Dervish

Persistent Characters vs "One-and-Done" Characters

@Mistiel You never felt like it was worth giving a character another shot? That's curious!

Persistent Characters vs "One-and-Done" Characters

I've got a foot in either end of the spectrum.

I reuse characters in fandom settings if I feel they didn't get a good run because of a game's early death, I still have a story I want to tell with them, or it's a series/ sequel. Like Harbinger said, it feels like a waste of time and energy if you spend days researching and creating a character only for it to get snuffed out in a few weeks because a game died. If a character is adapted to the new RP and setting, I don't see the problem.

On the other hand, there's something stagnant about reusing the same character across different genres and games and it brings to mind Theseus' Ship; if you replace every plank of wood on a ship across it's life, is it still the original ship? I had a conversation with a good friend of mine about her habit of reusing characters but basically changing everything but the appearance and name... if a character is so vastly different between incarnations, aren't you technically playing a different character?

Personally, I get bursts if inspiration for different ideas so while I have a handful of repeat characters, I write and create so many more original ones because it makes sense for different games. It's all very circumstantial.

Where I take exception and issue with people reusing characters is when it's an obvious author insert and/ or it's the same character across different RPs with no changes to accomodate the new setting. I've seen it a few times on the guild and it's definitely enough to make me steer clear. You need to respect a GM's setting and lore and make your character work for it, not awkwardly cram in a failed post apocalyptic setting character into a fantasy RP and then into a slice of life romance and then into a scifi setting with virtually nothing changed.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

hey gang!

Thanks for being troopers the past few months here; I know the posting pace has been insane and I apologize for that. I've talked to a lot of people and the burn out is real, and several feel left behind. That's obviously unacceptable, and I apologize for pushing you all this hard to get to the end of Act 2.

So here's the plan going forward.

We're going to take this time to wind down for Act 2, resolve plot threads and set up for Act 3. Take your time, relax, and don't feel pressured to write. This is a chance to cool off.

When I feel like we're caught up, I will end act 2 and we will have a 2 week rest period between acts; no posting will be done, but feel free to plot! We'll have some fun little chats to review the last act and our character stories in Discord.

And lastly, when act 3 gets going, we're going to use less giant set pieces and focus on smaller scenes with singular posts. Instead of big combat collabs, we're going to focus on shorter posts or smaller collabs with some more breathing room. Posting will be less breakneck pace and there will be a lot more chance for personal agency; the theme is switching up from Assassin's Creed to Breath of the Wild, in a sense. Act 3 will be about resolving personal stories and making a long journey as a team while addressing lingering plot points before we reach the big finale.

Thanks for everything, guys. You're all goddamn incredible and I couldn't imagine doing this without any of you. <3

Character Sheets: Where do you stand?

I take a pretty harsh view of digging through profiles to judge people. Matter of fact it's a good way for me to end up blacklisting a GM and passing otherwise-good roleplays by. If you want to judge someone, you should judge them in the present rather than in the past.

@Sierra

Can't speak for everyone, but in the 7 years I've been GMing, I've had some hard lessons about running games and currently, I've been keeping games running for well over a year at minimum the past few tries. That comes down to vetting players and following a two-stage application process, through character sheet reviews, and some quick homework on an applicant. If I see someone hasn't been able to last in an RP for more than a few weeks or months, or cause drama and friction, or they join multiple RPs at once and commit to none of them, I'm not taking the chance because I have been burned way too many times. I tend to get upwards of around 20 applications every time I run an RP and I usually have 8-10 slots; I'm taking the best sheets and most consistent players with the best personalities every single time.

Is it harsh? Sure, but I'm tired of having flakey and problematic players because I want someone willing to invest in a 2+ year roleplay.

The beautiful part of this forum is there's enough options out there that if you don't like something, you don't have to join it. I won't apologize for or change my methods because a few people think it's unfair or invasive because at this point, I'm aiming for quality and a good community that will see a game through to the end. Considering my current RP is over 1.5 years running and in the third and final act, I feel pretty validated.

Let's Talk: The Discord Discussion

I love Discord. It's done absolute wonders for being a tool for keeping a group of players active and invested and genuine friendships to form; I think that it's kind of been so successful in my roleplay it feels weird being in another roleplay without one, and for discords to not be very active if they do have one.

I think a lot of the criticism people have for Discord stems from problems that already exist and GMs not enforcing rules and good behaviour, or creating subchannels for different purposes; on my discord I have a general chat (for just OOC hangout), a roundtable discussion (to talk about characters and posts, events that came up, etc), a collab discussion (for players to talk about planning a collab or working out details in it while writing it), and a few others that I wouldn't consider essential but are there because players requested them, like a meme channel and a nsfw channel and a music channel for sharing songs and playlists.

I basically have a very simple rule I hold myself to; announcements get posted OOC as well as Discord, and if there's any toxic or malicious behaviour, I pretty much have a zero-tolerance policy. If someone's got a history of shit talking other people, arguing with others, and generally just being a real asshole, they're gone. Bye bye. Go find another RP to trash because it's rare to find an RP community that's genuinely mutually supportive and interested in each other as people and players alike; my RP group has frequent discussions about each other's characters, like their history and relationships, prospective interactions with other characters, their goals, etc. We talk about the posts that go up and stuff we like about them, and off topic, I like having a place where players can feel comfortable talking about anything without being judged for it.

One thing I've seen kill so many fucking Discords and RPs and drive players away is if toxic people are tolerated; there's places on the internet to argue politics all day (let's face it, the only people who want to talk about politics all day are the ones who are so set in their ways are the ones who will never, ever challenge their views or listen respectfully to counterpoints), and I don't see how tolerating racist, homophobic, or sexist bullshit is even a thing. I can't count the number of times I've had people come to me in private and talk about being uncomfortable or feeling unwelcome by someone because of really toxic behaviour, and those people are way better roleplayers than the toxic people almost all of the time.

