Butch Member
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The atmosphere in the war chamber had suddenly become even more awkward than before and since Neria did not own a horse she followed the male imperial and took her weapons and backpack from the guards.
Despite his obvious connection to the legion, the contrast between him and the dimwit she had encountered at the castle gates could hardly have been greater. The soldier, whose name she did not know, had an expression on his face as if his new companions had suddenly revealed themselves to be two skeevers, a scarecrow and a troll. Yet he reminded her of the stories she heard as a teenager from her masters. While Morrowind and the empire had not always been on great terms, many dunmer held a great deal of respect for the imperial army, especially members of house Redoran. Their soldier’s discipline and mastery of strategy had once unified the whole empire, outmatching any other standing force in Tamriel – until the Thalmor came to power and took over. This event marked the beginning of the legions downfall and the civil war in Skyrim only further reduced the number of strong, reliable soldiers the legion once prided itself on. These days, sadly the idiot gate guards were the rule and men like her new companion made the exception. He looked like the last remaining true legionary; strong, loyal and determined. Quite obviously he was going to follow his orders to the point; Neria had no doubt about that. She made a mental note to stay on the right side of his orders; she was not aiming to gain his friendship, but to avoid unnecessary conflict, which might hinder their mission.
And then there was the man who called himself Dio of Tel Oloth. Neria was certain, that despite his armor and accent he was contrary to the guard’s assumption, no dunmer. Firstly the proportions of his body were off; legs too short, hands and feet too big, shoulders and hips too broad. Secondly his movements, although natural, were missing a certain - graze. Neria couldn’t think of a better word, but her gut told her that he was more man than mer. His affiliation with a great house did not change that. While not overly common outsiders were allowed to join a great house every once in a while, even if they belonged to a different species.
As for his character; Telvanni members were known for being reckless, arrogant and often powerful mages, who pursued only their own personal goals with little concern for costs, often ‘consuming’ enormous numbers of slaves in their endeavors. A cruel habit and yet despite this the Telvanni were well-respected in Morrowind. It was in fact their result-driven mindset which was considered an important part of dunmer culture and earned them their reputation, even though they continuously pushed the borders on what was considered to be ‘good-taste’ – necromancy and such. Dio certainly seemed to have a high enough opinion of himself to truly be a Telvanni and therefore Neria would have to make sure to not trust him easily. However it might be nice to have someone around familiar with dunmer customs.
Neria passed a painting on the wall, depicting a man dressed in rich clothing balancing several gold nuggets on a scale. The painted metal led her mind to the latest member of their small group. Qa’va; a white Khajit and presumably a thief. During her travels across Tamriel, Neria had come across several of these furred creatures, most of which were travelling in caravans and made camp outside bigger cities to trade. The feline people were known for illegal activities and an unhealthy addiction to Skooma. So far Neria had only witnessed events which confirmed this reputation and was therefore not exactly enthusiastic to travel with the oversized white cat.
Neria scolded herself in her mind; she could not possibly conclude Qa’va’s nature just from this first short encounter. The Dragonborn had known her – obviously, and maybe even trusted her. Additionally her anger seemed genuine enough; she most likely really wanted revenge. All this was reason enough to give the cat-lady a chance. Still Neria could not shake the feeling that her clawed hands would somehow end up in her pockets at some point. Luckily she traveled light and owned little of true value anyway.
Lastly there was the person responsible for the little meet and greet. Kriisa. The young woman looked innocent and sweet, but Neria was not mad enough to be fooled by looks. There was a dark aura surrounding her which reminded Neria of a lunatic serial killer. The image of a little girl smiling while holding up a bloody knife came to mind. The Dragonborn’s former companion was undoubtedly an assassin and would certainly proof deadly. To whom however was another question, the answer to which Neria was certain she would find out soon enough.
For now she just continued to follow the man in front of her. Silently.
Despite his obvious connection to the legion, the contrast between him and the dimwit she had encountered at the castle gates could hardly have been greater. The soldier, whose name she did not know, had an expression on his face as if his new companions had suddenly revealed themselves to be two skeevers, a scarecrow and a troll. Yet he reminded her of the stories she heard as a teenager from her masters. While Morrowind and the empire had not always been on great terms, many dunmer held a great deal of respect for the imperial army, especially members of house Redoran. Their soldier’s discipline and mastery of strategy had once unified the whole empire, outmatching any other standing force in Tamriel – until the Thalmor came to power and took over. This event marked the beginning of the legions downfall and the civil war in Skyrim only further reduced the number of strong, reliable soldiers the legion once prided itself on. These days, sadly the idiot gate guards were the rule and men like her new companion made the exception. He looked like the last remaining true legionary; strong, loyal and determined. Quite obviously he was going to follow his orders to the point; Neria had no doubt about that. She made a mental note to stay on the right side of his orders; she was not aiming to gain his friendship, but to avoid unnecessary conflict, which might hinder their mission.
And then there was the man who called himself Dio of Tel Oloth. Neria was certain, that despite his armor and accent he was contrary to the guard’s assumption, no dunmer. Firstly the proportions of his body were off; legs too short, hands and feet too big, shoulders and hips too broad. Secondly his movements, although natural, were missing a certain - graze. Neria couldn’t think of a better word, but her gut told her that he was more man than mer. His affiliation with a great house did not change that. While not overly common outsiders were allowed to join a great house every once in a while, even if they belonged to a different species.
