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.

[Aqua-chan]

Guars. Like many other things in life, Sietsuna had established that she didn't like them. The lush landscape seemed to be the ideal enviroment for a good deal of local fauna, and while little orange worms and mutant sized rats - disgusting as they were - posed little problem for the dagger-wielding assassin, guars were a completely different story.

Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh had told the girls about the certain bipedial creatures that inhabited the island. Two names stuck in the elf's mind: kogouti and guar. Kogouti because it was a fun word, and guar because there were a lot of them. A lot of them. They were strange creatures with big heads, purple mouths, and unpredictable behavior. Most guars attacked when they caught the smell of a tresspasser. Then Allorin nearly walked straight into one before she ever saw it: the beast merely sniffed her breifly and went back to grazing. Strange creatures.

The pair had encountered four of them while on the road to Pelagiad (disputed between the sisters as being pronouned as pel-a-gade or pa-la-zg-uh), and it was because of their hostility and toughness that Sietsuna didn't like them. They attacked by either throwing their massive heads into the victim and forcing them to lose balance or by biting. And guars do not have bites like typical animals: a guar's bite consumes the victim in a massive clutch of a mouth that smells like carrion, squeezes, and withdraws.

And that is how Sietsuna came to be covered in guar slober from hand to shoulder, smelling like something the cat dragged in. Allorin did not dare laugh at her sister's plight, though she did think the sight of an enormous lizard swallowing up Sietstuna and then spitting her back out was hillariously funny. The girl made a mental note to buy a journal to record such events in the future.

Supposing, of course, that they even had a future together.

They were headed east when some rolling hills in the distance yielded several small buildings: farmhouses. Allorin's heart sank when it occured to her that farms mean poor people, and poor people rarely have anything good worth looting, but the theif remained optimistic.

"Finally."

Sietsuna, as if she wasn't already in a bad mood previous to becomming a chew toy, saw the situation a little differently.

"A small town. We're really going to have to keep cool heads or we're blown. Word and rumor moves fast in communities like this."

"You know, I wasn't born yesturday."

"You act it sometimes, so I'm telling you now," Sietsuna chided in a parental way, "If you're going to develop sticky fingers, be careful about it. We can't afford to make any noi-saAAH!"

From the brush growing along the path a creature lunged. Allorin blinked and her sister was no longer walking a foot ahead of her, but had skidded along the path, attacker using its weight and agility to bring down the only armed woman of the two. Allorin was so surprised that the thought to help defend Sietsuna really didn't occur to her.

Sietsuna had landed on her side. The Firebite dagger slid out of her grasp and beyond her reach. She wouldn't attempt to retrieve it: a blade was pressed against her throat, a hand held her face into the dirt. It wasn't another stupid guar, she thought dumbly.

"I wouldn't recommend either of you two lovely lasses moving even slightly," the raspy voice teased, knowing his hostage gave him immunity, "Unless, of course, you're reaching for your purses to forfeit your coin. That is what I was planning to have you do next, after all."

The hand holding down Sietsuna lifted, and rolled her over by her shoulder. On her back, the first thing the wood elf saw was the double-edged sword hovering carefully over her face. Then she saw the wielder, a dunmer.

"Filthy dark elves," she snarled before she could even think to stop it, her personal descrimination boiling over, "It would take one of your kind to blindsight unwitting travelers for a few septims..."

She stopped when the very tip of the glinting blade tapped against her nose.

"If I may make a suggestion, my lady," the man started, smiling curiously but keeping a wary eye on both Sietsuna and Allorin at once, "Given your situation, I would think it unwise to insult your company."

"My company?! Try 'highwayman' or 'brigand'!"

"Yeah, good job with the 'not making too much noise' thing," Allorin muttered mainly to herself, looking at the not-so-distant Pelagiad and wondering if a stray commoner would be noticing them soon.

"And another thing I am reluctant to point out," the elf continued on, "and I apologise if this sounds crude, but it was not my fault that you hadn't the sense in your head to stay aware of your surroundings. I even waited until you had both the dagger in your hand and were within viewing distance of town before I made my move, which is a courtesy that I don't typically give. I think I was quite generous and gentlemanly concerning this matter."

Allorin had to surpress a giggle. Not only had this guy outsmarted one of the smartest, outsneaked one of the sneakiest, but now he was gloating in Sietsuna's face. This was new.

If not for the fact that he was sitting on top of her, Sietsuna wanted to give the man several swift kicks to the groin simply for being so damn obnoxious. Unfortunately, he was wearing greaves so that course of action was unavaliable to her.

"What do you want? Gold?" she snapped irritably. The man rose off her, but kept his sword ready.

"I'm very glad you offered. I'll lighten your purses fairly - not all of your coin, as that would be rude. I'll allow you ladies to pass without incident for a mere two hundred septims, half my original toll for one person."

Looking between the two women, he saw in their faces that there was going to be a problem.

"She's got it," Sietsuna, moving to sit upright, said and nodded over to Allorin. His gaze followed hers, and he shot the smaller elf an expectant look.

"Um, well..." Allorin stalled ungraciously, "You see, there's two problems we have right now, the first being that we don't have that much gold. We don't even have half the gold you're 'requesting'." She smiled widely, flashing a row of unnaturaly white teeth. It was a cheshire cat smile.