Onto good stuff, I actually find discords promote a more organic discussion for RPs, and it only works if players actually try to participate, and it's that reason I kind of think that discords are best saved until after the game's been established and you have core players, but I know that's unrealistic. The best thing a GM can do is to set posting deadlines and enforce it; you cannot wait for everyone, and from personal experience if you hold up a game for one or two players, you're going to lose momentum and interest fast and then your RP is at a real risk of dying. That's where Discord is handy; you can set out alerts to everyone, say "hey you have until this date to post before I move the game along" and actually have a discussion with players if they're stuck or need a hand. It's about helping everyone out, not punishing them; even if they don't make the deadline, that's perfectly fine! We all have periods where we're in a slump.

Discord's made the RPing experience way more personal and enjoyable for me, and it's helped realize a potential I never really had with Skype or anything else. Like any tool, it can be misused and abused, and not every single RP needs to have a Discord, but for people who genuinely want to talk real time and plan stuff out organically with multiple people, it's a godsend. The GM still has to do heavy lifting to keep the game active and moving along, and you need to enforce some basic etiquette rules (keeping shit posting out of general chat and eliminating toxicity are huge ones), but not having it these days is kind of like doing math without a calculator; it takes way longer and not nearly as easy.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Lock and Key

16th Midyear, 4E208
Alik’r Oasis
Late Afternoon…

---

“I hope you lot managed to rest well the past few days, because this is it; we’re about to embark on the journey to the prison to retrieve Alim, Bakih, and the lexicon which will hopefully be how we save Tamriel from invasion and hopefully not get us all killed in the process. Still with me? Good. We’ve got work to do.” Daro’Vasora said, looking at the gathered group, including Sevari, Zaveed, and Sirine, who while they were all clearly outsiders had managed to make some inroads in their time together so their presence didn’t seem nearly as jarring. Daro’Vasora had Zaveed’s pistol on her hip, opposite of the mace, and her hastily assembled adventuring gear was at least sturdy and secure enough to do the job.

“Now, we don’t know what we’re walking into, but in my experience, there’s not a ruin I haven’t been able to find my way into or around, and Dwemer were fond of hidden passages, one obvious, the others not-so-much. Not much is known about this location other than it had been buried in sand up until their return, so we’re marching into the unknown. This is where they’re sending their prisoners, and it can only be so large. We do not even know it’s name.” She continued, studying the people around her. Her friends, companions. It wasn’t that long ago that she looked at them as liabilities she would leave when the job was completed.

How things changed. She thought to herself.

“It’s called Kutrack, or some other such nonsense one can only utter when one’s mouth is filled with food and being rather impolite with dinner guests.” Zaveed spoke up, stepping up to the table and unrolling a large scroll he’d had on his person, revealing a crudely drawn map.

“Apologies for my lack of artistic talent, but while searching for Sirine’s darling brother in the Dwemeri archives in the Governor’s palace, I’d stumbled across some of the plans and layouts for the facility they’d drafted up for their general ambitions for the place. Turns out leaving a place unattended for thousands of years to be shit upon by goblins leaves a lot to be desired for retail value, yes?” he grinned.

Daro’Vasora didn’t say anything at the intrusion. Despite her feelings for Zaveed, he’d clearly done a lot more research than any of them. His eyes met hers, and she gestured for him to continue.

“Right, so as our esteemed leader has rightfully pointed out, there is two ways in that I’ve been able to document that are accepted. First is the obvious; the main gate. I’ve been to this place myself, but rarely past the entrance to turn over fugitives. Roux was taken here and… processed.” Zaveed said, not daring meet Raelynn or Daro’Vasora’s eyes. “Chances are word of my probable defection has not become widely known to the Dwemer since other than my relationship to Sevari, they’d have no reason to suspect I’ve been unfaithful, and from what I’ve heard, they have bigger problems to focus on at the moment than an officer who hasn’t checked in for a few days.”

“So, what are you proposing?” Daro’Vasora asked flatly, staring at Zaveed. In turn, Zaveed grinned at Sevari and offered a wink with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Oh, he’s not going to like this…”

Sevari looked up from cleaning his pistol, “Eh?”

---

Dwemeri Prison Ruins Kthrakz

Raelynn did not enjoy having her hands bound and being at the mercy of Sirine, Zaveed, and Sevari too should things go haywire. But this was the only way for her to be sure the trio wouldn’t abandon everyone else after Bakih was liberated. Sure, the Imperial had said she wouldn’t do such a thing - but, throwing herself into the mix as an insurance policy made her feel better, even if it had not made Gregor feel better… Now that she was in the midst of it, hands bound, she didn’t like it so much. This was temporary though… It was temporary. The mage kept repeating it to herself in her head, trying to ignore what was happening with the Khajiit brothers to her right.

Brilliant idea Raelynn, go and be a prisoner… She chastised herself. Teeth gritted, posture tense, Sirine was behind her - probably enjoying herself, having her on a leash like this. Still, she had her hair bunched up atop her head, lockpicks stowed in the birds nest sat on her crown. She was ready to assist them in the best way she knew. “Like this do you?” she muttered through pursed lips indignantly. At least when it came to it, she definitely looked like a disgruntled prisoner.

"I wouldn't particularly say that I do," Sirine replied rather easily, looking at the back of the shorter woman's head. Leading Raelynn was simply a necessity to free her brother from the wretched prison, and truth be told, the former pirate was a little worried about the healer's safety. Preparing for the worst, she expected there to be bloodshed- perhaps a bit of her desired there to be- but it was the dwemer and their accomplices’ blood she wanted spilled, not one of their group's.

Zaveed wasn’t wasn’t lying; Sevari trusted Zaveed. In all the years he’d known the man, he never lied. And no, he didn’t like this. His bound wrists itched, which unlocked an anger in him that willed him to snap at anything. Still, he could feel the rope tied around his wrists tugging every so often and a hushed giggle from Zaveed that made him want to crack his forehead against his damn snout.

“Keep at it, little brother,” Sevari growled, “I might mistake you for a guard when the time comes. Things get awful chaotic in a scrap.”

“Be quiet, you curr! How dare you be so boldly defiant of the law as decreed by our new management?” Zaveed declared with a cheeky grin, offering Sirine a wink as he prodded his brother’s back with his pistol. “It’s not like I would know anything about a life outside of the law, no sir. Captain Greywake? Hardly know ‘er.”

“Fuck off.” Sevari mumbled and rolled his eyes.

