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Lyra Victus

The Guildmaster

0 · 740 views · located in Skyrim

a character in “Skyrim: The Watcher's Vigil.”, as played by Shadow44499

Description

Image

Name: Lyra Victus

Physical Description: Lyra stands about 5'7" and weighs in about 150 pounds. Her build is small, petite but she has minor muscle under it all. Her hair which sits about shoulder length and is dark brown with a shine to it. Her eyes are a deep honey brown with an Imperial edge to them, her skin is palish white and fine, unscarred and unmaimed. She is the ideal Imperial female. When she is out of her steel armor she wears dark green mages robes, adorned with a gold brim. Around her neck at all times is a Imperial Sigil, showing her loyalty to her home nation. In combat Lyra wears her steel armor adorned with a red cape with a dragon on it, her gauntlets both have the Imperial chest as does the scabbard of her blade.

Race: Imperial

Age: 32

Gender: Female.

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Role: Leader

Personalty: Lyra is a calm collected woman of repute among the Empire. She was born with magical talent and therefor has become brutality intelligent. At times she can come off as cold, perfering to distance herself from potential foes. However, after awhile she will warm up to fellows she deems safe and takes a "Wolf-Mother" stance with those under her command. The woman is also swift to action or response, never giving her foes an upper hand. However she can be reckless and brash at times and has paid for such. When it comes to fear she takes a fight as opposed to flight respond, attacking her foes with a fury of Imperial wraith. She has been labeled as charismatic and has learned be diplomatic, seductive, and intimidating. Making her a force to deal with in any verbal conflict. Lyra also can be highstrung, her heritage and feats have made her confidence boastful and all-knowing. This is a major flaw of hers but also a strength.

History: Lyra was born in Bravil as the daughter of the Count and Countess of the city. She grew up the lavish castle, and had a full, content childhood. Her father eventually trained her in the arts of magic and combat because he was unable to produce a male heir. To her surprise she enjoyed the training as a teenager. For a time she became incredibly immersed in her training in particular Destruction magic. Learning nearly all she could and becoming a Master of the skill, with Lightning in particular. She soon joined the Imperial Legion and was given the position of Centurion due to her heritage and bloodline. For a few years she spent her days wandering about Cyrodil slaying bandits and other threats along with the Legion and various city guards. But soon the Civil War broke out and her unit was moved north. She proved herself time and time again and in the Stormcloak attack over Fort Snowhawk she proved her metal, beating the Stormcloaks back with less supplies and less troops. She returned to Cryodil a War-Hero, only to learn a few years later to return to Skyrim and lead a Guild funded by the Empire.

Major Skills: Destruction, Illusion, Speech.
Minor Skills: Heavy Armor, One-Handed, Enchanting, Restoration.

Equipment: Lyra carries an Imperial Sword, refined and improved with Ebony ore making it more lethal than normal steel, as a back-up weapon she bears a Elvish dagger, a plain dagger. Her armor is Master Steel plate with Imperial Steel gauntlets and Imperial Steel boots. The Imperial also carries a small reptiore of potions, scrolls, and tomes she deems may come in handy during battle. Her enchanted item is her Imperial Speech Sigil, it further increases her Illusion and Speech by small amounts.

Personal Side Quest Idea: N/A
Other: For the Empire!

So begins...

Lyra Victus's Story

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Character Portrait: Lyra Victus Character Portrait: Grawl sho-Targ Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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A cool morning breeze drifted over the cliffs of the mountains of the Falkreath hold as dawn drew upon the region. The sun rising gently, lighting the horizon in a orange hue. A woman in steel armor atop the balcony of a fortress which was now pacing back and forth drawing breath in and out of her lungs as she lay deep in though before looking toward the sunset. It was a calm before the storm that was brewing since the Civil War had ended in the Siege of Windhelm and the Imperial's favor. She took a brief remembrance of the battle, the city ablaze as the Siege Engines and Magi of the Empire smashed in the walls and then soon stormed the city. That was war, but now she was in charge of a different kind of war, a silent, quiet kind, playing the Thalmor at their own game, not that anyone knew her Guild was an Imperial weapon behind closed curtains. She looked briefly toward the gate for anymore arriving recruits before sighing and heading into the Keep yet again and through the narrow corridors, past a steel door that lead to her own Private Quarters and into the man chamber. Her hand brushing lightly over the newly rebuilt walls. It was hard to imagine this was the site of one of the first Dragon Attacks in Skyrim a score ago. Soon she arrived in her office and sat down with a swift movement, pulling out a quill and parchment, waiting, watching the door.

Meanwhile outside above the Keep's main gate patrolled a massive Orc. Singing and humming to himself as he leaned over the edge and watched the road with obviously intent. It was a beautiful morning to him after a night of working on the iron, blazed teeth of his forge and watching the gate was a welcome change from his monotonous work though he did enjoy it, gave him time to think and recollect. He too was remembering the past but a much further past, going all the way to his childhood of when he walked the wharfs of the Imperial docks on his own, only the sun and moon his masters, as well as his own stomach. But now, his own stomach was still his master as well as an echelon of Imperials in cities far to the south and north, though that was merely military work as usual and he was little to complain, they provided him with ale, money, food, and even a bed to sleep in every night. Trading a bit of freedom was worth it. But now, out here in Skyrim again he felt alone and free both wonderful and terrible, all he had to do now was wait for the new recruits to show up.

Three days ago fliers, posts, and word went out in every direction, to every hold, city, or village in Skyrim asking for Warriors, Mages, Rouges and the like to head to Helgen to throw in with a new Guild that would soon ever contend with the Companions in honor. Now all the two patrons of this guild had to do was wait patiently in the serene mountainous fort for freshblood to throw their hats into a new order, no matter what backround they hailed from.

The setting changes from Helegen - Watcher's Guild to Skyrim

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Character Portrait: Lyra Victus Character Portrait: Vanjirra Character Portrait: Adanion Character Portrait: Grawl sho-Targ Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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#, as written by Creek
Adanion:

The streets of Whiterun were teeming with activity. The myriad of strange noises in large towns had always made him tense, and under the current cirsumstances, he wished that he could silence everyone. Making use of his nimble Elven feet, he hurried to the cloud district. His only guide was the pale light of the moon. His heart pounded like a hammer on cloth, pulsing through his limbs until the vibrations reached his very fingertips. Sweat dripped from his brow, stinging as it seeped into his eyes. "They could be anywhere. . ." Adanion said to himself in a whisper. It was mere seconds before a Thalmor mage appeared around the corner.