The rogue evaluated the girl with a once-over glance, "And the second problem is?"

"The second problem," she tied her hands behind her back and kicked the dirt like a child, "is that we don't have to pay your toll."

There was a heavy silence as the dunmer tried to comprehend the declaration. He tried to understand, but came up empty every time and gave in. From the bosmer's curious body language he wondered what her logic was.

"And what, exactly, makes you exempt from my request?"

"The fact that my sister is going to kill you."

It didn't take long for that to register, and the dunmer who had been paying so much attention to Allorin's body language and had forgotten about Sietsuna quickly found himself in a mess. He turned his head and his cheek was met with a rock. The tall woman tackled the stunned bandit to the ground and struck him again in the skull with the rock, again, and again, and again. She pummeled the elf into unconsciousness with wounded pride and frustration, both powerful allies in combat, and then some.

Allorin, feeling quite proud of herself for pulling off that old trick so well, let the venting continue.

"Better him than me," she assured herself.

When the assassin's rage died down (and her arm grew tired) Sietsuna backed off from the rogue's battered body and stood in front of him. His chest rose and fell deeply, but it was a steady breathing. Some deep lacerations on the side of his head and one big cut on his forehead, but otherwise nothing too bad past the superficial.

"He might have brain damage," Allorin suggested. The bloodied rock dropped from Sietsuna's hand and rolled a little on the ground.

"He likely already had the problem," she mused darkly.

"What about keeping a low profile?"

"Well, I wasn't planning on leaving a written apology and my signature." Sietsuna kneeled over the man and wiped some blood from her hand onto his clothes. A thought hit her. "Hey, help me take his clothes."

"You want to rob our robber?"

"We can sell the armor and keep what we need. More importantly, if he's naked-"

"Then he can't go into town and cause a problem for us," Allorin deducted quickly, "Brilliant thinking, sister of mine."

Sietsuna paused a moment, hunched over the half-undone cuirass.

"I was going to say that if he's naked it will teach him to cross my path, but, yes, your way works, too."

Allorin raised an eyebrow but let Sietsuna's ego fly. The two sisters dragged the elf behind a boulder formation and set to pilfering everything from his armor to his skivvies. For the first time since the arguement they actually laughed together, a rarity for Sietsuna in itself. Allorin ripped a large leaf off a nearby plant and placed it over their victim's distinguished parts, and Sietsuna proceeded to remove some embarassing yellow patterned undergarments with a stick.

When all was said and done the girls had gained several dozen septims in goods, the dark elf rogue had been left alive, and his underwear was floating somewhere in the open bay nearby.

[Aqua-chan]

The sisters neared the farmhouses of Pelagaid confidently, pleased with themselves for a job well done. That feeling of pride went out the window when a tower, definetely Imperial in nature, loomed into view.

An Argonian man working his small plot of tilled soil noticed them standing in the middle of the road, dumbfounded. Adventurers were rare in these parts, and these two looked lost.

"Can I help you?" he called, crossing the lot over to them. Only one of the ladies seemed to snap back into reality; her head jerked violently in his direction. An appaled face was suddenly replaced with a kindly one.

"I think so, actually," the elf woman answered. Allorin was a city girl at heart, but she knew how to tactfully handle country folk without seeming too seedy. "My friend and I are pilgrims, and we seemed to have gotten very lost. Could you, perhaps, tell us where we are?"

"Ah, pilgrims. You must be headed to Kummu. That makes complete sense then," the farmer rationalized.

"Ahh... Right, we're headed to the Kummu... Kummuian thing. Uh, that thing at Kummu." Allorin inwardly cringed. She could lie descently, but her cover skills were in the lacking. She decided to change the topic quickly. "Can you tell me anything about this town?"

Sietsuna listened in on their conversation, taking note of how many Imperialists were stationed at the fort and were patrolling the area. There were many officers here for an entire city, much less a small farm town like this.

The Argonian was becomming a little suspicious of the strange girls. It was obvious in his voice.

"Pelagiad is a small Imperial settlement. We're normally a peaceful town, quiet. Bandits and thieves tend to avoid this place-"

"Apparently not," Sietsuna said to herself.

"-and the guards keep us safe from the occasional animal that wanders through. Of course, things have been a little more active recently," he muttered cryptically, his suspicious eyes wandering to the fort.

"How so?"

"Well, they don't tell us peasant folk much, but they say that a prisoner ship in Seyda Neen suffered some damage in the bow. Lots of criminals drowned in the flooding, they said. Not that we mind the deaths of a few convicts. In the mean time ours is the closest fort, so they marched all the survivors on up here until the ship is repaired. What a sight that was."

The sisters looked at each other knowingly. Before the Argonian could ask about their unsaid agreement Allorin interrupted.

"We appreciate it. Tell me, does this place offer any services, namely an inn and trader?"

A clawed finger pointed up the wide road. "Everything's in plain sight if you head on down that way."

"Thank you," the slaver recanted in a bouncy, grateful tone. He nodded and went back to his crops, still deciding what he thought about the strange bosmer.

Once he was out of earshot Allorin couldn't help but panic.

"Sissy, they're all here! All of them!"

"You're the one who suggested coming here!"

"You went along with it!"