“Can you both cease?!” said Raelynn from their left, their incessant bickering was getting to her.

"Probably best to ignore the boys while they squabble," Sirine advised, voice both dry yet tinged with amusement, recalling her words to Sevari earlier in the day.

“You say that as if they haven’t been doing this the whole time…” she hissed, sending a sidelong glance in Zaveed’s direction.

"I'm sure they have been," Sirine replied with a nod, hand lifting momentarily to hide the smirk that found itself on her lips. "But it's the nature of brothers. Trust me, I have three of them."

The Cathay shrugged apologetically towards Raelynn. “Oh, give us a break; we’ve decades to catch up on.” Zaveed explained with a smile before turning his attention back to his brother. “You seem awfully dour for a man who’s spending quality time on a wilderness walk with his brother and a very good friend. Wasn’t that what you were after, in the end? And look ahead, there’s some shade and some very helpful people that would love to meet you.” Zaveed said, looking ahead to the mouth of the ruins of Kthrakz.

It was an impressive structure that seemed to come out of the ground like a maw in the sands, a pillar of rock with ornately carved figureheads and pillars with a large pair of double doors that were large enough to march Centurions through and had been coated with a special paint that had been mixed with the sands over the years, presumably to prevent wear from the elements and to prevent the alloys from becoming unbearably hot to the touch. They were not far off now, and a pair of guards stood out front to greet them.

“You’re doing a wonderful job, by the way. You are selling this indignant prisoner act quite admirably; I wish I had even a fraction of your talents, brother.” Zaveed said, shoving Sevari along. Sirine handled Raelynn in a similar fashion, at least to keep up appearances.

“I’ll show you my goddamn talents when this is over, you ass.” Sevari looked back and glared at his brother’s cheeky grin, ear to ear and wide as the seas. “Alright, it’s time.”

He sniffled and quieted himself as they approached the gates, blowing out a breath and steadying his nerves. The walls grew with every step and by the time the guards hailed them to stop it almost hurt Sevari’s neck to look up at the top of them. All across them, there wasn’t a single place in the smooth surface that Sevari could scale with his climbing claws. Even from outside, he felt like he couldn’t escape this place.

Least not without the help of several stubborn and steadfast companions willing to risk life and limb to do the impossible just to see his face again.

He’d better like whoever the fuck Bakih and Alim were.

“State your business!” One of the guards spoke from the twenty or so stride distance between his throat and Sevari’s hands.

Zaveed stepped forward, arms wide as if he were greeting and old friend. “Greetings, Btzmahz was it?”

“It’s Kragren.” The guard replied dryly, clearly displeased at having to have stepped out of his shaded retreat to approach the menagerie approaching him. “No one here goes by that name. It’s not even a name.” his rifle was held with the barrel down, but still quite at the ready. “Are you lost, Khajiit?”

“Ah, no. You see, we’re coworkers.” Zaveed replied, pulling his Ministry of Order badge from his bandoleer. “My deputy and I have brought a pair of very special prisoners that I’ve been hunting for some time now, the traitor to our dear Governor’s trust, and one of the ones she requested personally.” he pulled Sevari forward. “Just dropping dear old Sevari off at the daycare. He’s been a very bad boy.”

The guard’s face didn’t register the name, prompting Zaveed to sigh and pulling out a piece of blank official stationary he wrote upon with the capture order and a hastily forged version of Major Kerztar’s signature; it definitely wasn’t anything close to the Major’s penmanship, but the Cathay was counting on these Dwemer out in the middle of nowhere not having intimate knowledge of that bit of scribble to question it overly much. They just needed to get into the door.

“Let’s get inside out of this damned heat.” The guard said, motioning for them to follow. “We’ll sort you out where it’s comfortable.”

“Huh.” Sevari said in appreciation of Zaveed’s gambits working yet again.

“What’d you say?” The Guard turned back to him, glowering down his nose, which was upturned to look up at Sevari’s face.

“Nothing.” Sevari frowned deeper, “Fucker.”

The guard stamped down on his foot and Sevari bared his teeth at the heel of his boot crunching into his toes. With both hands and holding his foot to the ground, the guard shoved Sevari in the chest and pitched him to the sand. Sevari huffed, the breath throwing up sand from around his face as he gritted his teeth to look up at the guard. “Watch your step.” The Mer sneered and waved them on, “Come on.”

Zaveed grabbed Sevari by the arm, helping pull him to his feet, grateful the guard wasn’t paying too close attention to his knot job. “Mind not brutalizing my prisoner? If he can’t walk, you’re dragging him all the way back with you.” Zaveed called to the back. Securely on his feet, Zaveed patted Sevari on the shoulder affectionately and the small group continued on their way towards the maw and hopefully Bakih.

"Let's go," Sirine ordered, urging Raelynn to continue forward as well with a light push, just for a little extra insurance that their act played out without fault. That being said, she really didn't think she had to worry- Zaveed's silver tongue was clearly working on the dwemer guards. She had been worried that they might treat him with suspicion, especially after his defecting, but it seemed news traveled slowly up and down the desert. A smirk danced upon her lips; it would have been quite interesting to listen to the privateer's words at sea whilst dealing with another pesky crew. Bakih first, she reminded herself. And then the rest. Soon they would be far away from this oppressive heat and sand, and good riddance.

---

Back at The Oasis...

“The other way in is through a natural cavern that’s been somewhat caved in, but otherwise still intact. They installed a locked gate, but this is an underground reservoir not too dissimilar to what we have here. It is where the ruins gets its drinking water and process water for their steam contraptions.” Zaveed showed on the map. “As I understand, at least one of you can summon atronachs. Do that, clear out around here of debris and you have yourselves a way to sneak into the ruins undetected. Be warned, some tunnels are still infested by goblins; the Dwemer only have bothered securing the primary infrastructure and gating off places they haven’t cleared yet. They probably won’t be monitoring anywhere you find those skeever-faced runts skulking about like they’re people, but you’ll still be fighting fucking goblins. Just be prepared for Dwemer past any locked gates.”

“So where does it lead out?” Daro’Vasora asked.

