their business, having purposely chosen different wares to sell than what her father’s business was known for- though she might have had a very big bone to pick with the rest of her family, she didn’t actually wish them harm.

It seemed she was too late to discuss anything when she reached her parents estate. Her father had taken to a sudden illness and only a few weeks had passed since his funeral. The family business had been left in the hands of his eldest son; since Calum had never truly been business minded, he in turned handed it over to Samer. As for Sirine and Bakih, now considered the runaways and shame of the family, Sulaim Al Nahel had left them with nothing but the family name in hopes that perhaps one day they would redeem themselves. Their mother Amaria was no longer interested in remaining in Hammerfell now that her husband had passed and had already returned to Cyrodiil to live with her family.

A lost cause from the beginning, Sirine had no more reason to remain at the Al Nahel estate, not that her brothers would have let her stay. Not knowing what to do now that her brother was at a healer’s and she had no boat to return to, the mixed Imperial headed back to port and made herself comfortable in the tavern she used to work at, spending septims and drowning her misery and sorrow. It was during this time she was approached by a Redguard man who claimed to be the captain of a modest ship and a small crew. Sharing a drink with her, he explained that he had heard about what had happened with her and Bakih. His crew was relatively small and new, in desperate need of strong, experienced people and he felt she would bring something good to his crew. He spoke in a rather charming manner and her drunken mind had her thinking that it was her first lover returned to her. She eagerly accepted his proposal and drank to it…

Sirine wasn’t sure what happened after that except waking up in one of the tavern’s room half naked and in pain. Confusion rang through her mind for only a few moments before she realized what had happened- the man had taken advantage of her when she hadn’t been in her senses. What was even worse were all the marks on her person- it was clear to her that it had been more than just him.

It was then in that very room where Sirine realized the utter futility of what she had tried to strive for. Honesty, justice, morals- they were near impossible to find in the world, and if someone tried to pursue such frivolous things, they would end up like her. If she was meek, others would simply stomp over her. If she was giving, others would take more than she was willing to give. Those who were good people would always be downtrodden, and Sirine had had it with being on the receiving end.

Once she had composed herself and cleaned up, Sirine left the room and headed down to the tavern, a mild look on her face as she caught sight of the man who had drugged her. She confirmed with him that he had never really meant for her to join his crew and had simply wished to use her for the night. He knew very well who her brothers were and did not wish to get on their bad side. When she finally turned away and left the tavern, it was to the threat that if she told anyone about what occurred, her little brother would be targeted.

Sirine took his threat seriously, but she now took herself seriously as well. Heading to the healer’s, she related to her little brother what had happened in plain and simple terms, comforting him as he expressed his grief at the whole matter. It was too much for him to take; it would have been the same for her if she hadn’t already processed her feelings and come to the solution. When he expressed his hatred for what had happened and wishing to avenge her, she nodded in agreement. It would happen, but it had to be planned. Simply acting out irrationally would bring the two of them back to square one.

And so they plotted and planned, watching the crew, marking their movements, picking out the moments when the men were the most vulnerable. It was almost reminiscent of when they would be studying together, except this was a much deadlier form of studies. The captain had not been wrong when he mentioned his small crew. Sirine wasn’t quite willing to put her little brother in danger after his last accident, but he wasn’t willing to be sidelined, and the truth was unlike her, they didn’t know how he looked. The first few men were easily taking down with a little bought poison added to their drinks. The remaining members of the crew were taken down the following night when Sirine and Bakih snuck onboard. One by one the duo siblings dispatched the unsuspecting sailors until only the captain remained. He was very happy to try and strike any deal with her, but there was only one thing on the Imperial Redguard’s mind: she wanted his ship. As soon as he signed it over to her, she struck the final blow on him as well.

Now that she had a vessel once more, along with the money and cargo from the ship’s previous denizens, Sirine was ready to start her life once more. She wasn’t going to be a fool and try something ambitious like with her first boat. Instead, she and Bakih started after small marks. Making sure to keep their features disguised with the use of scarves and turbans, they plundered small little boats, leaving them intact but empty of septims. Not particularly enjoying taking lives, the owner and meager crews would be left to live unless they caused a stir. Continuing in this manner for a few years, Sirine soon had enough septims to hire recruits willing to join her ventures. She was still rather cautious of heading after bigger marks, but with more people on her side, she soon had her brother’s ship as a goal for the future.

Alas, that was a goal that would never come to pass with the coming of the dwemer. Caught off guard like the rest of Tamriel, Sirine had made plans for her and her crew to escape at night and perhaps head in Cyrodiil’ direction. However, any such attempts were immediately foiled as soon as the ship started out of port. With the dwemer’s weapons, it was no hard task to turn the ship into floating driftwood. Sirine had managed to save herself by jumping overboard and swimming underwater to the shore. Of course, she hadn’t realized Bakih had not followed behind her until she reached the sandy beach. Wrought with anger and grief, she returned to Gilane, wet and bedraggled, coin less and alone. Once more she found herself having to work in a tavern, pouring drinks and when forced to, turning tricks.

Her mind was focused though. Her brother was either dead or imprisoned, and whoever was responsible would pay for taking away the only person she cared about.

Personality: If there's a word that could be used to describe Sirine, it would be jaded. The life experiences she has gone through have taught her that no one really wishes good for another person without wanting something in return. Her expectations from people are so low that unless she knows them better than herself, she will always be paranoid and mistrust them to a certain degree, believing that whatever positive work they’re up to is obviously to better their own station in life. Not that she actually shows all the thoughts hidden behind her eyes. Before others she puts up a front, a mask that would more likely fool a person into thinking she was earnest and actually giving a damn about them. The only exception to this cynical stance on life is her little brother Bakih. The one person she can truly say she loves, the Imperial Redguard is very protective of him and will do almost anything to keep him safe and sound.

She isn’t reckless though. One thing in particular that Sirine prides herself in is remaining focused and thinking ahead about the big picture. Acting impulsively and not giving matters enough thought was what had turned her life into such a turmoil, and the last thing that she wants is to be stung by the same damn hole of misfortune again. She is the sort of person who will lay out in writing all that she she wants done, whether it’s a business contract, how much money she has made in a day, or a list of chores that need to be done before the sun sets. She has a very methodical way of doing things and does not really appreciate the ‘go with the flow’ mentality and simply winging things.

Despite the fact that she doesn’t trust anyone, it can be said that others see her as someone who is honest in her dealings, a hard worker who will put her mind and body in what she has to do at the moment in hand. Just because she is a pirate does not mean she will be like her brothers and cheat her partners out of their money. An honest pirate seems a bit an oxymoron, but Sirine manages to portray that, and before the dwemer had destroyed what she had rebuilt of her life, even the more sourly of those she dealt with knew she was somebody they wouldn’t have to fear for their lives with- unless they brought it upon themselves.

Whether at sea or working in a seedy tavern, one thing that that doesn’t quite leave Sirine is her desire to look tidy. Despite not owning much at the moment in way of clothes, she makes sure to keep herself looking neat and well put together. People judge others by the way they look and the effort they put in their upkeep; she wishes for the world to know that they can trust her, whether it be in a business dealing involving septims, or a tankard being filled with ale.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Breaking Curfew

By Greenie and Morty
with a guest appearance of Sevari

---

7th of Midyear, near sunset, The Three Crowns Hotel

Meg was restless as she sat in her room, staring at her boots that were busy hitting the floor with their heels. She had been wanting to chat with Daro'Vasora since the night before. Nothing in particular, but she she did wish to thank the khajiit for the impromptu party which while it had lasted had been fun, and despite the breakdown she had afterwards, she had to admit that in itself was a good thing.

But... where was she? She had spent the whole day in the Hotel after the day before's grueling adventure, sleeping and eating and generally just relaxing until the morning. When she'd headed to Sora's room earlier in the morning to catch her there, she'd found only an empty bed that hadn't been slept in. No matter who she spoke to as the day continued onward, they all had the same response, that they had not seen the female khajiit. Or they would simply not answer the Nord woman, leaving her rather annoyed and unsatisfied.

Sunset was very near and Meg's brooding had turned into worry bordering anxiety. Daro'Vasora wouldn't just disappear for more than a day without saying anything, would she? She didn't know what it was, but she could feel a foreboding feeling clutching at her from the inside. Something was wrong.

"I gotta find her." Meg jumped to her feet as soon as she made that decision. Turning to the chest at the end of her bed, she opened it and pulled out her old bow and arrows. Once they were secure, she grabbed her belt and buckled up before sliding her sword into its scabbard. Perhaps she had grown more brazen and confident since she'd been sent on Salosoix's mission, but that had been for money, and this was for her friend. This was far more important than any amount of septim.

As she stepped out of the room though, a niggling thought stopped her in her steps. An' just where're you gonna go? What're you gonna do? Who're you gonna talk to? Annoying words and yet they were all legitimate ones. What if something happened to her out there? Then there would be two missing persons with no one the more knowledgeable. She needed help.

He'll tell me not to, she told herself as she walked to the room she was sure Jaraleet was in. But... There was no one else she could really ask for help right now, and whether the others found it strange or not, she trusted the argonian. Taking a deep breath, she rapped on the door and waited.

