A Disputed Prophecy

[Aqua-chan]

Darkness was not a hindrance for the renowned mastermind of the Thieves Guild. Actually, the shadows of night were usually something “Sugar Lips” Habasi reveled in, but tonight was not a normal night.

The messenger that had approached her the day before had given very specific instructions and very few details about what the Khajiit would be encountering. She was told to go to a landmark on the road Caldera where she would meet a priestess. It would be in her best interest to be on time, the messenger added haughtily, and on that note the Dunmer had turned and left the club before Habasi had an opportunity to interrogate him.

Presuming that he had spoken true, Sugar Lips could only wonder why a temple servant would want her services. She was no assassin, and if it was a murder this person wanted the Morag Tong had right to perform such acts legally. Even yet, holy persons rarely resorted to such shady means to deal with a problem, so it was more likely that she would be performing a job of “repossession”. Regardless, the messenger had promised 500 gold if she merely showed up the meeting, so Habasi threw almost all common sense aside and took the chance.

The Khajiit hadn’t become a master thief in the guild on stupid luck, however. She would take the chance, but not without swinging the odds a little more to her favor first. If there was any deception afoot Habasi was relatively safe. Instructions may have stood against it, but there was no way she was about to run out into the night with no means of defense. Her weapons, small but effective, were concealed. She also was not above using her own claws if it the situation came to it. Other arrangements had been made in case of a need for back up, but there was hope that it would be a peaceful night.

The suthay-raht, after having walked the beaten path and found the designated rendezvous point, situated herself on a tall protruding boulder. This new perch gave Habasi a clear view of all her surroundings: dark fields and ditches and nothing else. It was a peculiar thing how this meeting was so secretive that it had to be made outside of Balmora, yet not so important that it couldn’t be made in a more private place than a desolate road. Very peculiar, indeed.

A black ear perked up as a nearing sound caught Habasi’s attention. Another traveler was coming up the road from the south, showing no effort for stealth in their trotting along in the dirt. Still, this set off a flag to the thief as it could have been a distraction meant on taking her attention away from something else. She kept a wary sense of what was behind her, and with keen night perception Sugar Lips easily made out the form, and face of the local priestess, Feldrelo Sadri. Distinct blue robes and yellow shawl only confirmed who the target was and left the Khajiit to dwell on the fact that the healer must not be all too concerned with being identified in this masquerade.

Sadri, in reality, was not too concerned with much of anything past the thoughts running through her own head. Weeks of meditations and prayers had deprived her of rest and food, all due to unsettling revelations to her made by the very gods themselves. To ease the tension Sadri had gone as far as the Sanctum Shrine in Sheogorad, speaking to some of the Ashland wise women as she traveled. She collected local lore about the Prophecy, but not once speaking a word of it to anyone of the vicar. What the gods told Sadri in her most recent ruminations was something that the proud Dunmer had resented greatly from the start, but could not protest. Now she needed an accomplice, and the gods were very specific in whom they wanted to be let in on the plan.

The priestess stopped a good few yards from the thief, and then raised her hands to show that she was unarmed. Yellow eyes glinted in the light of Sadri’s lantern as they examined the newcomer intently. Then, after a moment of hesitation, the Khajiit performed the same gesture and displayed ten claws and not a blade among them. Still, with her divine sixth sense, Sadri knew full well of the dagger hidden in the other’s belt. The Khajiit jumped down from her perch on the rock and unconsciously began weighing the Dunmer against herself, a habit she’d picked up from years of fighting.

“I take it we are alone?” The dark elf straightened her back to gain height, though Habasi was still a good head taller than she.

“We are.” And another violation of the instructions. Feldrelo knew of the scout hidden up on the cliffs with a bow; a Bosmer or some other achieved archer. Sadri said nothing, however, as there was a point to be made and an alliance to establish. Better to play the blind fool than the arrogant seer. Habasi continued, “What is it you wish of Khajiit, Sera Sadri?”

Sadri took in a deep breath, aware once more how exhausted she was.

“We are both business women, so I will get directly to the point. I have called you here due to a series of... premonitions I’ve had recently,” she started equivocally to keep her audience, “The Divine have confided in me that a prophecy which the Temple has attempted to discredit may actually be coming to power soon. You know the one of which I speak, don’t you?”

“Hmm... Perhaps,” Habasi purred teasingly. She wasn't dumb; Sadri was obviously talking about the disputed Nerevarine prophecy which everyone, outlander or native, knew of. The Tribunal Temple had been fighting this prophecy for hundreds of years by banning ancient texts on it and persecuting preachers. The Temple seemed to have a hard time facing the facts about the Prophecy, however, and the Khajiit saw the potential entertainment in stringing the priestess along. “You should elaborate more, Sera. Habasi is no telepath.”

“Take this seriously, thief, or I will demonstrate the importance of this with force.” Habasi merely grinned at the threat which would have infuriated the elf if Feldrelo wasn’t in need of her. She had to work with Habasi, but that didn’t mean she had to like her. “I require a service of you - do not worry your greedy little heart, you will be paid - that will hopefully get a great deal of work done with little attention brought to it. I need-”

“Ah, ah,” the tiger woman interjected, waving a clawed finger menacingly, “You’ve been vague thus far, but not Habasi must know more. Speak what you know from these premonitions you have or you will have to find help elsewhere.”

Sadri had a reluctant respect for the Khajiit’s way of thinking, even if it was quite inconvenient.

“I know little myself past what needs to be done and when. A pair of inmates must be liberated from a guarded ship. I can’t say who they are or why the gods wish them freed-”

“But you have drawn your own conclusions.”

“Yes. Yes, I have. And since you are likely to beat around the bush until I divulge them I will tell you. I believe these two prisoners hold some sort of relation to the works of the prophecy. Yes, the Nerevarine prophecy. They may just be pawns in the game, but the gods see them as necessary pawns, thus they must be retrieved.”

“One of them may even be the Nerevarine, correct?”

A pause of the Dunmer’s part. “No. The ship I saw these prisoners coming to our land only contains outlanders.”

“And, of course, the Nerevarine must be native born,” Habasi scoffed with a roll of her eyes, “Ignorant Dunmer refuse to think that their dead god may return as one born under a different sky.”