“Right here…”

---

Dwemeri Prison Ruins Kthrakz

The badge flashed. “Zaveed of Senchal, agent of the secret police division of the Ministry of Order.” Zaveed said, flashing his badge at the Dwemer clerk who approached with an entirely too heavy tome in his hand to study the grey-furred Khajiit’s features before going over the records to verify his identity. A handful of guards stood around, preparing to take the prisoners off of Zaveed and Sirine’s hands once the authorization went through.

As the clerk retreated to a desk to check over his files, Zaveed pulled one of Sevari’s half-burnt cigars from one of his pouches and ignited it in a small container of fire salts before guiding it to his brother’s mouth with a grimace. “I don’t know how on Nirn you tolerate this crap.” Zaveed observed, keeping a careful eye on the clerk’s body language.

Sevari smirked, a bearing of fangs, “You just live your life hard and shitty so that this shit doesn’t seem like as much shit as the other shit.”

“Well, shit.” One of the younger guards that still held the telltale soft eyes of a rookie grunted from his corner with raised eyebrows and a nodding head.

“You are truly a poet, a man with unmatched talent for the spoken word.” Zaveed rolled his eyes. “One of these days, I’m going to have to acquaint you with the salted air of the sea, some grog, and the joys of good company. You won’t ever want to sully your lungs with that shit again.”

“You speak as if he’s ever going to see the sun again, the traitor.” Another guard grunted, his weapon’s safety being disengaged with a click. Zaveed merely shrugged at the man with a wink.

“Man’s my brother. Allow us some final moments of normality, will you? Fucking killjoy.”

Sevari leaned out from behind Zaveed with narrowed eyes and an impish little half-smile, “Yeah, allow me some final moments of normality, you fucking cock-throater.”

“Why, you-“

“Stay your hand, Corporal!” The Clerk shouted with a suddenness that made almost everybody in the room flinch.

“Yes, corporal.” Zaveed sneered. “Remember your discipline. Know your place, drop and give me twenty, all of that.” he said with a dismissive wave of the hand. He looked back at the clerk and noticed a tensing in the mer’s shoulders.

“Well, Sevari,” Zaveed said in a low tone. “Let’s hope I’m as talented at tying easily escapable knots as you are at the spoken word.”

Almost simultaneously as the last syllable left Zaveed’s mouth, Sevari stood, two unfettered arms throwing open the cloak around his shoulders to reveal pistols in his hands. In less than a second, not that one needed to be a marksman in a space like this, Sevari discharged the two guns and the angry Corporal’s face exploded onto his friend next to him, who was clutching his bloody chest wound as well.

Raelynn shrieked as she was sprayed with the Corporal’s blood. A bad day to be dressed in white. She backed into Sirine, her hands held out expectedly for her to remove the bindings, as she struggled to manage it amongst the chaos.

Sirine's reaction to the blood was completely the opposite. She was grinning as she pulled her dagger from its resting spot at her waist, the blade as sharp as ever after after she had taken care of it the previous day. "A little blood never hurt anyone," she quipped, her tone very different from before. Without wasting a moment, she undid the rope that bound Raelyn before motioning behind herself with her head. "Well, not someone else’s anyway- you best get behind me, I'd rather not have yours mixing with that."

“Hurts people when it’s not in their bodies, Sirine,” she retorted with a smirk as the girl cut her free. She shook her hands, allowing the blood to flow back through. “You tie a better knot than your friend,” she remarked, unable to believe she’d just made a joke over it. Something about the moment had allowed her that sense of safety.

"Yes," Sirine agreed, "but they're not the ones I'm concerned with at the moment. And somehow..." She smirked at the comment about knots. "I'm not surprised, I'm quite good at tying people up." Stepping before the healer, she was swift in striking at an incoming dwemer guard, ramming her boot into his stomach so that he stumbled back. Just as quickly, she lunged forward, stabbing at the mer's exposed throat with her dagger, her smirk shifting to a satisfied smile as she pulled it out. Ignoring the blood that poured onto the ground, she turned away to look for her next victim.

Zaveed’s axes were out in a flurry, one of them thrown at one of the other guards who was fumbling with the safety of his weapon as the blade buried itself in his shoulder. Zaveed was upon him, sweeping the Dwemer’s leg as he went to raise the weapon with a single hand and kicking the Dwemer to the floor. The mer screamed in pain as Zaveed stood over him, prying the weapon from his hand and bringing the axe down into his throat as a volley of shots landed around them. “You’d think they’d spend more time on training…” he murmured, hoisting the rifle and aiming at the guards on the walkway, returning fire with the repeating weapon as his hand worked the lever.

Raelynn ducked as the others fought - bullets and blades flurrying. The noise inescapable. She shuffled across the floor on all fours to the desk with the paperwork and tomes. There had to be some paperwork here to suggest where Sirine’s brother was. She’d gone through clerical information before for her father, and at the College - it was usually organised in a certain way. Whether the Dwemer held to such a standard would remain to be seen. “Your surname, Sirine?” she called out, hoping the Imperial could hear her over the noise.

Sirine kicked away the guard she had just finished with, shaking the blood off her dagger as she looked for Raelynn, a little annoyed the healer had disappeared from her side. Thankfully however, she heard her name called, and following the direction of the voice with her eyes until she saw where the Breton woman was. "Al Nahel," she called back, eyes narrowing slightly before she slammed a shoulder into another dwemer, attempting to make her way to the desk.

Her thumbs ran over a tome as she pulled it from the desk. It was heavy. At least his name was going to, hopefully, be at the start of the entries. She flicked through the pages, muttering under her breath, “Al Nahel… Al Nahel… Al Nahel…. BAKIH!” she called out, finding his name there, “Al Nahel, Bakih. Thirteenth of Second Seed. Allocated level seventeen, west block…” She looked up to Sirine who had made her way to the desk. “That’s him!”

All around had exploded into chaos with men shouting their last words or just meaningless battlecries lost on Sevari’s ears, too focused on taking aim and squeezing the trigger on some poor fool who couldn’t duck fast enough behind a crate. He worked the lever, the spent casing spinning over his shoulder as he slapped in another round. It was like a feeling of being home after a long journey, just his weapon in his hands and a room full of enemies.