As the Thalmor's eyes met his, Adanion felt fear jabbing at his heart. He ran. He ran like a frightened deer, attempting vainly to escape death. But it was too late. A horrendous pain struck his leg, and they responded by sending him hurdling into the ground. His nostrils were filled with the pungent odor of burning flesh—his burning flesh. He glanced down at his leg, where the pain seemed to stem from, and was horrified to find that the skin on his leg was completely gone; torn away by a raging fireball.

He screamed, begging for assistance from any who would offer it, but his pleas went unanswered. As he lay, he felt the world slip away from him. He gave in to what he considered his fate. It is forunate that he was wrong. A man appeared. He smiled assuringly at Adanion, or at least it appeared that way to Adanion in his dream-like state. Adanion heard the Thalmor mage release a blood-curdling screech that was cut off abruptly.

During these events, Adanion's eyes never left the magnificent man before him. His skin; beautiful, flawless, and glowing with an ethereal green aura. His gait; confident, graceful, and masculine. Adanion fought the urge to cry, but he could still feel a warm stream falling down his cheeks.

"Your story is not yet finished, Adanion. It is just beginning. Go forth, my son. May your paths always be green and golden." The stranger declared, his voice deep and reassuring. As he spoke, Adanion felt the pain in his limbs fade. His every fatigue and aching pain vanished, and he felt as if he had been born again. His eyes closed, and his world became darkness.



Sitting up, Adanion awoke with a start. His every sense as sharp as a razor. He was in a small cabin, the light of candles dancing on the hard wooden walls. Underneath him, was a small wooden cot. He moaned, his head wreathing in pain. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and reached instinctively for his dagger, but to his dismay it was not there. He looked up, and before him was a beautiful woman.

"You are awake! This is good. How do you feel?" She asked, her voice revealing her interest.

"I—I feel wonderful. Who are you? Where am I?" Adanion replied to the maiden.

"My name is Camilla Valerius, and you sir, are in Whiterun. We found you passed out near the house of Clan Gray-Mane. What happend to you?"

Memories swirled in Adanion's mind. The Thalmor agent. . . The man. . . Who were they? His head began to ache, and he moaned, "Ugh. . . I am not completely sure." He sat up, and removed himself from the bed.

"Careful now. You might be injured and not even know it." Camilla cautioned, steadying Adanion by placing a hand around his arm.

Adanion looked down at his leg, and let out a gasp of amazement. The flesh was completely intact, in fact, a scar that he had beared there for years was gone. The skin itself was soft and new. He caressed it before returning his gaze to the woman.

"Thank you for opening your home to me, but I must go now. I have a destination to reach." Adanion explained as he reached into his pocket and handed Camilla a few septims.

"No thanks is needed. I simply did what I would have wanted someone to do for me. Even so, you are welcome." She replied, stuffing the septims into a pocket in the front of her apron. As Adanion made his way for the door, he heard, "Wait! I never caught your name, stranger."

He turned back to Camilla and said, "My name is Adanion Eldenhearth." And with that, he exited the house. Making sure to shut the door securely after leaving. As he walked through the streets of Whiterun, he spotted a flyer nailed into the wall of a house. It said,

Adventurers,
Are you alone in this life? Do you wander without purpose? Do you seek to do good in this world? In an attempt to help reform Skyrim since the Dragonborn Crisis, The Watchers Guild has been formed. We are located in Helgen, and any are welcome to join. Simply report to our Guild Hall, and speak with our leader Lyra Victus. We look forward to your arrival.


Hmmm. . . Adanion entertained the thought.



Soon, he found himself at the gates of Helgen. Upon entering the courtyard, he saw a tall Orc conversing with a Khajiit. He decided to approach, even though his gut twisted when he looked at the Orc. "Uhm... Hello," He began awkwardly. "Do either of you know where I could find a woman named Lyra Victus?"

The setting changes from Skyrim to Helegen - Watcher's Guild

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lynly Snowsong Character Portrait: Lyra Victus Character Portrait: Sobek Character Portrait: Vanjirra Character Portrait: Grawl sho-Targ Character Portrait:
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The Orc was rather pleased by the flow of recruits, smiling as the Nord directed them. "Thank ye Lass... Just spared me a bit of breathe, aye, Lyra is likely in her office head into the main chamber and its the first door on the left from the entrance. Just be careful about what you touch in her office, a little spitfire that one." With that he turned and watched the horizon.

And then suddenly a lizard dropped from the trees near the entrance road and he did indeed stand up. He instantly recognized the armor, legends had been going around about this order of Nocturnal followers. But his surprise quickly turned to rage at the fact, he pulled his hammer from his back and snarled. "And who are, you damned wise-scale. And why are yous sulking about my gate?" He quickly barked. Then he heard the Lizard was looking for Lyra and he gave a large scowl. "We don't want you scaled hide around here, but your welcome to go in and get fried by the boss. Never had cooked Argonian before." The Orc said and sat back down, clearly aggravated. As he gave an intense snort.

Meanwhile within the Keep, Lyra was still preparing. Sorting through papers and few logs she had been left by the Empire before she noticed a Dunmer sitting in the keep with a bored aura about him. She called it in a lightly commanding voice. "Oi, you there, come here... I need to get you signed up!" Her voice echoed throughout the stonewalls gently, she was an Imperial and this was now Imperial property she would be as loud as she damn wanted, other races of Men or Mer for that matter where in her domain as soon as they entered her guildhall and she would show that. She was indeed, the Guildmaster, she was indeed a former Legionnaire that would likely be know by inhabitants of Skyrim and she was by birthright nobility. However, she understood that was no right to treat others with disrespect and would do her best to maintain a fair, open, welcoming Guild to all those that feel under her command. Provided that proved their worth and trustworthiness that was. She had no need for ruffians, fools, or enemy spies among her ranks. Though she doubted their would be any spies or hoped that would be true with her whole heart. Spies... Bad for business. As she waited for the Dunmer she quickly shifted through her papers, finding the ones for recruitment and sign up and laying them across the desk.