Luckily for Meg, after his back to back missions with Gregor and Latro on the fifth, Jaraleet had decided to take it easy the last two days, giving himself time to recuperate his energies and to make sure that his wounds from the fight in the docks would be fully healed. As such, when Meg came looking for him, the Argonian was present on his room instead of in the inn’s gym as would have been normally the case “Coming.” Was the Argonian’s simple reply when he heard the knock on the door, rising from his bed and heading to the entrance.

He was surprised when he found the Nord woman standing in front of the room’s threshold, a feeling which quickly gave way to a nagging sense of suspicion when he noticed the look of anxiety plastered on her face and, more importantly, that she was armed for combat. “Inside. Now.” The Argonian said, unable to hide the sense of unease that had taken root in his mind. If it had been Gregor, or even Latro, he would have been calm, but he had never expected that Meg would seek him out armed. His unease lay not in a fear that the Nord woman would attack him but more in the belief that, whatever it was that had worried Meg enough to make her decide to take up her weapons had also led her to talk to him.

Once she was inside of the room, Jaraleet closed the door behind Meg and then closed the curtains placed above the balcony. “There, now we should have some privacy.” The Argonian said as he turned to look at Meg. “What's the matter Meg?” He asked her, forcing himself to keep the irrational unease that plagued him under control.

“Uhm…” The was a slight sense of awkwardness but the Nord woman pushed it to the back of her mind. “ Sorry t'bother ya… I jus’ didn’ know who else could help me out… an’ I didn' feel right headin’ out without sayin’ somethin’ first.” She paused and cleared her throat, feeling slightly parched, but she continued onward. “Daro'Vasora… she's missin’. I've been lookin’ for her all day an'- she's just not here. No one's seen her, or they’re just not sayin’ somethin’. Her hand clutched at her amulet. “Somethin’s happened, somethin’ bad, I can just feel it. An’ I need t'find her “

As Meg explained herself, things clicked into place easily enough. Why she had sought him out and why she had come armed to his room, it all seemed so simple now that the Argonian inwardly chided himself for how he had reacted. “First of all, sorry for how I acted at first. I was...surprised to find you in front of my door, and armed to boot.” He apologized, shaking his head slightly and letting out a sigh as he thought what to say next.

He hadn’t noticed Daro’Vasora’s disappearance, another thing to chide himself about, something which was worrying but not pressing enough to spur the Argonian to action, but he doubted that Meg would appreciate that particular thought if he voiced it. “And you intend to go out into Gilane’s streets I take it, no?” He said, eyeing the getup with which Meg intended to head out into the streets. The first thought that jumped to his mind was the fact that the Nord woman didn’t have a cloak with which to hide her identity, the second one being that she had chosen to carry her bow along with her blade.

“Too cumbersome.” He stated plainly, not waiting for an answer to his previous question. “Your bow won’t be of much use if you intend to sneak past the patrols.” The Argonian clarified, shaking his head. “It would be best if you brought your sword only.” He said as he began making his way to where he stored his gear. “You should also try and find a cloak, something with which to hide your face.” The assassin added as he began taking out his gear.

“But…” Meg stopped herself, slightly embarrassed but also a little worried. She hadn’t taken her bow with her on her sword acquisition mission the other day and she would have had a hard time escaping if she hadn’t laid her hands on the one in the chest. What if something similar happened while she went on her person hunt? Then again, what was the point in asking for Jaraleet’s help if she wasn’t even going to listen to what he was going to say. She was first and foremost a tomb raider while he, if Gregor was correct, was an assassin and probably knew how to sneak around people even better than she did.

“Be righ’ back,” she muttered as she headed out of the room. It wasn’t long before she returned, sans bow but with a cloak. She’d had it since her Skyrim days- once it had been green but at the moment it was more of a brownish grey. The hood pulled down far enough that it nearly covered the entire top half of her face. “How’s this then?”

By the time Meg had returned, Jaraleet was equipped as best he could with what little information he had. He had decided to forego wearing armor proper, with the exception of his vambraces which he hid under a long sleeved shirt, and had only worn the scabbard for his sword along with the black cloak that he had worn during his mission for the Poncy Man.

When Meg asked him about her current equipment he took a second to inspect her figure. The cloak would be useful, albeit it’d have been best if she had a black one but he supposed there would be no time to fetch one. “Hmmm, your scabbard.” He said once he noticed how she worn it. “Move it a bit so you can hide it under your cloak, it will make it more difficult to draw your sword, unless you are used to it that is, but that way you’ll be able to hide it behind your cloak.” He explained to her. “If things go well we shouldn’t have need of our weapons any way.”

Meg blinked and looked down at her scabbard. "Er... right." Feeling slightly like a child back in Riften, being taught the basics, she managed to keep her expression from looking too embarrassed as she shifted the sword on her belt so that it was now completely covered by her cloak.

Taking a breath, she looked up. "Alright', I think I'm ready." She was quiet a moment before continuing. "I don' rightly know where I'mma look for her."

Jaraleet smiled at Meg and chuckled softly. “I have an idea that might get us a lead.” The Argonian said as he began making his way towards the door. “Not very exciting but, well, I think our best shot lays in eavesdropping on some of the patrolmen. If Daro’Vasora really has been kidnapped by the Dwemer, there is a chance that some of the soldiers might have heard something, even if it’s only gossip.”

Maybe it wasn't much, but it was a start, something that Meg had needed and didn't have. She nodded in agreement before following after the argonian, focusing to keep her thoughts clear so she wouldn't end up making any blunders.

It was an easy enough task for the duo to sneak out the the hotel as silently as shadows, and soon enough they were on the streets. Unlike just an hour earlier when the roads had been bustling with life, it was now as silence as a graveyard. Meg was reminded of the night she and the others had snuck into the garrison. Sora had been there that night as well. Her forehead creased at the thought, but she pushed that to the back of her mind for the time being.

“Is something on your mind Meg?” The Argonian asked, having noticed the brief look of concern that had passed through her mind. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. It’d be better to voice your thoughts now than later on when the risk will be greater.” Jaraleet said, keeping his eyes peeled for any patrolmen that they might follow for any clues that’d lead them to their Khajiit leader.

Meg quickly shook her head. "No, I was jus' rememberin' the las' time I came out..." Her voice trailed. "Sorry, nothin' important." This was exactly the opposite of being focused. What was wrong with her tonight? If she really wanted to find out where Sora was, then she had to clear her mind, otherwise she'd end up ruining things for herself, or worse Jaraleet, who'd she'd ended up roping in.

"I'm fine," she promised under her breath, and fell silent just in time it would seem- the sound of a pair of footsteps could be heard.

Jaraleet frowned, but decided not to press the topic. He knew that, whatever it was that was on Meg’s mind was upsetting her and that put him in turn on edge and made him upset. He couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t like to see her in such a state. Still, he pushed those thoughts, those feelings, to the depths of his mind and called upon all that he had earned during his training as a Haj-Eix to remain focused on the task at hand.

Letting out a soft sigh, he let himself focus instead on the sound of the upcoming footsteps. It didn’t took long for the voice of the Dwemer patrolmen to reach their hiding spots, the soldiers making no efforts to be discreet.

“Did you hear what happened? Seems like we’ll finally be moving against those rats.” One of the soldiers commented.

“Hmmm, I’ve heard a bit, but not much. Something about capturing one of those damn terrorists, no?”

It took all of Meg’s willpower not to reach back for an arrow that wasn't on her back. Even though she knew they needed to hear what the patrolmen had to say, the instinct was there that simply ending their life would make things easier. But it wasn't just that. Maybe it was silly, maybe it was naivety, but she didn't know how to block her feelings. Being called rats and terrorist-

She looked up at Jaraleet, wordlessly wondering if he was thinking the same thing. Were they talking about Daro'Vasora? She looked back in the direction of the soldiers, mentally yelling at them to say something more.

“Yeah, one of them was captured. A Khajiit I think but I don’t know much beyond that, I’ve only just heard a few things here and there, like that they paraded her through the city’s streets yesterday.. You could probably ask around a bit more once we are back at the guardpost.” The first soldier said.

The second Dwemer merely nodded in silent acknowledgement and continued walking with his fellow mer. Soon enough, both guards were out of sight and hearing range from Meg and Jaraleet.

“Well, it would seem that if we want to obtain more information we’ll have to sneak into a guard post. Come, let’s follow them” The Argonian said calmly. “With any luck, they will lead us straight where we need to go.”

Meg slowly unclenched her fists as she nodded, still seething from what she had just heard. She'd actually not even noticed that her hands had curled into fists until she felt her nails bite into her palms. Letting out a slow breath, she nodded. He was so calm. How was he so calm? Meg could feel envy rise in her, only to be countered by guilt at feeling that way. It was probably another part of his past that he kept hidden from her and everyone else.

"A'righ'," she agreed as she straightened herself. Her mouth twitched a little as started forward. Maybe she was stupid coming out here like this. Maybe Gregor had been right after all- Stop, just stop. She could do this. She had dealt with bandits, draugrs, even falmer in the Jerell mountains. She'd gotten the sword for Salosoix.

She wasn't going to fail her friends now.

There was a small shift in her being as she took another breath, feeling a little calmer. "D'you know which guardpost they're talkin' 'bout?" she whispered to the argonian. "I've only seen the one's 'round the market."