He took aim, tracking a guard along the walkways a few steps before he squeezed again, stock jolting in his shoulder as the barrel barked out smoke and fire. The Mer dropped. “How’s the search, Princess?” He asked, not heeding a shower of sparks past leaning away from it while he reloaded his rifle, “I’d like to not be getting shot at sooner rather than later.”

Without wasting anymore time, Raelynn scanned the tome further for Blackmoore, finding him there. “Alim is here too - level sixteen…” She dropped the tome to the floor and stood back up, hands fumbling over the desk for anything that could suggest which level they were on now. “We have to get to seventeen, and then to sixteen. That’s where we’ll find the others.” There was sudden desperation in her own voice, now that she knew that Alim was here - this mission had not been a waste. He was here. “He’s really here, he’s alright…”

Unknown to the Breton woman, one of the dwemer guards had caught sight of her by the desk, rummaging through the files. Thinking her an easy target, he swiftly closed in on her, raising his blade to strike and end her where she stood. Unfortunately for him, Sirine had taken her self imposed duty of keeping the healer safe rather seriously. Sword now in her other hand, she brought it up swiftly to parry the blow, grunting under the weight of the swing. "Oh no you don't," she murmured, sounding almost enticing as she used his shock to shove her dagger through the openings of his armour, not relenting until her dagger could go in no more.

Kicking him off of her blade in a rather ungraceful manner, Sirine then backed towards the desk. "Any idea which level we're on?"

“Currently it looks like we’re on level eight…” Raelynn replied, watching the Dwemer guard bleed out on the ground, for a moment she locked eyes with him.

---

Back at The Oasis...

“Well, I don’t want to say thank you, but…” Daro’Vasora said with narrow eyes.

“You’re welcome.” Zaveed beamed with a theatrical bow.

“If your information is true, it’s going to be a big help. What assurances do we have that you three aren’t going to rat on us as soon as we part ways?” She pressed, arms crossed.

Zaveed sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, after my rather persuasive arguments earlier, I thought we’d have been past this point in our relationship.” he sighed, exasperated. “We’re going to get Bakih out, and we were going to be doing it regardless of your assistance or not. Likewise, you have your friend you wish to rescue and the bauble that can do… the thing you proposed.” the Khajiit shrugged.

“I do not know how much more I can tell you to alleviate your concerns, Daro’Vasora. You held a gun to my head because I wanted you to be able to move on from this so we can focus on doing what’s actually important, namely saving people we care about and kicking the Dwemer where it hurts. They basically enslaved Sevari and I; much like I keep trying to tell Gregor, I have no animosity towards any of you, and I cannot change what I had done to you, but we’re in the midsts of a shitty war none of us really desire to be a part of.

“Allegiances change, as do people. Your Poncy Man betrayed you; I’ve never lied about who I am or what I’ve done. It will have to suffice.” Zaveed said, gesturing to Sevari. “And if none of that is good enough for you lot, then trust that my loyalties lay with my brother. The reason I’m here in your charming company is because he willed it so, and I am not going to lose him again. He wanted to help you lot, and in extension, so do I.”

“Fine. I’m hoping I don’t end up regretting this.” Daro’Vasora said, rolling her shoulders and looking at the gathered people, friends, strangers, and former enemies alike. “Look, Zaveed’s right about one thing; none of us wished to be here, in this war, in this desert… well, except for Shakti.” the Khajiit said with a smile before turning back to the crowd.

“But we’re here because we have people we care about on the line, and none of you turned your backs on me when I needed to be saved, and like hell I’m going to turn my back on Alim, or the rest of the prisoners. We’re shutting that place down, people; Gilane was a bust, and we all suffered greatly within its walls, but it doesn’t mean we lost. Look around you; how many of you would have even looked at the people you’ve trusted your lives to before all of this began? How many times have we served a common cause and put our lives on the line for each other?” Daro’Vasora said, slamming a fist into her palm. “That means something, and it’s why time and time again, we do not back down. We. Do. Not. Back. Down.” she stressed every word, an intensity in her emerald eyes as she met the gaze of each of the people around her.

“When we met, I was a brat, a real selfish piece of shit that only cared for earning a name for herself that wasn’t Daro’ and a good chunk of coin on the side. People came and went out of my life; they were expendable, and I couldn’t rely on anyone but my wits and knowledge. All I know is over the past two months, I’ve befriended you, come to love you and come know you as people, and right now I can’t see a difference between you and my own flesh and blood. I made mistakes, I fucked up; you stayed by me and gave me strength I never knew I had.” she paused, placing a hand on her chest as she let the words sink in.

“Let me return the favour. You chose me to guide the way in these uncertain times, and you risked your lives to get me out of bondage. I have a plan for how we win this thing, and I will need each and every one of you to believe in me like I believe in you.” Daro’Vasora said, placing a hand over her heart as she began to walk the circle of people, looking them all in the eyes.

“What we did at the Jerall Mountains was a mistake, one with consequences we couldn’t possibly anticipate. We activated a device that destroyed the mountain and allowed the Dwemer to return; it was that or be overrun by Falmer, but we had no idea what the function of it was, and ever since that day, we’ve been on the run trying not to die like so many others. Imperial City, Skingrad, Anvil, Gilane… so many cities have been engulfed by this war, and the despots that call themselves leaders are preying on innocent lives. Zegol, Gaius, Balroth, Durantel, Rhea, Roux… remember the fallen, remember what these Deep Elves have taken from us. If we quit now, they all were lost for nothing, their sacrifices meant nothing.” Daro’Vasora exclaimed, her teeth bared and tears in her eyes.

“And I am so fucking tired of running, being at the whims of those who wish us harm. Those who would see us dead or used as expendable tokens. The Rangers, the Poncy Man, whoever. Now we do this on our own, and either people can join us, or they can step aside. We’re doing this with or without their help.” the Khajiit snarled, wiping her muzzle with an arm as she stomped forward, a dangerous intensity in her gait.

