Mortarion

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

_{Brought to you by yours truly and @Dervish}

14th of Midyear, late afternoon, entrance to the Oasis

The chat with Gregor went about as well as could be expected, Zaveed decided, a lingering sense of irritability pumping through his arteries like an accelerant for his blood. He watched the Imperial go, spitting into the ground distastefully before deciding his attentions were best spent elsewhere. Going to his pack and grabbing an apple, Zaveed took his dagger and began to peel off the faintest of slivers; it was something of a game, to see how many slices he could get out of an apple before reaching the core, with each piece nearly translucent from how fine the edge of the point of his blade was. He allowed himself a moment to savour the juices before looking up and noticing an Argonian standing by the mouth of the cave.

So, he’s the one. Zaveed thought, carelessly strolling over, apple in hand as his teeth mulched the skin and flesh of the fruit within his jaws.

Zaveed stood beside the Argonian, not saying anything for a few moments as he thoughtfully concentrated on the apple. Four slices. Five. He made a slightly larger cut and offered it to the infamous interrogator in his midst. “You seem to be quite the popular one.” Zaveed observed. “Seems like half of Gilane knew of what happened to Nblec, and yet you were the one to take the fall for it. How much of a merit does that particular story hold… Jaraleet?”

Jaraleet looked over as Zaveed approached him, not saying anything as the Khajiit stood beside him. He accepted the piece of apple that his one-time enemy offered to him and swallowed it down. “I could say the same to you Zaveed.” The Argonian said in response to the Khajiit’s comment about his ‘popularity’. “Hmmmm, why don’t you tell me that? How much merit do you think those accusations hold?” He asked, turning to look at the Khajiit. “I assume that Sevari told you my name, no? Or did they have dossiers on every one of us in the Dwemer’s secret police?”

The privateer let out a slight chuckle, turning his attention back to the apple as his knife began to work again. “If we had dossiers on each of you, my job would have gone so much smoother. We knew about Roux and worked our way from there. As for your rumours, honestly? I don’t think you killed him. I’ve interrogated my share of people, and they don’t suddenly die from having nails driven… under nails.” he replied, smiling a bit at the repetition of words. Ta’agra had two very different sounding words for the two distinct thing, although one turned out being a variation of ‘claw.’ “I’m almost certain Gregor soul-trapped the man when your backs were turned.” glancing over at Jaraleet, he added. “I knew he was a necromancer from when I fought him. He just told me it was you and Raelynn who know his secret. I intend to honour that, for some reason.”

“Ah, I see, I see.” Jaraleet said in response to Zaveed’s comment about Roux. “As for your assumption, you’d be correct in it.” He said with a light shrug, falling silent for a moment as he pondered what the Khajiit had said. “I had my suspicious that if someone else in the group knew about Gregor’s secret it’d be Raelynn.” The assassin said after a second, letting out a sigh. “But it is good to have confirmation on that. As to why you are honoring that request, I suppose you must pay your debt back to Raelynn in one way or another.” He said, shrugging slightly. “And if it makes working with us any easier….I do not necessarily approve of Gregor’s methods but, you know what they say, ‘Better the Dremora you know’ or something along those lines.” Jaraleet spoke, pausing for a second. “Plus, I do not want to provoke him unnecessarily. I still don’t know the full extent of his capabilities and would rather not take my chances.” He added, shrugging slightly.

“I’m surprised that you agreed to come. I’d have expected you to avoid us if anything, not strike a deal to work together.” Jaraleet said, glanzing at Zaveed with a curious look.

“I have a rather concrete idea of exactly what he is capable of.” Zaveed muttered, stopping the notion with the knife. “These scars aren’t for show. If a time ever comes where you find yourself opposing him, do not give him the chance to cast anything.” the Khajiit warned darkly, his pupils narrowing.

With a shrug, the mood passed. “It wasn’t really much of a choice, truth be told. Sevari gave up his own biological brother to protect me, and he sacrificed his career to spare my sister hers. Now he’s alone without friends or family, except for me. And he’s all I have left, too.” Zaveed rolled his eyes. “Apparently, he thinks you and Latro are his friends, but what the fuck do I know? So tell me; you seem rather cordial towards me, a contrast to my chat with Gregor. Why is that?”

Jaraleet nodded in response to Zaveed’s advice, noting it inwardly in case it was ever necessary to call upon it. “Is it really that surprising?” The Argonian asked rhetorically, letting out a mirthless chuckle. “I can work with Gregor who’s at fault for almost everyone believing me responsible for Nblec’s death.” He said, shrugging slightly. “But to give a more proper answer, I don’t see why I shouldn’t be cordial towards you, we are allies after all. There is no point in antagonizing you any further, we have enough enemies out there as it stands.” The assassin said, turning his gaze to look at the cave’s entrance. “Wouldn’t you agree that it makes sense?”

Zaveed nodded; Jaraleet was a pragmatist. “Leave bygones as bygones.” he agreed, slipping more slices between his teeth. “I’m a privateer by profession, my worst nemesis one week was my brother in arms the next. Everything I’ve had to do to survive, to claw my way out of one shit heap to the next, it was only possible by not lingering on what has been and instead focusing on what could be.” he looked over at the Argonian. “Right now, what could be is me having my throat slit while I sleep by anyone behind us. Sevari, Sirine, and I are outnumbered considerably and here at his choice; I’m here because I love him and want to try and do right by him. Do you have family?” he asked.

“That’s a complicated question to ask one of the Saxhleel, you know?” Jaraleet laughed, shaking his head slightly. “Only my father is left alive of my biological family. But, yes, I do have a family.” The assassin said, smiling fondly. “Those of us who are born under the Shadow share a link that transcends blood. We are united by a common purpose, and the ties that we forged during our training.” He said, letting out a sigh. “We were all that we had to support the other. I’m sure it was much the same between you and Sevari, no?”

Zaveed pondered that for a moment. “Not quite the same as yours, I think.” he said after a spell. “We aren’t related by blood, but rather circumstances. We grew up on the streets of Senchal as orphans, he helped save my sister and I from being caught by guards for stealing, and he helped feed us and since then we were a family that looked out for each other, slept together, suffered together. I think after decades apart, both of us hoped to see the other would have succeeded where we had each failed.” he sighed. “We’re both Khajiit who are cut from a very bloody cloth, our paths went very different ways, but neither of us could be described as good men. Only my sister turned out alright.” he smiled, looking into the blue sky beyond the mouth of the cave.

He resumed his attention to the apple. “Forgive me for my ignorance on the matter, I’ve very little experience with your people’s customs. What significance does the Shadow hold for Argonians?”

“Oh, on the contrary, after hearing you say that I think that the relationship between you and Sevari isn’t that different than the one between me and my brothers and sisters.” Jaraleet said, chuckling softly. “Those born under the Shadow have been chosen to serve Sithis.” He shrugged, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “We are the blades that eliminate the enemies of Argonia and who send those who have the misfortune to cross us back into the Void.” The assassin explained. “Before it’s destruction, we had a….working relationship with the Dark Brotherhood you might say. Any youth born under the Shadow would be sent to them to be trained as Shadowscales so that they might serve the Brotherhood and the Dread Father. Of course, those days are long gone, now our only masters are the An-Xileel.”

“So, where does that leave you?” Zaveed asked curiously, mulling over the casual place of Sithis in the Argonian pantheon. That was a revelation he hadn’t expected to hear. “What becomes of Shadow born Argonians if they are not Shadowscales these days?”

“We are Haj-Eix. Or Hidden Scales, if you prefer to use Cyrodiilic.” He replied with a shrug. “We are assassins and interrogators as needed be. Our functions haven’t changed all that much, if at all.” Jaraleet said. “It just took a while for us Shadow born Argonians to be given purpose again.”

“Very forthcoming.” Zaveed observed. “You are a long way from home to really serve your purpose, if I may. Do the others know that you’re a professional political murderer?”

“What is one more secret, I trust you will not lose sleep over keeping that along with what Gregor told you. Plus, I’m sure that sooner or later your brother would have told you.” The assassin said with a shrug. “As it stands, the only ones who know are Latro and Gregor. Alim knows that I’m an assassin, but not the full story. And of course there is your brother as well, and you now.” Jaraleet explained, pausing for a second. “The others merely think that I’m a former soldier of the An-Xileel. Of course, I’m sure that a few others in the group suspect that there’s more to me than I say, namely Daro’Vasora and Janelle.” He finished, turning to look at Zaveed. “I trust that my vocation doesn’t bothers you Zaveed, correct?”

The privateer shrugged. “Only difference between you and I, from a practical perspective, is I committed most of my violence out at sea with a crew whereas you’ve skulked in the shadows and killed in the dark. I’ll keep it between us, although I must admit, I wasn’t expecting this sort of candor from you.” he turned to look back at the group, a frown crossing his countenance. “You know, I tell people that I’m not overly concerned by what they think, but for some reason this group… it’s like looking at a list of terrible things I’ve visited on people in display and me being here just aggravates the wounds. I don’t know if it’s guilt or discomfort for being around people who wish ill upon me, but I’ve seldom felt I was more of a thorn than I am now.”

“You say that, but you revealed to me that Gregor had told you his secret almost immediately. One would expect that, after being told to keep something like that secret, you would think before speaking about it. But I understand why you told me.” Jaraleet said with a chuckle before he turned along with Zaveed to look back at the group. “Give them time, you would be surprised but they can be rather accommodating once you get in their good graces. Not that I have much to say about that, given that shortly after I’ve joined them the vast majority of them must think of me as a murderer.” He shrugged, turning to look at the entrance of the cave once more. “I can’t say that things will be easy, as you noted your presence here aggravates old wounds, but…” He paused as he searched for what to say. “Well, I don’t know what to rightly say truth be told.” The assassin spoke after a second. “But what will happen will happen, as simple as that sounds. Who’s to say why our paths intersected, but I’m sure that we’ll see the why of it eventually.”

Zaveed snorted. “Accommodating enough to harbour the man that tried to soul trap me. I don’t think there’s an up for me to strive for, nor an acceptance I could wish for. It is not an aspiration of mine, but if you can help make sure I don’t get murdered in my sleep, I’ll try to return the favour somehow.” he said with a shake of the head, he took a large bite out of the apple before tossing it carelessly. “I never much believed in fate, nor destiny. Life’s far too ruthless to be by design. I appreciate the talk, Jaraleet. Take solstace in the fact you’re no longer the most loathed person in this particular party.”