"You... Oh, forget it. Look, it's already getting late. What kind of cover story did you give?" Sietsuna demanded quickly, somewhat on edge by the fact that the Argonian had gone to talk to a neighbor.

"I said we were pilgrims. He assumed we were going to some holy place nearby called 'Kummu'. A temple, I guess."

"Okay, um," the assassin stuttered, looking back and forth between the open road and the gloomy fort, "Okay. Here's the plan: we stay the night and go straight to our room. No public appearences. No nightcrawling. No thievery. In the morning we'll hit up the trader, and before anyone can recognize our faces we'll be out of here."

"Okay," Allorin agreed, much to Sietsuna's surprise. The slaver was an enthusiastic thief, so it was peculiar that she was willing to set aside her passion because her sister said so.

They started down the road, putting their game faces on. Decades of being in the shadow of the law gave the bosmeri women a knack for looking inconspicuous, but still there was a nervous air around them. Even so, it would take a very observant and seasoned guard to notice Allorin's odd twitch or Sietsuna's occassional finger tapping.

Sietsuna managed to rent a room without incident. Apparently they weren't on a bounty list yet, but that wasn't too surprising. It seemed that the Imperial Legions had chosen to remain hush-hush about being attacked. No one seemed to knew what had happened in Seyda Neen - or at least not the people Allorin struck up conversations with, much to Sietsuna's annoyance.

They rented one room for the night. The bed was much larger than the one they'd shared at Miun-Gei's apartment, so the sisters really didn't mind. Sietsuna locked the heavy oak door behind her.

"Why do you suppose the Legion is covering up what happened?" Asked Allorin as she flopped down on the comfortable bed. Sietsuna leaned back against the door and blew the bangs of hair that had fallen in front of her face back.

"Got me. Maybe they're too proud. Maybe they don't want people panicking because some criminals escaped into the region. Maybe the people who attacked them are some sort of huge syndicate. I couldn't tell you."

Allorin propped her head up on her arm, "You know, Seyda Neen was a trade port. You'd think some commoners there would have seen what happened."

"The guards may have bought their silence, or threatened them for it. Either way, the ship wasn't damaged," Sietsuna contemplated, "So, why would the Legion march prisoners here? They could just load up who they have and send them to Skyrim. Post a warrant for escapees."

"But instead they're staying here. What are they waiting for?"

"Exactly. It doesn't make sense. There's gotta be more to it than we know. "

"What was that thing Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh was talking about? Something involving persecutions of the temple."

"I don't remember. It was like the reincarnation of a god, or something like that. Maybe the Imperialists were attacked by a cult, but it's a dunmer prophecy. Dwells-In-Thick-Marsh is an Argonian, so why would he join such a cult?"

They were quiet for a while, neither able to come up with a feasable reason as to why or how all these events were connected. Sietsuna slid down against the door and sat; Allorin sighed in frustration.

"I think you're right."

"About what?" Sietsuna asked monotonously. Allorin grinned to the ceiling, obviously tired.

"I think there's something more to all this than we know."

[Aqua-chan]

There was no telling of the hour when Sietsuna awoke drearily. All she knew was that moonlight was pouring into the bay window like the sun, some one was walking outside of her door, and she had been sleeping so hard that she had drooled a little on her pillow.

The elf sat up nervously, hearing the footsteps outside of the hall. There was the low hum of voices from the other side of the heavy door, then silence. Her heart beginning to race in her chest, Sietsuna slapped a slender hand on the other side of the large bed. Her palm met with only blankets. Allorin was not there.

The sound of men preparing to make an attack filled the assassin’s ears, and within a moment the door frame on the far side of the wood splintered at the latch. The metal lock did keep the heavy door from opening, but only barely. The barrier would only hold for so long.

In a rush Sietsuna threw off the blankets and jumped to the window. The light from the moon was enough to keep her from running into the bone mold armor that had been dumped on the floor, and helped her realize that her pants were too far away to retrieve. She would have to leave them in favor of escape. She rattled the latch to the bay window, but in her hurried frenzy it would not give. Then he slapped the glass with an open palm in frustration, but even that would not break under her strength.

The men outside heaved and roared as the door gave way, forced loose off it’s hinges and crashing to the floor with a thunderous noise. Wood fell in thousands of shards across the floor, and the guards were free to charge in. Without looking the elf knew they were coming right for her, so it was in a desperate fit did she slam the base of her hand into the latch with every hope riding on it. This time Sietsuna was met with success: the metal receded and the window was unlocked.

Ungraceful as it was, Sietsuna threw herself from the sill to the outside world. Had she jumped rather than fell she probably would have avoided the nasty contact with the stray nail that sliced her leg as she dropped. The elf did land on her feet with a loud thunk, and then fell to the side while clutching the painful gouge that ran along her thigh. The yelling that rang out overhead confirmed that she wouldn’t be able to indulge in the break for very long. When the inn door exploded open behind her she knew her break was up.

Though Sietsuna had gotten to her feet quickly enough she was still on the main road, conveniently right in front of the Imperial fort. Uphill was the prison, downhill there must have been six or seven guards now attracted by the commotion. Sietsuna made a quick choice and dashed across the cobblestone street and ducked between two buildings. Up ahead there was a wall: too high to jump, but her options were limited. With a spring in her jump that only one of the treesap people could muster, Sietsuna scaled the stones, her arms the only partially over the top.