"Think what you will, Khajiit, as I do not care. Now, are you to assist me, or shall I work to gather aid in the Comonna Tong?” the priestess said in a manipulative tone. The Comonna Tong was the most prominent enemy of the Thieves Guild, so there was no way Habasi would pass this by now. When the Khajiit didn’t reply Sadri knew her help had been acquired. “I thought you would see it my way. My demands are simple. No guards on this incoming ship are to be killed, and it’s better if the convicts escape unnoticed entirely. A stealth mission near impossible, I suspect, but the details are up to you. Now, have you any underlings capable of such a task?”

“If given more details I may be able to make some arrangements.”

“As I said, I have few details to give. All I have been told is that in a few days’ time a ship with prisoners from Cyrodiil will be at port in Seyda Neen. I know not who your quarries are, and I have no idea what kind of security this ship will have. Figuring that yourself is half of how you will earn your gold.”

Habasi was obviously skeptical about the job, simply by the telling of how her narrow tail flicked.

“You have absolutely nothing more that can help us?”

Sadri crossed her arms and looked like she was about to snap a response, but she actually racked her mind for any little vision that seemingly had little importance but may have held some value.

“Well?” the feline-woman probed on.

“Constellations. I had seen the Ritual star pattern. There was another, but I don’t remember it.”

“That is all? This alone seems sketchy, Habasi thinks. Few will volunteer for this job.”

“That is all I know, and the thieves you employ is not my concern. What is important to me are these two outlanders. If they are connected to the Nerevarine prophecy then they must be rescued.” The Dunmer stared nearly through the thief solemnly. “I offer ten thousand gold. If you bring the attention of the authorities to myself you’ll lose the bounty."

A scrib's echoing call rattled the air around them.

"I warn you, thief," Feldrelo continued heavily, the picture of seriousness, "if you take this job your rogues had better be capable of doing it right.”

A low growl emitted from Habasi’s throat that yielded her discontent, but her mouth watered at the thought of so much gold.

“A Tribunal priestess would not dare speak such words unless she believed them entirely true. Habasi will do your task.”

[Aqua-chan]

Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh’s eyes flickered back and forth as he trudged along the lighthouse’s stairwell. Wooden planks creaked beneath the Argonians clawed feet despite his careful steps, but it would have been more of a concern if his was an actual mission rather than just waiting about doing nothing.

Seyda Neen was a quaint little community on the ocean, more for the purpose of being a rest stop for ships as apposed to being a major trade port. This is why the thieves stationed in the little village were easily noticed by the few residents of the place, and the townsfolk were plainly resentful to having a criminal syndicate stationed in their farmland. Besides a short visit to a Comonna Tong facility once, Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh had never before been in such an openly hostile environment.

Nightfall signaled the Argonian to his shift on the lighthouse. The furious glow from the controlled flame on top of the massive stone structure practically made the area around it seem like it was daylight. The reptilian creature could already see his watch partner up on the top level and was gladdened to see that it was a friend and not that idiot Breton that he always seemed to be paired up with.

This man, whose name was Alakkar, was quite relaxed with eyes closed and resting against the wall of the tower. Heat from the enormous fire warmed him from behind while the sound of the sea soothed him to a near-sleep. If the Redguard was troubled with his duties he didn’t show it, seeing as how little focused he was on harboring ships that were racing in to dock before it became too dark to see. Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh could hardly blame the man since it had been days before anything even remotely interesting had happened. No Imperialist ships had come through the region since they'd arrived - only cargo ships from Vivec and Ebonheart to other cities along the coast. Absolutely nothing else.

“Evenin’, Thick. How’s the mud of this dump treatin’ you?”

The Argonian joined his partner, sitting cross-legged on the elevated platform and fidgeting with his claws. His name among his brethren had become shortened for convenience, and he was also quite sure there was some sort of innuendo of a questionable nature attached to it, though he didn’t bother with it any. “It’s quiet here. It reminds me of the home I left behind.”

Alakkar chewed the end of a reed, his head back against the rock barrier he was rested on. “Too quiet for me, really. I prefer the city and all of it’s activity.”

“You mean you prefer the odds of getting better pickings off commoners.”

“Heh. That, too.” He paused for a moment, grin seemingly deteriorating into a frown of aggravation at the passing events. “Three days on a boat down here to a city in a swamp, looking for a prisoner ship all because some anonymous clergyman imagined it would be here. A complete waste of my skills and time. What was Helende thinking, sending us down here?”

The Argonian held more patience than his counterpart and sided with his instructor. “Everyone knows Big Helende trains the best cut purses and sneaks. It was only natural for Habasi to ask for her best.”

“Still, what I wouldn’t do to be back in Sadrith Mora right now, man, oh, man.”

“Well, if these captives do have any kind of involvement with the Nerevarine prophecy they should be released...”

“You believe all that garbage about Nerevar’s incarnate? I never would have pinned you to be a fairy tale dreamer, Thick.”

“Mortals can not live without hope. We need the Incarnate to fend off Dagoth Ur. It would be a despairing world if we only took in the hard truths of reality.”

“It’s also not worth the trouble of investing hope into an idea that was made up in the back of the mind of some fanatic cultist.”

“Hmm. Well, we have different views, you and I,” the man said slowly. There was no reason to argue with Alakkar because for all they knew he was right. Regardless, there was something nagging at the Argonian to remain loyal to his mission, if nothing else. Still, Alakkar wouldn’t let the topic go.

“Well, look at the facts, Thick. The Temple’s all against it, the Imperial Cult says it’s all a bunch of hoo-hah, and even the Legion has gone on campaigns to fight off radicals who’ve gone nuts.”

“You’re thinking of the Sixth House cultists. The Nerevarine supporters are the Ashlander tribes.”

“Whatever. But, c'mon. Even the Dunmers' own gods deny it being possible. So, why do you, as an outlander with no loyalty tied to this place, say it’s-“

“Hold!” the Argonian snapped, but Alakkar didn’t even flinch, “Do you see that out there?”

The Redguard opened his eyes and glanced back and forth between his friend's pointed claw and the ocean. The humanoids glossy black eyes were fixed intently out to sea where a tiny bundle of lights glinted off in the distance. It was only a time before he stated what discredited Alakkars earlier statements. “Imperialists. That’s our ship.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. The priest’s hallucinations were right after all.”