The setting changes from Helegen - Watcher's Guild to Skyrim

Setting

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Character Portrait: Lynly Snowsong Character Portrait: Lyra Victus Character Portrait: Adanion Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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#, as written by Creek
Adanion:

Adanion was somewhat shocked when a Nordic woman stopped and answered their questions before the Orc had a chance to. Her voice conveyed neither kindess nor trustworthiness, but Adanion followed her into the courtyard anyways. As he approached the entrance to the keep, he heard a voice booming throughout all of Helgen.

"Oi! You there! Come here. . . I need you to get signed up!" The authoritative voice commanded. It was a female voice, but by no means was it feminine. It sounded like the voice of The Emporer himself, and it might as well have been. For, whoever this voice belonged to was about to become Adanion's emporer.

"I suppose that is our Guildmaster. . ." Adanion said quietly to the Nordess in front of him, unsure of whether she would respond. Usually, Adanion wouldn't associate with a Nord—he had heard much of their hate for elves, and shared no fondess for them in return—but, he didn't have time to focus on the trivial stereotypes of the various races. He simply wanted to begin to make friends, regardless of whether they had curved, pointed, or furry ears. Or even none at all for that matter.

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Character Portrait: Lynly Snowsong Character Portrait: Lyra Victus Character Portrait: Vanjirra Character Portrait: Adanion Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Vanjirra nodded releived that this was the right place and some random other village that she would be ran out of by the inhabitants. She walked in nodding to the Nord woman in gratitude and looking over the Bosmer in curiousity. She had been to valenhood in her youth, but spent very little time there, maybe he might be a navtive from there. She pushed the thought back into her mind, deeming it a bit rude to question someone about their homeland upon first meeting and such.

She wandered into the village, quickly becoming destracted from actually being in a walled town without being almost immidiently kicked out for false accuations. Her hand opened, glowing with a red aura around it and muttered a few words. Soon a flash of red light appeared on the ground and a small creature, standing about the size of a small dog appeared beside her and looked up at the khajiit. "Anything you need of me mistress?" it said with a high and raspy voice. "Walk with me. see if you can find anything of intrest from my side." she said as she wandered around for a bit.

"Oi You there! Come here.." She turned toward the loud voice coming from inside and flicked her ear for a moment. "That must be the master. Come." She said, the scamp following hurriedly behind her. She wandered toward the where the voice had come from, but every now and again deviating from where she was heading to look at something before heading inside the tower.

In all honesty, from the group that she had seen, he felt quite alone in the fact that she was the only khajiit and knowing the relations between some races were still strained even after the war. She sighed to herself. "If this doesn't work out, Ii could possibly join a caravan somewhere..." she muttered to herself, putting up her hood just in case she was questioned.

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Character Portrait: Lyra Victus Character Portrait: Dayolin Jarvis Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Dayolin stood up with a sigh, he figured the guildmaster would be a Nord. His views of Nords in general were very low but that was because of their culture. The ones that lived in Skyrim had the same views as the Altmer only it revolved around men instead of mer. Secondly they frowned on the use of most magics, which is militarily dimwitted. His only exception to these generalizations was Tiber Septim. He, however, was always an exception.

He entered the guildmaster's quarters and sat down on a chair in front of her desk. One hand was in his pocket fiddeling with a black soul gem. That practice had been frowned upon in the mages guild back in Cyrodiil but he liked the uses of them none the least. They were, after all, the most powerful type of soul gem there was. Very useful for enchantments and summonings.

"So I take it these are the papers." He said as more of a statement than a question. "Before we get started on this I would like to know about any shrines that are situated in the guild and to what gods are they devoted to. Also where we will be training as well." He finished speaking, took the papers, and began filling them out with some ink&pen that were on the desk.

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Character Portrait: Lyra Victus Character Portrait: Dayolin Jarvis Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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The Imperial rose a brow as the Dunmer waltzed in, if you could even call it that, she placed a hand under her chin thinking and observing the mer before he spoke. Perking lightly at his words, "Before we get started on this I would like to know about any shrines that are situated in the guild and to what gods are they devoted to. Also where we will be training as well."

"We have shrines devoted to all of the Eight Divines in the south wing. I however, will not condone worship of Azura or any other Daedric Princes upon Guild land." However, she quickly gave the Dark Elf another look and noticed the Talos Necklace. "Sorry, you must excuse me, if you are asking about Talos, I will permit a Shine to him to built. One would already have been, but it must be hidden for the time being. My 'investors' may not agree with you and your religious views, for the time being. She added an extra emphasis on the last few words.

"As for the training. We have a three areas devoted to magic, melee, and archery in the basement. And in the west wing an Alchemy and Enchanting chamber. Barracks are already furnished to the north. Two to a room. And in the east wing you'll find the study, dining hall, and kitchen." She concluded and sat back in her chair. "I hope you find our facilities useful, they were not cheap."

After that she called for the next recruit, as well as saying that multiple recruits could come into the office at once and that it would make her job much more simple.

The setting changes from Skyrim to Helegen - Watcher's Guild

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lyra Victus Character Portrait: Sobek Character Portrait: Aaliyah Sendu Character Portrait: Grawl sho-Targ Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Aaliyah Sendu


The Redguard woman wore a bright smile, the white of her even teeth a marked contrast to the dark red of her lips and the burnished ebony of her complexion. The sun was warm on her face, the thuds of the hooves beneath her were solid and steady, and the air smelled fresh and crisp. It was not the desert to which she was so accustomed, but it was lovely in its own way.

Aaliyah dropped the horse’s reins, stretching her arms up and above her, holding on with her legs alone. Whilst the horses of her people were most often built sleeker and swifter than these Skyrim shires, the basic principles of riding were the same, and she felt not unsteadiness or vertigo from such a simple action. Tossing her hair back with a swift motion of her head, she breathed deeply, letting the chill morning air fill her lungs, and laughed into the empty space with no thought for anyone who might hear or see. Life was good; why shouldn’t she celebrate that?

Leaning back down a touch, she felt for her horse, fingers brushing the base of its neck. Walking her hands upwards a bit, she wrapped her arms around and squeezed, not tightly but firmly, earning her what she chose to interpret as a snort of indulgence and a flick of his head. The metal pieces of the bridle jangled together with the leather, and she sat back up, finding the reins again by touch and holding them loosely in one hand.