“Don't be so harsh on them, most of them are good people. But I'll try to ease things with the rest of them.” Jaraleet said to Zaveed before he left, shaking his head slightly. He looked as the Khajiit left, simply nodding in response to his last words, and turned back to the entrance of the cave and resumed his watch.

Mass Effect: Sinless

Khosin Grathe Sedgoroh

Khosin Grathe Sedgoroh

Race: Batarian
Sex: Male
Class: Sentinel
Age: 41
Homeworld: Khar’shan

Appearance:

Hider

At a quick glance, it becomes readily apparent that Khosin has a lean figure when compared to other men who have underwent military training, standing at 6’7 feet and weighing 180 pounds. However, in spite of this, Khosin has an athletic, muscular, build thanks to his training. It is thanks to this very training, coupled with almost 3 decades of combat, that Khosin’s body is riddled with multiple scars, albeit these are often hidden behind his armor or whatever clothes he is wearing at any given situation.

The only things that make Khosin stand out from other Batarians are the red prosthesis that replaces his right forearm and the tattoo located on his neck; otherwise, Khosin looks like your average, brown-skinned, Batarian seen throughout Omega or in one of the Hegemony’s worlds in Kite’s Nest. When outside of battle, Khosin usually wears short-sleeved shirts with matching cargo pants.

Psychological Profile:
On the surface Khosin seems like an affable enough man, ready to go out for drinks with his comrades or to engage in small banter with them between contracts. But, were one to look deeper, a pattern would begin to emerge in the way Khosin behaves himself; he prefers to keep conversations focused on the present and away from himself and his past, not divulging anything truly personal. In other words, despite his seemingly affable disposition, it becomes apparent that Khosin keeps people at arm’s length rather than allowing himself to form deep friendships with his comrades. This stems mainly from the loss of his previous crew and from the simple fact that mercenary crews are volatile by their very nature, with their members changing regularly as they replace their losses be they due to the death of one of their members or from their retirement. It is simpler, and better in the long run, to keep a certain amount of distance in Khosin’s mind.

Aside from this, Khosin prefers mostly quiet afternoons where he spends his time with either a book, doing maintenance on his prosthesis, or practicing his woodcarving. Though, like mentioned previously, he isn’t opposed to going out for drinks or more social-oriented activities.

In contrast to his demeanor during down time, when in battle Khosin is fully focused on the mission and on the task of achieving the objectives that he and his teammates set out to do and fully ready to do whatever is necessary to achieve said goals. This is a result of the training that Khosin underwent when he joined the Hegemony’s military forces, in which he and other trainees were taught to pursue decisive victories no matter what methods they had to employ to achieve said victory.

“Defeat your enemies so thoroughly, so decisively, that they can’t get back up to challenge you again. That is the only mean to attain true victory.” Such were the words of one of Khosin’s instructors, words that the Batarian still remembers to this day and which shape his choice of tactics in the battlefield. Still, in spite of the ruthlessness that Khosin displays on the battlefield, it is not like he fights that way due to deriving pleasure from it, rather in his mind it seems the most efficient way to fight and the best way to ensure that any battles in which he participates are as short as possible, no matter how bloody they might be.

Equipment:

• Kishock Harpoon Gun
• M-96 Mattock
  *Improved Heat Sink, Omni-blade Attachment
• AT-12 Raider
  *Polonium Rounds, Extended Barrel
• Medium Partisan Armor Set
• Cipher Model Omni-Tool
  *Utilizes all regular functions, omni-blade replaced with Enforcement gauntlet
• Gemini Bio-Amp
• Prosthetic forearm

  

Powers:

• Drone
• Flamethrower
• Reave
• Tech Armor
• Shockwave

Background: Born from a moderately wealthy family in 2143 CE, Khosin found his initial life to be an easy one. His parents were a loving couple that often doted on their children, and he adored his trio of younger brothers and sisters and the discovery of biotic potential within the young Batarian proved to not be problematic and his family managed to find a school that accepted Biotic children easily enough.

As such, most of the life of the young Batarian would be a pleasant -fairly uneventful- one. His parents were kind people, treating their slaves well, and would recite excerpts from the Pillars of Strength from time to time to their children. In short order, Khosin's family was a 'model' family so to speak within the society of the Batarian Hegemony.

That all would change the year 2165 CE, when his father invested most of the family's funds in what -at the moment- seemed a secure investment in a fledgling mining colony being funded by the Hegemony in the Skyllian Verge. But what seemed to be a safe prospect turned to be anything so, as the colony was lost to the Alliance's aggressive colonizing efforts which -along with the Council favoring the Alliance in that particular instance, and the Hegemony paying a meager, if they paid at all, insurance- the Sedgoroh family found itself barely making enough money to not sell themselves into servitude. It was at this point that Khosin found himself enlisting with the Hegemony's military in the hopes of making the humans that had ruined his family pay, a decision motivated mostly by the newfound hatred of humanity that the young Batarian felt.

It wouldn't be so and although Khosin proved himself a capable soldier he was deemed a troublemaker -starting fights with his fellow soldiers and getting into arguments with his superiors- and was being considered for a discharge before his second year within the military, it was at this time when he was approached by a Colonel within the Hegemony's military for a 'special' project as the man himself put it. Seeing no reason to say no, Khosin accepted the offer that the colonel gave him and soon the young Batarian found himself listed as being honorably discharged, a cover for his transference to the command of colonel Khesrak Sed’mevan.

The 'special' project of colonel Sed'mevan, as it turned out to be, was to be inducted into a black ops squad of the Hegemony’s External Forces. The principal objective of the squad, as colonel Sed’mevan put it, was to raid ships that travelled near the Mass Effect Relays that led to Hegemony space, preferably those of the Alliance if the opportunity presented itself, and then funnel the resources back to Hegemony space via Sed'mevan's contacts in the black market. However, before Khosin could join the team he, along with the others who had been earmarked for the colonel’s squad, would have to undergo the training that those selected to join the Hegemony’s External Forces underwent before they were accepted into it.

The training was arduous, pushing Khosin and his fellow trainees to their limits and beyond them in most occasions. It wasn’t uncommon for some of them to die during the hellish exercises they were subjected to but, in the end, Khosin and many of the other trainees persevered through the program and were accepted into Sed’mevan’s black ops squad. The newly formed squad was promptly given a ship, which was swiftly christened as The Serrated Sun by the members of the squad, and told to set off to do the task that the colonel had given them. Being an off the book squad, Khosin and the other crew members of the Serrated Sun enjoyed a great deal of freedom in how they conducted themselves both during their free time and during missions; as long as they raided ships and funneled the resources back to the Hegemony, they were free to do as they pleased. In this freedom were planted the seeds of Khosin and his squadmates downfall.

As the years went by and the crew of the Serrated Sun continued with their piracy of those ships unfortunate enough to be caught by them, Sed’mevan’s hold on the group began to loosen more and more as the crew of pirates became emboldened by their successes. Issues where Sed’mevan’s orders ‘mysteriously’ weren’t received became more and more frequent and the crew began attacking instead more high profile targets and keeping more of the spoils for themselves. The continued assault on ships eventually got the crew on the radar of the Alliance and colonel Sed’mevan, who at this point considered the corsairs of The Serrated Sun a lost cause, was more than happy to let the crew fall to the Alliance, withdrawing information from his one-time subordinates about a trap that the humans had prepared to wipe them out.

The plan of the alliance was simple: have one of their transports, usually staffed with non-combat personnel, actually be manned by trained forces ready to eliminate the corsairs while keeping the facade of being easy prey to the emboldened pirates. Predictably, the crew of The Serrated Sun, their egos bloated from years of easy piracy, fell for the trap set out for them by the Alliance. What originally seemed like an easy run soon turned into a bloodbath, the trained marines of the Alliance more than capable of being a match for the batarian corsairs who had grown accustomed to assaulting ships piloted with only a token security detail. The heated firefight between marines and corsairs soon turned in favor of the former, with more and more of the Batarian pirates dying by the second. Khosin himself was taken out of the fight near its end, his right forearm mangled beyond use by a close-quarter blast from a shotgun, narrowly avoiding death thanks to the quick intervention of one of the few corsairs that still stood unscathed. The battered corsairs beat a hasty retreat to their ship, leaving those of them that couldn’t muster up the strength to run back to The Serrated Sun behind for the Alliance to deal with. But, even when they had made their way back to their ship, their troubles were far from over. Fighters soon appeared and began pursuing the Batarian’s ship; after only a few hours of pursuit, critical systems were failing aboard the Serrated Sun and those who could had found their way aboard the vessels escape pods.

The Alliance was thorough and many of the pods were either intercepted or outright destroyed but, either through providence or sheer luck, Khosin’s pod managed to avoid capture. Eventually, in a twist of irony, the pod in which Khosin had escaped was picked up by a Turian merchant ship making its way to the Terminus system, towards Omega specifically. The Turian merchants didn’t ask too many questions, and what questions they asked were answered with difficult to track lies, and gave Khosin medical aid for his mangled forearm which unfortunately, due to the lack of timely first aid, had to be severed. Eventually Khosin was deposited in Omega and, after paying a small fee to his rescuers, disappeared into the bowels of the space station.

With only the weapons on his back and the clothes that his Turian rescuers had graciously given him, Khosin was left adrift on the galaxy. What meager savings he still had left after paying his rescuers soon went away when the Batarian bought himself a prosthetic replacement for his lost forearm. Lost in the world, and far too used to violence to ever reintegrate into a civilian life, Khosin soon found himself working on the closest thing to his previous occupation: as a bouncer for one of the many strip clubs that dotted the levels of Omega. But, even with a steady job as a bouncer, part of him itched to return to the old days or, at the very least, something similar to them. Still, it’d be many years before the Batarian would have the chance to leave the station yet again and, as the years wore on, Khosin himself began to change. Slowly but surely, the hatred that had at one point drove Khosin to join the Hegemony’s military began to evaporate as he lived on Omega and he was forced to live amongst the humans that he had once so thoroughly despised for his family’s misfortune.

Eventually Khosin managed to gather enough money to buy a new set of armor and, shortly after that, the former corsair entered the world of mercenaries, leaving behind his job as a bouncer. Settling into the lifestyle of a mercenary was easy enough for Khosin, who had long ago grown accustomed to risking his life on a nearly daily basis during his time on the Serrated Sun. And so Khosin settled into the life of one of thousands mercenaries on Omega, sometimes working by himself to clean nests of Vorcha or sometimes working in groups with other mercs as security for a merchant or to wipe out a gang or two from time to time.