“No, but it’s probably a good bet that they are heading there.” The Argonian replied, falling silent for a moment in thought. “Even if they are not headed to that particular guard post, there’s a good chance that we might find some information that could point us in the right direction.” He said.

“Meg,” He said, approaching the Nord woman and placing his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, you can do this.” He said, having noticed the slight change in her demeanor. “I know it’s probably not the same as what you did in the past but you can do this.” He continued on, squeezing her shoulder slightly. “And if we run into any trouble whatsoever, I’ll be here to help you.” Jaraleet finished, smiling at Meg reassuringly. “Now, show me the way to this guard post in the market. I’m afraid I haven’t been to Gilane’s market previously.”

Surprised but appreciative of the gesture, Meg nodded and managed a smile back in the argonian's direction. "Thanks," she replied. It certainly helped her confidence that he believed she could do this as well. She knew he would help her; she just didn't wish to be a liability. "Gotcha. It ain' too far... I made a map of the place, had help from a street rat I foun' a few days ago." A bit of warmth could be heard in her voice at the thought of Zahir. "Hm... you should meet him maybe. Bet he'd like ya. Pro'ly could learn how t'sneak better from you too..."

She quieted down, concentrating on the mental image in her mind; she hadn't brought her actual map along for fear of noise. Thankfully her memory of the route turned out to be quite on track, and it wasn't long before she had lead them to the dusty streets of the market, the shops and stalls empty and seeming almost a ghost town now that no one was out.

"Over there," she whispered, pointing in the direction of the nearest guardpost. Light could be seen escaping from it, showing there was at least one guard around.

Jaraleet smiled at Meg, glad to see that he had managed to cheer her up. “Hmmm, maybe you can introduce me once we are done with this.” He said, chuckling softly before nodding when she quieted down and doing the same. He followed her through the winding streets, glad that Meg knew her way around the city. Jaraleet himself hadn’t left the Three Crowns too much, especially after the failed attempt at capturing Nblec for the Poncy Man believing it too big of a risk for him to take a stroll through the city streets after that had happened, and as such he didn’t knew his way around Gilane all that well.

“Good job Meg.” He said when she pointed him in the direction of the guardpost, his eyes instinctively drawn to the light that escaped from the building. “Now comes the tricky part. First we need to assess the number of potential hostiles within the building, second we need to find an appropriate entrance for us to sneak in. Ideally something that wouldn’t cause any alarm whatsoever or draw someone’s attention.” The Argonian said confidently, his eyes now scanning the building for any potential entry points.

“Come, let us move a bit closer. See if we can pinpoint how many guards there are by the number of voices.” The assassin said before he began making his way to the guardpost, sticking to the shadows and making sure that his footsteps wouldn’t cause any sound.

Licking her now dry lips, Meg gave Jaraleet a small nod before she followed after the argonian, her own steps lithe and soundless. Now that she was feeling more confident and there was a sort of plan underway, her breathing had evened out, as did the beating of her heart. She crept forward, listening intently, her eyes narrowing as she looked up, remembering the lookout she had to shoot on her first mission in Gilane. And as expected, she could see one up there. She nudged Jaraleet slightly and nodded in an upward direction before looking closer to the ground.

Up ahead she could hear the muffled sound of talk coming from the guardpost, but it was hard to pinpoint exactly how many there were without heading closer. She could however catch sight of one entrance due to light from within trickling onto the street. For a moment there was a disruption to that light, a shadow passing before it that was obviously not her or Jaraleet.

"Two so far," she whispered, confident the argonian had seen the same shadow. "Might be an entrance on the other side."

Jaraleet nodded to Meg’s words, moving his eyes to the lookout. “Normally I’d say it’d be safer to get rid of the lookout.” He whispered to Meg, turning to look at her. “But, as things stand, it’d be best to avoid any action that could further stir the Dwemer. Let’s try and see if we can find a blind spot and check the other side of the building.” The assassin said, shaking his head slightly. “It’d be ideal if we could get into the building and find some documents or, failing that, eavesdrop on a conversation.” The Argonian mused, trying to think of the best way to approach the situation.

"Think I know how," Meg replied after a moment of silence. It was hard to remember everything exactly, but from the time she had spent wandering with Zahir, she felt confident enough. "This way." She gave a slight tug to his arm before turning around and silently heading back in the direction they had come from. However she hadn't walked much further before she stopped and turned into a side pathway that was, for the most part, simply created due to the influx of shops. She stepped lightly, trying not to brush against the walls.

When she finally reached another small intersection, she paused, looking back to see if Jaraleet was following her. From here on if they turned once more, she was fairly certain that path would lead the two to the other side of the guard post.

Jaraleet nodded when Meg said that she knew how to get closer to the building without being detected, waiting in silence for her to continue. He opened his mouth to speak when she told him to follow her but whatever he was going to say was forgotten when he felt Meg giving his arm a slight tug, causing him to let out a soft chuckle and to smile at the Nord woman before he began following her.

He caught up to Meg shortly after she had stopped at the intersection to wait for him, motioning with his head to let her know that it was ok to continue forward. It took them only a few more moments to reach the other side of the guard post through the path that Meg had chosen and, from the looks of it, it seemed like the lookout wouldn’t be able to spot them if they approached from there. “Excellent Meg, that was great.” The Argonian whispered to her, giving her shoulder a light squeeze and smiling at her.

Meg had a hard time not beaming up at the argonian. She felt accomplished, and any doubt that was still lingering fell away to dust. "Thanks," she whispered under her breath before looking back at the guard post. Now that they were closer, it was possible to distinguish three separate voices coming from within. Two of them were male, the third was a female.

At least five then, she thought to herself. There could have been more who were silent, but she wasn't sure about that. Not too far ahead of them, as she had suspected, was another entrance, one that seemed to have seen more use throughout the years. Looking to Jaraleet, she raised her eyebrows, silently wondering if they should risk it and enter.

Jaraleet smiled once more in lieu of a spoken answer when Meg gave him her thanks before turning his attention back to the guardpost. It quickly became apparent to the Argonian that, at best, it’d be a challenging endeavor to infiltrate the building without being detected by the soldiers inside. And yet, they had no other option if they wanted to locate Daro’Vasora. If they spent any more time trying to gather info from gossiping guards on patrol a myriad of things could happen that’d render any possibility of locating the Khajiit woman into a hopeless endeavor.

Letting out a sigh he turned back to look at Meg, not surprised to find her staring at him, eyebrows raised, with an expression of doubt. He nodded in her direction, mouthing a silent ‘we have no other choice’ instead of speaking. There were too many variables they couldn’t account for to risk talking now, even in whispers.

Once he was sure that Meg had understood him, Jaraleet began making his way towards the guard post. Making sure to stick to the shadows and stepping carefully so as to not cause any sounds that could alert the guards inside.

Meg was quick to follow the argonian, and soon enough they had reached the back door. Casting a glance about and not seeing anyone nearby, Meg took hold of the door handle and carefully tested it to see if it was locked. Surprisingly it wasn't, though perhaps that was simply due to the guards here being on patrol and the curfew having made then lax. As she pushed the door open, there was a slight squeaking sound from the old hinges; she froze in mid action and waited, listening for any sound of movement from the other side of the door. While the talking inside continued though, she couldn't actually hear any other sound.

Somewhat emboldened, she opened the door further, peeking inside. Aside from a desk and a few chairs, there seemed to be nothing unusual. There were certainly no people here, but Meg could see there was a door in the far wall that probably led into another room or a hallway. Carefully letting herself inside, she quickly moved to the side to make room for her partner in crime.

When Meg moved to the side to make room for him, Jaraleet quickly followed into the building. He stopped for a second, waiting for any sound from the guards that might indicate that they had noticed when he had entered. Another second passed and when the only sound that he heard was that of the soldier’s idle chatter, Jaraleet let out a silent sigh before nodding in Meg’s direction.

Pointing at the door in the far wall, Jaraleet quietly made his way to the door that led further into the building. He opened the door and, much like he had done when he had entered after Meg, the Haj-Eix paused for a second to verify that the Dwemer in the building were none the wiser to their presence in the guardpost. Reassured of the guard’s continued ignorance, Jaraleet took a moment to scan the area where he was. He stood in a long hallway, with multiple doors through it’s length that probably led to the different rooms, with the corresponding amenities, that the guards would need for their job, along with the many doors, nestled about halfway through the hallway, was a flight of stairs that led to a second floor.

Moving slightly away from the door to give Meg enough room for her to enter, Jaraleet waited for the Nord woman to join him before pointing at the stairs. “Chances are that there’s an office for whoever is in charge here in there. If we get lucky, we might find a document or two that can point us in the right direction.” The Argonian mouthed silently, hoping that Meg would be able to understand him.

Meg wasn't an expert at reading lips per say, but spending two months around argonians had its perks, and along with her own common sense, she could figure out what he was telling her. Whatever information they needed to seek was most probably up those stairs. Her eyes narrowed as she thought it over.

"Someone'll need t'keep watch," she mouthed back, more than certain the argonian would be able to understand her. "I'mma see what I can fin'." She figured if worse came to worse and someone had to take care of a guard, Jaraleet would do it much more efficiently than her. She wasn't exactly silent when using her sword; stealth killing was what she used her bow for.