The man who’d sold her the creature had promised her that it would be able to take her to Helgen, and she stopped and asked for directions just about every time she encountered another traveler on the road. When she’d first set to wandering like this, it had been more than a little awkward, and sometimes, people were downright rude about things like that. Since then, she’d gotten used to speaking to all kinds, from haughty Altmer to tricky Kahjit, and she often assuaged the less-frequent discomfort by treating the whole thing as a game: what will get the stodgy old Nord to talk? or something of that nature. She “won” her game more often than not, nowadays, and had learned a number of things about people in the process.

In this way, Liya proceeded to Helgen, wrapping her cloak and scarf about her when the weather grew chill in the mountains. Few people realized this, but deserts weren’t always hot, either. The Alik’r tended to drop far below what was comfortable when the sun went down, and though there was never any snow, it prepared her, at least a bit, for this sort of experience.

She stopped a few hours into the morning for a quick respite, having caught the sound of running water. Leading her horse (she was calling him Kareem) to the river, she gave him the opportunity to drink, and also took the chance to wash the accumulated trail-dust from her face and arms. It was far too chill to bathe entirely, and she hoped that these Watchers bothered with the luxury of hygiene, though she wasn’t sure she could count on it. From what she’d smelled, Nords weren’t exactly the most soap-loving people she’d ever met, which she found more funny than repulsive. Maybe they just wanted to emulate bears in every possible way: size, vocalization, and scent.

She chuckled to herself again, and then sighed. It really would be nice to be around people again, though. For almost six months, she’d been on the road, only stopping in towns or holds every now and then. Surely, these brief interludes in civilization were enough for a good conversation or two, a bard’s tale, a shopkeeper’s woe or the vicariously-gleaned happiness of a newly-engaged maid, but she lacked now what she had not known the value of when she acquired: friends, and something akin to a family.

If Matthias has taught her anything, it was that, and she was certain he wouldn’t mind a divergence from her world-trekking journey for the experience of having close friends once again. Not that this was her only motive, of course. Once, it would have been an easy thing to pass right through these mountains and let Skyrim’s problems remain here. Hammerfell had defeated the Dominion in the past and they could do so again if necessary, so why was she to be concerned?

Well, the answer was simple for all its novelty: perhaps she, as a person who treasured her happiness and recognized the value of her freedom, owed it to the rest of the world to give them a fighting chance to know life as she did. Which was what had led her here. The irony of her joining an organization called the “Watchers” was certainly not lost upon her, but Aaliyah was willing to let idioms be idioms and give it her best anyway.

At length, she caught the sound of voices, several in fact, and about the same time as the Argonian (the hissing accent gave it away) jumped out of the tree with a rustle and a thud, she approached the gathered souls in a much more conventional fashion, sliding from her horse and patting his withers, directing her eyes in the general direction of most of the others. “Well, seems like recruiting has been quite successful for the Watchers, no? Or are the Thalmor just incredibly unpopular?” She offered a light grin, evidence of her knowledge of the understatement employed there.

Of course, it seemed by this point that everyone was moving, and she suspected that all or part of what she said was lost in the confrontation between the Argonain and someone large- orc, possibly? Either way, it seemed that they were going to be funneled in eventually, so she trailed after the sound of others’ footsteps. Her detection spells were active, but those didn’t work for stone walls, so she undid the clasp securing her staff to her back and held it firmly in tone hand, passing it back and forth in front of her so as not to inadvertently stumble into anything.

She made it into the courtyard just fine, but the Guildmaster’s office would be another matter entirely. “’Scuse me for saying so,” she called, her tone polite but by no means meek, “But I doubt you want my horse in your office, ma’am. What should I do with him?”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lyra Victus Character Portrait: Sobek Character Portrait: Dayolin Jarvis Character Portrait: Aaliyah Sendu Character Portrait: Grawl sho-Targ Character Portrait:
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"Hail, Imperial. I am Ssobek. A...hunter from Riften. I heard that the Watcherss were recruiting, sso, I came with all sswiftnesss so I could join. Iss there any paperwork or tesst I need passs?" Lyra turned her gaze quickly from the Dunmer and to the hissing voice. A slight look of disdain crossing her visage as she did indeed recognize the armor set the sentient reptile wore. "A patron of Nocturnal, watch yourself." Her voice had a calm edge to it, like a well-sharpened dagger as she stared the lizard in the eyes. "But aye, there is paperwork and then a test once enough recruits arrive, hope you like Dwemer Ruins." The Guildmaster uttered with an innocent but cunning smile as she held a packet of papers out for the Argonian, a quill and some ink along with it. "Next!"

The Orc noticed more recruits were steadily incoming and a Redguard with a horse, as she dismounted he raised a brow. He knew Lyra was going to be short-tempered with this one, Redguards had been at the bottom of her likable races since they seceded from the Empire. He decided to come down from the wall. "I'll help you with your steed ma'am." He said politely, acting completely and utterly different than as he had with the Argonian, as he got close he whispered to the Redguard. "Be careful around Lyra ma'am, she is sensitive about Hammerfall's concord." With a nod he waited patiently for the female to hand over the reigns, humming an Imperial sailing song gently, he could never stay silent. Bad habit of his on stealth orientated tasks. "And I hope you had a pleasurable trip." He finished and patted her steed's neck gently. A smile upon his face, almost looking uncharacteristic and bestial considering his tusks.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lyra Victus Character Portrait: Adanion Character Portrait: Erik the Swift Character Portrait: Maya Blackfeather Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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#, as written by Creek
Adanion:

Adanion stood patiently in the procession of various people, feeling rather odd and uncomfortable. They were all very exotic, foreign, and strange above all else, but he imagined he appeared the same to them. Adanion craned his neck in the direction of the main gate. His viridian gaze settled upon two newcomers. A duo that seemed to have aptitude in the darker arts as far as Adanion could tell. There was a man; tall, lean, and fair. And, a woman; clothed in a robe that vaguely reminded him of a raven's glossy black feathers.

As he stared, the man caught his gaze. As their eyes met, chills went racing down Adanion's spine. His eyes. They were so ethereal. They seemed to have no color at all. Adanion snapped his head back in the direction of the office, not able to endure the odd sensations that ran along his fingertips anymore. Just in time it seemed.