Strengths:

• The training undergone by those chosen for the Hegemony’s External Forces is a brutal one, with a fatality rate of 18% amongst the trainees that undertake it. Khosin, having undergone such training, has an incredibly high amount of resilience, both mental and physical, and as such he is an incredibly disciplined fighter, being able to keep his cool even in the face of overwhelming odds.
• Like most Batarian soldiers, Khosin is an utterly ruthless combatant. Enforcement gauntlets, harpoon guns, polonium rounds, Khosin is willing to use any sort of weapons, no matter how cruel they might be, as long as they get the job done in a decisive, quick, way.
• As a Sentinel, Khosin is skilled in the use of both technology and biotic-based abilities. This gives him a greater degree of flexibility during combat when compared to other combatants, allowing him to react to a greater number of threats.

Weaknesses:

• While Khosin’s prosthetic forearm is built sturdily enough, there are still some defects in it’s making. The most crucial of them is that, should a sufficiently strong electricity shock hit the prosthesis, it will stop working and, even worse, send Khosin’s right arm into a brief fit of spasms as the electric current makes its way from the metallic prosthesis to the flesh and bone that connect to the robotic appendage. Along with this, the prosthesis requires frequent maintenance to ensure that it works to its full extent.
• While Khosin’s ruthless tactics might be useful in battle, not everyone might approve of them which might cause some friction between Khosin and other members of the team who might disapprove of the use of such tactics in combat.
• Due to the very tactical flexibility afforded to him by his Sentinel training, Khosin is unfortunately outclassed by other combatants who specialised in only one specific form of combat. As such, when specialist are required, Khosin is of less use that he’d like to be.

Misc:

• During the process of recovering from the loss of his forearm and getting accustomed to his prosthesis, Khosin picked up woodcarving as a means to help himself regain fine motor control in his prosthetic hand. As time went on, the Batarian found the hobby to be relaxing and a way to wind down after a stressful day, during his time as a bouncer for a strip club, or after a mission once he became a mercenary. As such, even to this day, Khosin continues to practice his woodcarving skills as often as he can.
• Khosin also enjoyed doing maintenance on his prosthetic arm, finding the task a way to center himself, sometimes even reciting excerpt from the Pillars of Strength as he works on the robotic appendage.
• Khosin also enjoys reading in his free time whenever he isn’t occupied with his woodcarving or doing maintenance on his prosthesis, a holdover from the days before his family lost it all and were forced to live in on the streets.
• During his time on Omega, he picked the bad habit of smoking tobacco. As such, Khosin can be found from time to time smoking his own hand-rolled cigarettes.
• He periodically sends an amount of credits back to his family in Kite’s Nest to try and help them survive and, hopefully, one day be able to regain what they lost all those years ago.
• The tattoo on his neck is his own form of honoring his deceased comrades from The Serrated Sun
  
  *Tattoo design

  

Mass Effect: Sinless

Khosin Grathe Sedgoroh

Khosin Grathe Sedgoroh

Race: Batarian
Sex: Male
Class: Sentinel
Age: 41
Homeworld: Khar’shan

Appearance:

Hider

At a quick glance, it becomes readily apparent that Khosin has a lean figure when compared to other men who have underwent military training, standing at 6’7 feet and weighing 180 pounds. However, in spite of this, Khosin has an athletic, muscular, build thanks to his training. It is thanks to this very training, along with almost 3 decades of combat, that Khosin’s body is riddled with multiple scars, albeit these are often hidden behind his armor or whatever clothes he is wearing at any given situation.

The only things that make Khosin stand out from other Batarians are the red prosthesis that replaces his right forearm and the tattoo located on his neck; otherwise, Khosin looks like your average, brown-skinned, Batarian seen throughout Omega or in one of the Hegemony’s worlds in Kite’s Nest. When outside of battle, Khosin usually wears short-sleeved shirts with matching cargo pants.

Psychological Profile:
On the surface Khosin seems like an affable enough man, ready to go out for drinks with his comrades or to engage in small banter with them between contracts. But, were one to look deeper, a pattern would begin to emerge in the way Khosin behaves himself; he prefers to keep conversations focused on the present and away from himself and his past, not divulging anything truly personal. In other words, despite his seemingly affable disposition, it becomes apparent that Khosin keeps people at arm’s length rather than allowing himself to form deep friendships with his comrades. This stems mainly from the loss of his previous crew and from the simple fact that mercenary crews are volatile by their very nature, with their members changing regularly as they replace their losses be they due to the death of one of their members or from their retirement. It is simpler, and better in the long run, to keep a certain amount of distance in Khosin’s mind.

Aside from this, Khosin prefers mostly quiet afternoons where he spends his time with either a book, doing maintenance on his prosthesis, or practicing his woodcarving. Though, like mentioned previously, he isn’t opposed to going out for drinks or more social-oriented activities.

In contrast to his demeanor during down time, when in battle Khosin is fully focused on the mission and on the task of achieving the objectives that he and his teammates set out to do and fully ready to do whatever is necessary to achieve said goals. This is a result of the training that Khosin underwent when he joined the Hegemony’s military forces, in which he and other trainees were taught to pursue decisive victories no matter what methods they had to employ to achieve said victory.

“Defeat your enemies so thoroughly, so decisively, that they can’t get back up again to challenge you again. That is the only mean to attain true victory.” Such were the words of one of Khosin’s instructors, words that the Batarian still remembers to this day and which shape his choice of tactics in the battlefield. Still, in spite of the ruthlessness that Khosin displays on the battlefield, it is not like he fights that way due to deriving pleasure from it, rather in his mind it seems the most efficient way to fight and the best way to ensure that any battles in which he participates are as short as possible, no matter how bloody they might be.

Equipment:

• Kishock Harpoon Gun
• M-96 Mattock
  *Improved Heat Sink, Omni-blade Attachment
• AT-12 Raider
  *Polonium Rounds, Extended Barrel
• Medium Partisan Armor Set
• Cipher Model Omni-Tool
  *Utilizes all regular functions, omni-blade replaced with Enforcement gauntlet
• Gemini Bio-Amp
• Prosthetic forearm

  

Powers:

• Drone
• Flamethrower
• Reave
• Tech Armor
• Shockwave

Background: Born from a moderately wealthy family in 2143 CE, Khosin found his initial life to be an easy one. His parents were a loving couple that often doted on their children, and he adored his trio of younger brothers and sisters and the discovery of biotic potential within the young Batarian proved to not be problematic and his family managed to find a school that accepted Biotic children easily enough.

As such, most of the life of the young Batarian would be a pleasant -fairly uneventful- one. His parents were kind people, treating their slaves well, and would recite excerpts from the Pillars of Strength from time to time to their children. In short order, Khosin's family was a 'model' family so to speak within the society of the Batarian Hegemony.

That all would change the year 2165 CE, when his father invested most of the family's funds in what -at the moment- seemed a secure investment in a fledgling mining colony being funded by the Hegemony in the Skyllian Verge. But what seemed to be a safe prospect turned to be anything so, as the colony was lost to the Alliance's aggressive colonizing efforts which -along with the Council favoring the Alliance in that particular instance, and the Hegemony paying a meager, if they paid at all, insurance- the Sedgoroh family found itself barely making enough money to not sell themselves into servitude. It was at this point that Khosin found himself enlisting with the Hegemony's military in the hopes of making the humans that had ruined his family pay, a decision motivated mostly by the newfound hatred of humanity that the young Batarian felt.

It wouldn't be so and although Khosin proved himself a capable soldier he was deemed a troublemaker -starting fights with his fellow soldiers and getting into arguments with his superiors- and was being considered for a discharge before his second year within the military, it was at this time when he was approached by a Colonel within the Hegemony's military for a 'special' project as the man himself put it. Seeing no reason to say no, Khosin accepted the offer that the colonel gave him and soon the young Batarian found himself listed as being honorably discharged, a cover for his transference to the command of colonel Khesrak Sed’mevan.

The 'special' project of colonel Sed'mevan, as it turned out to be, was to be inducted into a black ops squad of the Hegemony’s External Forces. The principal objective of the squad, as colonel Sed’mevan put it, was to raid ships that travelled near the Mass Effect Relays that led to Hegemony space, preferably those of the Alliance if the opportunity presented itself, and then funnel the resources back to Hegemony space via Sed'mevan's contacts in the black market. However, before Khosin could join the team he, along with the others who had been earmarked for the colonel’s squad, would have to undergo the training that those selected to join the Hegemony’s External Forces underwent before they were accepted into it.

The training was arduous, pushing Khosin and his fellow trainees to their limits and beyond them in most occasions. It wasn’t uncommon for some of them to die during the hellish exercises they were subjected to but, in the end, Khosin and many of the other trainees persevered through the program and were accepted into Sed’mevan’s black ops squad. The newly formed squad was promptly given a ship, which was promptly christened as The Serrated Sun by the members of the squad, and told to set off to do the task that the colonel had given them. Being an off the book squad, Khosin and the other crew members of the Serrated Sun enjoyed a great deal of freedom in how they conducted themselves both during their free time and during missions; as long as they raided ships and funneled the resources back to the Hegemony, they were free to do as they pleased. In this freedom were the seeds of Khosin and his squadmates downfall.

As the years went by and the crew of the Serrated Sun continued with their piracy of those ships unfortunate enough to be caught by them, Sed’mevan’s hold on the group began to loosen more and more as the crew of pirates became emboldened by their successes. Issues were Sed’mevan’s orders ‘mysteriously’ weren’t received became more and more frequent and the crew began attacking instead more high profile targets and keeping more of the spoils for themselves. The continued assault on ships eventually got the crew on the radar of the Alliance and colonel Sed’mevan, who at this point considered the corsairs of The Serrated Sun a lost cause, was more than happy to let the crew fall to the Alliance, withdrawing information from his one-time subordinates about a trap that the humans had prepared to wipe them out.