With that said Meg started up the stairs, carefully placing her feet as she made her way up so that barely a sound could be heard. Once again, even though she knew there probably weren't any, her eyes darted about for traps that she was used to encountering in crypts and ruins. As she reached the landing, she paused before another door. Reaching out for the handle, she tried to open it but found it was locked.

Turning around, she looked over at Jaraleet. "I'mma have t'pick it open," she mouthed.

Jaraleet nodded silently in agreement when Meg mouthed that someone would need to stay behind to watch for any guards that might suddenly come and, if necessary, to dispose them before they could alarm the others. As Meg started going up the stairs, Jaraleet moved to one of the corners at the end of the hallway so that, should any of the guards enter, they wouldn’t be able to notice him immediately, unless more than one guard passed through the hallway at the same time, but which would allow him to easily keep an eye on Meg.

He silently cursed when Meg told him that she’d need to pick open the door. Pausing for a second, he moved to where she was and nodded his head in agreement. “It’d be best if we were both here in case someone hears what you are doing to the door.” The Argonian mouthed and then turned his back to Meg so that he could face the hallway in case someone decided to go to the second floor.

Good idea. Just like with the previous time her group had to break in someplace, it was best to be cautious. Last time they'd had more than a couple of people- this time it was much different. Confident that Jaraleet had her back, Meg pulled her lockpick kit from its pouch and carefully went about the task of unlocking the door. She was much more focused than her time in the wagon with the chest, and though it took approximately the same time for the lock to click open, she hadn't wasted any picks. Allowing herself a brief smile, she put her tools away and placed a hand on the handle, carefully opening the door.

It was rather dark, the only light coming from the moon through a window by the far wall. Meg let a breath of relief- there was no one in there. It seemed like an office of sorts, once again much like the one Daro'Vasora had broken into. There was one large desk, a few chairs and some bookshelves that seemed more empty than in use. Meg turned around to give Jaraleet a nod. "I'm goin' in," she mouthed before turning around and carefully stepping into the room.

She left the bookshelves and made her way straight to the desk, figuring that would be where any sort of information would be stored. She tried the drawers, half expecting them to be locked, but it seemed this time she was lucky and they slid open easily. Meg pulled out a couple of dossiers and laid them on the desk, opening the thinner one and looking inside. There were a few sheets of paper including one letter. Unable to read it in the dim light, the Nord headed closer to the window, squinting as she made out the words. She wasn’t the most lettered person around, but even she could recognize Daro’Vasora’s name among the words scribbled on the paper.

Feeling something akin to trepidation, she carefully returned the two dossiers save the letter to the drawer. Once the were placed exactly as she remembered them, Meg returned to the landing, closing the door behind her.

“This,” she breathed, holding the letter out for the argonian.

“Good, come, let us get out of here. We can read the letter once we are outside and not at risk of being found by the guards.” The Argonian whispered as he took the letter from Meg. He led the way as they sneaked out of the guardpost, using the same route they had used to enter in the first place. Once they were outside, he continued walking away from the building until they could no longer hear any chatter from the soldiers inside.

“Alright, now let’s see what we’ve got here.” He said, folding open the letter. He took a few seconds to read its content, letting out a sigh when he was done. “Sithis damn it all, they are holding Daro’Vasora in the Governor’s Palace.” Jaraleet said as he turned to look at Meg.

“The…” Meg didn’t continued speaking as she tried to process the words. The governor had taken Daro’Vasora? But why? It was only a moment more of thinking before her eyes widened and she looked to Jaraleet. “‘Course. They think she’s the one who killed ‘im, Nblec.” Her eyes darkened as she frowned, and her words sounded rather bitter as they came out. “Whoever’s the culprit, they sure made things shitty for others.” She could feel anger rising within her once more; closing her eyes, she forced herself to breathe slowly in order to calm down.

“We need t’get her outta there,” she finally added. She seemed a little less angered now, but there was a dangerous look in her eyes.

“It is a very real possibility, the Governor would need a scapegoat for Nblec’s death to show that they have the matter under control.” Jaraleet said, keeping his tone neutral. He had noticed the way Meg’s eyes had darkened and the bitter tone in her voice. He’d need to be careful to ensure that she wouldn't make a mistake and get herself hurt, a feeling that only intensified when she said that they needed to get Daro’Vasora out of the palace.

“Meg.” He said quietly as he moved closed to her, placing both of his hands on her shoulders. “I know that Daro’Vasora is a friend to you, and I know how much you treasure your friends.” The Argonian began carefully, trying to not say anything that could enrage the Nord woman even further. “And you are right, we need to get her out of there….but there’s nothing we can do just with the two of us.” He said softly to her, shaking his head slightly.

“We’ll go to the palace and scout the area, ok?” Jaraleet said softly, looking at Meg directly in the eyes. “Once we do that, we’ll return to the Three Crowns so we can plan a course of action with the others.”

Meg returned his gaze with her own. She was silent but she nodded in agreement. Yes she was angry, but she was no fool, she knew very well that just the two of them alone would not be able to do anything. A little information went a long way and whatever they learned of the governor's palace she assumed would be useful.

"Let's go then," she muttered under her breath, finally letting her thoughts be heard. "The faster the others know, the better. Sora doesn' deserve t'be locked up wherever she is." There was no way she could remove the crease from her forehead, but the bitterness in her eyes was finally replaced by compliance. "I'mma follow you."

“Good, good.” Jaraleet said, smiling at Meg. He thought about saying something more but decided against it; he could tell that Meg was seething with frustration, it’d be best to not say anything that could, potentially, upset her further. “Come, you know Gilane’s streets better than me so you lead the way.” The Argonian said, following the Nord’s woman lead once she began making her way through the streets.

It took a few minutes but, eventually, they were staring directly at the palace from which Governor Rourken ruled Gilane from. It didn’t took Jaraleet long to ascertain that, with how little their group was, any sort of attack to the palace would be a suicide. No, if they had any hope of rescuing Daro’Vasora, they’d have to take a more subtle approach to their rescue. He turned to look at Meg, motioning with his head towards the direction they had come from. “Come, let’s go.” He said quietly.

"Are you sure?" she replied softly, her eyes still wandering over the palace. It seemed like such a waste of time to not even try to get a little closer and perhaps weed out a few points of entries they could remember for the rest of the group. Coming all the way here and leaving with nothing to show for all their efforts wasn't sitting well with the Nord woman. "I migh' be able t'see a li'l more if I sneak up ahead..." Her voice trailed as she eyed the palace as well as the shadows she could blend in.

"Maybe tha' way," she muttered under her breath, taking a few cautious steps forward.

“Meg, don’t be a…” The Argonian hissed, but it was too late already. The few steps forward that the Nord woman had taken had already gotten her spotted by one of the attentive lookouts that guarded the palace. Panic settled in his chest as he noticed the guard aiming at Meg with their rifle and, before he even realized what he was doing, Jaraleet was bolting in Meg’s direction, not caring if the other guards heard him.

Two things happened in short order afterwards. Jaraleet reached Meg and tackled her to the ground and, but a second afterwards, the sharp crack of a rifle’s discharge echoed throughout the night and, along with it, Jaraleet felt pain blossom in his body.

The wind was knocked out of her as she was tackled to the ground, and by the time Meg felt as if she could breathe again, she could felt wetness dripping on her, hot and sticky... blood. Eyes widening she tried to push herself to a seated position but found herself being unable to.

And that was when she realized it was the argonian blocking her... bleeding on her. A sharp breath escaped Meg as she scrambled back, hands shaking. "J-Jaraleet- you're-" Her breath rate was increasing by the second. "You're- you're- you're hurt!" Panic was settling in as she crawled back to the argonian. "Oh gods no, not again- We- we gotta get you outta here." She couldn't even tell what had hit him, especially with hardly any light source.

“You...you’re safe. Good, good.” Jaraleet said weakly, trying to stand up again as he willed his mind to ignore the pain. He knew that it was for naught, even if he could get himself to not focus on the pain the wound would still kill him if he didn’t get some sort of medical attention soon. “We….we don’t have much time. We need to leave now, if they bring in any more of their rifles to bear in on us...I’m afraid that we’ll be done for.” He said, finally getting his body to stand up.

It proved to be a futile effort as, not a second after he had managed that, he fell onto his knees. “Help...help me get away.” He said, shaking his head slightly. If Meg were anyone else, he’d have told them to leave him behind but he knew the Nord woman….saying something like that would be something that she’d merely ignore.

Shit, shit, shit, shit! Meg scrambled to her feet, barely able to contain her emotions as she hurried to help the argonian stay on his feet. All your fault, all your damn fault. She wanted to cry but held back her tears, knowing they would only make matters worse; she had already created the worst possible situation because of her stubbornness- anything more and she wouldn't be able to forgive herself. There was nothing she could do about the clenching in her stomach though, nor the ever growing lump in her throat.

"I gotchu," she muttered between gritted teeth once she had had his arm over her shoulder and her own around him. She could still feel the blood seeping from him- Divines, please don' let him die- and it only forced her to quicken her pace. Talos, Mara, anyone, please, please don' let 'em find us... Her legs moved faster than her thoughts, or at least it seemed that way to her, though she had no choice but to pause after a few minutes, needing to catch her breath.