She stopped in front of Sevari and Sirine, staring them down for several unspoken seconds. Her tone was lower, inviting people to listen as her voice dampened, pensive but with an edge. “Many of you wonder what the fuck I was thinking, inviting them along, but let me ask you this; how many of you would have chosen differently? Sometimes, we put our pride aside for the greater good. This is a journey where we can’t be picky about the people we walk alongside, and sometimes we need to do thing that our hearts scream at us no.” Daro’Vasora said, her eyes narrowed, teeth bared. Suddenly, her disposition shifted to something softer, more reflective. She placed a hand on Sevari’s shoulder.

“Maybe enemies can become friends, and maybe they can offer things that mean the difference between life and death. I have been brutalized, embarrassed, forced to choose between the lives of my friends.” she looked to Zaveed with a nod. She held her tongue for a pregnant moment before letting out a resigned sigh. “I choose to forgive you and let go. I won’t forget what you’ve done to me, or the others, but I choose to believe your words that you want to help, and we’re not going to win this fight on our own. What say you? All of you? No more running, no more fear and loathing. Let’s show these fucking Dwemer what happens when you take from us. Let’s show them the meaning of fear and loss. Let’s show them that we will never give up.” Daro’Vasora exclaimed, grabbing her mace from the table and holding it high.

“Who’s with me?!”

“I!” Latro was the first to stand, raising his fist. He had a smile for Sora, perhaps she had taken his, well Francis’ words to heart. Surety, he smiled. Hope and luck and courage.

Nanine stood next, commiting the sight of the Khajiit with mace raised to memory. That’s a sight that deserves to be drawn. She drew her own blade and raised it high, smiling. “We will do it.” For the first time in the long time, they had a plan and weren’t just struggling to survive or make sense of their situation. It was good to have purpose again.

“Hell yeah, sister.” Mazrah slammed the foot of her spear on the ground and clasped her free hand to her heart. The big Orsimer had a smile on her face and a glistening wetness in her eyes -- she was a sucker for a good rousing speech. “These gray-skinned shits won't know what hit them.”

"I've been travellin' with you since Jerall, Sora." Meg looked to the khajiit woman, the determined look in her green eyes stronger than ever. Her leg was for all purposes healed, although still a little weaker than it normally would be. However, there was absolutely no way she would let that keep her behind when all of her friends were going out to risk their lives. Standing up and crossing her arms over her chest, she continued. "An' I ain' 'bout t'stop now, y'know! You can count on me."

Gregor watched silently as some of the others pledged their allegiance, but it wasn't until Megana had spoken up that he felt the need to pitch in. The way she stood with her arms crossed over her chest, defiant, was endearing and even a little inspiring: the young peasant girl ready to take on the most dangerous people in the world. Daro'Vasora's speech was good, truthfully, but Gregor had always had more of an eye for the small and understated moments of beauty than grand gestures. His hand found Raelynn's as she stood next to him and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “You have my sword,” the Imperial said with an encouraging nod in Daro'Vasora's direction. “We're with you.”

The blonde mage was not one for grand gestures either, and while the likes of Mazrah and Latro would stand to attention to Sora’s rallying speech, Raelynn remained quiet on the sidelines, her steel blue gaze travelling over the faces of the company. She felt Gregor’s hand around hers, and at the moment he spoke she took her other hand and placed it over his forearm, nodding her head at his words. Her eyes met those of Daro’Vasora and she nodded again. “I have spent the afternoon creating supplies for you all with what I have been able to source in our Oasis.” She and Gregor were stood by one of the crates from the caravan, she had managed to make a handful of potions from the Glowing Mushroom and various other ingredients she had harvested in the caves.

“If any of you need me to check you over before we leave, I will be here.” She nodded again with a finality, public speaking to a group of rebels was not really her strength. She kept it precise and to the point. In a hushed tone, she spoke up towards Gregor, “let’s talk - I know you’re not happy about this… We can find a quiet spot in a moment.”

Aries had remained silent for the planning; this was nothing that she was personally invested in, and it was better to hide among the crowd and comfortably assume her disguise for now. She wasn’t particularly moved by speeches in general, instead critically listening and picking out the flaws as she heard them, but she raised an eyebrow at the mention of one of their actions being responsible for the dwemer’s return. That was a question for another time. During the speech, her eyes traveled the crowd and fell on Sevari, giving him a glance that spoke more words than Sora could even if Akatosh granted her all the hours to say them. If she was really going into the dwemer’s prison, then that was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. Depending on who they find, then maybe this charade could finally end.

Shakti stood next to Mazrah and raised both of her hands as the Orc shouted in delight. The Redguard girl couldn’t help but give a cheer of her own. The Alik’r belonged to the Redguard, to her, no one else. Certainly no dwemer. She was excited to bloody their noses again. As the others gave similar yells of encouragement, Shakti’s eyes also searched the crowd for a certain blonde-haired Nord boy. She found him tending to the pony by the nearest watering hole, making sure Danish was well groomed and healthy, fed and watered, and that he'd be well off in his absence. But Calen was not absent minded during the rally -- he looked back at the group with a smile, albeit a nervous one.

Jaraleet had remained silent through Daro’Vasora’s speech, his eyes briefly turning to look at Meg as she addressed the Khajiit woman. In spite of himself, he couldn’t help but smile at seeing the determination of the Nord woman. “You have my blade as well, Daro’Vasora.” The Argonian said as he turned to look at their leader, giving her a slight nod to go along with his words.

Anifaire was not accustomed to loud gestures, but listened attentively to Daro’Vasora’s speech. The determined words, of enemies and Dwemer and friends, she used to fuel the anger she had been kindling since the previous day. It was a comfort that others at her side were not about to forget Alim. She sat, hands clenching the edges of the rock until her knuckles were white. She wanted Alim out of a Dwemer prison, and she wanted the Dwemer gone where they wouldn’t be taking anything from her again. She focusing on those thoughts and feelings, the idea of more violence, more burning and blood and the memories of watching her companions hack and slash at living beings, and having a part in it, pushed as far back as she could manage, the fears slipping unwillingly to the front of her mind from time to time. Determined not to be afraid of those things anymore, she held onto the anger alone.

---

“I’m sorry I got roped into assisting Sirine locate Bakih. I’m sorry I’m going to be with Zaveed. But you understand why, don’t you?” Raelynn asked, now that the group had dispersed to get the last of their preparations done. She took both of her Imperial’s hands tightly in her own, and smiled up at him comfortingly.