The plan of the alliance was simple: have one of their transports, usually staffed with non-combat personnel, actually be manned by trained forces ready to eliminate the corsairs while keeping the facade of being easy prey to the emboldened pirates. Predictably, the crew of The Serrated Sun, their egos bloated from years of easy piracy, fell for the trap set out for them by the Alliance. What originally seemed like an easy run soon turned into a bloodbath, the trained marines of the Alliance more than capable of being a match for the batarian corsairs who had grown accustomed to assaulting ships piloted by non-combatants and with only a token security detail. The heated firefight between marines and corsairs soon turned in favor of the former, with more and more of the Batarian pirates dying by the second. Khosin himself was taken out of the fight near its end, his right forearm mangled beyond use by a close-quarter blast from a shotgun, narrowly avoiding death thanks to the quick intervention of one of the few corsairs that still stood unscathed. The battered corsairs beat a hasty retreat to their ship, leaving those of them that couldn’t muster up the strength to run back to The Serrated Sun behind for the Alliance to deal with. But, even when they had made their way back to their ship, their troubles were far from over. Fighters soon appeared and began pursuing the Batarian’s ship; after only a few hours of pursuit, critical systems were failing aboard the Serrated Sun and those who could had found their way aboard the vessels escape pods.

The Alliance was thorough and many of the pods were either intercepted or outright destroyed but, either through faith or sheer luck, Khosin’s pod managed to avoid capture. Eventually they managed to, in a twist of irony, be picked up by a Turian merchant ship making its way to the Terminus system, Omega specifically. The Turian merchants didn’t ask too many questions, and what questions they asked were answered with difficult to track lies, and gave Khosin medical aid for his mangled forearm which unfortunately, due to the lack of timely first aid, had to be severed. Eventually Khosin was deposited in Omega and, after paying a small fee to his rescuers, disappeared into the bowels of the space station.

With only the weapons on his back and the clothes that his Turian rescuers had graciously given him, Khosin was left adrift on the galaxy. What meager savings he still had left after paying his rescuers soon went away when the Batarian bought himself a prosthetic replacement for his lost forearm. Lost in the world, and far too used to violence to ever reintegrate into a civilian life, Khosin soon found himself working on the closest thing to his previous occupation: as a bouncer for one of the many strip clubs that dotted the levels of Omega. But, even with a steady job as a bouncer, part of him itched to return to the old days or, at the very least, something similar to them. Still, it’d be many years before the Batarian would have the chance to leave the station yet again and, as the years wore on, Khosin himself began to change. Slowly but surely, the hatred that had at one point drove Khosin to join the Hegemony’s military began to evaporate as he lived on Omega and he was forced to have to live amongst the humans that he had once so thoroughly despised for his family’s misfortune.

Eventually Khosin managed to gather enough money to buy a new set of armor and, shortly after that, the former corsair entered the world of mercenaries, leaving behind his job as a bouncer. Settling into the lifestyle of a mercenary was easy enough for Khosin, who had long ago grown accustomed to risking his life on a nearly daily basis during his time on the Serrated Sun. And so Khosin settled into the life of one of thousands mercenaries on Omega, sometimes working by himself to clean nests of Vorcha or sometimes working in groups with other mercs as security for a merchant or to wipe out a gang or two from time to time.

Strengths:

• The training undergone by those chosen for the Hegemony’s External Forces is a brutal one, with a fatality rate of 18% amongst the trainees that undertake it. Khosin, having undergone such training, has an incredibly high amount of resilience, both mental and physical, and as such he is an incredibly disciplined fighter, being able to keep his cool even in the face of overwhelming odds.
• Like most Batarian soldiers, Khosin is an utterly ruthless combatant. Enforcement gauntlets, harpoon guns, polonium rounds, Khosin is willing to use any sort of weapons, no matter how cruel they might be, as long as they get the job done in a decisive, quick, way.
• As a Sentinel, Khosin is skilled in the use of both technology and biotic-based abilities. This gives him a greater degree of flexibility during combat when compared to other combatants, allowing him to react to a greater number of threats.

Weaknesses:

• While Khosin’s prosthetic forearm is built sturdily enough, there are still some defects in it’s making. The most crucial of them is that, should a sufficiently strong shock hit the prosthesis, it will stop working and, even worse, send Khosin’s right arm into a brief fit of spasms as the electric current makes its way from the metallic prosthesis to the flesh and bone that connect to the robotic appendage. Along with this, the prosthesis requires frequent maintenance to ensure that it works to its full extent.
• While Khosin’s ruthless tactics might be useful in battle, not everyone might approve of them which might cause some friction between Khosin and other members of the team who might disapprove of the use of such tactics in combat.
• Due to the very tactical flexibility afforded to him by his Sentinel training, Khosin is unfortunately outclassed by other combatants who specialised in only one specific form of combat. As such, when specialist are required, Khosin is of less use than some of his other comrades might be.
• In spite of getting over his prejudice against humans, Khosin still loathes the Alliance. As such, any pro-Alliance comments or viewpoints might, at best, be greeted with a derisive sneer or cold silence from the Batarian's part. At worst, he might argue back against the person in question and, if sufficiently pushed, Khosin could get, somewhat, violent.

Misc:

• During the process of recovering from the loss of his forearm and getting accustomed to his prosthesis, Khosin picked up woodcarving as a means to help himself regain fine motor control in his prosthetic hand. As time went on, the Batarian found the hobby to be relaxing and a way to wind down after a stressful day, during his time as a bouncer for a strip club, or after a mission once he became a mercenary. As such, even to this day, Khosin continues to practice his woodcarving skills as often as he can.
• Khosin also enjoyed doing maintenance on his prosthetic arm, finding the task a way to center himself, sometimes even reciting excerpt from the Pillars of Strength as he works on the robotic appendage.
• Khosin also enjoys reading in his free time whenever he isn’t occupied with his woodcarving or doing maintenance on his prosthesis, a holdover from the days before his family lost it all and were forced to live in on the streets.
• He periodically sends an amount of credits back to his family in Kite’s Nest to try and help them survive and, hopefully, one day be able to regain what they lost all those years ago.
• The tattoo on his neck is his own form of honoring his deceased comrades from The Serrated Sun
  
  *Tattoo design

  

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

It's a bit short but I got my reply up. Hope that it's ok!

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

"I agree with what both Alice and An-Hasst have said. The Mantiraus' presence here worries me greatly and we'd be doing a poor job if we returned now that this threat has been eliminated." The knight said, his gaze lingering on the corpse of the beast that they had just slain. "Still, it'd be best if we sent someone back to warn the village." He added after a moment's pause, shaking his head slightly. "Who knows what else might be lingering in the forest at this very moment....it might be a coincidence but something tells me that it isn't." He said, turning his gaze to look at those who had come with him.

If it was as he suspected and someone had purposefully unleashed the Mantiraus near the village, whoever they sent back to the village could be ambushed and captured if not outright killed. And, yet, if they did nothing there was a good chance that someone or something might attack the village, something that the militia there wouldn't be prepared to handle. "Calanon." He spoke finally, looking at the Elven ranger. "It's probably for the best if you returned to the village to warn them. You out of all of us are probably the one who could get back the fastest." The knight continued, pausing for a second as he pondered whether or not to voice his fears. "And...if someone unleashed the Mantiraus on purpose, I think you'd be able to know if someone was shadowing you given your skills." He finished, looking at the elf directly on the eyes.

"Given what we've seen just now I can't say with certainty that the trip back to the village will be a safe one." The Andred man said, shaking his head slightly. "But I think it's imperative we warn them. I hope that I'm wrong but...I have a bad feeling. If a beast like the Mantiraus attacked the village, the guards there wouldn't be able to stop the creature, at least not before it wrought immense damage to the village." He finished, letting out a sigh. "The rest of us would stay here to continue scouting the woods and, hopefully, find some answers as to why the beast was here." Nicademus said, pausing for a second before he continued. "So, what say you Calanon?"

@POOHEAD189@Gardevoiran@The Fated Fallen@Stormflyx@Fetzen@BCTheEntity

Shadowrun-style Mass Effect adventure

I'm here to also express my interest, if there's room for one more

Warcraft: War of the Ancients

Cool cool, if that's the case, I'll work on a sheet then if there's still room for one more!

Warcraft: War of the Ancients

I'm tentatively interested in joining this. But, I do have one slight question, I know you say no classic Forsaken which I understand, since they do look like rotting corpses and all-that, but I was wondering, since you are allowing Death Knights, would a Forsaken-aligned Death Knight still be accepted? Kinda curious about that since, not gonna lie, the Forsaken are one of my favorite factions but I understand if that wouldn't be allowed.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

The Interrogation

13th Midyear - afternoon - The Three Crowns Hotel

---

With a full bag in one hand, and her satchel over her shoulder, Raelynn made her way through the halls of the Three Crowns again. It was such a foreign place to her now. She thought back to her first night in Gilane - how much freedom she thought was ahead of her. She bit her lip, running a finger over the gilded frame of a painting of the Palace. Freedom she through to herself as she kept walking, the weight of Sora’s journals giving her pain in her hand. “God’s why does this Khajiit write so much?” She said scornfully under her breath, before the spluttering sound of a cough gave her cause for shock. It was coming from behind the door of one of her companions dorms.

It didn’t sound healthy, and so she approached the door - not about to just burst in, but she did give a light knock and spoke out against it, “are you alright in there? Do you need help?”

“Perhaps…” Jaraleet replied between coughing fits. He wasn’t really sure why the coughing fit had started; maybe it had to do with all the blasted sand in the air? He was certain that it was no disease, the Saxhleel were known for their immunity to most, if not all, diseases known throughout Nirn. Poison was out of the question as well, if during the showdown at Al-Aqqiya he had been hit with a poison strong enough to affect him, well, it’s effects wouldn’t have waited for so long to manifest themselves. Any further thoughts were interrupted as another coughing fit wracked his body, causing the Argonian to frown to himself. “I’ll be at the door in a second.” He spoke once the coughing had subsided once again.

Making his way to the door and opening, he was surprised to find Raelynn was the one who had knocked. “Raelynn, I’m glad to see you.” The Argonian replied, smiling at the Breton woman. From a simple glance it could be garnered that the Argonian was exhausted and that he hadn’t had a particular restful night of sleep and yet, in spite of that, the assassin seemed to be in a good mood. “Sorry that I didn’t recognize you before, these cursed coughs have me quite distracted.” He apologized, before motioning towards the room. “Come, why don’t you make yourself a bit comfortable. I don’t have much to offer but, well, it beats talking while standing, no?”

Raelynn wanted to smile back at him, but she could once again tell by his manner of moving that he had been hurt. But she played along and made her way to an armchair in the corner and sat down in it. Quite happy to do so - the heels were beginning to sting at this point. It was nice to be off her feet. “Jaraleet…” She began in a soft voice, hiding the curiosity that was lingering somewhere within. She just looked at him, and her eyes immediately reflected her innermost thoughts. “Oh damnit, what's the use in hiding it and trying to sweet talk it out of you? What happened to you this time?”