The alarms went up within seconds and soon the walls were swarming with guards. Magelights went up and soon the entirety of the plaza around the Governor’s Palace was bright as day. Sevari watched it all happen impassively. If it were up to him, he would have left them both to die in whatever idiotic endeavor they were trying at, but at this point the guards catching up to them and taking them into custody would do more harm than good. He breathed in and then out, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

He stepped out from behind an alleyway entrance, Dwemer carbine held loose in one hand at his side and the thumb of his other hooked in his belt. He looked the Nord up and down with Jaraleet bleeding himself all over her. “Get the fuck over here.” He said, “Follow.”

It was a wordless affair, Sevari taking them through the streets quickly through the alleyways. Finally, they were at the slums bordering the dock district and standing in front of a dingy shack of a house. Sevari went to work at the locks as quickly as he could, throwing the door open and taking Jaraleet away from the Nord girl with no amount of gentleness.

Sevari laid Jaraleet out in the table, leaving to retrieve some supplies to try at Jaraleet’s wounds. Once he returned, he immediately set to work, cleaning the area around Jaraleet’s wound after some amount of trying to feel exactly where it was through all the blood. It had to have been somewhat bad given the amount. “Your breathing is fine, I take it. You’re not dead yet.” Sevari frowned, “Lung wounds are a death sentence. Luckily for you, your friend only got you shot in the stomach.”

He shot an annoyed glance Meg’s way before he turned back to his work, grabbing up a long blade, the bullet was no doubt still in there with the lack of a huge exit wound. “What’s your name.” Sevari asked without turning to the Nord girl, “If you’re going to force my hand into taking gutshot Argonians into my hideout, I’d at least like to know the person who gave me the privilege.”

"Meg... Megana Corvus." The Nord's voice betrayed copious amounts of uncertainty and shame. She had no idea who this person was and whether she should have followed him, but he hadn't looked anything like a dwemer, or any familiar race for that matter. Did he perhaps know them or their group? Maybe he was one of the Poncy Man's men? In any case, it made quite a bit more sense to take her chances and follow the man than get caught by the dwemer guards.

Somewhat hesitant, she edged a little closer to the table so that she could she see her friend. Her face fell even further when she caught glimpse of all the blood. He's righ'... I got him shot... Casting a glance in the stranger's direction, unsure of whether she'd receive an answer but still needing to know, she spoke up once more.

"Why... why did you help us? Who’re you?"

“A friend.” Sevari said, sighing just before he slowly inserted the blade into the wound. To the Argonian’s credit, he barely flinched. Luckily enough, the bullet hadn’t penetrated too far as he felt something hard at the end of the long, flat-tipped tool. “If you want a good chance of dying old, keep it at that.”

Sevari began to twist and pry, working the metal bullet from the wound. He heard Jaraleet hiss silently and a small smile crept upon Sevari’s lips. So there was some ability to feel pain in there. After a few moments of working, the bullet came free, rolling off of Jaraleet’s side and then plopping heavily on the table. Immediately, the wound began to drool blood. Sevari moved quickly, sprinkling fire salts and some other black, granular powder onto the wound. He grasped up the metal tool again and a flame sparked to life on his fingertip until the needle was red and glowing with heat. At the same moment he touched it to the wound, the fire salts began sizzling and popping. “There, it’s cauterized.” He handed Jaraleet the gauze to wrap around himself, “Your turn.”

He leaned on the table after turning around, crossing his arms and looking from Jaraleet to Megana. “To what foolish endeavor do I owe the pleasure?”

“Reconnaissance.” The Argonian replied as he moved to a sitting position and began wrapping the gauze around himself. “As I’m sure you are already aware, one of our group was captured, Daro’Vasora, the current leader of our little band as it stands.” He explained to Sevari, shaking his head slightly.

“We learned that she was being held in the Governor’s Palace so we decided to scout it out, try and find any entry points. And, well, I’m sure you already know what happened next.”

“Oh, don’t I.” He looked Jaraleet up and down and then to Meg, who he simply shook his head at. He walked to the door and grabbed up his carbine, walking back to the fireplace and plopping down in the seat next to it. “If you were anybody else, Argonian, I’d have let you bleed out in the streets and your little girl here to the same fate. Tell me why I shouldn’t just end it for you both and be on my way.”

“I spoke to her, you know? Her and Latro in the Governor’s Palace. That fucking Reachman prick forced me into this predicament. They both strike me as people who wouldn’t take kindly to two of their stupid friends getting caught and then tortured for information about their other friends.” Sevari frowned at Jaraleet, nodding to Meg, “You might have a high pain threshold, Jaraleet, but do you think she does? Latro and Daro’Vasora were put into my custody. It makes them safe, you two fucking fools.”

Meg had remained quiet for the most part, but her anger rose when she heard the last bit of what this man had to say. "An' how in Talos' name were we bloody s'posed t'know they were safe, huh?" She glared at him, forgetting her meekness and grief for the moment. "All we fuckin' knew was that she was missin'! We didn' even know Latro was caught too! What kinda person would just stay inside an' not do somethin'?!" The Nord paused to catch her breath before continuing. “Who even are you?” She looked to Jaraleet, green eyes rather piercing. “Have you met him before?”

Jaraleet remained silent as Sevari spoke, knowing full well the truth of his words. The particular image of Meg, captured by the Dwemer and subjected to torture sent a chill down his spine and further dissuaded him from talking. However, as Meg added her piece to the conversation, the Argonian was snapped out of his silence. “As much as I can agree with the points raised by you both.” He began speaking, careful to pick his words to try and not get either Sevari or Meg any more worked up than they already were. “I have to side with Meg on this particular bit. We didn’t even knew that Latro was captured, and if you had told us something, which I’m sure with your abilities would have been all too easy for you, nothing of this would have happened.” The Argonian assassin continued.

“And, yes, I’ve met him before once Meg.” Jaraleet replied to Meg, letting out a sigh. “Sevari here...much like us, he is stuck in the little political game that is being waged in Hammerfell currently. Unfortunately for him, he was forced into the Dwemer’s service but I can assure you that he holds no love for them.” The Haj-Eix said, shaking his head slightly. “Isn’t that right Sevari? Otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation now, would we?”

Sevari looked to Meg then Jaraleet and back again. His eyes were anything but calm, betraying a contempt for the situation at hand and the people before him. He didn’t have a problem with them, truth be told, but they were dangerously close to mucking up everything he had worked at the past month. The past twenty years, even. To Jaraleet’s question about his loyalties, he simply shook his head once. “No.”

He sighed, “I can assure you that I am doing everything with what little power I have in this to make sure I don’t tangled in my own web I’ve weaved and that Latro’s companions don’t meet an end he wouldn’t like.” He nodded to Meg, “We’re in agreement that me, being his only friend where he and his girl is now, having to wrangle you like children is very not conducive to keeping all of us at arm’s length from each other. As it should be, as it’s the safest for both me and all of you.”

“Latro and Jaraleet are my ties to your little party of wrenches in the cogs. I don’t need anymore than that.” Sevari frowned at Jaraleet, “I was going to find you and tell you of the news, but I guess you’re getting too rusty, assassin. Did your mentor never tell you the greatest weapon is patience?”

Jaraleet let out a sigh, shaking his head slightly. “You are right.” He replied to Sevari’s comment. There was no point in contradicting the Ohmes-Raht when his words carried the truth. “But there’s no point in dwelling on that right now.” The Argonian continued after a moment of silence. “Mistakes were made, that is true, but what matters now is that we move forward and try to recuperate, or compensate depending on the case, from them.” He said, shaking his head slightly.

"We should pro'ly go now, if yer able to." Meg sounded rather expressionless as she spoke, looking at the argonian for only the smallest moment before averting her eyes. She hated this, feeling small and ignorant in a place where so much seemed to be happening. There was really nothing more left in her mind to do than head back out and get Jaraleet healed.

“I think it’s best you do.” Sevari said, still leaning on the table and making no move to walk them out. The room basked in the ambient glow of the fireplace lent his face a foreboding piece of shadow, “Jaraleet. Latro may be gone, but I still have work that needs doing that I can not carry out on my own. When the time comes, answer. Alone.”

Jaraleet stared directly at Sevari’s eyes, unafraid, before nodding. “I will.” The Haj-Eix said, standing up from where he had been sitting albeit not without letting a slight grunt of pain as he moved. “Come, let's leave Meg.”

Meg nodded and made her way over to Jaraleet. Despite her glum mood that almost seemed to radiate off of her, she wasn't about to be useless. "Lean on me," she muttered to Jaraleet. She hardly thought he'd be able to move as easily without some sort of help. Once she was sure he was right and ready to leave, she started for the, pausing at the exit only for a second to utter a "Thanks for your help." It grated her to say those words, but he had helped them tremendously.

And with that, she lead Jaraleet out into the night once more.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Daro'Vasora: Not gonna lie, I was kinda wary 'bout her first? She had a way of talkin' tha'... well, I'mma say snarky. But when she an' Latro came back in the ruins, I was so damn happy t'see she was doin' a'ight. An' the same's for when she came for me in Anvil. She's a good person, a leader even though it's a weigh' on her. She's my friend, an' I'mma see whoever tries t'hurt her see's the pointy end of m'sword.

