Fostfall, 15th, 4E 201
Keeper Kaset wanted to sow the rest of Skairim that the Vigils of Stendar had not abandon or fogotten them and so Gideon and me have bin given the honour to be the chosen repesentatives for the Vigilants. But it seems that we ae not the only ones who will be answeing the call. In the past moons we witness quite a number of people, far mor than we anticipated to actually arrive. Gideon and me hav been waiting in the Vilemir Inn, watching for any signs of Daedric influens. Kuite dull really.
“I never did understood why you would even bother to write in that little book of yours,” said Gideon before he took another long chug of his ale. The loud chattering and laughters of the other patrons and the ever busy innkeeper suggested that business has been good for the past few days. As he guzzled his ale to the last drop, Gideon slammed his tankard hard on the table and yelled out a hearty “More!” that would make any true Nordsman proud. Wiping the foam off his lips, Gideon took a deep breath and the aromas of spiced meats and sweet drinks filled his lungs. “This was the life”, he thought to himself for all the Vigilants had in the Hall was bread, salted meat and some brand of wine he never heard of. "I mean all I ever did when I went to school was write and write and write," he continued. "It's dreadfully boring!"
Not even bothering to look at her partner, Falrielle in return said, “Not everyone went to school when they were a child, Gideon” in which she simply continued to practice her penmanship. “In fact” she continued, “The first time I even learned to read was when I joined the Vigilants”. Taking a quick sip of wine she rested her quill on the table before looking at Gideon who had his mouth stuffed with bread in the eye and in a tone of which an elder sibling would use to mock their younger, “To be fair for you” she said, “I learned to read about the same time as you did” she continued. “Only I didn’t wet my bed.”
“By Mara!” cursed Gideon as he rolled his eyes in which Falrielle gave a smug smirk in return. Even after joining the Vigilants over 10 years ago his mentor still hasn’t changed one bit. He was rather sure than in her eyes, he is still that same inexperienced initiate who would probably either be killed, maimed or soiled himself in his first engagement with a Daedra but here he is. These elves are all the same with their long lifeline and sense of superiority he thought to himself. “I mean really Fallie?” he said. ”I mean after all those times I saved your sorry existence yo-“
“Trying to pull that one on me again Gideon?” Falrielle interrupted as she took another sip of her wine. “Don’t forget that it was I who trained you to not die,” she continued raising her eyebrow in victory as Gideon simply turned away, refusing to acknowledge her presence like a spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum. But this was precisely why she enjoyed his company even though she would never admit it to his face; her other Vigilant-siblings were just too uptight about their duties. It is not as if that neither she nor Gideon was any less loyal to the cause but compassion and friendship complements mercy or so she thought.
Sitting in the darker corner of the inn, both Vigilants faced towards the other patrons, watching them like a predator readying to pounce at any given moment. While Gideon would honestly prefer to join the crude choir of drunken Nords in the centre, Falrielle’s eyes just couldn’t take it as her eyes are just too sensitive to tolerate that much light and her reliance on her hearing and smell might even nauseate her. Still, not willing to let his mentor get the final word Gideon turned towards his mentor who is now enjoying her breakfast and cleared his throat as he gathered his thoughts. “So Fallie,” he said which the elf simply ignored him and continued slurping her meal. Her indifference worried his pride as his mind began racing to think of anything to annoy her. “Why are you still keeping your hood up?” he kept talking. “The sun is barely shining today unless you don’t want anyone to mistake you for a Falm-,“ he continued before Gideon realised his mistake.
Before he could even finish that sentence, Falrielle shot a glare at him that would even send chills down the spine of Molag Bal himself. For a moment, Gideon thought that his very soul is being torn apart and that her baleful stare would of have left nothing but a smoking pair of boots in his seat. For some reason, Falrielle’s pale blue eyes just made her look all the more horrifying than he remembered.
He cleverly turned his attention away, away from the stare that would eviscerate his entrails and quietly sipped his ale in which the elf just returned to eating her breakfast.
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As the pair left the Inn, Falrielle is greeted with the familiar and comforting scent and sounds of the outdoors and she loved every bit of it. From the chirps of songbirds in the distance to the trickle of water from the nearby stream, from the aroma of flowers to the stench of rotting leaves, she loved it all. While she couldn’t see as well as she wished, the landscape of orange and red brought back more than a few happy memories before she kept her head down to avoid the light. However her sense of nostalgia is cut short when a small party of adventurers descended from the mountain and her nose smelled trouble. Keeping their heads down to avoid drawing attention to them, the pair walked past the party, eavesdropping for any bit of information as they could. Stopping at the nearby lumber mill, Falrielle turned towards Gideon and asked “What do you see?”
Taking quick glances to avoid suspicion, Gideon identified a blonde woman with the look of a Breton clad in leather that hugged all the right places, a few Khajiit oddballs, non-descript adventurers and the last two which caught his attention; a man clad in full body armour who stood quietly behind the group and what seems to be an Orc dressed in a garb he never once seen worn by the common Orc. Gideon knew trouble when he saw it; after all he was trained to do so. In the Order, the Vigilants are taught that quick and accurate identification of the corruption of the Daedra meant the difference between life and death. As he relayed what he saw, Falrielle continued to keep her head down, her hand resting at her chin, periodically nodding her head in response.
They both knew that this is no ordinary party and that they have to tread lightly lest their intentions are discovered. Luckily for them, those bearing the taint of the Daedra carry their noses up high over the Vigilants and if they stay their hand for longer than a few moments, the tainted would likely believe that these Vigilants are far too incompetent to see through their lies. Her train of thought ended as the party walked past them without noticing the pair. Looking towards her partner, he knew exactly what she was going to do.
The hunt is on.