Gregor’s jaw worked while he looked away, though he returned Raelynn’s firm grip with unmistakable devotion. “Yes,” he said at length and a sound escaped him that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “But that doesn’t mean I think it’s worth it. If something happens to you and I’m not there…” He trailed off and let the words hang in the air before he finally met Raelynn’s gaze again. “I’d trade everyone’s lives here to prevent that from happening.” His words were honest but he surprised even himself a little with how callous the depth of his love for Raelynn made him. He shrugged and smiled, just a tad sheepish. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s true.”

“I’ll look at you however I want…” She cooed, unable to prevent the smile that formed on her face, warming up her eyes considerably with a happy glow. “It will be worth it when we get Alim back, and everyone gets out. I help them find Sirine’s brother safely, they’ll be grateful…” Raelynn tilted her head to the side and nodded slowly, knowing that Gregor would understand her implication. The mage stepped closer to him and began to work her hands slowly up his chest, her voice quieter, and an audacious expression resided where the innocent smile had been, “besides Gregor… After this is all said and done and we leave Hammerfell, we’ll have an entire world before us again.” Her voice was so quiet as it tapered off with her last words that she practically mouthed them, her lips only inches from his.

He had to admit that she was right and that it was smart to get and keep the triad on their side, but Raelynn’s explanation still drew nothing more from Gregor than a reluctant ‘hmph’. It was what she said after that, and the way she did it, that was cause for him to slowly take her in his arms, his hands running down her spine to the small of her back. He couldn’t resist the temptation and kissed her. “I know, you’re right,” he sighed. “Just this one mission and then they’ll be gone.” He looked her in the eyes and lost himself in her wondrous, glacial gaze, like he so often did. “I wonder if we’ll go to Skyrim eventually,” he murmured. “Would be nice to see the place again.”

Her head found its way to his shoulder, and she rested it there, savouring the moment of him - of them, together, like this. The mission was going to split them from each other temporarily. So she wanted to have as much of him while she could, before everyone had to get their head in the game. She almost regretted having spent her day deep in alchemy and not rolling around with him. Raelynn rose to her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek, his beard ticking at her lips and chin. “Mmm, it would be nice. Skyrim is… My second home in a way, it would be certainly special to get to explore it with you…”

“Mine too,” Gregor said, his eyes soft as the lingering warmth of Raelynn's kiss on his cheek spread through him. “I spent most of my time in dark caves and ruins and dungeons but I have fond memories of the views and vistas I saw on the road and the evenings of sitting by a warm fire with hearty food and drink. It's a shame we never ran into each other before. I met Calen for the first time in Skyrim, did you know that?”

“I didn't, actually,” Raelynn said with surprise in her voice and a smile. At the mention of his name, she glanced out to find Calen in the crowd. It occurred to her that she hadn't spoken to him in quite some time. “I spent most of my time traveling from place to place and setting up in taverns. I don't know how much you would have liked me had we ever met back then.” She looked him in his eyes, finding herself once again thoroughly enraptured by them, their darkness - and the intensity buried within them. “What can I do for you? Before we leave?” She asked, wanting more and more to put him at ease and be with him.

Briar had often asked him the same question while she looked at him with the same eyes. Gregor's answers had been mundane and simple; play with my hair, make me that meal I like, come with me to the bedroom… It all seemed so trivial now, but he supposed that was true. Trivial requests for trivial times back when his life was innocent and he already had everything he needed. Now, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, Gregor realized he wanted, needed, something even more simple and yet far more meaningful.

He pulled her tighter in his embrace and whispered in her ear. “Just hold me.”

“I can grant you such a request,” she said quietly with a smile, and wrapped her arms around him, letting her hands hook over his shoulders from behind, her body pressed to his and her head against his chest. She knew the moment would not last too long, and was expecting someone from the group to break them up with complaints of an ache, pain, or ailment. Raelynn hummed against him and as she had done many times she breathed him in and closed her eyes. Leather and steel, and today there was something else to his scent - something rich and earthy, from nights of sleeping upon the moss she thought. She liked it. She squeezed him tighter just then, taking in every detail of the moment so that could think upon it later.

“I love you,” Gregor said, just low enough for her to hear, and he poured all of his affection, devotion and passion into those three words. It felt like they were standing in the eye of a vast hurricane -- enjoying what could only be the briefest moment of serenity, with a wall of violence and destruction behind them and yet more ahead. “Stay safe. Come back to me in one piece,” he added, his voice heavy with the lump in his throat. “Please.”

Raelynn smiled at him, and let her fingers gently tickle the nape of his neck. He was so passionate - it almost made her want to split from him into dangerous situations more often if this was the level of intense attention she would get. “And I love you…” she breathed against his neck, words only for him. “I promise, and you must make the same one. Stay safe, and return to me as you are. After this is done we can go back to being simply us.” She wanted so badly for him to just be hers again for a while, no interruptions from the group. The mage also wanted to take care of the friend that was residing in amongst Gregor’s belongings.

---

With the group dispersed to make their final preparations after Daro’Vasora’s speech, Jaraleet didn’t waste time in seeing to his own preparations for the upcoming journey. Luckily, there was little that he needed to do before he was ready; namely, he had to take down his tent and to fold the bedroll that he had used and both tasks were completed in a matter of moments. With those task complete, there was something else that he wanted to do or, more accurately, there was someone whom he wanted to check on.

“There you are, I was looking for you.” He said as he finally found Meg, sitting near her tent and cleaning up her sword. “Getting ready for the mission?” He asked her softly, a note of concern in his voice, as he sat next to her.

Meg looked up at Jaraleet with a smile, happy to see the Argonian came to see here. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps she should have been the one to see how he was doing... it seemed to her as if he was always checking up on her rather than the opposite. "I am!" she replied with a small smile and nod. "My leg's all better now, mostly. I mean, there's kinda an ache but, like, it won' make things hard for me." She set her sword down on her lap, turning slightly to face him. "Looks like we ain' gonna be together this time."