“Go inform the others at the trade house. We need to be ready as soon as that thing docks!” the Argonian barked automatically, too late to realize that his light-footed companion had already gotten down the first flight of the stairwell at a frightening speed.

Again, Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh cast a glare at the oncoming collection of lights. He could tell from the shape of the ship’s silhouette that it was definitely Imperial in nature, and from the gut feeling in his stomach he knew it was the one they were destined to infiltrate. There was some one important on that ship - two some ones important, actually, - and Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh, loyal thief to his guild and seasoned warrior, had a very bad feeling.

[Aqua-chan]

If Feldrelo Sadri had ordered that the operation of liberating two faceless prisoners from an Imperial transport ship be done stealthily, one wouldn’t be able to tell by the way events unfolded that night.

Sugar Lips Habasi was there, directing her subordinates carefully as she was likely the only one who fully understood the gravity of the task at hand. Only two of the other five thieves were of her own troupe, the Bosmer scout Agridle and her closest cohort, Aria. She knew of their competence and how well they followed directions, but the other three would get in the way, Habasi thought. She’d asked Big Helende for her three best underlings, but unfortunately Helende’s scouts were so infatuated with their own skills that they’d easily lose sight of what was important. The Argonian seemed able and focused enough, but he was heavily outbalanced by the moronic Breton monk and self righteous Redguard that accompanied him. It would be a difficult thing to sneak past the guards with these clumsy idiots on her tail, and even harder still because Sugar Lips had no idea what she was looking for on the boat.

The excellent thing about Seyda Neen was that it was one of the heaviest seaports in the region. Ships always docked there, making a jungle of wood and dark corners for a careful sneak to hide in. Sugar Lips herself was lurking on the mast of the closest ship next to the newly docked Imperialists, unseen because of elevation. She knew exactly where Agridle and Aria were because they knew to signal her, but Helende’s stupid thieves were entirely lost in the dark and their motions unknown to the master thief. Stupid, stupid idiots.

The Khajiit and her underlings waited in the veil of night patiently, hoping for an opportunity to move and praying their counterparts didn’t make any bad choices. It could have been an hour before the majority of the guards on deck had retreated to the inn for the night in favor of a warm bed over their usual hammocks in the ship. In immediate view there were only two left on board, but there were likely many more within the structure.

Finally, Habasi decided the coast wasn’t going to get much clearer and gave a distinct hand signal off to Agridle, who followed up with the I understand gesture and left his spot from under the thicket of the lighthouse lawn. The scout moved ahead, bow set but not drawn, and merged with the shadows to begin the overtaking of the ship. Not long after that did the trouble start.

The door to Aurelle’s Tradehouse opened, shining beams of light from within out into the dark. A soldier came out, dressed in his uniform minus the armor, rambling something off to his companions on board the ship. Habasi heard his words clearly despite the distance separating them.

“Keep on your guard,” the soldier said, unknown to the thieves to be the Captain of the crew, “The locals say that there’ve been spies here for days, and they just disappeared from sight right before we came in.”

So, the locals had been their downfall, Sugar Lips mused. Four days of stakeouts and preparing all in vain because a few gossiping commoners couldn’t keep their mouths shut. Of course, there was still the worry for the scout Agridle - the Bosmer was quick and efficient, so he could have been anywhere on the ship by now. If he was within the levels then he’d have one hell of a time getting out.

Now, the Khajiit had the damnedest time trying to figure out why the Breton monk she was “borrowing” felt the need to make his presence known right then, and more importantly, why he felt that he had to attack the ship hands to get them to see him. Whatever was running through his head the green robed twit had jumped from his hiding place - he had chosen the concealed stern of the vessel to be his look out - and with an unnatural speed for a mortal, pulled himself on deck and rushed the nearest guard. Fists flailing maniacally and expertly through the air, the monk had, if nothing else, drawn all attention towards himself.

Sugar Lips looked down to Aria, still crouched in the untamed swamp grass, and delivered the same signal that she had previously given to Agridle. The female Breton, much wiser than her predecessor, took a swig of a prepared Invisibility potion and was gone a moment later.

The monk, Orsels Something-Or-Other, had maybe a minute to live at best. Two steel Imperialist blades stabbed and slashed at his unarmored body, slicing his pale flesh and gutting him slowly with each strike. The fool had tied the rope around his own neck, and though Habasi was no heartless master, she had no intention of helping him. The importance of their mission greatly outweighed the value of a single life, and if his last minutes could serve their purpose Habasi would use it to her advantage.

Meanwhile, Agridle was having a difficult time with just remaining unseen. He’d managed to slip past the guards down to the first level of the ship, but there was nothing to be seen there. There were three guards who had been chatting idly, but when shouts of battle and pain emitted above deck they were quick to get up and see what was going on. How they ran right past Agridle and not notice him being pressed against the wall was a wonder.

With the level suddenly cleared Agridle headed to the trap door on the other side of the room. He tried it and found it was locked. Luckily, the wood elf was nimble with the picks and probes that he always carried in his belt. His dark fingers shook slightly from the nervousness and adrenaline, not to mention fear of what kind of battle was going on above, but the silvery pick managed to trick the lock and the door was opened.

The stench that wafted up from the lowest breaches of the ship was agonizing, and nothing like anything Agridle could have ever braced himself for. Rotting food, human waste, and the smell of many who haven’t showered in weeks combined to create a force that would deter anyone from going down there, but Agridle knew his mission.

Twenty to thirty men and a few women were shackled down, hope lost from their faces until they’d seen the Bosmer approach. He had to put a cloth to his face to fight the smell and swallow hard to fight the frustration. Two prisoners had to be liberated, but which two?

“I don’t suppose any of you are named Nerevar?” he asked sarcastically, but almost every prisoner shouted out that they were. They were desperate for escape and willing to say anything he wanted to hear, he realized, and that would make things much more difficult.

“Listen up and shut yer mouths!” he ordered darkly, “I’m looking for somebody born under a certain sign. Starting here, and hurry up!”

The first man had been born under the Lord, and the next two under the Steed. The first woman was marked with the Tower constellation, and for a long time it went like that until Agridle came to a Nordic man.