"Next!" A voice from within the room beckoned, and Adanion heeded. As he entered the office, Adanion was not suprised to see an Imperial woman sitting behind a large desk. Imperials were very good with paperwork and other things of that sort, so it only seemed natural that we would have one leading the guild. The desk she sat behind was crafted from a dark species of wood. Perhaps Elderwood or Ebonoak, but definitely imported from Valenwood. Carved into it, were many intricate symbols, but one stood out to Adanion. Upon the upper-right leg of the table, a man stood, eternally embossed into the wood. For some reason, the figure seemed familiar to him, but it was so heavily veiled. Like a memory from a dream.

Adanion stared curiously at it for a moment before returning his eyes to the Imperial woman, who already seemed to be losing patience with him. Sheepishly, Adanion sat down in one of the chairs placed in front of the table. He began to feel extremely shy, and he couldn't seem to look her in the eyes. Her very presence was commanding, and Adanion found himself to be so small—or at least small is the only term that would come to mind—in comparison.

"I—I am not sure where we should begin. I guess I will fill out anything that you need of me." Adanion said quietly, but hopefully loud enough for the woman to hear him. As he sat, he imagined what a fool he must seem like. The Bashful Bosmer. The thought made Adanion smile a bit, though his gaze remained fixated upon his legs.

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Other than pointing towards a smaller desk in the corner for the Argonian to write she remained focused on her business. The next recruit to come in was, in fact, a Bosmer. She gave a smile, automatically precieving this one as harmless to her by the signs of his body language, body language could tell anything if one had the sight to view it. The Bosmer seemed timid, slightly withdraw, and most of all impressed by her own presence.

"I—I am not sure where we should begin. I guess I will fill out anything that you need of me." Came from the Bosmer's tongue in a nervous fashion as he stared down at his own legs. The Imperial gave another smile and then spoke, her voice strangely calming or attempting to be. [Voice of the Emperor] "Relax, Bosmer, just think of me as another one of your Woodland Kin. And I'm going to need your name." Her voice was nearly purring as she spoke, pulling out a small packet of papers and handing them to the Elf, the smile still adorning her face. Oh! How differently she was treating this Bosmer from the previous recruits. But this was a reserved Elf and she needed all the recruits she could get so playing nice was needed in this situation. "And you seem to be unarmed, visit Grawl, the big Orisimer later. You'll need weapons, I have a trip planned for you all very soon." Her gaze still friendly as she called out in her voice. "Next! You outside! Nord!" The Nord was the only one in the line she could see through the partially opened door.

The setting changes from Helegen - Watcher's Guild to Skyrim

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Dayolin was still in the room when the guildmaster and an argonian were talking about the Dwemer ruins. "I personally like those of the Ayleids." He said quietly to himself as he left. Inside those ruins were the Falmer, which were just one of the constant reminders of the damage that the Nords have inflicted on the world because of their hate. If they had not drove the Snow Elves underground then they would never have been corrupted by the Dwemer. Therefore Dayolin held the Nords responsible for the Falmer.

He left the room and was now leaning against a wall while drinking Cyrodilic Brandy that he had bought from a trader in Whiterun before coming here. He missed it back there, especially Cloud Ruler Temple but life was life so he had to make due with what was available. He walked downstairs to practise a bit of magic in the training room. He was a bit rusty after traveling so long.

When Dayolin came to the room he placed a statue of Talos on a table and locked the door behind him. He did not wish any non believer to report him for his beliefs, then he would have to massacre anybody who attempts to arrest him. He summoned two zombies in the room and began to shoot them with multiple spells. Mostly ice spikes, firebolts, and lightning bolts. The zombies were told to try to kill him while he tried to defeat them. As such the room very soon began to swell with magic as the training progressed.

The setting changes from Skyrim to Helegen - Watcher's Guild

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Character Portrait: Lyra Victus Character Portrait: Sobek Character Portrait: Vanjirra Character Portrait: Adanion Character Portrait: Aaliyah Sendu Character Portrait:
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Vanjirra peeked into the room, eyes picking out all the others that had gathered inside. Two bosmer, an argonian, a nord of odd hair coloration, the imperial guildmaster, a redguard female and another that she could not pick out due to the robes. Possible another one of the man races but certainly female. She sighed to herself and banished away the little scamp that had been clinging to her leg. "Hail friend. This one seeks where to sign up." she said, taking down her hood to scratch be hind her ear a bit. "I am vanjirra from the mage's guild down in cyrodiil." She lowered her head humbly, not wanting to show any disrespect to anyone. A habit from long ago she had picked up and no one to date had been a offended by it.

she stood in the back, leaning against the wall and with hands behind her back in waiting to be called. The khajiit closed her eyes and tilted her head from side the side, trying to relax herself. Then again, she would not know if she would be welcomed or outright rejected.

The setting changes from Helegen - Watcher's Guild to Skyrim

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Character Portrait: Lynly Snowsong Character Portrait: Lyra Victus Character Portrait: Aaliyah Sendu Character Portrait: Grawl sho-Targ Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Lynly Snowsong



The low baritone rumble of a voice corresponded with the flare of her detect life as one of those in the area drew closer. Recognizing the gravelly speech of the one who'd been yelling earlier, Aaliyah nevertheless smiled warmly in his general direction. "Thank you, friend. The deed is greatly appreciated." The paused a moment when he spoke again, and her mouth dropped into a considerably more solemn line. The news about the Guildmaster was somewhat disconcerting. It was not that she was unaccustomed to being looked down upon, but the reason was not usually her place of origin.

"So a piece of paper some politicians signed makes me a worse person?" There was a faint hint of incredulity there, but she shook her head and resolved that it didn't matter. She certainly didn't think that it merited so much distrust, and for now, as long as she could keep on trusting herself, that would be enough, and she wouldn't let anyone else's attitude bother her. Her expression softened, and she patted Kareem's neck before relinquishing him to the orc's care.