Brynja: She's my sister from Skyrim. I gotta say, she's the firs' person roun' here tha' I truly felt close to. She kinda remin's me of Ma, or what Pa used t'say 'bout Ma. Strong, beau'iful, brave. She can be a wee bit scary but only 'cause she cares. When I don' see her 'round, I miss her even though she's not gone long... I guess that's kinda silly, eh? *chuckles sheepishly*

Latro: My drinkin' buddy! He's such a nice fellow, very pretty too, prettier than any girl. I'mma say I'm happy he foun' his way back t'us... it had been awful thinkin' maybe the dwemer had gotten him in Imperial City... But anyway, 'nough of those thoughts. I'm glad t'see he an' Sora are more'n just friends. They both need someone like that.

Judena: I just love her. She is just so... nice. Kind. Friendly? Just, everythin' ya wan' in a friend. I feel I learned lotsa stuff from her, but besides that... just bein' 'round her makes m'feel like I can be better, do more. She's inspirin', an' even if she's got problems, she doesn' let them bring her down. She even got Durantel t'stop bein' a prick t'her... that's amazin'.

Alim: Now here's another one of our good lookin' boys. More t'him than that though! He's sneaky like me, an' he's got more charm'n most people. He's also almost always gotta smile on his face, 'least whenever I see him. It's kinda endearin'.

Solandil: Honestly dunno much 'bout him? He's a real quiet one, an' strange even among other Altmer I feel. 'Least he doesn' walk round lookin' like he thinks the rest've us're scum.

Anifaire: It's sometimes easy t'forget she's an Altmer. Aye, she looks like one, but she acts so different than Sol or Durantel. She's so... shy! Like a wee li'l girl hidin' behind her ma's skirt. I'mma say one thin' though, she's gotta be brave to be stickin' aroun' still. I hope t'talk some more to her!

Raelynn: Hmm... I dunno what t'think here, t'be honest. She's kinda a mystery t'me? She seems like most've those rich folk who'd rather a peasant not walk too close in case they got dirty, nose in the air lookin' down at others... but then she's still with us, so I'm pro'ly wrong? I dunno... She was nice 'nough t'tell me 'bout the job her father had though, an' now I got a buncha septims.

Jaraleet: He's my friend and I like him. I don' care what the others' think 'bout him. I mean... We've all done stuff we know ain' right... right? I don' think he's a bad person like he says he is. A bad person wouldn' say they're bad. 'Sides, he's always been nice an' friendly t'me, an' he listens t'me when I need t'talk or cry or even jus' wanna have a drink. Uhm... Yeah. *fiddles about with tunic and falls silent*

Calen: A fellow Nord! I dunno him as well as I wanna, but the little I see of him, he's a real nice person. Shame he got hurt in the mission.

Gregor: I... dunno. He scares me. T'be honest, I kinda feel bad 'bout bein' scared of him, ain' like he talked anythin' but nice t'me. An' he's friends (I think?) with Jaraleet. It's... weird. He makes me feel like I'mma child who doesn't know her nose from her ears-no, not feel, I'm sure I would believe it if he told me so. He knows how t'talk, silver tongue an' all. I feel he's dangerous- Jaraleet didn' want me t'talk to him about... somethin', an' now I get why. Still... at least he's in our group. It'd be scarier if it was the other way.

Rhona: Haven' seen much of her, but when I did, she was really pleasan'! She enchanted Ma's armour for me... now I don' havta worry too much 'bout it. I hope she's doin' well... she was with us in our mission in Gilane and did a damn good job distracin' the guards. Real brave, tha' one.

Nanine: We haven't talked much 'side from when we first arrived at Gilane. 'Twas nice though. She's seen much more'n I have, tha's for sure.

Mazrah: I don' know her well 'side what've seen in the party, but even that li'l bit tells me she's a force t'be reckoned with! She's so open an' friendly an' maybe a little too forward? But so kin'. She just met me an' was happy t'give advice. I really wanna know her better, I feel we could be great friends! *grins*

Shakti: Another one I really wanna know better. The little I've seen of her just has me thinkin' she's sweet like a sweet roll. So eager t'listen an' learn of new things. I'm glad she's free. Someone with so much life shouldn' be stuck in a cell.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

A Profitable Misadventure

By Greenie and Stormy

---

5th Midyear - Morning
Salosoix Hawkford’s Residence

Meg stood outside the Hawkford residence, feeling slightly out of her depth. It wasn't as if she'd never visited a wealthy person's house in the prospect of a job, but in those days that seemed so long ago, she'd had a partner who could speak much more eloquently than she could. J'raij had always had something of a silver tongue that charmed others, where Meg's words simply told tales of how she was a country bumpkin. She had at least made sure that her clothes were clean and wrinkle free, and she'd actually combed her hair back, hoping to make a favourable impression. Goodness knew she needed the coin. She had to admit she wasn't expecting to be approached by Raelynn, but the thought of delving into familiar territory was much too tempting to refuse. With Zahir's knowledge of the city and a little help from those passing by, she had found her way easily enough.

Taking a deep breath, Meg counted to three before knocking on the door. And then, she waited.

The door was opened by Zhaib, the imposing Redguard bodyguard of Salosoix. His eyes fell down upon the young girl in the doorway. He raised an eyebrow - he had started to get rather arrogant the longer that he worked with Sal.

“Who is it?” came the voice of Salosoix himself - who was sitting at his desk, as always, with a quill in one hand, and a glass of water in the other, he gazed out as far as he could see. His spectacles were sitting on the tip of his nose and he narrowed his eyes as if it would help him to focus.

“Some girl,” said Zhaib, very matter-of-factly. “Well, bring her in Zhaib. She’s here for a reason, don’t make the girl wait for you to size her up!” He sighed and shook his head with a laugh of disbelief. The Redguard sidestepped to let the girl in, before closing the door behind her.

Meg entered the house, relieved that she wouldn't be deliberated about while standing about awkwardly in the heat. She was tempted to look around at her surroundings, but she remembered being told that it was always best to seem impartial when taking a job. So, she rested her eyes on the man with the spectacles instead. "Yer-" she paused before attempting to speak in a clearer fashion "- You are Salosoix, righ'? Raelynn sent me yer way. She said that y'might have a job for me. I'm Megana Corvus, one've her companions from Cyrodiil."

“Ahh, my Raelynn did? Well then - you can be my esteemed guest this morning, in that case!” He said with a genuine smile, a tension unwinding from his posture as he nodded in her direction. “Forgive me, Megana, but I’m not sure of your skillset you see - I have a number of things that I could have someone take care of…. But I’m not sure where to start you.” He shrugged as he spoke and waited for her to share something about herself. At first glance, she didn’t appear to be much - but it was often the small and unassuming women could get into all kinds of trouble. The kind of trouble that paid well. There was an instant spark behind the eyes of this Nord too, that Salosoix detected immediately as perseverance and a desire to do good.

Meg had honestly expected a stuffy man, and perhaps even a scary man, truth be told. Seeing Salosoix's friendly and open demeanor put her a little at ease as well- the knots in her stomach that she hadn't even realized were there began to unravel as a smile found its way on her face.

"Well," she started, "I'm somethin' of a treasure hunter, y'could say." Yes, that most definitely sounded better than a thief. "Before comin' 'round here, for the most part I'd be headin' down into ruins and findin' artefacts to sell." She thought a little more. "'Sides that, I'm pretty good with a sword an' bow, used t'go bounty huntin' before decidin' to go after treasure instead." Waiting for a reaction, she hoped she hadn't overselled herself, or worse, the opposite.

Salosoix smiled at her story and nodded along as she spoke, his guard down - she was not a threat to him. In fact, he was largely enjoying her company, indicated by the fact he had not broken eye contact, and was smiling so much that the crows feet around his eyes were joyfully prominent. “Ahh, you're a girl after my own heart - when I was a lad I dreamed of being a treasure hunter. Alas, I never did master combat, only diplomacy and so I settled to trade in antiquities instead. Still, I got a few rare opportunities here and there to see some action.” He sighed and gazed off into the distance before his brought himself back to the moment, his smile fading and a colder exterior presented itself.

“There is actually something I'm wanting to get my hands on, it's a sword… A small sword, in fact it would be perfect for the dainty hands of a woman…” He stood from his seat and moved over to a chest of drawers in the corner of the room, taking from the top drawer a fine shortsword, which he held in his two hands. “It's much like this, in fact I believe it to be the…. Twin sister of this blade, I'd very much like to add it to my collection but it seems as though another pesky merchant has already gotten their hands on it, and that hardly seems fair, don't you think?” Salosoix carefully placed the blade down in front of Megana, waving his hand across it's length. “Wouldn't you agree the swords should be together?”

Meg looked down at the blade, admiring its beauty. It was certainly better than her own sword, though she wouldn't trade hers for the world as it had been her mother's; she took care of that blade as if it was the highest quality ebony blade that gold could buy.

As for Salosoix's words, despite the fact the fact the he was eloquent and almost pleasant to hear -Meg was reminded of J'raij's silver words for a moment- she wasn't quite sure if she agreed with that sentiment. One blade was enough for a person who did not even engage in combat. However, her opinion on the matter was neither here nor there; he was going to pay her for her services and that was what mattered.

"This merchant," she started, looking away from the sword and up at Salosoix instead, "I'm assumin' the sword's with him? So you'll be wantin' me to take it from him."