“Come on, come on! I haven’t got much time!” the scout snapped when the man hesitated.

“The Ritual,” he stated simply, and Agridle’s heart jumped.

“Are you with anyone?”

“My brother. I will not leave without him,” said the man firmly, holding loyalty over his own freedom.

“Where is he?” Agridle followed the Nord’s pointing finger to the other side of the cabin. The family resemblance was uncanny in the younger man, and now there wasn’t a doubt in the wood elf’s mind. “I’m busting you both out of here.”

The shackles were simplistic in nature and only took a second to break. With one Nordic man freed and the other soon to follow, the scout felt obligated to know their names.

“I’m Irviin. My older brother is Reykiln. Why are you releasing us?”

“Because we need you for something,” was the curt reply before a thunder like clash from above caused everyone to pause momentarily. “Ah, yes. There’s definitely something going on up there.”

The two Nords were hardly stealth focused, so smuggling them above ship secretly would be impossible, though it seemed that secrecy was no longer a concern by the telling of the scream of death from overhead. “We’ll have to fight our way out. You stay together. I’ll be staying to the shadows and coming at them from behind-”

“Hey!” a voice interrupted Agridle impatiently, “Throw me that lock pick, will you? Help a sister out!” Indeed the speaker was a sister to Agridle. She was a wood elf like he, though much fairer and taller. To a mortal she may have appeared glamorous and agile, but from a Bosmer’s perspective she was hardly something to look at. Accompanied by her was another figure, but the shadows hid the companion’s face entirely.

“I don’t have time!”

“Just leave the pick and go! At least let some of us have a chance at escaping!”

Frustration and loyalty of blood forced him to oblige. He tossed the pick at her and it skidded on the floor, bypassing several people who unsuccessfully tried to reach for it before the Bosmeri woman received it. He knew he wouldn’t be reimbursed for the tool, but for some inane reason he felt that there would be more reward in the simple action than anything else.

“Let’s go,” he said to the unarmed Nord brothers, and they climbed the wooden stairs prepared for combat.

[Aqua-chan]

On deck the battle that had started with one monk and two guards had erupted into an all-out siege between the law and the unlawful. Eight guards, three from the lower levels of the ship and five from the inn, had gathered to help their now-deceased friends defend the vessel. Orsels was long dead, his body kicked off to the side in the chaos. Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh had taken to using an unorthodox weapon for a thief, his spear, and was using a curious stab-and-retreat technique he had learned from years of fighting in the Black Marsh while backstab-happy Alakkar had preyed on every unsuspecting victim possible. Sugar Lips Habasi hadn’t wanted things to end this way, but had taken out her bow and keenest arrows to launch unavoidable attacks from the treetop out of anger: she’d seen how the Captain of the Guard had spotted Aria and had thrust his sword into her side, killing Habasi’s best friend in a blind instant. Gods help the man who was now feeling the Khajiit’s perilous wrath.

Agridle shoved the trap door up with all his might, and even for a small elf the hatch flew back at a frightening speed. Habasi also saw that the local militia guard on the other side of town was starting to collect and rally.

“We have to go!” she shouted to Agridle, not caring if the other two subordinates heard her. She jumped from the tree and landed on the soft ground with a grace only a cat can display and darted north. The swamps were that direction, and no clumsy guards with heavy armor would be able to track them for long in there. Agridle, his wards in tow, followed deftly and together the four disappeared in the thick forests.

Alakkar had played one too many sneaky tricks that night and was eventually killed by angry Imperials. He’d taken out a number of them before his demise, but the only remaining thief, Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh, was still fighting a losing battle. He’d considered fleeing to the north like his allies, but that would attract attention to his comrades. There was one option left, and the marine warrior was perfectly willing to take it. He pushed a guard blocking his path away and b-lined to the stern, headed for the ocean. The plan was interrupted when a woman heaved herself up from the hatch quickly, then turned back to help another.

Things suddenly went awkward for Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh. It was like an obscenely surreal case of déjà vu, but more disturbing. He didn’t know that a mistake had been made, he’d been told it at that moment. By whom? A god? By Nerevar?

By the time the Argonian could connect his musings with reality again both the escapees had gotten on deck and were obviously confused. Both were women of Bosmeri descent, it seemed. The guards were chasing him still, he realized, and they would take no prisoners on this occasion. If the escapees were recaptured they would probably be killed on the spot as well. Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh did the only thing he knew to: he grabbed both women, their slender wrists both fit easily into one of his hands, and brandished his spear carefully in the other. He dragged them to the stern and threw them off the side first, not caring for tact or gentleness at that point. The guards were right behind him when he glanced back, then, making he wouldn’t land on either of the elves, Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh dove gracefully after them.

A few of the Legion guards threw their spears and swords at the three out of fury before realizing they had more trouble on their hands than what would at first be known. From the hatch another prisoner darted through, followed by a few more. Having been unshackled by a lock pick the Bosmer prisoners had left behind nearly all the convicts rushed through the exits of the ship, fleeing and running any which way and trampling those not fast enough. The guards were so occupied with detaining the criminals that they had lost track of the Argonian and his two wards entirely.

[Aqua-chan]

Fortunately for them the two Bosmeri women were able swimmers, capable of holding a good breath. They were nothing in comparison to Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh, however, as the Argonian was a swift swimmer and didn’t need to return to the surface periodically for air. He did hang back with them once they began to lag behind, keeping a careful look out and brandishing his spear at the common slaughterfish that kept nearing them hungrily. It would be safer to get on land were they could stop and catch their breaths, he decided. He tapped one of the elves on the shoulder and began swimming towards the beach.

It was good to have solid land under their feet. Seyda Need was far out of sight and they weren’t being pursued as far as they could tell, but they would still have to keep moving. Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh would remind them of this after they’d rested a while. In the meantime, it would be interesting to see what the two were like when they weren’t running for their lives.

“This was a bloody stupid idea.”

“I’m free of shackles and that dark boat. I ain’t complainin’.”

“It’ll be the first time in a while you’ve actually kept your mouth shut,” she taller woman snapped. She was clearly irritated, understandable since she had been through a very stressful ordeal and had come out of it only dripping wet and bleeding. It was too dark to make out her face, but Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh could feel her eyes boring into him. “So, you’re our exalted savior now. Tell me, what do we do now, exactly?”