It had suddenly gotten... Crowded. From the empty courtyard moments ago to the bustle of a crowd the next. Despite the low rumble of speech, one voice did not add itself to the confusion, and that was the voice of the Nord. In fact, the hefty woman seemed cowed by the sudden rush of bodies. Her straight and broad shoulders slowly inched in on themselves, trying their best to protect their owner from the multitude of people. Taking a note from the Redguard woman and her own horse, the Nord approached the Orc and handed him her own reigns. "If you would?" she asked curtly. She didn't mean to be rude, or perhaps she did. Though no stranger to the ways of battle and steel, the woman did not fare as well in social interactions. She'd much rather be waist deep in a bandit lair rather than in the middle of the ruckus of the apparent "Sign-in" day. She offered a nod towards the Redguard woman and took her leave. Aaliyah, who had been prepared to offer a greeting to the owner of this new voice (a pleasant contralto with the local flavor of accent), did not see the nod, and thus completely missed the opportunity to return it. Feeling mildly discomfited by this, she inclined her head to the orcish man and went off to join what appeared to now be a winding line of folk.

Signing in. Lynly had never heard of such foolishness. Why should she have to sign anything? Wouldn't the strength of arm good enough? What would writing her name on a piece of paper prove? That she knew how to write? That she knew her own bleeding name? A corner of her mouth twitched in irritation. She was better with a sword and shield over a quill any day. However, if the Guildmistress deemed it necessary, then she would (begrudgingly) comply. Perhaps after that bit of foolishness is over and done with, she could finally prove that she was better put to use using a blade over filing paperwork. She grunted as she returned back to the her spot in line and awaiting her own turn to meet with this-- rather loud-- Guildmistress. Now only to wait for the previous Bosmer in front of her to finish his bloody paperwork so she could get on with her life.

From listening, Aaliyah managed to gather that there was paperwork involved, and she felt her stomach drop. She was just behind the selfsame Nord woman from before, so she risked an inquiry, not that talking to complete strangers was at all uncomfortable to her. "'Scuse me, miss, but could I possibly impose on your better nature? I can't write. Well, I can, technically, but..." She waved a hand in front of her own eyes in demonstration. "I can't exactly see what I'm writing on." She grinned, completely unashamed to ask the favor, though that was not to say she expected the affirmative response.

Lynly turned around at the summons and found the same Redguard from earlier. She listened to her explanation of why she couldn't fill out the paperwork-- which was because she was blind. The revelation caused her to tilt her head in complete curiosity. It was mighty brave for a woman to sign up to a guild despite not having the gift of eyesight. Lynly leaned forward a bit closer to examine the woman's eyes, not quite thinking that the action could be construed as rude and awkward. She had a lovely shade of gold for an eye color, though something in her pupils confirmed her story. Perhaps it was the fact they were not dilated... Perhaps it was the fact that even at such a close distance she didn't maintain eye contact.

She drew back, satisfied that this woman wasn't telling her a story, and nodded again-- completely unaware that the gesture would be missed. "I should need to know your name then," Lynly stated.

"Ah, of course! Forgive me for not saying so sooner. Aaliyah Sendu, of the Alik'r, at your service." The so-named woman curtsied, careful not to bump into anyone or anything, though it might have seemed a bit odd, what with the staff still in one hand. Still, let it not be said that she lacked for grace or manners, at least. "Lynly Snowsong," she replied flatly, just in time to hear the call from the Guildmistress... Unless there was some other Nord she was unfamiliar with. She turned towards the door and then back to the Redguard. She shrugged and said, ""Let's get this over with then." Aaliyah followed the native woman with ease, apparently into the office of the aforementioned Guildmaster. Truthfully, Aaliyah was hoping there'd be no confrontation; it wasn't like she was planning on rubbing Hammerfell's independence into the lady's face or anything. Honestly, she'd never cared much for politics, and when Matthias had explained Daggerfall nobility to her once, she'd been more perplexed than anything.

Once in the office, Lynly shifted to the side to make room for Aaliyah and crossed her arms, giving this Lyra what only could be said was a bored expression. Though her shoulders were still drawn in upon herself. Aaliyah, for her part, stayed back, just a little to the side of Lynly, so that it looked rather like the Redguard was peering over the Nord's shoulder, though she wasn't quite close enough for that to be the case. "Morning, ma'am," she added, just so that maybe they wouldn't seem like the unpleasant sort of people they weren't. Lynly seemed brusque, but there was a difference between that and rude, after all.

The setting changes from Skyrim to Helegen - Watcher's Guild

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The Orc nodded his head as the Nord handed her the reigns of her horse at all he was no push-over, but for an Orc he had a sense of extreme kindness and gentlemanhood, off the battle-field atleast. He sauntered over, guiding both horses easily to the stable with another song, this time it was a Nordic War-Song about an Imperial 'Witch' from the Civil War. Almost as if a hint to the Nord woman who the Guildmaster was.

Lyra soon gave a gentle shooing gesture to the Wood-Elf as she noticed the two more recruits walked in. One was a Redguard, her dark skin tone, shaded hari, and golden hued eyes were dead give-away's she was hailed from the deserts of Hammerfell. The other was a Daughter of Skyrim, true and true. Platinum Blonde hair, Muscled but smooth arms, small scars here and there and more so, the armor. Kind of reminded her of one of her former leader's, Legate Rikke, who was now in fact General Rikke and head of Skyrim's Imperial Garrison and still her boss. But that was beside the point. She had to make sure this Nord knew she was not your average pencil-pushing Imperial. Or atleast she though she did. With these two she stood and held her hand out in a gesture, a firm, bold and confident display from Imperial to Nord, little did she know the Redguard was blind.

"Welcome to you ladies, what I may I do for you? Here to join?" The Imperial asked soon after and gave a nod, toward the Redguard's politeness. Honestly surprised, her expectations of their kind. (And most of the Man races in general.) Had dropped in the past few years due to war, schism, and political roundabouts. But he face sneered lightly as the Nord's bored expression though she quickly tried to fix that, hoping to not anger her in anyway. "I am Lyra Victus. Former Imperial Centurion and now head of the Watcher's Guild and Order here in Skyrim." Her voice was calm at best, with another subtle edge to it though, speaking on many levels at once had been a vocation of hers since schooling. The ability to convey multiple messages in one sentence was a talent she needed as a politician, and it had served her well in multiple occasions. The signals she was sending now were clear though, she was both trying to give off a welcoming aura and one of if-you-muck-with-me- you'll-regret-it. It was indeed, meant for both ladies, Redguards as a race were headstrong, and she assumed this one was the same without even knowing her personally, another clear indication of her minor intolerance for other races of man.