The Breton's brows furrowed, but not in a way that indicated she was all that cross, it was a look of disappointment. “Who hit you, and with what?”

“There’s no hiding anything from you, is there?” The Argonian said, chuckling somewhat nervously. “If it’s any consolation to you, I’ve already had my ear chewed off by Meg. She was more upset than you, as a matter of fact, so maybe we could skip through the chastising lecture?” He continued on, shaking his head slightly. “But, to answer your question. It was a redguard woman, don’t ask me her name for I didn’t learn it, and she hit me with a scimitar, straight through my guts. Took her out shortly afterwards or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” The assassin said, taking a seat in the armchair opposite to the one Raelynn had taken. “I am fine now, or at least better.” He added, trying to appease the Breton healer’s worries.

“Jaraleet, I can tell from the way a man walks whether or not his bits are rotting off. There's not a lot I haven't seen, there's little else you can hide from me.” She grinned, it wasn't often that she was crude - but she did occasionally enjoy springing it on people. “So she stuck you with something pointy and didn't even take you on a date first?” She purred out the words, rather enjoying herself. If she wasn't allowed to chide him, she would at least make fun of him. He seemed well enough, save for the cough, but she could get to the bottom of that easily enough. “Happen here in Gilane did it?” She raised an eyebrow, and almost shit-eating grin tugging at her lips as she awaited her answer.

“Terribly impolite of her, wasn’t it?” The Argonian replied to the Breton’s jab, chuckling softly. He shook his head when she asked him if it had happened here in Gilane. “No, it didn’t, it took place in the ruins of a town….some 17 miles away from here if my calculations are right.” He answered, relaxing against the armchair. “Had to repay a favor to Sevari, the man who dug out that bullet if you recall.”

“Mmhmmm… And he didn't do a good job of it if I recall correctly. Actually, I met him earlier today. He was a bit sheepish honestly…” Her eyes glanced down at the ground as she thought back to the meeting. “You've missed a fair bit - but it seems I have too, actually.” Raelynn shrugged and brought her eyes back up to meet Jaraleet's. “In fact… You trust me don't you?”

“Really now, that’s interesting. Wonder why that was…” The Argonian said in reply to Raelynn’s words. It was surprising that she had met the Ohmes-Raht, and even more surprising was imagining him to act sheepishly for some reason. It didn’t seem to fit with what he knew of the Khajiit but, then again, he didn’t knew everything about him. “Yes, I do. Why do you ask?”

She placed her hands on the arms of the chair, fingers lightly grasping at the velvet upholstery. “Well, like I said. You missed quite a bit… I may have inadvertently gained some form of favour with Sevari, maybe not. I don't know, oh… I don't know what I'm saying. I shouldn't, it doesn't matter now…” Her words came out quickly, in a manner which was unlike her. “I did something, an act of kindness - a moment of weakness, I don't know. I just don't know what it means for all of us. What it damn well means for me.”

Jaraleet was silent as Raelynn’s words spilled forth from her mouth. She might have done something that could have, inadvertently, gained them some favour with Sevari? He wondered what that could be specifically and, more importantly, why it seemed to trouble Raelynn so. “Raelynn.” The Argonian said, his voice calm. “Take a deep breath and tell me what it is you did.” He said softly.

Her eyes once again met Jaraleet's, and she opened her mouth as if to speak, but stopped herself - thinking over the words so as not to get so flustered. “I spared the life of Zaveed. I… Saved the life of Sevari's brother.” She was curious to see Jaraleet's reaction, she knew that he knew of what Zaveed had done. While she was somewhat at peace with her decision and her choice, she wanted to test the waters of what the others would think. “It troubles me less now… It was not an easy decision, and I do not know what will happen as a result - it just happened. I could do nothing else...” She nibbled at her thumb nervously, awaiting his reaction with a bated breath.

Jaraleet was silent for a few seconds as he processed what Raelynn had just told him. “I see. That was a big risk you took, as I’m sure you’re aware.” The Argonian said, falling silent once more as he continued thinking. “I can’t say that I understand why you did what you did. But it was your decision and I respect that. It might come to hurt us in the future but, like you’ve said, Zaveed is Sevari’s brother. That might be a boon to our group in the long run.” He mused out loud, drumming his fingers against the armrest of his chair. “I’m not sure how the others might react. Some worse than others, that’s for sure, but whatever comes, I’ll stand behind you and your decision Raelynn.”

He hadn't asked questions, he hadn't questioned her. He just gave his word for her. She didn't understand why, and perhaps she didn't need to. “Thanks Jaraleet… That means a lot.” She was worried only about Daro'Vasora's reaction, truthfully. Everyone else could be as angry as they liked, it mattered not to her. But it was the Khajiit who had lost her friend to Zaveed… She sniffed and blinked quickly, so as not to let a tear fall. Jaraleet had surprised her today. “So… yeah, you got stabbed by a Redguard woman then - so what else happened?” She asked with a smile, changing the subject as quickly as she had the first time.

“It is no problem Raelynn, there’s no need to thank me. I’m merely glad to have been of help.” The Argonian said, smiling at the Breton. “Hmmm, in truth, I do not know much else of what happened. Whoever those people were, they obviously knew Sevari. There was one, a Khajiit, with whom Sevari exchanged some words before he slit his throat. They seemed to have known each other for quite a long time but I’m afraid that I didn’t hear the particular details of their final conversation.” He said, drumming his fingers against the armrest of his chair once more as he thought. “Whoever they were, they seemed to regard Sevari as a traitor for some motive. But I wouldn’t why that is. After what went down in there, well, I think we were all too exhausted to start questioning Sevari over every little detail of his past or how that related to what had just happened.”

Raelynn just listened, trying to picture the scene in her mind. It sounded gruesome and personal. “I admit Jaraleet, I don't know whether to trust Sevari, he has given us reason not to before but… There was something almost defeated in his eyes today, they were hanging with guilt and well, I'm torn. I hope he'll become an asset to us. We need all the help we can get, don't we?” She crossed one leg over the other and propper her head up on her hand in the chair. “Sounds like quite the mission though. Are you absolutely sure you don't need me to take a look at you at least?” The Breton didn't give him time to respond before she shook her head and sighed, “no, stuff it - I'm much too curious to see where this woman got you, take off your shirt.” She tried to play it off with humour, but she wasn't going to leave until she'd given Jaraleet a once over at the very least. She had a pretty good idea as to why he was coughing, but she'd keep that to herself until she ruled out anything else. “Doctor's orders I'm afraid.”

“Hmmm, that we do, that we do.” Jaraleet replied with a sigh to Raelynn’s comment about them needing all the help they could get. He was about to answer her second question when she suddenly spoke again, letting out a chuckle as she finished speaking. “I was about to say yes anyway, but now that you’ve brought up the ‘doctor’s orders’ tactic I don’t really have any say, do I?” The Argonian said, laughing slightly. He stood up from his chair and removed his shirt easily enough; with that out of the way, Raelynn would be able to see quite a few semi-healed wounds on the Argonian’s arms albeit her gaze would probably be drawn first and foremost to the still-healing wound on his stomach.

She raised an eyebrow and stood from the chair slowly, examining the Argonian's body with a heavy gaze. After a few moments of clucking her tongue, tutting, and sighing as she circled him, she placed two fingers against his stomach wound which was looking by far the worst. “She really wanted to kill you my friend. But this will heal nicely if you have someone from the infirmary apply Close Wounds magicka. They're not as good as me of course,” she said with an arrogant smirk and she bent over to look at it more closely. As she pressed the skin around it, the wound re-opened slightly and shot a single spurt of blood forwards. Raelynn held a pressure on it and raised an eyebrow. “Your coughing has kept this one from healing faster, Jaraleet. Get it closed off downstairs before the day ends.”

“Hmm, and here I thought this was how the Redguards expressed their love.” The Argonian replied, smirking slightly, albeit a small hiss of pain soon escaped from his lips as the wound re-opened slightly as a result of Raelynn’s prodding. “Hmmm, will do, will do. Speaking of which, can you tell me precisely why I have this cough?” Jaraleet asked, curious as to why it had begun. “I’m fairly sure that a disease is out of the question, given my species, and, well, if it was the result of a poison of some kind, I doubt I’d be in a state to have idle conversations, or alive for that matter.” He said, scratching his chin slightly as he thought. “So, in your opinion, why did this start all of a sudden? I was fine last night, in case you were curious.”

“You're right, it's neither a disease nor a poison.” She smiled, amused at how much thought the Argonian had given it, and she stood up straight to her full (small) height. An arrogant smirk returned as she almost playfully began to pace around him, with a hand propper under her chin like some kind of detective. “I deduced that you have recently travelled 17 miles through desert… You've got sand irritation in your chest, probably nose and throat too. Nothing serious, just uncomfortable.” Raelynn folded her arms over her chest with a coy smile. “Water, a hot towel on your chest and some honey will clear that up.” There was something else he'd said that had piqued her interest, and now was as good a time as any to ask him, and so she resumed her pacing. She let her eyes narrow as if she were interrogating him as seriously as a detective might… “So, Megana? She scolded you?” There was a glint of mischief in her eye, she'd seen how the Nord girl had been worried over Jaraleet. Now with talks of some rendezvous between the two… Well that was some that she had to investigate…

“Ahhh, yes, that would make sense. All the blasted sand in the air probably got to me.” The Argonian said before chuckling, somewhat, nervously as Raelynn brought up what he had said earlier about Meg scolding. “Ah, so you remembered that. But...yes, yes she did in fact scold me last night.” He finally said, knowing that there was a good chance that if he didn’t say something, Raelynn might go and pester Meg for answers next. Or just continue pestering him at any rate. “I went to check up on her after a meeting we had held, to plan how to rescue Sora you see, and, well, she saw the state in which my armor was and she started worrying. Said something about me not being a pincushion.” Jaraleet said, chuckling slightly again.

“Ahh yes, but there’s more to it than that, Jaraleet. That’s not what intrigued me the most.” She tilted her head to the side and bit her lower lip, resuming her seat with a dangerously roguish expression painted over her entire face and held in her body language. The Argonian was in trouble now. “You took a bullet for the girl nights ago did you not? Secret missions together? I don’t quite know what to make of it all…” She chuckled dryly from the back of her throat, before reclining into the seat. It occurred to her that she wasn’t sure if an Argonian was capable of sweating - something told her she was about to find out.