The Argonian shifted his weight and took her attitude into stride. “Now we rest. Maybe only for an hour since we’re still only a stone’s throw from Seyda Neen. We’ll move again once you both are collected.”

The smaller of the two wood elves happily collapsed upon hearing this, eager to relax her tired muscles. The other was more reluctant to indulge and seemed to want to get moving, but reconsidered her status. She took her seat on a fallen tree, and Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh merely leaned on a boulder for support.

“So, where are we?” the smaller elf asked, ripping the leaves of a plant apart unconsciously. She was clearly nervous and lost having not seen daylight since they’d left Cyrodiil roughly a week before.

“You’re on Vvarndenfell. The Ascadian Isles, to be precise.”

“Oh,” was the only reply she could muster before her companion took charge.

“And who are you? More importantly, why did you attack that ship?”

“I am Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh, loyal member to the Thieves Guild. And we attacked your captors because we believe that some one very important to the well-being of the local population was being held-“

“The younger elf interrupted, “Why did you help us? You could have saved yourself, but you hesitated because we were there.”

Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh looked up to the night sky and recognized the star patterns entirely. He placed and named every one he saw, and one stood out in particular. “Were either of you born under the sign of the Shadow?”

Again, the younger elf answered. “Yes, I was.” Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh turned to the taller woman, and now her face was illuminated by some luminous russula that was flowering nearby.

“And you were born under the Ritual.” It wasn’t a question.

The elf straightened up threateningly as if suspicious of the Argonian. “How did you know that?”

“A lucky guess,” he lied, sheathing his spear over his back, “We should get moving now. We won’t have the dark to hide us for much longer, and I’d like to get to Vivec with as little notice as possible. I’ll answer your questions along the way.”




--- --- ---



The hike was interesting, if uneventful. Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh had been brought back to his own first days on the new continent as he led the two Bosmer sisters, Sietsuna and Allorin, through the region. Neither of them had ever heard of or seen netches before, and seeing the massive jellyfish-like animals suspended in the air stunned and puzzled them both. Allorin was definitely fascinated with the more fluorescent Betty netches with their blue coloration, and Sietsuna was seemingly curious with the local plant life and the alchemical properties behind everything. Through the entire trip they bounded the Argonian with questions about every little thing they came across, and being a patient man Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh divulged every bit of information he knew.

At one point Allorin, the younger and seemingly more carefree of the two sisters, noticed a complex of lights out to sea. “Is that where we’re heading?”

Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh glanced over quickly before returning his discerning eye back over to the pair of kogouti that was getting too close for comfort. “No, that’s Ebonheart. It’s an Imperial city, and while I doubt that word of our escapade in Seyda Neen has gotten there yet I don’t want to take any chances. We’re going to Vivec which is under Temple jurisdiction and, more importantly, is much larger.”

“How long will it be until things settle down with the Imperial Guard, do you think? It’ll be a tedious task, always having to hide from them.”

“Well, that really depends on how much they find out. Alone, I’d say it’ll be about a week before you can come out of hiding, but should somebody let it slip that you escaped during an attack on a ship because we were liberating the Nerevarine you may always have to watch you backs.”

“What the hell is the Nerevarine?”

The Argonian stopped and turned to the women. “I suppose its best we talk about this now before we get into Vivec city, lest the Ordinators hear us and arrest us on the spot. The Dunmer have an old prophecy that speaks of the god Nerevar and the betrayal of certain other gods. I don’t know all of the prophecy, but lore tells us that Nerevar had some very powerful weapons in his possession. Apparently the Tribunal gods - Vivec, Almalexia, and Sotha Sil - took these weapons for their own use. These days the god of Blight, Dagoth Ur, has possession of these items and lives inside Red Mountain, waiting for the incarnate of Nerevar, the Nerevarine, to come and make a truce or something along those lines…”

Sietsuna rose and eyebrow and crossed her arms. “That made absolutely no sense at all.”

“As I said, the prophecy itself is very much unknown. We know that the story includes the deception of the Tribunal gods, so it makes sense that the Tribunal Temple would work to discredit the prophecy and everything about it. They’ve banned most books speaking of the history of this land, and almost nothing is known about what happened at Red Mountain all those years ago. Perhaps some of the Ashlander tribes can recall the story, but few of them really care to speak with outlanders like you and I.”

“Back to the current things that apply to us,” Sietsuna started, and once again the trio was back to traveling along the beaten path. The kogouti were long gone leaving only scribs and the trees to eavesdrop on their conversation, “What will we be doing in Vivec? We’ve got no gold between us and nobody but your allies to side with, should you have any.”

“I have no Guild associates in Vivec but Addhiranirr, but there’s no telling where she is at the present. We’re going to my cousin, Miun-Gei. He’s a freelance enchanter in the Foreign Quarter of Vivec. He’ll offer us sanction until you get back on your feet. You should have no trouble acquiring gold in a city where everybody is willing to pay to have something done.”

“You should know that work and labor is not typically how Sietsuna and I earn our gold.” Allorin grinned widely, yet the deviant look offset even the mellowest of Argonians.

“I never did learn why you both had been imprisoned,” he pointed out. For a moment it looked as if Allorin was ready to quell his curiosity before Sietsuna stopped her.

“Later. Right now let’s just focus on getting to this cousin of yours. I just don’t feel safe out here anymore.”

[Aqua-chan]

Back in Balmora things were not running as smoothly for Sugar Lips Habasi as she had hoped.

“Word of your little incident got here long before even you did,” Feldrelo Sadri started, snarling with an air that only a priestess of the divine could muster, “Four Imperialists dead, and one of them was a knight in the Legions! Do you have any idea as to what kind of hell this is going to raise?”

The lowest level of the temple had been emptied out solely for this meeting, and it was unsettling how Sadri’s voice echoed off the walls and still retained its sharpness. Habasi kept up a strong, if false, demeanor. Behind her, however, the two Nord brothers and Agridle weren’t as successful at hiding their discomfort.

“Legion men will get angry, blow smoke for a while, and then get back to their duties. They won’t discover your participation in this plot. They won’t even be able to figure out that our Guild was involved. The blame will eventually fall on the Commona Tong.”