The setting changes from Helegen - Watcher's Guild to Skyrim

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Character Portrait: Lynly Snowsong Character Portrait: Lyra Victus Character Portrait: Sobek Character Portrait: Dayolin Jarvis Character Portrait: Vanjirra Character Portrait: Adanion
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The last zombies head rolled onto the ground just before the body dissapeared. The dunmer who had been unleashing Apprentice spells on his targets picked his Talos statue, putting it in his bag, and traveled upstairs to the west wing to clear out any potions he could find. When Dayolin reached the potion room he found that there was a significantly larger amount of magica potions than the others. He took five high quality potions and left to meet the guildmaster as she would most likely be expecting him soon.

Dayolin got back to the office where there were several others who seemed to be wanting recuitment. He looked around a bit dissapointed. The Khajiit seemed to be the only serious mage besides himself because she was the only one wearing a mage's robes. "So I see the guild will no doubt see some more members to join the cause." The elf said as he walked in the door way then leaning against a wall. "Though I wonder which of you can properly kill an Altmer patroll without the use of the arcane arts?"

The setting changes from Skyrim to Helegen - Watcher's Guild

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Lyra looked up as the next group walked in. She could hardly take it anymore. There were so many recruits and paperwork was a bore, even for her. Her 'inner Imperial' was angered with that. She looked around for a second, retaining her composure but she could feel her eye twitch. She needed some wine... However, that was not option but she did have another. The armored Imperial stood, gave a rather open shooing gesture to the one in robes and pale eyed Nord and then slide the papers that were already signed into her desk with a small crunch. How unorganized... She'd fix it later though.

Once the two were out she slammed the office door and locked it from the inside, quickly escaping into a back door that lead to her personal quarters on the second level. And from there, she exited back into the hallway and took a path that lead her directly behind the line. She placed both hands on her hips and leaned lightly, of feminine but formal gesture, her voice again echoed through the area. (Her command voice.) "Mercenaries! Hirelings! And Sellswords! Your attention please." When she was pleased she had their eyes, her voice again filled the Keep. "None of you are part of the Watcher's yet... Not even if you completed the paperwork, though you can all become one. I have a job for you all, a test of your skill, merit, and actually your ability to work together," a smirk crossed her visage at the moment of using that word, "you're all tasked with heading North of Falkreath, a new set of Dwarven ruins has been discovered and we have been contracted to escort the researcher to the central, deepest chamber. I warn you though. By the markings on the door which have yet to be opened, the complex know as Warchiflt, is a Dwemer Prison Complex and possible Internment Camp for Prisoner's of various wars at the time. So expect traps!" She took a pause and a deep breathe. "I will not be able to accompany you though, I have business in Whiterun. Grawl will be acting in as my command-chief however he will not alone. The female Nord you all see? I have designated her as his second in command. That is all, if you have an questions ask Grawl. I really need o be preparing for my own trip, though I do, look forward to meeting you all personally soon enough." With that she turned back around and left the way she came.

Grawl stepped forward within a few seconds. "All right, you heard her! I'm giving you a bit of time to prepare then meet me at the gate! If you need weapons or any given item, ask me. And furthermore, this has likely not been explained. But the Guildmaster's Quarters, other than her downstairs office are completely and utterly off limits!" He then himself twisted about and walked toward the gate, pulling up a crate and sitting on it to wait.

The setting changes from Helegen - Watcher's Guild to Skyrim

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Character Portrait: Lynly Snowsong Character Portrait: Lyra Victus Character Portrait: Sobek Character Portrait: Vanjirra Character Portrait: Erik the Swift Character Portrait: Maya Blackfeather
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Image


Had she ever met someone so flippant and rude? Maya wasn't sure she had. She shrugged at the Bosmer. "If you'd like to start killing people, then by all means, go for it. I, however, am of the opinion that I am not invinceable, and that I can't simply murder whomever I wish simply because I find them disagreeable. It's a strange idea, I know. Someone must have smacked me over the head with some humility, or maybe even some common sense, when I was little."

She'd been about to turn away from him when suddenly she remembered something. "Oh! But thank you very much for the compliment. I do try to keep a respectable appearance. Wouldn't want the world thinking me a simple savage, now would we?" They were eventually separated from the Bosmer my some method or another as they waited to scratch down their names. Maya had been thinking of potentially amusing false names she could come up with herself, often ending in titles like The Wicked or The Cruel. Her thoughts, however, were interrupted by someone who practically startled her with his politeness, of all things.

Maya could have hugged the Argonian, but that probably would have been inappropriate for someone she'd just met. "And here I thought I wouldn't find another person who understands the value of manners! A pleasure, Sobek. I am Maya, sometimes called the Blackfeather, for reasons I'm sure are quite obvious. The day finds me well, if not a little annoyed." She took a moment to give the Argonian a look over. Interesting armor he wore. She'd never seen its make. Intriguing.

Just then, their illustrious leader made an announcement, and her Nordling companion was approached by a Khajiit, and they proceeded to speak to each other in that curious way the furry ones often did. The armored lady at the front, not the Nord one, but the... wait. Was that... ? Maya frowned, remembering something from quite some years ago, triggered by the platinum-haired warrioress, but she couldn't be sure. Perhaps she'd talk to her later. As she had been thinking, the armored lady was saying something about skill, merit, and working together. Maya was listening rather closely for the word hunt, but it never crossed her lips. Instead she heard the words Dwarven ruins, escort, and central, deepest chamber. That didn't sound... particularly appetizing, but Maya was willing to give it a chance. There would be traps, apparently. Perhaps one of these superior windbags she'd noted would step in one and give her a laugh. She could dream, right?

Apparently the Orsimer fellow and the Nordling woman she had noted earlier would be leading them or something. Maya found herself sincerely hoping the pair of them didn't end up dead. Otherwise one of the others would probably try to step up and assert their nonexistant authority over her. She could always try resurrecting them, but a shambling corpse that could only say the word urrrrrggggghhh didn't command very much respect. Ah well. She'd just have to ensure they both survived in order to prevent any of these others from attempting a coup. And to question that warrior-woman, eventually.

And then the Orc was off towards the gate, where they were instructed to meet with him when ready. Maya had little she wanted from this town-fort-castle-barracks place, and so she turned to the Argonian.