The elderly Breton narrowed his eyes and gazed off into the distance, thinking about it. A long sigh followed. “I suppose that is what I'm asking, yes,” he responded with a smile. “I believe that it will be moving soon, as cargo on a caravan heading deeper into Hammerfell. I really don't want that caravan to leave with my sword.” He spoke with such confidence that the sword was already his, and once again smiled, but this time it was a half-smile. “I don't really need to know how you plan to get it, but if you can somehow bring it to me - there are one hundred septims with your name on them. What say you, Megana Corvus?” A glimmer of mischief appeared in his eyes, and he relaxed into his chair - the half smile growing into a smirk.

A hundred septims? Surely the job was worth more than that. Meg's eyes followed the older man as he sat down in his chair, though her mind was occupied with thinking the proposition. J'raij had always managed to haggle his way to getting a better price or pay. On the other hand, a hundred septims were better than the near none she had right now. If she made a fuss, it could very well be that he'd simply tell her he didn't need her services anymore. Right now, she was the one in need, not him.

Maybe if she got this job done, he'd find even more lucrative avenues for her to pursue?

She finally nodded, making her decision. "Alrigh' then," she finally replied. " I'll take the job. I'll be needin' some details though, his name, how he looks if ya know it, that sorta thing."

“He looks like a merchant, of course!” laughed Sal, almost mockingly - before thinking better of himself, she was only young. “He's a Redguard, older fellow, has a bit of a crooked walk and uses a cane.” He hoped the description was enough, knowing that there weren't many limping merchants in Gilane. “He's an easy target probably, but that means you might have to use your smarts over a sword… Sound good?” he asked with a friendly smile, even if behind it he was masking a whirlwind of turmoil at that moment. His patience for the girl in the room was growing thinner. “I’ll trust your judgement, just bring me that blade, Megana. There might be more than a handful of coin in it for you.”

He had judged a disappointment on her face, and thought better than to be cheap with a woman. He had jewels aplenty he could pay her in, afterall.

Mentally noting down all he was offering as a description, Meg gave the older man a nod. "Soun's good," she replied. "I'll get to findin' that sword for you then." If she needed a little extra help, she figured she could retain help from her young street savvy friend Zahir; surely he would be familiar with an older, limping merchant, right? "I'll be takin' my leave then."

---

The small reprieve from the heat was lost as Meg exited the Hawkford Estate. Waving a hand before her face, she didn’t waste time in seeking out the shade of the buildings and stalls of the marketplace where she had asked Zahir to wait for her, hoping he hadn't wandered away too far that she would have to wait for for him. The last thing she wanted was for the caravan to have already started its journey. The idea of stealing from the man was up for debate as well, but the pay was worth a little risk. It wasn't as if she hadn't done anything dangerous or questionable lately…

Trying to ignore the tinge of guilt that still accompanied her for not listening to Jaraleet the previous night, Meg searched through those passing by, looking for the familiar face of Zahir so they could finally head off. Her breath was quick and she could feel her heart beating quickly. Nervousness? It would make sense, she hadn’t been on a venture like this in over a year. Calm down, she ordered herself, sounding rather stern in her own mind. Y’know what t’do, done it many times b’fore.

There was a tug on her arm, causing Meg to look down. “There you are,” she grumbled. “Talos knows how long I’ve been waitin’ here for ya.” It was indeed Zahir who was busy munching on an apple, seeming rather relaxed and not too worried about the Nord’s weak ire.

“It was boring just waiting in one place,” he explained. “I got us some apples!” He reached into his pocket and pulled one out for her.

There was still a grumble to Meg’s words, but she forgave him nonetheless; food was a pretty legitimate excuse in her eyes to wander off. “Fine. Thanks.” She deposited it in the satchel hanging to her side before snapping her fingers. “Now, ‘nough of that. We have stuff t’do, Zahir.”

“The rich man gave you a job?” The boy looked at her curiously, perhaps almost hopefully.

"Aye," Meg replied, "an' I'll be needin' your help to find the mark before he ends up givin' us the slip. Let's see if ya really know as much as y'think y'do." She promptly described the merchant in the same words Salosoix had used, hoping for some reaction from Zahir. At the outset there was nothing, until she mentioned the crooked walk and the cane.

"Oh, oh!" Zahir tugged at her arm, ignoring the annoyed looked Meg cast his way. "I think I know who that man is. Zunair At Tushr, my father used to take the fruit cart past one of his shops almost every day. It was quite large- That shop sold carpets I think."

"Shops, huh?" Meg's forehead creased a tad bit as she thought that over. "A'ight, take me t'his shop. I don' think he'll be there, but we can maybe find out where he is a’ least." She was wishing she had kept her bow on her now, just in case. There weren’t supposed to be any casualties, but if push came to shove, it was obviously better to have a ranged weapon on a stealth required mission. Well, there was no way she was heading back to the Three Crowns Hotel now.

The first of Zunair's shops did not yield much information as to the merchant's location. In fact, it seemed to her that perhaps Zahir would get in trouble by asking too many questions. Managing to summon him back to her before matters could turn a little too shady, Meg was then lead to an inn and tavern that proved much more profitable. Drunken men had loose lips, and it wasn't hard to gain information of the merchant's residence.

It was precisely what she expected from a rich old merchant's house, a large house with at least three stories, elaborately carved archways that lead the way into the house, beautiful fountains decorating the courtyard and surrounded by gardens of tall trees and exotic flowers of different shapes and colours, all of which was protected from outsiders by a large wall that ran the expanse of the manor, the gates of which were guarded by a couple of large men in armour. They didn't seem to be Redguard, so Meg was assuming they were mercenaries hired to keep away people like her.

"Go back to the market now," she whispered to Zahir. They were both huddled in a side street that wasn't exactly the safest place to hide from alert mercenaries. "I'mma meet you by the barber's."

"You can't just go by yourself-"

"Don' be an idiot," she snapped at him under her breath. "You'll jus' get in m'way, an’ I don' wanna see you gettin' hurt. Now go."

A look of indignation was followed by one of worry as the boy eyed Meg, not quite expecting the harsh or caring words. A few terse moments passed before he finally nodded. "Fine, but... you better come back quick!" Meg returned a confident smirk in his direction before giving him a nod. He lingered for only a couple of more seconds before hurrying away from the nord in the general direction of the market where he hope he would meet up with her once more.

---

Once he was finally out of her line of sight, Meg looked back to the manor, or rather the walls surrounding it. She knew she wouldn't be able to deceive the guards into letting her in, so she needed another way to get into the walled area. Fortunately for her, her time in Riften was a well of resources for all sorts of shifty, shady business. It took a little while, but her slow and steady creeping finally lead her to realize she had already seen her way in.

Hiring mercenaries was well and good, but if climbing up a tree was all it took to evade them, then Meg didn't believe they deserved whatever coin they were receiving for their service. Or perhaps it was the merchant's own fault for not taking into account that greenery grew and if someone very well wished it, they could easily climb a tree and drop onto his properly. Even so, Meg had to be very careful as she made the climb- a single glance her way and she could be visible-

Shit! She had nearly made it up to where the foliage would finally cover her when her foot got caught on a stray branch, causing her to nearly slip. Snapping her hand forward she grabbed onto the branch she had been meaning to climb to and pulled herself up, heart beating wildly at nearly giving her position away. Holding on tightly, she forced herself to remain still, as if she was merely part of the branch itself. In the distance she could hear footsteps and curious voices.

"I thought I heard somethin’..." Only her eyes moved as the Nord woman tried to make out the position of the man approaching. If she could stop her heart from beating, she probably would have, just as she forced herself to breath slowly and almost noiseless.

"Get back here Drevin! We don't have time to waste behind every little leaf you hear falling to the ground." The man grumbled under his breath before continuing. "Probably just the wind. Come on. Zunair's already itching to leave as soon as possible."

"Fine," the man named Drevin replied. "But one day you'll all regret not listening to me. Just you wait..."

It felt like a lifetime before the men were finally out of Meg's sight and hearing. She was still a little shaky over her mishap as well as a little upset with herself at being so clumsy. Thankfully the men were idiots and hadn't thought of actually investigating the sound, but she couldn't assume everyone would be like that. Well, at least one thing was for sure- the caravan hadn't left yet so the sword still had to be here.

Carefully lowering herself down from the tree onto the wall, she looked down, taking note of the shrubs and various flowering bushes that she could easily hide herself among. After another quick glance, she jumped off the wall, landing on her hands and feet. Ignoring the sting of sharp grit against her palms, Meg followed in the direction the two men has walked off in, and it was to no surprise that they were heading for the merchant's house, where the garden she was traipsing through gave way to a dusty forked pathway, one leading to the doors of the house whilst the other lead out to the gates.

There before the gates stood three large, covered wagons, each of them holding quite a few chests as well as other items of interests including barrels of wine, carpets and sacks filled with... well, Meg couldn't tell from here. What she did know was that her prize was sitting cozy in one of those chests, and if she didn't hurry, she would end up failing her mission.