A pair of gauntleted hands snatched at the tail of her shirt and forcefully drew her back.

“No! No, damn it! No!” she screamed out in frustration, and then attempted to free herself of the assailant by kicking him off. She did manage to break loose for a moment and proceeded to use him as leverage over the wall, but before she could cross the barrier another guard tried to rip her back. Their effort was awarded with more allies, and soon enough the elf had been drawn back and tackled by the heavy Imperialists. Undignified as it was to have several men on top of her, restricting her every move, the elf had to take pride in the fact that unarmed and unarmored she could outmaneuver several men at any one time.

We take our small victories where we can, she mused when the struggle became pointless.

After all the valiant efforts they had caught her. Eluding the authorities for years, the daring escape from Seyda Neen, the fight for freedom - it was all for naught. They had their serial killer in custody, and would doubtless handle her with extreme caution this time. They may not even wait to transport her before the execution this time. Maybe she had only minutes left to live?

And where was that ungrateful wench of a sister?! Nowhere to be found when the trouble rolled in, of course.

They dragged Sietsuna along the rolled at a half-crouch so that she was able to walk towards the stone fort, but really couldn’t regain a footing. Four men surrounded her, all clad in the same steel, as a fifth barked out orders like a dog. Sietsuna only paid mind to one, focused on the nearing prison as she was.

“Lock her down well. I want a pair of eyes on her at all times!”

“Yes, sir.”

Instead of hanging her right in the court yard the soldiers took the elf within the impenetrable walls and into the basement. The air was stifling for a woods woman without any ventilation, and in the near complete darkness she was pushed (or dropped, perhaps) onto the floor. Her attempts to rise were met with the swift clattering of the barred door being locked tight.

“No, damn it.” Her curses were lost in the darkness, but fell on the ears of every prisoner that occupied each cell. There were many of them there besides Sietsuna: enough to fill a prisoner ship.





She spent the remainder of the night in the cellar of the keep, cold and claustrophobic. Luckily, it was only a few hours until dawn. That was the time a muttering voice roused her from a restless half-sleep.

Something, something, “…with her.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you that she’s dangerous. A bracer won’t protect you any better than your weapon did.”

“A little work…” blah, blah, blah, “Dunmer law decrees it my right.” The gritty voice continued on, and Sietsuna wasn’t too concerned with what was being said. Was somebody coming in to prepare her for transport, or what? If so, then the second man was dead right: no bracer was going to save the life of the fool who dared come into the parameter to prepare her for death.

“Your choice, though I think you’re picking suicide,” the clearer of the two declared.

I’m still not wearing any pants, Sietsuna remembered. No wonder why the guards had been so hesitant to capture her before. Well, since I’ve got it, I just as well flaunt it before I hit the dirt for good. Today will likely be my dying day.

“You wakin’ up there, n’wah, or will I have to leash you up to haul you out of here?”

Sietsuna blinked a few times before rolling over to see the front of the cell. Through the bars stood one figure - the second man must have left - who was grinning like a child who had intentions to destroy a new toy.

He wore a bone mold set, much like a warrior. His skin was ash gray, and his messed red hair stuck in every direction like it had been slept on.

It took Sietsuna a few moments.

“YOU!” she bellowed at the top of her lungs at the stranger, fury and anger fusing into a powerful emotion that intimidated the confident elf, even if he kept it from showing. “You BASTARD! What the hell have you done?!”

The highwayman, still bearing a couple of healing gashes on his face from where he had been beaten unto a pulp by the Bosmer before him, smiled brilliantly. “Well, I’ve assisted in the removal of at least one dangerous individual from the safe region of Pelagaid. After you so coldly attacked me as I was on my way to visit the holy site of Kummu I reported your foul robbery of my belongings to the garrison. It would seem they’ve been after you for months now. How many people have you raided on these quiet roads, rogue, so that you can fill you pockets?”

Instead of stumbling on the fact that he had completely duped her into being his decoy, Sietsuna decided to take an offensive stance. “How’d you report to the soldiers, I wonder? Run up to down in your leaf-loin cloth?” she taunted furiously.

The dunmer closed his eyes for a moment, looking as if reliving a moment of humiliation. “That is in the past, brigand. What is important now is one, the capture of your accomplice, and two, your punishment.”

“Dunmer filth, you have no idea, do you?!” she snapped. If anyone at the Pelagaid fort had recognized her, or there had been a bounty for the wood elf, these Imperialists could have broken her neck in a heart beat. There was still the chance that somebody would still recall her face.

“You shouldn’t insult me, you know. I’m the honorable man who has sought out to redeem your miserable thieving soul. You wouldn’t want me to change my mind about you.”

“When I’m done with you you’ll be floating in the bay along with your shorts!” Sietsuna snarled, backing up her threat with a sudden take of stand. The movement was foolish, however, when her muscles gave beneath her and her head began to swim. The elf’s stomach lurched painfully.

“They say you’ll get used to the nauseating effects after a few days. Until then you’ll likely have the flu, but when that is gone don’t expect your strength to return.”

She managed to ask, “What are you talking about, dunmer?”

“Your new bracelet, n’wah,” he said simply, but she knew he was getting some sick amusement out of the game. Sietsuna examined her wrist to find a glittering new piece of equipment.