Jaraleet laughed at Raelynn’s words, but there was no hiding the nervousness in his voice. “What do you mean by all that, Meg came to me asking for help and I decided to help her. As for taking a bullet for her...aren’t comrades, friends, supposed to protect each other?” The Argonian said with a nervous chuckle. Part of him knew that his words were mere excuses, and that there was a good chance that Raelynn would be able to call them for what they were, but the other part of him felt like he still had to try. “Right?” He added after a second, rubbing the back of his head. At this point he wasn’t sure who he was trying to fool: himself or the Breton woman sitting in front of him.

She was smug now, and highly amused - rather charmed by his endearing display of nervousness under her questioning. She’d always known that Jaraleet was softer when it came to real social situations. He may be a cold beast in battle, but when it came to matters of the heart, well, it was a different story entirely. She should have felt at least a little bit bad for pushing his buttons like this - taking advantage of his vulnerability. But she couldn’t resist, and so she got out the stick once more for another poke. “Oh of course! Friends do protect each other, you’re right about that. I doubt you’d have taken a bullet for anyone on the team though? Something drove you to do it in the moment. Let me see… Megana is a sweet girl, she’s rather pretty too, wouldn’t you agree?” Internally, Raelynn was beaming with glee, but outwardly she pulled herself together to display a colder expression. “She’s… Really rather feminine beneath that Nord bravado she displays. Innocent too, isn’t she?”

“I...well…” Jaraleet began when Raelynn posed the question about if he’d have really taken a bullet from anyone else in the group. “I….would say so, yes.” He replied in a somewhat stilted manner when Raelynn asked if he agreed with her assessment of Meg being pretty. “Sithis damn you and your confusing questions woman.” The Argonian thought inwardly, feeling a headache blossoming in his skull under the barrage of questions from the Breton healer. “If you say so it must be true, I’m afraid I don’t know much about what would being ‘feminine’ entail. At least not to the same degree as you.” He answered, diverting his gaze away from Raelynn.

“Innocent? No, I wouldn’t say she is innocent….I’m not quite sure how to put it. Maybe the best way to say it is that she hasn't let the world embitter her.” The Argonian replied to Raelynn’s last question, finally turning his head too look at the Breton once again.

He was squirming. This was fun. “Ahhh, of course you do Jaraleet. You must have noticed the outline of her hips, the softness in her walk - the girlish air in her voice?” Raelynn smiled again, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, winding it almost as tight as Jaraleet was. “There are many things that set the fairer sex apart from, well, the men. Beautifully long eyelashes that flutter just so... Full lips that pout in the heat of the moment... “ She wanted him to picture such features on Meg, and she watched him intensely, she would know when he had conjured such an image in his mind…

“Damnable woman, torture would be a more pleasant fate than having to endure your onslaught of questions.” The Argonian grumbled inwardly and, yet, in spite of his inward protests it came all too easy to picture Meg the way that Raelynn described, at least for a brief second it was before he shook his head rather violently to dispel the mental image. “I’ve known torturers less wicked than you, you know that?” He said jokingly, letting out a defeated sigh before flopping down onto the seat he had been using but a few moments ago and from which he had stood up at some indeterminate point during the Breton’s barrage of question.

She laughed at his comment, knowing that her game of cat and mouse had landed in her favour. “Oh Jaraleet… You must have feelings for the girl or else you would have been able to shrug such questions off.” She poked her tongue out impishly at him, it had been a while since she’d had quite so much fun. “I suppose you’re right. It was rather wicked of me…” Her tone was not apologetic in the slightest, it was prideful if anything, and her smug grin only backed it up. She sighed with a girlish hum. “I must say though… It’s quite a surprise. I would never have imagined or guessed at you two getting close in such a way.”

“Oh, fine, I do, I do. I swear to the Hist, if I had feathers you’d have already made me tear them out in frustration.” The Argonian admitted with a defeated sigh, shaking his head slightly. He needed to keep a better grip on his emotions it seemed. He frowned slightly at what she said next, shaking his head once more. “You are a wicked woman Raelynn. Enjoy your victory.” Jaraleet said, letting out a light chuckle. “Come now, surely you’ve had enough toying with my emotions right?” He chuckled nervously at her final words. “I...I mean…” He stuttered out, clearing his throat with a light cough. “No...no...surely it must be just Raelynn messing with me again….right?” The Argonian thought inwardly, doubt immediately seeping into his mind as he recalled what had happened the previous night.

“Oh come on now, I’m allowed to take all chances at levity these days. I was kidnapped twice you know! Let me be wicked... It’s naught but jest anyway…” She couldn’t believe she played the victim card, in any other occasion, it would have been rather cheap of her, but she wasn’t entirely serious about it. She knew the Argonian would get a kick from it - if she could joke about it with anyone, it was Jaraleet. Crude humour at its finest she thought to herself, unable to subdue the smile from her face and glimmer from her eyes. “It’s nice, Jaraleet! That you’ve found someone in our group to be close with.” Her voice had finally softened of it’s interrogative and cunning edge, her posture too. “So what are you planning to do about it?”

Jaraleet laughed out loud at Raelynn’s use of the fact that she had been kidnapped twice, some of the tension leaving his body. “Oh, fine, I’ll allow it this time.” He said, shaking his head before chuckling yet again as he relaxed in the chair. “It is nice, it really he is.” He said, smiling slightly at Raelynn. “Honestly, I do not know.” The Argonian answered when Raelynn asked what he planned to do about it. “So much of my life has been dedicated to, well, fighting that I haven’t given a thought to love previously. And, well, with all that it’s going on….as I said, I do not know what to do.”

“Love huh?” She asked with a smile, a sense of warmth rushing through her at the very thought. “Well, I figure you have two options here… You can do nothing, or you can do something.” That didn’t sound too elaborate, that just sounded obvious. “I mean, you can let time pass by and do nothing about your feelings hoping that something besides yourself pulls you together - chance, or fate, so to speak. Or you can take it into your own hands my friend.” She sighed again, eyes darting upwards as she thought pensively for a few moments. “Megana strikes me as the kind of girl who would most definitely take it into her own hands eventually. But I also think that a gesture of affection from you would absolutely blindside her and sweep her completely off her feet.”

She thought about Meg, how she was feminine but also how she could be staunchly independent and rather fierce at times. There was a boyishness about her. “If I were trying to woo and impress her… I might take her a single flower… Just one. But of course that’s only what I would do…” Her fingers found her way to her hair again and she continued to twirl the strands around it, a sly grin on her lips as she winked knowingly at Jaraleet. “But I’m just a devilishly wicked woman… Whatever would I know about all of that?” Her voice once again, a honeyed playful purr as she made yet another scheming remark. How could she resist, after all?

Jaraleet rolled off his eyes at Raelynn’s last remarks before letting out a soft chuckle, smiling fondly at the Breton woman. “Couldn’t resist getting in one last coy remark, could you?” The Argonian said, shaking his head slightly. “I’ll think about it Raelynn, truly, I will. But I think that such a gesture...well, it could best wait until we are out of our current predicament here, wouldn’t you agree?” He said, falling silent as an unwelcome thought crossed his mind. “But...if things seem to look to dire for us, I’ll take action before I’m unable to.” He added quietly, frowning slightly to himself.

She nodded in agreement, he wasn’t wrong. The situation was tense and wasn’t going to let up anytime soon, but in her mind - that was all the more reason to act. There would be no forcing Jaraleet to do anything he didn’t want to, though. “You’re right, and for what it’s worth - I think she likes you a lot too.” She thought to continue dangling Jaraleet on a string by his emotions, but her conscience got the better of her and she just smiled. “I think whatever you choose to do will be right, whenever that may be. She likes you. You’ll know what to do…” Her gaze travelled to the window, and she realised that time was getting on - she still had errands to complete. “I really must get going... “ She sighed as she stood from the chair. “It’s been good to see you Jaraleet.”

She gathered up her belongings and made her way to the door, turning just one last time to speak to him. “I mean it about getting that wound closed up. You’ll have one raging infection if you don’t see to it today…” There was a sternness to her voice, but the smile that followed betrayed all severity of it entirely. “Take care, friend.” And with that, she left.

“Thank you Raelynn, and it has been good to see you too.” The Argonian said, smiling at the Breton woman as she got up from the chair. “You seem to forget that infections aren’t much of an issue for us Argonians. But don’t worry, I’ll have it seen today by someone in the hotel’s infirmary, you have my word.” He said, standing up and going up with her towards the door as she made her way out of the room. “You take care too Raelynn, you take care too.”

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Thank You

_{Brought to you by Greenie and yours truly}

---

12th of Midyear, Late Night, Three Crowns Hotel, Courtyard

With the meeting finally over, Meg had left almost immediately, though not for bed. True, she was exhausted, but more than physically it was mentally. Those days with Zahir in the other inn had left her stressed, even though she knew he was going to be fine. It was the future that kept pricking at her mind. What would happen once Sora was rescued? It didn’t seem plausible to her that they would be able to stay here in Gilane. If her friend had been so easily captured from right under their noses, if Raelynn had been so easily tortured with no one being the wiser, then how would the entire group be able to remain where they were? Being allied with the Poncy Man had brought more cracks to their group than safety, and it worried and saddened her. And what of Zahir? If she was to leave… who would take care of him?

She didn’t want those thoughts for tonight. They still had time- she wanted to relax her mind and let herself feel free. She knew he was safe, so she would stay here for the night. But before then…

Having snatched a bottle from her room, Meg had made her way out to the hotel’s courtyard, carefully walking down the dimly lit pathway before she finally came to the same short wall where she had sobbed like a child before her friend. Smiling a little, she sat down and stretched out her legs, pulling out the cork as she did. It seemed like so long ago- so much had happened since the night of the party… too much. She brought the bottle to her lips and took a gulp, enjoying the taste and hoping it would provide some of the numbness she wanted to feel.

“I had a feeling that I would find you here.” Said Jaraleet as he entered the courtyard, frowning slightly as he noticed the bottle on Meg’s hand. “I think you told me a while ago that if I saw you with a bottle of alcohol I should take it from your hands, no?” The Argonian spoke as he crossed the short distance that separated them. He still wore the armor with which he had set off to Al-Aqqiya, damaged as it was after Sa’ad’s onslaught, having not bothered to change in the aftermath of the meeting that the group had held.

Letting out a sigh, he sat next to Meg and turned his head to look at her. “Want to tell me what's bothering you?” He asked her softly, a note of worry in his voice.

