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Snippet #1502964

located in Tamriel, a part of Elder Scrolls: Elite, one of the many universes on RPG.

Tamriel

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The setting sun begins a slow descent down over the horizon as the city of Anvil grinds to a halt in activity. Guards ready their torches to make their nightly rounds and the taverns leave their doors open for potential patrons. All in due time a group is supposed to meet at The Flowing Bowl. A dark shadow encircles down below the water beneath the dockside of Anvil, the Gold Coast's light reflecting over the shallow waves. Onasha has abandoned her armor and only wears a cloth medestly cinched around her slim hips. The argonian frame is meant to be streamline, making them easily a naturally swift race. Moreso underwater than on land although their powerful legs can help them leap to their goal. Onasha flexes her webbed toes and clawed fingers, eyes keen on a large fish hiding at the bottom of the dock. The creature's minor nightvision and thermal vision helps her detect where it is, along with tasting its scent in the water by filtering her hidden gills. She dives and cuts the chase short; long snout splitting to trap the hapless meal inside of needling jaws.

After shredding the fish and swallowing a great deal of it Onasha lingered at the bottom. Her muscles have begun to ache from the weight of the cold water enveloping her roughly scaled body. Perhaps it is oddly comforting as she imagines the Night Mother bathing her in the dormant blood of their enemies. Or so the Shadowscale would like to believe. She has worked her way up to Executioner in the Dark Brotherhood and still Onasha cannot bring herself to warm up to the Night Mother so easily as her Dark Brothers and Sisters. It's distressing nearly. Does it make her any less of a Dark Sister? She cannot abandon the Hist in that manner. The sun has sunken lower and the water warms as the air changes. Still Onasha reluctantly hauls herself out of the sea to return to a discreet area nearby, hidden by foliage with her stashed armor and weapons nearby. She dries slowly with droplets sliding down the grooves of her azure and magenta scales. When her eyes close she blends in with the shadows that begin to swell up.

She remembered when her Listener arrived with the special message. An assassin has been required for a noble in Anvil. The huntress pulls on her armor and enshrouds her kaleidoscope colored face with the trademark black hood. Pulling the mask over her narrow muzzle (all the better to eat you with) she recoils her horrendously long tongue inside of her throat. After eating it gets somewhat out of hand. Onasha crouches before exiting her safety zone, wary of anyone who may have attempted to follow her. The argonian slinks inside of the tavern calmly and makes her way to a table, her longest talon down on one of her feet tapping the floor methodically. It's a habitual instinct for argonians to seek out their prey after all. On her person is a silver dagger sheathed in ebony and steel arrows clumped in a dark quiver, an argonian bow carved from a sacred Hist tree. Wistful notions from her homeland of Argonia. Onasha crosses her raptor legs, thick, finned tail drifting down below tall, thorned heels. As instructed in the letter the femme wears a yellow colored cloth around her right elbow in order to be identified by this future employer.