As soon as the man named Drevin and his doubtful companion entered the house and the doors closed behind them, Meg made a quick dash for the nearest wagon. With no one else there save the horses, she could only assume that those very two were the only ones who were loading the wagons. Dumb luck, she thought to herself, allowing a small breath of relief before looking to the two chests that were sitting among the barrels of wine. Her forehead creased; who would they be so stupid as to keep a prized sword, even protected in a chest, among wine? Gritting her teeth in annoyance, she tiptoed to the edge of the wagon and peeked out. There was still no one there. Good. Meg hopped off back and quickly stepped closer to the next vehicle, peering into the back. This too had mostly food and wines, and it took only a second for her to mentally shun it and rush towards the last wagon, which she know realized was also the largest one.

Yer a fool, Megana Corvus. Even as she leaped in, she could pretty much guarantee this was the wagon she should have approached first. It had three chests and quite a few rolls of carpet that looked very pricey indeed. Righ', let's get this done an' over with- The thought had barely formed when she heard footsteps once more, and this time more than just a couple of sets. There were at least four to five men, with one talking particularly loudly, as if he was the most important person in the world.

Of course, Meg had no time to process this as she realized she was as trapped in this wagon as a skeever in a well. Before panic could set in, she hid behind the closest roll of carpet, barely hiding in time as two men stepped in, carrying in yet another chest.

"Careful with that!" she heard the loud man call out as the chest was set down on the floor. Even though she couldn't see him, she could heard the sound of something wooden hitting that ground in time with the footsteps as he came closer. This must be the merchant then.

"You would not believe the trouble I had in procuring that sword." A heavy chuckle left the merchant. The wagon shook momentarily and Meg could hear somebody settling down on the bench in the front; as he continued to speak, she realized it was the merchant who had climbed up. "I managed to buy it from right under Salosoix's nose." He sounded quite thrilled with himself.

"What use do men who don't even use swords have for them?" muttered one of the men who had carried the last chest in as he and his partner stepped off the wagon.

"I heard that," Zunair called out. "It isn't always about having a use for something. But what would an imbecile like you know? Now then, it is time for me to leave. I expect my house to be in order when I return or you all shall know the taste of my cane." Meg could hear the same cane being thumped against the footrest at the front of the wagon. "Until then."

There was a lurch as the wagon started moving; Meg had to hold on to the roll of carpet so that she wouldn't topple over and give herself away. After cursing multiple times in her mind, she finally decided this was probably for the better, she wouldn't have to deal with most of the mercenary goons nor the servants.

Nocturnal, I know I don' call on ya much, like say Talos an' Mara, but I could really use some've yer luck right 'bout now. She opened the eyes she'd scrunched closed for those few seconds of supplication and looked at the last chest that had been brought in. Righ' then, y'ready t'tell me yer secrets? Very carefully, she left the safety of her hiding space and moved to the chest, kneeling down before it as she pulled out her lockpicking set.

It wasn't a surprise to her when the first two picks broke, but she was still fairly irritated with herself. She hadn't been fully concentrating, trying to remember the directions and turns the wagon was taking as she worked. Finally giving up on that, she focused her full attention on the task at hand. Slowly but surely she had the pick in the right place- the steady clicking sound was like music to her ears. After stowing away the rest of her lockpicks, Meg then quietly grabbed onto the lid of the chest and opened it.

Relief and excitement flooded her when she saw, among other weapons, a long and thin cloth sack laying snug in the bed of hay lain within to keep the items of value safe. It was clear to the eye that this particular sack contained a sword, but there was no way she was going to take a chance. Reaching in, she took hold of the sack and pulled it away to reveal a sword in a scabbard. Still paranoid, she took hold of the scabbard and the hilt and pulled them apart, at last revealing the sister blade to the one Salosoix had.

Meg let herself grin, but only for a moment. She had found her prize, but now she needed to escape. Casting a glance near the front of the wagon, she could barely see the back of the Redguard merchant's turbaned head. Without any further delay, she pushed the sword back into its scabbard and pulled up the sack to cover it once more. With that done, Meg stuffed it under her belt. Her prize acquired, she remained on her hands and knees, crawling to the back and peeking outside. Blinking against the light, she could see they had certainly left the busy city and were, as Salosoix had mentioned, heading further into Hammerfell.

Where I bloody don' wanna go. There was literally only one option for her if she didn't wish to leave Gilane, and that was to jump off the wagon. The only problem with that was that Zunair was sure to have guards accompanying him along with those who were leading the other wagons. The wagon travelling right behind the current one was being handled by a large man who she was quite sure was a Nord, judging by his light complexion, fair hair and the rather large ax resting next to him.

Shit. What t'do, what to... Her eyes widened and she turned around once more, heading back for the chest, opening it and looking inside. Her lips twitched to a smile when she saw a bow, an elven one if she was correct. She wasn't surprised, seeing the merchant had a penchant for expensive weapons he'd never use. As luck would have it, there was a quiver with arrows as well. Good. She snatched it and quickly slung it over her shoulder. It wasn't long before she crawled to the back of the wagon again, this time armed and ready.

It took two shots to end the man. Meg was lucky that the speed of the wagons wasn't so fast that she had a hard time aiming. Her first arrow hit his throat, followed by a second arrow that hit the man in the chest. Her third arrow was aimed near the horse, hitting the ground by its hooves. The horse reared in panic- a second arrow was sure to have it run out of formation, so Meg finally let the fourth arrow fly and hit the ground near the horse’s back legs.

Shouts could be heard as the poor animal bolted away from the rest of the caravan, pulling the wagon behind it, the dead Norse mercenary still seated on the bench in the front. "After it!" she heard Zunair yell. "Somebody calm that damn horse before my merchandise suffers!"

Distraction in hand, Meg waited for the wagon she was in to start after the wayward horse before she jumped off. Wasting no time, she ran as fast as she could in the opposite direction, not stopping until she came upon a small lone well that had probably seen better days. Slumping down against it, she wiped the sweat off her dripping forehead in vain, panting as she tried to catch her breath.

"I did it... Talos, I did it!" A strangled laugh escaped her as she leaned back against the dusty stones. She had to get back to Zahir and then Salosoix... but first she needed a rest.

---

By the time Meg reached the Hawkford’s residence, the sun was making its daily decent to the horizon. She hadn't thought she would reach before curfew came in, so she was rather glad to be proven wrong. Unlike her first arrival here, her clothes were now rather dusty and her whole countenance seemed rather worn out. Still, a look of pride practically radiated from her, and unlike the nervousness she had felt when she first came here, she was now brimming with confidence.

Salosoix had been pacing the room, fraught with worry over other things when Megana had arrived back at his front door. As had happened earlier, Zhaib let the girl in. On his desk was a pouch of coin for her, but he was too busy moving around the room, a glass of wine in one hand, and his free hand running through his hair. He hadn’t noticed the girl’s arrival just yet.

"Good evenin' sir," Meg greeted as she was ushered into the room. She could see he was restless and decided not to waste any time in giving him the good news. "I got your sword here." She pulled the cloth sack from beneath her belt and presented it to the man so he could take a look.

Her voice roused him from his thoughts, and just like that he changed his demeanour and posture - smiling outwardly at the girl, he cast his eyes over the blade, before motioning for Zhaib to take it from her and store it. “Well done,” he said, his eyes showed his excitement. “This will be a marvelous addition to my collection. I hope you did not go to too much trouble to obtain it?”

Trouble? "Not any more'n usual," Meg replied easily. She only had to kill the one man- normally it was hordes of draugr, though she had to admit she actually preferred the undead. "Oh-" She pulled the bow and quiver of arrows from her back, showing them to Salosoix. "I had'ta borrow these- dunno if you'll be wantin' to keep these too?"

As Zhaib placed the sword away, Salosoix motioned towards a Spell Scroll sat on the desk too, a quick motion of his eyes communicated to Zhaib that it must also be put away out of site. “Ah, my dear. I have no use for arrows and quivers. Keep it - do with it as you please.” He moved to grab the coin purse for her, and as he picked it up he tossed it in the air just enough so that she would hear the weight of it, and know that it was as promised. “I added in some extra for your time, Megana…” His voice was suddenly low with an eerie undertone, “and for your silence, I hope you understand…” He placed the bag in her hand, holding onto it with his own as he shot a powerful and imposing stare down at her, waiting for her acknowledgement and understanding before he let go.

Meg looked up at the man; the look in his eyes was enough to make her nod. She wasn't intimidated per say, but even she knew that some things were better kept under the wraps rather than announced to others. "Aye, I understan'," she replied, giving him a nod. She hadn't been planning on telling anyone even if the amount of coin was exactly as he had mentioned earlier, but the added gold was certainly appreciated. "It'll be somethin' only I'll know about. Thanks for yer generosity."

Salosoix smiled and pulled away, “and thank you for your time. You have no idea how much it means to me…” He made his way back to his desk before residing back in his seat as Zhaib opened the front door. An air of impatience lingered, “now - go enjoy the beautiful evening Megana. You’ve deserved it.” Something in his tone was almost patronising, perhaps not intended - his mood was tense, as evidenced by the force in which he was gripping his wine glass with. “Until next time…” he said with a long sigh.

"Aye, an' a good evenin' to you as well." Meg gave Salosoix a polite nod before heading out of the door. Once she was out and the door closed behind her, carefully put her bow and quiver back on her person before stuffing the pouch of money in her pocket. She would enjoy the evening indeed, perhaps buy some of those dripping with syrup cakes for herself and Zahir, and then head back to the hotel for a good night's sleep.

And a bath. Definitely a bath.