“What is it?”

“It’s a slave bracer, pet.”

[Aqua-chan]

Allorin had returned to the inn before dawn. Or she would have, rather, if there hadn't been soldiers swarming the building like flies. Figuring that she and Sietsuna were likely the only ones in the town deserving of such attention Allorin did her best to nonchalantly stride behind a farm house before she was spotted.

There were three situations running in Allorin's mind at that moment, and none of them were too optimistic. Sietsuna was either dead, captured, or escaped and fleeing, and since her sister wasn't exactly the type to brashly choose death over living in a cell and plotting an escape it was likely Sietsuna was still alive. Somewhere.

Dark as it was, Allorin could still see a ways away from Pelgiad. The woods weren't thick; it would be hard for a convict to hide. Allorin had no doubt that even a lesser agile bosmer could easily outrun a bulky imperialist or ten, but to lose them in the open was another thing altogether.

"Should have been there. Stupid, stupid," Allorin chided herself angrily, clutching the pouch that held an unsizeable amount of the locals' coin. The trip had been more about resharpening her theiving skills anyway, but Allorin figured that if she was going to further piss Sietsuna off by causing havoc among the townspeople she should have at least pulled a nice profit. Shoot.

Not having any idea of what to do, Allorin dropped her head in her hands for a moment, swore, and kicked the dirt. If Sietsuna had been arrested then hers was a lost cause; if hiding in the hills she would be difficult to track, but not impossible. These were the options before Allorin, and with an aggravated sigh and tears of frusteration beginning to form she stealthily took to the roads out of Pelagiad.


-----------


Sietsuna blinked dumbly when she was led outside for the first time, realizing that she hadn't just slept through the night, but through most of the day, as well. It was clearly past noon.

A new set of tattered clothes not fit for a beggar adorned her body, which had been healed somewhat by an imperial priest stationed at the fort. She was still a filthy mess and her hair was wild.

The assassin's 'escort' noticed her discomfort and leered happily. This woman who had marred his pride so badly would be paid back double for his humility.

"As I said earlier, you should be grateful. If not for me you would be beginning a lengthy prison term this day instead of walking about as a... well, a relatively free woman."

"It's very possible that I could have just died because of you," Sietsuna growled without thinking.

"And it would have died by being stoned to death. You did smash into my head, if you will recall."

"Obviously not hard enough! I will not face death because you tried to rob me, brigand!"

The dunmer man's fine eyebrow arched curiously. "I wouldn't suspect. Though you did leave me for dead, it was not murder. In Morrowind such would usually carry only a life sentance with the Imperial judicial system."

"Then why, pray tell, am I not in prison?" While she was somewhat interested in the fact that she was not behind bars at that moment, Sietsuna was more concerned with leading the idiot away from the topic of her plight. He could turn her back in for the bounty if he were to learn she was an escaped serial killer.

"Because, my beauty, Septim signed the Armstice. A negotiation, of sorts, that allows we dunmer to enforce our ancient laws and traditions-"

"Slavery."

The dark elf's eyes narrowed when he smiled. A strong hand wrapped around the back of Sietsuna's neck and pinched, nudging her forward and towards the gate of the courtyard. "Active imprisonment of transgressors is just one part of our glorious heritage."

"If anyone, you are the transgressor-" Sietsuna winced as the pinch constricted into a somewhat painful grip about her neck. Apparently this bastard didn't want the guards to overhear, and since at the moment she was the criminal Sietsuna felt it would not be wise to make any sudden movements. Forcingly, she sputtered, "How long?"

They were out on the cobblestone road now, away from the guards but in plain view of the town. People backed away and stared - surprisingly at both the wood and dark elf. Luckily, it seemed that it was his intention to depart the town.

"You are my unconditional slave until I set you free, my dear. Don't count on that being too soon, either: bosmeri slaves are quite exotic and are often objects of jealousy and value."

If she hadn't felt like her arms were about to fall off, her legs collapse, and her stomach suddenly clean itself out she would have attacked him right there. The bracer was sucking at the magical properties of her elven nature; tearing at a part of her essence. The weakness was overwhelming. Allorin should have had to wear one before sending captured hostages over to suffer this fate.

She should have always had to wear one, the wench.

With a deep swallow and some long, stablizing breaths, Sietsuna readied herself for a bit of a walk. Her new travelling partner appeared to have no intention to slow down for her, nor let her lag behind.

"What do you mean by 'unconditional'?"

"You'll do as I say, when I say it."

She shot him an angry look. His tone didn't implicate any innuendos, but the oily grin that crept across his thin lips did. Deciding not to bother with a warning threat in response to any foul intentions - for she would just beat him senseless once more if he did - Sietsuna had to ask one last thing. Eyeing the sword in his belt hilt, she felt nearly naked without armor, and guessed that was how it would be for a while.

"Where are we... Are we walking far, dunmer?"

He shook his head, red hair waving carelessly. "That's for me to know and for you to not question. Oh, and excuse my rudeness. I would ask your name, n'wah, but it simply does not matter. In your case, however, it does. I am Nels Llendo, but from you I will expect a more appropriate address in public."

Picking the dirt out from under her nails, Sietsuna asked, "Will 'fat guar's ass' do?"