“From what I understand that won’t be happening. Apparently, your little troop left the bodies of two Bretons and a Redguard. All of them outlanders! The Imperialists aren’t stupid. They’ll put the pieces together eventually.”

Habasi was beginning to lose her disposition. “All things aside, your prophecy men are here, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.”

Sadri calmed at this and examined the Nords for a moment, scanning them carefully over with hawkish eyes. Then, much to everyone’s curiosity, she clasped her hands and bowed her head in prayer for a good length of time.

Agridle whispered to Habasi, “She didn’t say anything about them killing that other Argonian. Do you think he’s alive?”

“Quiet,” she scoffed, “Don’t say anything to Sadri. If the Argonian lives and there is a chance that the Imperials captured - or even may capture him - then we’ll never hear the end of it from Sadri."

By the time their little interlude was finished Feldrelo had ended her prayer and approached the Nords. The expression on her face was that of pure anger, and in her hand was her ever-present staff which now shook with her rage.

“Yes, you’ve done quite well at making a mess of things, Habasi. I’ve sought council with the divine and they tell me that you’ve brought me the wrong men!” The priestess stepped forward daringly, separating the thieves from the outlanders and stared the captives down. “I see through your treachery, Nords. Speak and come clean, and do not lie because I will catch it.”

“I speak only the truth!” Reykiln quickly defended himself, but the panicked shrill in his voice gave him away. Habasi squeezed the bridge of her nose between her finger and thumb.

“Really?” the dark elf sneered, “So, then I am mistaken when I say that you are not who you claim to be, and that this man here is not really your brother?”

“You must be, lady.”

“So, you were not actually born under the Lady and lied to our elven friend here when he asked your birth sign?”

“No, prieste-”

“And your name is not actually Hrolin?” she said definitely, and the Nord knew he was caught. There was no point in trying to keep up the façade any longer, and with a dismal glance to his partner in crime, “Irviin”, the man shook his head and gave in. Feldrelo sighed, angry and somewhat confused herself. “I’m afraid you’ve made yourself quite a hell of trouble, then. I will, of course, be turning you into the authorities. The Ordinators, probably, as we can’t risk letting you louts tell the Imperials about everything you’ve learned from this encounter. No, you’ll be going to Ministry of Truth with all of the other deviants. If you’re lucky you won’t be executed on the spot. We’ll have to see.
“Meanwhile, Habasi,” the Dunmer narrowed dark eyes at the Khajiit, “There still is this little problem about finding the correct subjects of my premonitions. Your guild has been paid, now I expect you to perform the required work. Understand that if you back out now then I will have no choice other than to employ the Commona, and who knows what kind of strength they would gain with my funding.”

“All people on the ship that night are being held in Fort Pelagaid until the culprits are caught, Habasi knows. Guards can be bribed, prisoners can be liberated."

“You make sure that they are, Khajiit,” replied the elf, “because let me tell you now, in case you haven’t already figured; this operation isn’t just about getting paid. For you, it is now about staying alive. Get to it, outlander, and this time I better not hear news of your escapades gone wrong.”


---

“You’ve brought me a pair of descent sleepers, my cousin,” Miun-Gei said just above a whisper so he wouldn’t disturb the two wood elves sleeping on his small bed, “And what of you? What ordeal has sent you this way, battered as you are? This place is far out of the way of Sadrith Mora.”

“It is not a tale that can’t wait to be told until morning. However, I would like to know now if you’d be willing to house the three of us until I am able to set these women up to where they can handle themselves,” said the pilgrim. With that the two Argonians went upstairs to the main level to discuss the situation.

“What illegal Guild trouble have you brought to my doorstep, Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh? It’s clear you’re going into hiding, and while I will help you in any way I can I do not like the idea that I harbor criminals in my home.”

“This has nothing to do with the Guild. Not anymore - I believe that all this is much bigger than originally thought. But you are right on the fact that we are laying low, cousin, as these women are wanted by the Imperials and, eventually, will likely be wanted by the Temple.”

“Why? What crimes have they committed?”

“None to my knowledge. It may be a simple matter of who they are that will get them in trouble. Or, I should say, who one of them may be.”

“You speak cryptically, Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh. You would seek sanctity in my walls and not tell me why?”

“You truly wish to condemn yourself by getting involved with this?” Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh replied in turn, staring at his cousin in an apologetic and foreboding way. Finally, Miun-Gei just shook his head and sighed.

“Very well. You have your good father’s wisdom, so I know you will let me in on your troubles when the time is right. For now you three may stay here, but I expect compensation. There are chores I would have them do if they are to live here, and only as long as they keep out of trouble.”

“Agreed. I know little of these elves but they don’t seem to be deviants."

“Regardless, I hold you to your word, Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh. I will house you, but should the Ordinators come knocking at my door I will not lie to protect them. I still have a business to run and no business runs with a bad reputation.”

“I said do not worry yourself with it. I doubt we will remain here for very long. It would seem that we are still within the Legion’s reach, so we’ll likely have to go elsewhere.”

“Ah, but the Legion reaches far. Where will you go?”

“Balmora, most likely. I’ll need to find Sugar Lips Habasi and report to her on all of this. Once my part of this is over I will return home."

“Not wise, dear cousin,” Miun-Gei interjected, “The Duke himself is going to Balmora to find out the current status of his House. Undoubtedly the city will be swarming with Imperialists.”

“Well... I guess I could take them to Suran or Molag Mar, but then what? It’s not as though I could just leave them to defend themselves.”

“Well, what’s your hurry to return home?” the enchanter asked is a somewhat accusing manner.

“I am obligated to be at my post at all times in case of trouble!” snapped Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh, his pride overpowering his composure. “I am a warrior of the Guild and I can not spend my time babysitting-“

“Then leave them,” Miun-Gei said curtly, “Go back to your Thieves to do some menial work and feel guilty about leaving these women right in the view of those who would capture them. This is what you want, no? It is what you’re implying.”

Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh didn’t reply, but instead took an unnecessarily large swig from his earlier opened bottle of sujumma. Miun-Gei, realizing the conversation had been dropped, began snuffing candles out about the room until the cramped quarters were lit only by the blue light of a luminous russula arrangement in the corner.