Meg looked up, surprise written on her face. She hadn't expected anyone to notice where she was, not that she didn't feel a little happy that she had been noticed... perhaps a little giddy that it was her argonian friend. Then she saw the state of his armour and clothes, and the slight feeling of elation fell, creating a pit in her stomach.

She took another gulp from the bottle, slightly sheepish from his words but not particularly willing to comply and give up her drink. "How 'bout we share then?" she asked, giving him a small grin, though there was a hint of desperation as she spoke. "Drink's on me, eh?" She set the bottle on his lap, still holding onto it just in case he decided he wasn't thirsty.

"An’ I'll tell you what's botherin' me if you tell me why you're hurt again." It was hard to miss the tremble in her voice.

Jaraleet let out a sigh when it became clear that Meg wasn't willing to let go of her drink. “If you wish, I could use a drink.” He commented as she placed the bottle on his lap. “I probably should be asking you that question.” He replied with a slight frown when she said that she'd only tell him what was bothering her if he told her why he was hurt once more.

“The last time I saw you both of your knuckles were bloody messes and your lip was split.” He said as he gingerly freed the bottle from her grip, frowning when he noticed that her knuckles were still bruised and only scabbing just now. “Honestly, look at them. I should probably drag you to my room so I could bandage them.” He said, still holding her hand as he carefully ran his thumb over her knuckles. “But, to answer your question, I got hurt while I was on a mission with Sevari and Latro.” Jaraleet said, taking a drink from the bottle.

"That's not fair... changin’ the subject like that..." Meg's mumbles quieted however. A mission with Sevari and Latro? She blinked a little, and then she remembered the khajiit man addressing Jaraleet after he had saved him and sent them on the way. She bit her lip, suddenly upset, and the pain from her healing wound fueled it even more. He had just gotten better, and then was immediately whisked off onto another life threatening mission? How was that right? How was that...

But that was what he was, wasn't it? Like Gregor had said.

She let out a soft sigh and looked up at the argonian. "Ya really gotta be more careful," she muttered. "Yer not like, a pincushion or somethin'. If somethin' happened to you too..." Looking down at her own hand, she shook her head, voice low as she continued. "Bruised hands an' a split lip wouldn' hurt as much as what I'd be feelin' in 'ere." She used her free hand and rapped it against her heart; a slight hiss of pain escaped as her bruise made contact with her shirt.

Jaraleet felt his guts twist with guilt as Meg spoke, easily able to tell that the Nord woman was upset. “I’m sorry.” He muttered, letting go of her hand and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Didn’t mean to hurt you or make you upset. When Sevari came for me he was already with Latro, ready to go. There wasn’t much time to say anything to anyone.” He said softly. “But, hey, I’m here now, am I not? Bruised, yeah, but still alive.” He said softly, trying to ease her worries a little bit.

"Yeah," she agreed, smiling a little as she nodded. That was the most important thing, wasn't it? He was alive and well and right here, not like Rhea, not like J'raij...

Taking another sip from the bottle, she let out a small sigh, though this one was much more relaxed than the one before. Unknowingly she leaned closer, resting her head against the argonian. "When I foun' Zahir... there were two men. They were just wailin' on him, even though he was down an' out. Just beatin' on him 'cause he was too small t'defend himself. An'-" Her hands curled into fists, and she winced at the tightness. "-I... just lost it. It... it made me so damn mad t'see him like that. Helpless. I wanted t'kill ‘em. I didn' think of me, nothin'. I just wanted 'em to know how it must've felt for him." She paused and tilted her head, wondering what Jaraleet might be thinking. "Beat 'em good too."

“Hmmm, I see.” Jaraleet replied when Meg had finished telling her tale. Part of him wanted to be mad at her for putting herself in danger and, yet, he found that he couldn't do so. Instead, the Argonian found himself smiling at the Nord woman, chuckling softly. “Why am I not surprised in the least.” He said fondly, shaking his head slightly. “I'm sorry to hear that Zahir went through that.” He said softly, tightening his embrace slightly. He could tell that Meg cared for the orphan a great deal and he had no doubt that the beating he had gone through was something that still bothered her

"Aye, me too." Meg looked back down at the bottle in her hand, contemplating it. "He though' I was taken away by the dwemer, like his pa..." Her grip around the bottle tightened and she took a gulp before holding it out for him to partake. "Las' time I fough' like tha'? I was just a kid in Riften streets. After tha', it was always with m'sword." She grinned a little as she shook her leg, letting the sword in the scabbard by her hip jostle.

Jaraleet chuckled softly and smiled at Meg, taking the bottle from her hands and taking a swig. “Hmmm, I better watch out and make sure I don’t make you angry. Don’t think I could win against you in a fist fight.” He said, laughing slightly. He took another swig from the bottle and offered it again for Meg to take a drink.

Meg's grin turned a little mischievous as she grabbed the bottle in one hand and raised her free hand, curling it lightly and tapping at his armour, being careful not to make contact with where she was still bruised. "Only one way t'fin' out," she replied, letting out a laugh of her own.

Jaraleet cocked an eyebrow up at Meg’s words. “Is that a challenge, Miss Megana?” The Argonian asked, smirking slightly at her. “Because if it is, well, you better be careful, or I might take you up on it.”

"I would but yer already in a state," Meg quipped back with a giggle, letting her hand rest in her lap. "Wouldn' wanna hurt ya even more, y'know?"

She found herself amused, her earlier melancholic mood put to the side for fun bantering with the argonian. She looked up and smiled at him, eyes bright. "I gotta thank you. Y'always make m'feel better when I'm feelin' down." Meg set the bottle on the ground before carefully wrapping her arms around the argonian; she didn't want to hurt him any more than he was, but she was certainly going to show her affection and appreciation.

Jaraleet smiled at Meg’s words. “I’m glad to hear that I’ve been able to help you Meg.” The Argonian said softly. He was surprised when he felt Meg’s arms wrap around him, and let out a soft chuckle when he noticed that she was being deliberately careful. “You know I’m not made of glass, right?” He playfully chided her before he too wrapped his arms around her in an embrace, pulling her closer than before.

Surprised that he returned the hug, Meg was still for a split second before letting out an elated laugh and wrapping her arms tighter around the argonian. It felt nice, comfortable, something she had clearly missed for a long time, though she wouldn't be able to tell how long. When she finally pulled away she was still smiling, face a little pink.

"Yer right," she replied jokingly, "yer not made of glass."

“It would be rather inconvenient, wouldn’t it?” The Argonian joked back, letting out a soft chuckle, before he smiled at Meg, happy to see that she was feeling better from what he could tell. He closed his eyes slightly and, without thinking, pulled Meg a bit closer to him as he leaned against the wall comfortably. “I’m glad that you are back. I was worried when you told me you wouldn’t be staying here for a while.” He said softly, not fully sure why he had voiced that particular thought.

"Really?" Meg replied. She blinked at the argonian, though with his eyes closed he wouldn't have been able to see. "I... well tha's why I came back t'tell you. I thought maybe you might've been..." She couldn't help but turn a little more red, grinning once more. He would have been worried... would he have missed her as well? It was as if warm feeling was descending upon her, reminding her of just a few years ago when she would feel the same with her khajiit friend.

Feeling a little abashed, it took her a moment before replying. "Well... makes me happy t'hear tha'. I mean- I don' wan' you t'worry, but it just-" She fumbled about for her words. "Guess it just feels nice someone would be thinkin' 'bout me."

“I think we’ve had this conversation about worrying for the other before, haven’t we?” Jaraleet joked slightly, opening his eyes again and smiling softly at Meg. “But, yes, I really was worried for you.” He told her softly, giving her shoulder a light squeeze. “I understand, don’t worry.” He told her when she mentioned that it felt nice that someone would be thinking of her. He opened his mouth to speak again when, suddenly, a thought crossed his mind: could he truly say that he understood what she meant?

He was Haj-Eix, a blade wielded by the An-Xileel for the protection of Argonia. His life’s worth was proportional to his use for that purpose. “You need only concern yourself with one thing and one thing only: your mission to Argonia.” The words from the head of the facility in which he had been trained rang crystal-clear in his mind, as if he had only heard them yesterday. All of his life up until this point he had never cared for anyone, and he was sure that no one had cared for him in turn. At least not the way Meg did….or the way he now cared for her. He had been close to his fellow Haj-Eix trainees, that was for certain, but there had always been the unspoken truth that their missions could call for them to sacrifice the other at a moment’s notice for the good of the mission. Or that one might leave and never return.

The sudden realization made him feel uncomfortable, and a lump in his throat formed as he tried to organize his thoughts. “Thank you, Meg.” He said softly, pulling her a bit closer than before. Surely it was fine for someone to worry for him like Meg did, no? Surely….it couldn’t hurt for him to worry that way too, right?

A little confused at being thanked and pulled closer, Meg could only try to imagine what might be going on in his mind. He was such a closed book to her, but she found herself drawn to him anyway. She remained quiet for awhile as she rested against the argonian, allowing herself to enjoy the closeness for as long as it lasted, a lingering smile on her face.

"Dunno what you're sayin' thanks for, silly," she finally murmured. "I'm the one who should be sayin' it."

Jaraleet smiled softly at Meg’s words, allowing himself to enjoy the moment for one more moment before he spoke again. “What for?” He asked her softly. He had an idea of what she’d say...but part of him wanted to hear her say it. Maybe it was selfish on his part, and he couldn’t fully understand why he wanted to hear Meg say it….but surely there would be no harm in allowing himself such a small act of selfishness, no?

He shook his head slightly to clear his mind free of his errant thoughts. “I do mean it Meg, thank you.” He added softly before she could answer.

A chuckle left Meg. "Well then, yer welcome, even if I dunno why." She hesitated for the slightest moment before reaching over and taking his hand. "What for? Jaraleet, yer words in Anvil're one of the reason's I'm still here. I was... lost there, I didn' know what t'do, where t’go. I felt... lonely, but you came along an y'were a friend. Even here, in Gilane... you've had m'back-" She paused, her lips trembling slightly. "Y'took a bullet for me. I- I would've been dead if it weren' for you. Even now... y'didn' have t'come but... y'did." Her eyes were a little glazed as she looked him in the eyes. "All that, an' more... that's why I'm thankin' you."

Her eyes shifted and she looked down at her lap, feeling embarrassed. There was more, but it was hard to say. This much was enough for now.

Jaraleet was silent for a second as he processed what Meg had just told him. He was truly selfish, wasn’t he? Someone like him who had bloodied his hands with murder and torture without batting an eye didn’t deserve for someone like Meg to think so highly of him. To care for him so deeply. He swallowed hard, feeling the lump in his throat forming again and his guts twisting with guilt.