"Shall we walk and talk at the same time and see if we do not fall over?" The witch then took the lead, following after the Orc fellow. "Where are you from, Sobek?" she said over her shoulder to the Argonian. "If you do not mind the question, of course. I'm from a humble little place in this very hold, if you care to know. I thought I might be able to place you from your armor, but I'm afraid I've never seen its like. Very beautiful, though. I'd be very interested to know where you found, or how you made, such a thing."

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Adanion:

Events seemed to be moving at a pace too quickly for Adanion to keep up. As their guild mistress, Lyra Victus, shooed him away, Adanion turned and proceeded out the office. Once again, Adanion began to feel uncomfortable with suffocating amount of people in the area. As he surveyed the room, he counted at least ten different people, each a bit stranger than the other. Some made small talk with each other. Others, stood silently in the line, a deep scowl pressed upon their face. He couldn't take it! As the Nord—he believed Lynly was her name—who had spoke to him at the gate staggered into the office, a Redguard woman falling in behind her, Adanion shuffled through the crowd with his head down.

Past the man with eyes that made Adanion's soul shiver, and his avian-like companion. Past a man—who Adanion was ashamed to see was a fellow Bosmer—that seemed to be whispering offensive things into a bird mage's ear. Past a masked Argonian, who seemed to be making his way towards the odd group. And he could not even raise his head to look a single person in the eye. As Adanion broke free of the horde, he rushed towards the main gate of the keep. He needed solitude. Very badly. But before he could complete his flight from the keep, he heard Lyra's voice ringing out across the countryside.

Adanion didn't pay much attention to her particular words, but he did decipher the general message. I am going into Dwemer ruins? Adanion asked himself as his stomach began to sink. When he was a child, Brother Faylinest had told him, 'True bravery is being so afraid to saddle up, but doing it anyways, young one.' Back then, it had made little sense to the child that Adanion once was. However, he thought that he was beginning to understand what his peer had said. Ruefully, Adanion swiveled his heel until he found them once again facing the main gate of the keep. He walked quietly, and hopefully discreetly, out of the gate.

He didn't go far. He simply chose to walk about a fourth of a mile away from the camp, where he found a suitable rock on which to rest. He sat, simply listening to the orchestra of nature. The singing of the birds. The soft whisper of the wind in the trees' limbs. The pitter-patter of rabbit's feet running through the undergrowth. The melody filled him with contentment. He let out a sigh, and waited for his fellow guild mates to finish preparing.

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Character Portrait: Lynly Snowsong Character Portrait: Lyra Victus Character Portrait: Vanjirra Character Portrait: Erik the Swift Character Portrait: Maya Blackfeather Character Portrait: Popeno Sytheris
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Erik the Swift


Erik simply blinked once, slowly, when the wood elf (whose name he still did not know) insinuated that his continual status of “alive and breathing” came exclusively from either the grace or laziness of the Brotherhood’s apparently least-tactful member. He’d heard things like that before, along with admonishments that this would be the case no longer. And yet, here he was. If he allowed himself to be offended by every boast or threat, he’d have no time to do much else, so he shrugged his broad shoulders and let his erstwhile fellow think that if he liked. It didn’t make any difference to him either way, because the mer apparently had no designs on his life, so the amount of threat he did or did not actually represent was entirely irrelevant.

To the Khajit, he was much less neutral. At the opportunity to speak of his family, his smile extended for the first time to his pale eyes, and he was about to name his caravan and some of its more prominent members when – surprise, surprise- the assassin (apparently intentionally) inserted his foot into his own mouth by insulting her.

Erik exhaled, and it might well have been a sigh. He was a very, very patient man, a regrettably-rare quality, but this… it was almost as if the lad wanted everyone to detest him. He had no way of knowing, of course, just how close the remarks were to Erik’s own heart as well, because not even the Brotherhood knew of his family. He’d been eminently cautious about that, and he hadn’t survived this long without knowing how to conceal information. The feline woman seemed to have her own defense plenty in hand, however, and the characteristic smell of electricity in the air (the same scent as before it rained) reached his nose with the lightning to her hands.

At this point, he and Maya were at last shuffled into the office, and he surmised from her expression that the Guildmistress was just about at the end of her rope. His forms, he filled out without a word, filing them neatly where he supposed they belonged. The swift click of the lock behind them as they departed drew a chuckle from him, and he waited expectantly for something to happen.

He was not disappointed. Her words were given careful attention, as was the way in which she said them. A test was not so far outside the realm of his expectation, though he would not have thought they needed to travel all the way to a Dwemer ruin to take care of it. At the announcement of their commanding officers for the intervening time, he sought out the platinum-haired Nord woman as instructed, finding her almost immediately. Like him, she was considerably taller and more muscular than most of the others of her gender, and the coloration helped matters quite nicely. He decided he’d have to introduce himself at some point, if for no other reason than it would help if she knew what names to bark when pointing them at things she wanted them to destroy. Descriptors could get confusing fast, and he was not all that interested in giving anyone the “wetboys are different from assassins” lecture.


Though he would, if it meant nobody grouped him with the tactless elf. He didn’t despise the fellow (one got used to all kinds of dispositions in his line of work), but it wouldn’t do to acquire all of his future enemies, either.

Ah, but a moment… he knew that lass, he was certain of it. Something in his memory rang like a bell. It was a while ago now, but… the smell of blood and steel in his nose, the fierce warcry of a battle-maiden, the satisfying give of leather and flesh, parted like so much fluid upon the blade of a sharpened sword. Red snow. He knew her, all right. Lynly Snowsong, she’d given her name, and he remembered finding it faintly endearing that she said it with hunched shoulders and mannerisms hat belied the fierceness with which she’d dispatched her foes- his foes, if one wanted to be technical about it.

He wondered if she remembered.

“Well, would you look at that,” he mused aloud. “Off on an adventure already. Now all we need is a heartwarming campfire conversation, several larger-than-life foes to slay, and a bloody bard to write songs about all of it. Look lively; history remembers strange things.” Despite the flippancy of his words, his close-lipped smile wasn’t all that jovial- he was rather thinking that he was about to catch the feel of the hunt, and his mind had already taken him to that special place he went when he did his bloody business. Not that he’d lose all joviality or ability to converse. He was not psychotic, despite some very insistent commentary to the contrary. Sociopathic would have been closer, but even that wasn’t quite right. He was simply… cold. Chill where others burned.