As for his character; Telvanni members were known for being reckless, arrogant and often powerful mages, who pursued only their own personal goals with little concern for costs, often ‘consuming’ enormous numbers of slaves in their endeavors. A cruel habit and yet despite this the Telvanni were well-respected in Morrowind. It was in fact their result-driven mindset which was considered an important part of dunmer culture and earned them their reputation, even though they continuously pushed the borders on what was considered to be ‘good-taste’ – necromancy and such. Dio certainly seemed to have a high enough opinion of himself to truly be a Telvanni and therefore Neria would have to make sure to not trust him easily. However it might be nice to have someone around familiar with dunmer customs.
Neria passed a painting on the wall, depicting a man dressed in rich clothing balancing several gold nuggets on a scale. The painted metal led her mind to the latest member of their small group. Qa’va; a white Khajit and presumably a thief. During her travels across Tamriel, Neria had come across several of these furred creatures, most of which were travelling in caravans and made camp outside bigger cities to trade. The feline people were known for illegal activities and an unhealthy addiction to Skooma. So far Neria had only witnessed events which confirmed this reputation and was therefore not exactly enthusiastic to travel with the oversized white cat.
Neria scolded herself in her mind; she could not possibly conclude Qa’va’s nature just from this first short encounter. The Dragonborn had known her – obviously, and maybe even trusted her. Additionally her anger seemed genuine enough; she most likely really wanted revenge. All this was reason enough to give the cat-lady a chance. Still Neria could not shake the feeling that her clawed hands would somehow end up in her pockets at some point. Luckily she traveled light and owned little of true value anyway.
Lastly there was the person responsible for the little meet and greet. Kriisa. The young woman looked innocent and sweet, but Neria was not mad enough to be fooled by looks. There was a dark aura surrounding her which reminded Neria of a lunatic serial killer. The image of a little girl smiling while holding up a bloody knife came to mind. The Dragonborn’s former companion was undoubtedly an assassin and would certainly proof deadly. To whom however was another question, the answer to which Neria was certain she would find out soon enough.
For now she just continued to follow the man in front of her. Silently.
Granted. However noone likes the music you create, not even you.
I wish the real slim shady would finally stand up.
I wish the real slim shady would finally stand up.
Granted but like most real creepypasta it ends with you dying horribly.
I wish @Mardox's real wish came true.
I wish @Mardox's real wish came true.
The letter was short and to the point. ‘Castle Dour, Solitude - 9th of Sun’s Dawn.’ It included barely any explanation why or how the writer knew of Neria and her desire to avenge the Dragonborn. Maybe this was part of the reason she hadn’t hesitated to leave the tavern the same night, walking through the whole night and the following day, in order to arrive in time. The guards at the gate however posed another problem.
Initially the imbecile, who called himself a proud imperial guard, believed her to be a stormcloak spy, despite the fact that there were probably as many dunmer with the nord rebels as brains inside this particular imperial’s skull. The second guard who appeared shortly after was undoubtedly blessed with more common sense; he however brought up a good point. There was no apparent reason to let Neria pass, her arrival was not expected. Slowly getting frustrated, Neria pulled out the letter she had received and showed it to the second guard.
The big door to the war chamber opened slowly. Neria took a few steps inside, accompanied by four guards. With ten people present the room seemed somewhat crowded. The most prominent figure being General Tilius - Neria had never seen the man before, but his armor made him stand out like a bear in a flock of sheep. ‘Sir,’ the first guard approached the General ‘this woman claims she’s been invited here. She had this letter with her. It’s got your signature on it.’ Tilius took the paper and inspected it closely. The guard cleared his throat: ‘Ahem, sir. I believe she might be a spy for the damned stormcloaks.’ The general took a long look at the female dunmer, head to toes. ‘I somehow doubt it. I assume you belong to her?’ He nicked his head toward a chair with a young female imperial seated on it. The woman smiled. “Apparently.”
Initially the imbecile, who called himself a proud imperial guard, believed her to be a stormcloak spy, despite the fact that there were probably as many dunmer with the nord rebels as brains inside this particular imperial’s skull. The second guard who appeared shortly after was undoubtedly blessed with more common sense; he however brought up a good point. There was no apparent reason to let Neria pass, her arrival was not expected. Slowly getting frustrated, Neria pulled out the letter she had received and showed it to the second guard.
The big door to the war chamber opened slowly. Neria took a few steps inside, accompanied by four guards. With ten people present the room seemed somewhat crowded. The most prominent figure being General Tilius - Neria had never seen the man before, but his armor made him stand out like a bear in a flock of sheep. ‘Sir,’ the first guard approached the General ‘this woman claims she’s been invited here. She had this letter with her. It’s got your signature on it.’ Tilius took the paper and inspected it closely. The guard cleared his throat: ‘Ahem, sir. I believe she might be a spy for the damned stormcloaks.’ The general took a long look at the female dunmer, head to toes. ‘I somehow doubt it. I assume you belong to her?’ He nicked his head toward a chair with a young female imperial seated on it. The woman smiled. “Apparently.”
Granted. U're free now and all the corruption you have caused stays intact. However the corruptions ur responsible for need a new target, since the wishes you've granted never were granted in the first place (I need a grammar nazi). Your the new target.
I wish for a refreshing beverage.
I wish for a refreshing beverage.
Granted, you shred bits of paper like a real badass, whilst standing on your guitar.
I wish I had a good twin to foil my evil plans.
Liked @Mardox's better.
I wish I had a good twin to foil my evil plans.
Liked @Mardox's better.
Granted. Home is where the heart is, so you find yourself inside your own thoracic cavity.
I wish for some sick tunes.
I wish for some sick tunes.
Granted, however every food now also contains the same amount of sugar relative to its mass. You get diabetes within three weeks and loose both of your feet. Maybe wishing for them to be reattached will help?
I wish for AC/DC's Back in Black to play every time I enter a room.
I wish for AC/DC's Back in Black to play every time I enter a room.
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