He suddenly pulled her into an embrace once more, so that she wouldn’t see the moisture that had suddenly formed in his eyes. “I’d do it again.” He said, his voice barely rising above a choked up whisper. “For you, I’d do it again.” He repeated himself, breathing deeply and closing his eyes. “I...I...thank you Meg...I don’t deserve such words….but thank you.” Jaraleet said, briefly tightening his embrace before he eased his hold on Meg.

Why did he say such things? Why wouldn't he deserve such words? Thoughts were whirling in Meg's mind as she was embraced, and even as he eased his hold, she remained as she was.

She suddenly remembered Gregor's words from the party.

“Don't be too hard on Jaraleet. He is a good man who means well. His methods are a product of his past. The war between the Argonians and the Dunmer is famously cruel, Megana. The unfortunate reality is that we find ourselves fighting a similar war now against the Dwemer, a race who did not hesitate to butcher defenseless citizens in the Imperial City. If Jaraleet kept things from you, he did that because he wants to preserve your innocence. It is a beautiful thing that should be nourished because once lost, it can never be regained. You have a sweet heart and I admire that.”

Was this why Jaraleet felt he didn't deserve the thanks she was giving him? The affection she felt for him?

"No," she replied. "Don'- don' say that. I dunno yer past, but-" She hesitated, unsure of how to say what was in her heart. "-but tha' doesn' mean it takes away from what yer doin' now, for the group, for me. Whoever you were, whatever y'did- it's... you- yer not that person. Not t'me."

He didn’t deserve her, didn’t deserve her words….and yet part of him wanted to hold onto them. To forget all that he was, all that he had done, all the blood and corpses of his past, and be the person that Meg believed him to be. He truly was selfish, wasn’t he? That desire was proof enough. “You can’t know how much that means to me.” He finally said, his voice yet again a choked up whisper. He let his head rest against her shoulder and let himself take solace in her presence. Surely he could afford himself this, no? After all his services to the An-Xileel? “Thank you.”

"You're welcome." Meg didn't need to know the ghosts of his past to feel what he felt right now. She tightened her arms around him once more, closing her own eyes as she rested her head against him. He needed this even more than she did, and she was more than willing to deliver for him. She knew she couldn't take away the pain of his past, but she would lend him her gratitude and affection, and she would easily accept his in kind, gratefully and willingly.

Jaraleet returned Meg’s embrace as he felt her arms tightening around him once more and as she let her head rest against him. The Argonian let the silence stretch on for a few more moments, allowing himself to simply be and take solace in the moment. Eventually, after taking a shaky breath, he pulled slightly away from Meg, albeit he didn’t fully break off the embrace. “I’m sorry, I came here to check up on you and yet you were the one who helped me out.” He said softly, smiling slightly at Meg after he shook his head. There was more that he wanted to say, to express, but he didn’t have the words to properly convey what he felt.

“Thank you Meg, your words mean a lot to me.” He said softly, pausing hesitantly as he thought about what to say next. “And you. You mean a lot to me too.” He finally said, taking her hands in his and giving them a light squeeze. There was more that he wanted to say but he didn’t trust himself at the moment. That’d have to do for the moment.

Meg couldn't help but beam up at the argonian, and though there was a slight wincing of pain when he held her hands, she refused to move them away. "You do too," she returned. The feeling of warmth from before had returned, engulfing her completely, marred only by the stinging of her hands.

"Say," she finally continued, a sheepish grin on her face. "Remember when ya said somethin' ‘bout bandages...?"

“Sorry, sorry, I got carried away in the moment and forgot.” Jaraleet said, chuckling softly before smiling at Meg. “Come, let’s go to my room, I think I can find some bandages there or, if worst comes to worst, I can easily make some, or well something close enough.”

"It's fine," Meg replied with a laugh. "My fault, remember? Brynja would have my hide..." She scratched at her head before standing up, stretching out her arms towards the sky. "Ahh... that's nice." Leaning down, she picked up the still mostly full bottle before nodding at Jaraleet. "Lead the way!"

Jaraleet smiled at Meg, glad to see that she was back to her usual sunny disposition. Standing up quickly, he nodded when she told him to lead the way. After leaving the courtyard it only took a few moments for them to find themselves in front of the door that led into Jaraleet’s room. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll go and look to see if there are any bandages.” He said as he opened the door and beckoned Meg to enter.

Nodding, Meg made her way in and headed over to one of the beds and sat down. Even as she took a sip from the bottle, she remembered the last time she had come in here, ready to go out and bring Daro’Vasora back home. Things hadn’t gone the way she’d hope, not at all. Setting the bottle next to her even as she clutched it, she let out a sigh, her mind wandering. She wanted her back, she wanted them all back.

No sad thoughts tonight, she reminded herself. Bringing the bottle to her lips once more, she took a larger gulp.

“Hmmm, it'd probably be a good idea to let go of the bottle before I bandage up your knuckles.” Jaraleet said as he made his way to the bed where Meg was sitting, a roll of bandages in one hand. “Unless you want me to bandage the bottle to one of your hands?” He joked as he took a seat next to her and gently grabbed her free hand. “Might sting a little at first.” He warned her as he began to bandage her knuckles.

Meg screwed her face into a sulk, letting out a small huff. "A'right, a'right," she muttered, though she didn't actually set the bottle down until she took another large gulp. "There-" She hissed a little at the stinging but kept herself from moving, not wanting Jaraleet's efforts to be in vain. "Hrmm... I pro'ly shudda asked ya t'do this the other day..." She shrugged and kicked a little at the ground; despite the stinging, she was enjoying the attention.

“It would have been for the best, yeah.” He said as he finished bandaging her first hand. “Probably should change it in a couple of days….but I'm no expert. So it'd probably be for the best if you consulted whoever is in charge of the infirmary here.” He said as he gingerly grabbed the other hand and began the same process that he had done on the first one.

Pursing her lips further, Meg let out another 'hmmm' as she listened to the argonian's words. "I guess," she agreed, head tilting as she watched the hand bandaging procedure. A smirk came over her as she sneakily reached for the bottle yet again. "Maybe Brynja... or maybe someone else." Even her fuzzy mind knew she would get in trouble if the Nord found out she wasn't taking care of her injuries.

“Do I need to chain your hands to the bed so you won’t be clutching the Sithis-damned bottle all the time?” Jaraleet said, shaking his head slightly, before chuckling fondly. “At the very least don’t hog it all to yourself, will you?”

"Ah!" She had asked him to share- he had a point, she was drinking it all while he was doing all the hard work. Resisting the urge to drink more, she held it out for him to take. "Here, here, drink up!" Handing the bottle over, she let out a huge yawn before leaning back, enjoying the soft bed cover.

"Y'know," she said after a moment, "the night's are so, so hot here compared t’home. Never even used the sheets. In Skyrim, y'couldn't sleep unless y'were covered up an' warm. At least, I couldn'." Her green eyes rested on Jaraleet. "Y'ever been there?" She paused a second before continuing. “How’s it where yer from?”

Jaraleet shook his head when Meg asked him if he had ever been to Skyrim. “No, I’ve never been there.” He said, chuckling softly when she asked how it was the climate of Argonia. “Hot and humid. Didn’t have much need of blankets or any warm clothes in general. Sure, rains could be a bit of a bother from time to time. But, well, it’s not like in Skyrim I’d wager.” Jaraleet continued, chuckling softly. “The heat here didn’t bother me so much, it’s more the lack of humidity in the air that gets to me. At least Gilane is a port town, so it isn’t so bad. But, well, it isn’t pleasant still. It’s good that we haven’t had reason to venture into the desert proper. I don’t think I could stand it there.”

"Hrmmm..." Meg flopped back on the bed and stared up at the oh so fascinating ceiling, waving a hand in the air before letting her arm fall back down next to her. "I'd die, I'd so die in the desert," she commented, giggling a little and shaking her head. "Dry, dry Meg, like cured meat. I'd prob die in marshes too... I'm used t'cold... even Anvil was hot for me."

Her giggles stopped after a moment, a thought from before returning to her. "Hey, Jaraleet... when we go an' try t'free Sora, we're pro'ly not be able t'stay here anymore... right...?" She propped herself up on her elbows so that she could see him.

“Probably, yeah.” He replied to her question, letting out a sigh. “It’d probably be for the best if we left Hammerfell altogether, truth be told.” He continued on, lowering his voice so that only Meg could hear him. “Even if we succeed in freeing Sora, we’ll raise too much noise. Draw too much attention to ourselves. It wouldn’t surprise me if, after that mission, the Poncy Man would consider us more like a liability rather than assets worth protecting.” He said, letting out a sigh. “You’re thinking about Zahir, aren’t you?” He asked her softly. Why else would she ask him if they had to leave after trying to rescue Sora?

Meg nodded, looking a little somber as she let herself lay back once again, the heels of her boots rhythmically hitting against the floor as she attempted to relay her thoughts. "I know I can' take him. This is his home- he ain' no one t'me really... I'm just..." Her voice trailed a little. "Worried... I know I'mma miss him some, an' he's gonna miss me..." She closed her eyes and let out a breath. "I s'pose I'll just havta see then, eh..." She took in a deep breath, feeling drowsiness slowly creeping in on her.

"You'll be with us... right?" Eyes still closed, she reached out her hand.

“I’ll be, don’t worry.” He replied, taking her hand in this. “Don’t try to lie to me Meg. Zahir isn’t no one to you, otherwise I doubt you’d have assaulted two men on your lonesome for ‘no one’ or am I wrong?” He asked her softly, a note of worry in his voice yet again. “If you need to...cry or...I don’t know, whatever you need to do….I am here for you Meg.” He said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

A smile spread on Meg's face. Of course her stupid words were false, and of course he knew that just as well as her. "Yer a good one, Jaraleet," she mumbled, turning to her side and curling up as much as possible. Her hand was still in his and she was more than happy with that. "I... I know. Thank you." Even in her tipsy, sleepy state, she felt she was being a burden. "Sorry for jus' takin' over this bed."

“Don’t worry about it Meg. Sleep well.” Jaraleet said softly, making no effort to pull his hand away. He waited for her to fall asleep and then made himself as comfortable as he could, too exhausted to put in the effort to move away or even take the time to change out of his damaged armor.

It was likely the morning would bring regret over terrible sleeping postures. For the moment, however, there was peace and comfort.