[Aqua-chan]

They headed north for a time, then diverted off the main path and detoured into pass between the beginnings of a mountain region. Wearily, Sietsuna willed her body on, but always she lagged a few feet behind the Dunmer. She was a descent lock pick even without proper tools, but after toying with the cursed bracer that fed like a leech on her arm, Sietsuna concluded that only the proper magical key could turn the lock. Nels must have been carrying it himself, likely in his bag or in his underclothes. Her green eyes rolled over him in a scanning manner, searching for where the key could possibly be hidden. Nels caught her stare just as she glanced at the rear of his nether parts, much to her humiliation. Instead of letting him know she was uncomfortable she quickly came up with a retort.

“If you dare approach me in such a manner,” she said in her most serious hiss, “I will make it so that you will no longer have the correct anatomy to make the same mistake twice.”

But it was you, pet, who was staring at me, he wanted to say. However, when threatened with the removal of his manhood the dunmer found it in his ability to hold his tongue. No need to cause trouble where trouble was already caused aplenty. Nels sighed inwardly, already foreseeing much work going into this slave. The Bosmer was by no means the first thrall he had ever owned, but usually the old tribe would get them from the Telvanni slavers in Sadrith Mora and Tel Aruhn. Those slaves were tame and submissive; very easily controlled. This pet would take time and effort to break.

Nels wasn’t necessarily sure he wanted that, though. Her energy was refreshing, if somewhat irksome on his ego. She knew she was unarmed and weakened by the bracer, yet he knew she would openly defy him at every chance she got. She was crude and arrogant - and likely thought the same about him. Nels glanced back at the elf over his shoulder. She was staring at the ground this time, rather than at his rump. This one would maybe become refined to his tastes, he thought, but likely never broken into a blank-eyed cow like most.

After a while they came upon a bridge. Where they stood the soil was ash and rock, but the other side of the river hinted the beginning of a region full of lush vegetation. As they crossed the creaky rope-bound planks the Dunmer grabbed the hilt of his sword, ready to unsheathe it. The steel weapon, Sietsuna had realized when she’d first taken it from him outside of Pelagiad, gleamed the same red light her stolen dagger had.

“Listen,” he began with some exasperation. Sietsuna couldn’t tell if it was directed at her or another nagging issue altogether. “We’re coming up on the Bitter Coast. The place is infamous for its dangers to unsuspecting travelers. I’ve never been through it by foot, so I want you to watch your own step. The last thing I need is for you to sink in some false ground or be picked off by a horde of those damn ‘racers.
“Once we get to the Odai mound we’ll stop and rest,” he declared in a manner suggesting he had just made the decision, “Behave the night and I’ll return your weapon in the morning, n’wah.” She didn’t say anything, and to Nels’ aggravation, didn’t even flicker an expression of gratefulness for his generosity. He rolled his dark red eyes and turned back to the path.

Thoughts ran amok in the assassin-turned-slave’s mind. Sietsuna smirked lightly. The filthy bastard had grown so confident in his little piece of leather that bound her to him. This time she would not spare him her rage. The fool would be dead by morning.

The land soon inclined drastically, but the steps were coming easier to Sietsuna than they had been. A new burst of energy sprouted from her newfound hope, and the fatigue that had been plaguing her had been bade off; the spring in the Bosmer’s step had returned. The nausea was still there and crippling, but not as painful as before. Step by step she trailed Llendo up the rough terrain, falling behind every so often and having to catch up to him as he waited.

Once or twice the two were attacked by small wormlike creatures that sprayed a green fluid at Nels as he struck at them. The Dunmer man showed off his handiness by flaying both of the animals in half with a well-practiced technique which involved only one hand and quick swipes of his sword. The worms fell in halves, burning from the magic of the weapon. A shame, Sietsuna thought, that such talent with a blade had to be wasted on a useless ash-skin.

The Odai ‘mound’, as Nels called it, was actually a descent sized plateau. It overlooked the river they’d crossed quite nicely, proving the spot to be quite scenic. Set in a mountain formation, the flatland was well shielded by stone, while its unprotected areas led to massive drop-offs that would keep them safe for the night. The sun hadn’t yet set for the day, but the two moons were already quite visible - particularly the larger, which Nordic folklore was called the ‘blood moon’, shed the lands with a dim red lumination. The only noise besides their trudging along was the ever echoing songs of scribs, whom had hidden themselves away from sight until morning.

“We’ll stop here,” Nels said, dropping his bag of belongings carelessly on the ground. Some things rattled within. “Get the two lamps out of the bag, slave. We won’t have a fire up here. It would be too hard to find dry wood and drag it up here anyway.” The dark elf then found a boulder on which to sit and began polishing his long sword with a dusty cloth.

Looking at the bag like it was a diseased animal Sietsuna briefly considered telling her new owner to rot in oblivion. The urge passed when she had a better idea. “Fine,” she said subjectively, but added some bite to her tone so the elf wouldn’t become suspicious. She picked up the bag and began to rummage through it, pretending to search for the glass lanterns that were closest to the opening of the pack.