“Miun-Gei, has the Temple released any news of what they are going to do with the Prophet Child?”

“You mean Peakstar?” the wizard Argonian stopped for a moment to straighten out his green robes uneasily, “The Archcannon says that she will likely be confined to the Ministry like others who preach of the Nerevarine, but we know better. Peakstar claims she is the Nerevarine. The Temple will not let this slide with simple imprisonment. Anyone who says they are Nerevar reborn has an instant death sentence on their head.”

Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh nodded, finished his drink, and gave his statement without even looking to his cousin. “I think we will only stay here for a couple days. I will try to find Addhiranirr and have her relay a message to Habasi that these women and I are going to Suran until the authorities calm down. We can fit them for armor in the morning and I’ll see about your payment then. For now I would do well to just rest for the evening.”

“I’ll pull a couple of bedrolls out for us, then.” Miun-Gei disappeared back down the stairs to retrieve the blankets, leaving Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh alone in an eerie silence. He didn’t notice the strange calm, however; his mind was too scattered with heavy thoughts about how his life was going to be turned upside down by this mess he’d gotten himself into.

[Aqua-chan]

Sietsuna awoke the next morning to a rather unpleasant sensation: Allorin crawling across her to get off the small bed, not realizing her knee had embedded itself quite steadily in Sietsuna's stomach.

"Get off, get off!" she sputtered, mustering just enough strength to push the younger elf off of her... And right off the bed, as well. Allorin landed with a dull thud on the floor.

"Bad seeing a night's rest didn't improve your mood any," Allorin muttered, equally irritated at the other, "Next time you get to sleep on the side with the wall."

"Next time you stay in bed until it's a descent hour to wake up. Gods, what is that smell? Is that you?"

"It's both of us, smart one. We trudged through three miles of swamp and ocean last night, remember?"

The assassin thought about this for a moment before closing her eyes and dropping back to her pillow. Indeed, it was all coming back: the shackles and imprisonment, the escape, and the hike to freedom on the Dunmer continent. Sietsuna couldn't recall the name of the city they were currently in, but did remember the Argonian who's house they were residing in had offered them all available forms of hospitality he could, from food to new clothes. Regardless of the new garments, however, the sour stench of swamp water still stuck to the girls along with the ache of sore muscles. "Why are you getting up?"

"Lavatory. And I'm kinda hungry. Don't want to be a lazy bum like you are and sit in bed all day."

Just as Allorin expected she would, Sietsuna took the baited line. "Fine, fine. I'm getting up. The Argonians awake yet?"

"Prob'ly not. Figure it'll be easy enough to leave unnoticed this way. I got no lock picks, though, so we won't get to snag most of the good loot around here."

"Just grab what you can on the way," Sietsuna said, throwing back he blanket and rolling off the old mattress. Not being one to live on extended hospitality, the elf was quick to get ready to leave, brushing her hair with her fingers wiping the dirt from her face with a nearby rag.

"Hey, this stuff smells good," Allorin remarked, examining a white bottle. She splashed some of the liquid from it into her hand, rubbing it along her neck and face, and down her forearms before handing it to her sister. Sietsuna read the label as well as she could since the letters had faded.

"Something-anni Bug Musk." She raised an eyebrow curiously, but it would cover up the way she reeked, so she didn't complain and used the remaining quarter of the bottle on herself.

Allorin snagged about thirty septims off a nearby dresser and stuck them in her pocket, and by then the elves were in descent enough state to leave. They looked at each other briefly and set to climbing the stairs, quietly as mortally possible.

The Argonian cousins had unknowingly arranged themselves on the floor that left a path that openly led to the front door, making it almost too easy for the professional rogues to leave the small quarters. Sietsuna did see a dagger on a table that glinted with a peculiar red glow, and once she decided she wanted it the elf literally had to step over Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh to get it. While she'd been doing that Allorin had already gone outside, holding the door up on its hinges so it wouldn't creak. They were gone in moments.

The canton corridor was narrow and small, even more so than Sietsuna had remembered it being when she'd come through the night before. From the way the central area of the building had been abandoned by local life it was safe to suppose that it was still quite early in the morning. Of course, there were guards wandering about. Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh had told the girls that these were the Ordinators, enforcers of Temple law, and could potentially wind up being their enemies if all things went to hell. Indeed, armored to the teeth and wearing yellow masks depicting a stony-faced dunmer the lot of them looked less than friendly. There were three of them in immediate view alone, and upon seeing the commonly dressed outlanders they each seemed to scoff at them through the masks.

"I don't like this," Allorin whispered, "Forget the shopping. Let's just get out of here."

Immediately around the corner from Miun-Gei's shop was the exit from the canton. It had been the way to safety before. Now the two Bosmeri sisters were using it as their way to freedom. With a quick heave of the door Sietsuna ushered her younger sister out, all along the way feeling those unwelcoming eyes on her back.

Once outside the two Bosmer were hit with a refreshing wind carrying the ocean spray and the smell of salt with it. On the banks of the coast thousands of tree leaves clapped and whistled in a natural chorus that sent a small chill up Allorin’s spine.

“Wow. I guess it’s been too long of a time since we’ve actually taken a trip away from the city, huh? It feels kinda weird getting back to nature, but at the same time I… I kind of like the feeling.” The elf ran her fingers through her dark hair and sighed quietly. “How long’s it been since we left Valenwood?”

“Sixty years, almost,” Sietsuna contemplated, apparently no longer bothered by the Ordinators. She was equally mesmerized by the fields of green ahead of the Foreign Quarter, but the natural connection died away quickly as Sietsuna remembered that she had no idea where they were. “Come on.”

They’d descended down one of the stairwells and encountered, much to their paranoia, another wandering Ordinator. They waited for him to pass, and despite how suspicious the two looked the guard merely grunted as he strode by.

“Okay, that’s getting just a bit irritating,” Allorin said when he was just out of earshot. Sietsuna nudged her to follow, and together they made their way around the canton and eventually to the embankment.

“So, let’s contemplate what we know, shall we?” Sietsuna started in her usual growling tone, fighting with the ruffled collar of the common shirt she’d been given to wear, “We’re on the dump continent of Vvarndenfell with no money and no idea where we’re headed. How much gold do we have?”