There was a single blanket within, but after feeling through it Sietsuna concluded her dagger was not in its layers. A bound animal hide contained probably dried rations the elf carried on his robbery excursions, and tied together by a length of leather were several eating utensils. Sietsuna furtively pulled the only knife from the bundle and pulled it out behind one of the lanterns so Nels wouldn’t see it. When he wasn’t looking she tucked it into her boot, using her leggings to conceal the bulge. As she ‘reached’ for the other lamp she spotted a small, broken lock box. She quickly opened it up, only to realize it was tinder and flint. Disappointed, she pulled it out as well. Neither her blade nor the key to the slave bracer were in the bag. Nels must have been carrying it on his person. That would make matters more difficult.

Now she would actually have to touch the scumbag for her freedom in a manner that wasn’t stabbing his own damned sword through his neck. She groaned, sickened by the idea.

[Aqua-chan]

The night air was cool on Sietsuna’s lightly clothed body. The distinct smell of rotting swampland that had clung to the elf after fleeing Seyda Neen hovered over the plateau stubbornly, but the ‘sleeping’ elf ignored it.

Nels was a few feet away from her, lying on the blanket he’d told her to put out. He had offered to share his makeshift bed with her, but she angrily refused, took a lantern, and went to lie down on the ground. After moving the small pebbles and getting somewhat comfortable, never mind the jagged rock she kept under her back to keep her awake, she let her eyes fall closed and pretended to rest.

Nels had tried to make conversation with the assassin, but to no real avail. “You haven’t asked about the fate of your sister,” he had pointed out.

“I have no sister,” she had bit back quietly.

“She said you were blood kin prior to your attacking me.”

Opening her eyes, she told him straightly, “She is no sister of mine.” Instead of pressing the matter, Llendo allowed the topic to drop.

Now he was sleeping heavily, an arm resting over his eyes, his mouth open with a small snore. The glass lantern flickered a soft light on his features which were mostly covered up by his arm. The rogue slept in his cuirass. Likely very uncomfortable, but necessary in case of ambush in the night. Or a stabbing through the chest from an angry slave.

She could run, of course, but with no money, equipment, or sense of direction, where would she go? Besides, the damnable bracer would only drain away at her until she was a walking corpse. No, Sietsuna needed that key. She wanted the ash-skin dead.

She had extinguished her lantern earlier so that he would not see her regular checks to make sure he was asleep. After a couple hours of waiting, not once breaking her cover except to steal a glance at the Dunmer, she finally rolled over to her stomach and stood on her hands and knees. The rock she had been using to keep herself painfully awake fell from her back then dropped to the ground. She checked to make sure the noise hadn’t stirred Llendo. He continued to snore peacefully.

Trained in the art of sneaking, Sietsuna moved like the great cats of her homeland: her hand found a sturdy place to put weight on, and then her knee would move to that same spot. This was how she silently approached the rogue, unnoticed by the usually-keen Nels Llendo. She brought her hand to her mouth and licked her finger and thumb to pinch the candle light out, not once taking her gaze off her target. Not even when they were left in the dark.

It was still for a while as the assassin’s eyes adjusted to the suddenly shadowed world. Despite how well things had been going, her heart pumped loudly against the walls of her body. The ash-skin had been too lax with her treatment. Either he was very confident in himself, or he had a back up plan to control his new thrall. She picked up his weapon sheath and drew out the steel blade. What was he planning? Was he just a fool? Sietsuna stared at the glimmering bracer. It was the same red shine the blade had. Destruction enchantments.

Would the bracer kill her if she raised a hand to Llendo? Worried by her own musings, Sietsuna slowly put the blade down. She would find the key to remove the device first, then she would kill the filthy bastard. The unrestricted right hand reached under Nels’ cuirass, into the pockets of the pants he wore beneath his armor. A few septims clinked together annoyingly, but there was no key. She withdrew, then arched herself over to the far side. She had just begun to weave her slim fingers into the opening of the cloth when the Dunmer’s mouth opened.

His arm did not move away from his eyes, but after inhaling deeply Nels clearly gave a command word that rang in Sietsuna’s ears. “Pain.”

For a few seconds there was nothing, but then it struck suddenly. Sietsuna yelped in agony as her left arm fell victim to an explosion of fire and electricity, then traveled up through her bones and into her shoulder. The bracer sparked at her flesh, and like an animal she tried to claw it away, but with no success. Her heart felt as though it had stopped as the jolts of painful energy shot through the rest of her body. Screaming and still scratching at her arm, the Bosmer fell to the ground, writhing.

It went on for a few more moments, but began to subside. The bracer stopped forcing the punishing magic into the slave, leaving a weakened and breathless mess of an elf lying on the ground. When she was able to regain composure she first saw Nels, sitting on top of the blanket, looking quite unamused.

“I knew it,” she sneered through teeth that were still clenched and chattering with pain, “I knew you had a way. I knew it.”

“Then why did you try to escape?” he asked teasingly. “Well, I must say I did have a small advantage. I figured you wouldn’t be able to wait longer than a night to try and kill me. I waited for you patiently, here, just as you waited patiently to move. Maybe tomorrow night you’ll be a little wiser as to what power I have over you.
“And just for future endeavors,” Nels grinned simply to the woman lying before him, “I don’t have the key. I buried it. It’s somewhere in the hills around Pelagiad.”

[Aqua-chan]

The next morning was nowhere near as pleasant as Sietsuna's night had been.