“Altogether, about seventy septims.”

“All right. That’s definitely not enough to pay a fare back to civilization, so it looks like we’ll have to do a little dirty work for now.”

“I dunno, Sissy. These Dunmer look like they’re ‘civilized’ enough,” Allorin muttered, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the massive complex of cantons once more.

“I wouldn’t get attached to this place. You know the products of your profession? I wouldn’t doubt that a good deal of them end up here, waiting hand and foot on these Dark heathens. Ugh, I don’t even want to think about it.”

“What’s your bias against Dunmer, anyway? ‘One smack you outside the head and rob you blind or something?” the younger probed on with mirth in her eyes. Her sister glared at her briefly before turning her attention back to following along the beaten path.

“They’re foul, primitive, mindless idiots who jump for their swords to solve the smallest conflict. They’ve no desire to learn, and don’t even have basic moral standards.”

“So speaks the wanted assassin.”

“I have my own set of morals,” Sietsuna defended herself, “They just happen to conflict with Imperial law more often than not.”

They passed a canopy port that appeared to be some manner of travel, but it seemed that the place had been abandoned. It was deducted that the transport, whatever manner it was, had taken another party to some other city and wouldn’t be back for a while. It was all well and good anyway, Sietsuna pointed out, as the less people that saw the two sisters traveling the less likely it was that they’d be tracked down.

As they were hoofing the beaten path Allorin had found it impossible to just listen to the songs of the trees and scribs alone. Morning was beginning to break, and as the pair began to wake up more it simply was just too quiet for the elves’ liking.

“Why are we running from that Argonian, exactly?”

“You waited until now to ask that?”

“Well, I know that you’ve got this paranoia that makes you think that everyone who’s nice to us really has secret motives, but I just want to know why we couldn’t just tell him we were leaving. Or a note, at the very least.”

“It’s not paranoia,” the woman explained, “It’s being cautious, and that kept me out of prison just fine until you came along. Look, I’ve got good character judgment-“

Allorin snickered fiendishly. “Yeah. You’re a racist and a feminist. I can understand how you’d be great at determining a person’s character.”

“He wouldn’t tell us why he attacked our captors, wouldn’t give us any information about the group he said he was affiliated with, and refused to explain why he felt it was his bestowed duty to watch out for us. Doesn’t that sound a little shady to you?”

“Maybe he’s one of those mysterious dramatic types.”

“For some reason I seriously doubt that.” The two stopped, realizing that they had to make a decision. The beaten path branched off into three directions, all of which looked equally traveled. There was a signpost, but it only did so much good to know the names Pelagaid, Balmora, and Molag Mar but not know how far away they were. “Gods, where the hell are we?”

[Aqua-chan]

"I really wish we had taken a map."

"Shut up about the map."

The couple walked on together in a silence punctuated by only a few moments of dialog. The beaten path they followed through grassy hills seemed to be getting steeper, but neither of the girls was ready to admit fatigue.

They were going to Pelagiad, only because Allorin had reasoned that a place called "Molag Mar" didn't even sound inviting. It was their true hope that they weren't accicently walking into a death trap of bounty hunters or anything.

Side by side, Sietsuna and Allorin didn't look alike, regardless that they were both Bosmer and even sisters. Siestuna was tall even for a human's standards, and quite lanky and thin. She stood a head over Allorin, who was about average height for an elf and had a proportionate body structure. Where Allorin's hair was short, straight, and brown Sietsuna's was long, wavy, and black. Their faces had almost no relevance, and no one would have reasonably guessed they were related.

Another thing about them that clashed was their personalities.

"We could have asked for a map."

"Alright, then. Why don't you just run on back to the Argonian's apartment and ask for one. I'll wait right here until you come back," the older elf replied with a sarcastic snap, not clutching the dagger until her fist turned white because she worried about animals. Sietsuna's sister played on her every last nerve, and it would only be so long before she couldn't take the second guessing anymore. The assassin instincts would kick in - she almost PRAYED for it - and the strange red glowing dagger would be applied to the throat of a very obnoxious bloodkin of hers.

"Look, this is not my fault," Allorin argued, "I did not get you captured by the Imperialists, and you know that."

"Oh, so the fact that they conveniently found out where I lived just a few days after they captured and began starving you was all a complete coincedence?" It wasn't a question.

"You think I sold you out?" Allorin stopped in her tracks, seemingly stunned and offended at this revelation. Sietsuna neither stopped nor replied. "I don't believe you think-! I would never do that to-!"

"Oh, shove it!" Sietsuna called back over her shoulder, gaining a good distance between herself and Allorin. Breifly, she thought her sister might choose not to follow her.

I'm not that lucky.

Allorin kept step with the other, keeping a selective perimeter for reaction time. She was seething; Sietsuna knew it.

Boldly and definately, Allorin hissed through her teeth, "I didn't say anything." She vaguely heard Siestuna reply under her breath something along the lines of 'you can kick in now, instincts'. "Sietsuna, listen to me!"

"Hey!" the assassin whipped around suddenly, her hair flying in crazy directions, "As a slaver, do you know what kind of penalty you would recieve should you be apprehended? You'd be beaten into submission and sold as a slave. Poetic justice, huh?" The fake smile and waving of her arms didn't lure Allorin into thinking things were about to get better. "Well guess what? I'm an assassin, Allorin. I kill people for money. If I get captured, they'll execute me."

The uneasiness hung in the fresh air for an eternity. Neither of the Bosmer, both proud and stubborn, would break the angry eye contact that they currently had. It went on until Sietsuna felt she'd made her point.

"You gave me up once. When I find a way to get us back to the mainland and we're out of this mess don't you plan on ever seeing me again." She turned back and stomped down the path once more, faster and more determined to get to Pelagaid than ever. Allorin sulked breifly before taking up pace, staying a safe distance away from Sietsuna while always keeping her within sight.

The rest of the trip played out as it had started: almost entire silence. Only a few times did the girls stop and ask the other, equally as clueless, what direction to go when the road split in two directions. And though they both tried to conceal it the other knew: a lingering hurt between the sisters had been established, and that it was there it would take a great deal of effort to make it go away.