Welts from the burns massed on the flesh around and under the bracer, painfully blistering and aching at every twinge of a muscle. She tried to take her mind off the wounds by thinking of more pleasant thoughts. For starters, severing Nels' extremeties one tendon and muscle at a time. With a blunt, rusty blade. That made Sietsuna happy for a moment.

On several occasions the elf was taken from her daydreaming to observe Llendo in combat: massive rats, those little orange worm things, big green beasts and many flying bastardly pests had continuously barraged down upon the two, slowing their progress to a frusterating snail's pace. If Nels had given her back the dagger she had taken Sietsuna would have made short work of the creatures in a series of quick slashes, but he denied her a weapon after the previous night's excursion. Instead he had to hack away at the aggressive animals with his long sword, taking much more time than it should have.

"We'll be reaching Hla Oad soon enough," he grunted after taking down a nix hound and checking to see if any meat could be harvested from the corpse. There was some foaming about the animal's mouth, a sign of disease, so Nels let the body alone. "That's when the fun begins," he said with disgust.

Sietsuna debated with herself to ask about this place or continue giving Llendo the cold shoulder. The decision was made for her when he continued on, sheathing his blade and looking for any other non-humanoid visitors.

Not long afterwards the two found a beaten path, and soon the path turned into a guided road. By midday Sietsuna could see a looming shadow of a town in the distance. This, she assumed, was Hla Oad.

They had to cross some wooden planks over shallow water to get to the town. Unsure of what to do, Sietsuna merely tailed Nels as he climbed the muddy slope up to the center of the town. Guards patrolled the fishing villiage lazily, obviously not having ever experienced much of a problem in the tiny community. For the first time Sietsuna felt uneasy when the guards did not inspect her cautiously: usually she would be evaluated by any wary law enforcement, but these officers took one glance at her slave bracer and she was not even a person, much less a threat to society. Somewhat insecure after having this realization, Sietsuna stood more stiffly, walked with more spring, and gave some distance between herself and Nels, though the bracer tried to counter all of that.

She followed Nels to a large shack posted with a sign that read 'Fatleg's Drop-Off'.

Upon entering a Redguard, who had been writing on a piece of parchment on the desk behind him, turned and squinted against the light coming through the door into the dark room. It took a moment for Sietsuna's eyes to adjust to the dim candle light, and it was her hearing that had actually informed her of the Khajiit man standing far off to her left. Nels didn't bother with an introduction.

"Is he down there?" the rogue asked. From 'down there' Sietsuna concluded he meant the trap door the Khajiit was standing on.

The Redguard nodded his head and put his hands on his hips indignantly. "Yes, and he's quite upset that you're late. Of course, your tardiness now makes sense." Sietsuna snarled at the lecherous once-over he gave her.

"It's no business of yours, s'wit," Nels replied dismissively to the Redguard, which in the irony of the moment, pleased Sietsuna. Then she remembered she hated Nels more than the Redguard and thus felt stupid.

As the two approached the Khajiit stepped off the trap door and opened it for them. Below was a ladder that led into some cavernous depths.

Though the ladder had barely moaned beneath her light weight, Sietsuna would have preffered it make no noise at all. Actually, at that moment Sietsuna preferred death over being down in the cellar, because upon arrival something changed: now she was the primary focus of a half-dozen stony Dunmer. Each gave her a hateful glance as she passed with Nels. One spat on her leggings when she neared. Nels acted as though he was oblivious -or indifferent- to the tension.

They came to another section of the gave with was warm with heat from the torches. A platform decked with tables, chairs, mats, and shelves of minute magical wares made it seem more like an underground office than anything else. Perhaps that was what it was. From the platform a hissing voice echoed a greeting.

"Nels Llendo!" A dark elf stood from one of the chairs and stretched out his arms warmly. Sietsuna, who had conned more than one fool in her life, knew it was all false pretense. Then she realized how close she had been hugging Llendo since they had entered the cave and uneasily stepped back. "Nice of you to finally join our company. Better late than never, indeed?"

Apparently, Nels, who had also been a con artist many times in the course of his career as a bandit, also understood how fake this man was. "Serjo Arinith. I apologize immensely. It won't happen again."

"Oh, of course not," said the elf in the same careless voice. It was so misleading, in fact, that the gravity of the rest of his sentance really didn't hit Sietsuna until long after they were said. "because if it does I'll have your throat slit."

Nels seemed to have been expecting something like that and went unsurprise, even though he was shaken. "If I were to explain my lack of dues would you hear me out?"

Suddenly, Arinith's demeanor changed. He was no longer the deceptive, joyous host. Now he had the anger in his eyes of a wronged businessman. Sietsuna knew this would be trouble for Llendo, and quite possibly for her.

"You have something I want, Llendo, and it's not your excuses. You stole from me and I want restitution!"

Nels took in a heavy breath. As two other dark elves hurried out of the room and away from the arguement Sietsuna found herself unconsciously sliding back behind her owner.

"And you'll be fully compensated! I simply need more time to gather the sufficient funds, so for now I brought you some collateral; something I am sure you'll find equal in value - if not significantly more than - what I owe."

Now, Sietsuna had been through Nels' bag and at least one of his pockets. He had nothing in his posession that would cover an outstanding debt.

Oh, that's right. I'm a posession now.

Sietsuna stepped away from Nels indignantly and faced him, drawing herself to full height so she could stare him in the eye.

"Damn you."