“Good, good, I’m glad to hear that.” The Argonian said with a smile, glad to hear that, aside from the ache, her leg seemed to be fully healed. “It goes without saying….but don’t overdo it, ok?” He said, concern plain in his voice once again. He bit his lip slightly when she mentioned that they weren’t going to be on the same team for the upcoming mission, letting out a sigh after a moment.

“Yes, that seems to be the case.” He said, frowning slightly. “Can’t say I’m too happy about that...but we’ve both got our respective tasks to accomplish, don’t we?” He smiled weakly, shaking his head slightly.

“I’ll be fine,” Meg hastily assured Jaraleet, not wishing him to be worried or stressed out even before their adventure to the prison began. “I’mma be careful, an’ ‘sides, there’ll be the others there. Maz is strong, Latro’s there, Sora’s there…” She reached over and placed a hand on his, smiling reassuringly. “Tha’ bein’ said, you better be careful as well. Don’ think I forgot ‘bout tha’ time y’went out with Sevari.”

Jaraleet chuckled in spite of himself before smiling fondly at Meg. “I suppose you got me there, can't exactly ask you to be careful with my record can I?” He said, his smile widening slightly when he noticed her hand over his. “I know, I know.” He said in response to her reassurances, shaking his head slightly. “But still, I can't help but worry. There are far too many unknowns for my liking.”

Meg shrugged slightly before speaking. “It’s always been unknown though, no? Like, Skingrad, Anvil, even Gilane… we didn’ really know anythin’ tha’ was gonna happen… ‘least this time, we’re the one’s goin’ ahead first. We’re like up here-” she raised her free hand in the air above her head “-an the dwemer, they’re down there.” She lowered her hand so that it was near the ground.

“Hmmm, perhaps…” He replied, frowning slightly. “I suppose I'm just a bit used to having a bit more information than we do right now. Skingrad, Anvil, Gilane, in all of those places we at least knew more than we do now. Or I suppose I should say there were less unknowns than now.” Jaraleet said, chuckling weakly. “Sorry, I'm not making much sense I guess.”

“Well…” Meg looked to Jaraleet and gave him a small poke in the side, trying to lighten his mood a little. “Think of it as an adventure then? I mean, I know it ain’ really, we’re goin’ t’rescue Alim an’ the other man…” She paused momentarily before continuing. “Maybe not knowin’ somethin’ can better sometimes.”

Jaraleet was silent for a moment, pondering on Meg’s words. In the end, he let out another sigh before smiling at the Nord woman. “I suppose a little uncertainty once in a while might not be so bad.” He said finally, shaking his head slightly. “In my….line of work I’m used to having an amount of certainty, so to speak. To act after weeks of planning, at the very least.” He explained to her, shaking his head slightly. “I suppose it is rather foolish of me to think I can act like I did when things are like this, isn't it?”

“I know for sure that nothin’s been happenin’ in the las’ two months that’s been anythin’ like the rest’ve my years I’ve live.” Meg sounded a little rueful, but her smile remained. “We’ll be a’ight, I’ll be careful.” She prodded him once more, this time a little more forcefully. “Don’ worry too much though, got it? Don’ want yer brain so busy with wha’ might be thought that y’end up missin’ what’s righ’ in front.”

Jaraleet laughed slightly, shaking his head for a moment, before smiling at Meg. “Yes ma’am, got it.” He said, his tone slightly teasing. “Really, thank you Meg.” He continued on, moving slightly closer to the Nord woman. “For worrying about me, I mean. And for trying to cheer me up.”

"That's wha' friends are s'posed t'do, y'know." Meg smiled back at the Argonian, ignoring the part in her mind that told her that he meant more than just a friend. Reaching out, she gave Jaraleet a tight hug, resting her head against him, enjoying the closeness. "Same for you, thanks for all yer help. Don’ worry, we'll- Mara'll keep us safe."

“I suppose you are right.” He said, deciding to not comment on the fact that she seemed to worry about him more than was usual for a normal friend or how her actions seemed to contradict her words. Still, he gladly returned her hug before he smiled at her as she said that Mara’d keep them safe. “I hope you are right Meg. I hope it is not time for us to be called from this world.”

“Not for a while,” Meg replied, conviction strong in her voice. “We’ll be fine.”

---

After Daro’Vasora’s speech, Shakti made her way over to where she had spotted Calen earlier, tending to his pony, or horse. She didn’t actually know the difference. His smile that he had flashed seemed to lack its usual easy confidence. “Calen, something troubles you?” She began, unsure of how to approach this any other way but directly.

“Huh?” Calen muttered at the sound of his name, turning away from Danish as he groomed the pony, to find himself pleasantly smiling at Shakti once again, only for that smile to capsize as he asked her question. “Oh, uh…”

Calen didn’t think much of it, until he realized his hand unconsciously reached for the scar on his chest. He looked down and found himself rubbing a spot above his diaphragm.

“Um… I’m fine.” He lied. “Just every time we come together for a big plan like this, it usually precursors nothing good. I suppose it gets me feeling anxious.”

He turned back around and continued to brush Danish’s coat. He continued, “This just helps me take my mind off of things.”

Shakti nodded, it seemed a logical thing. To be afraid of injury, especially after a wound as severe as the one he had been through. Still, this anxiousness never really happened to her and she considered, for a few moments, why this was.

“You’re afraid of being hurt again? I suppose I am too. I’ve been cut up quite a few times in my life. Though I suspect never as bad as you.” She chanced a sly smile before finishing her thought, “I never really think about being hurt. I just go into things with a goal in mind. The details usually work themselves out.” She had no idea if this was helpful or not but she had said it already so she might as well let it sit in the air for a bit.

“It makes one question their mortality.” Calen said with a nod. “What happens when I'm finally dead and gone? What will the world I'll never get to see look like and what kind of legacy will I leave behind? I mean, I hope I'll one day see Sovngarde, but I'll never really know until that day comes, will I? Assuming I've any consciousness left.”

Finally after what seemed like a lifetime of watching Calen brush his horse, Shakti spoke again. “He’s a beautiful horse. He is a horse, right?”

“A pony, technically.” Calen corrected. “Any horse fourteen hands or smaller is a pony. Danish is fourteen hands, so he's just shy of making the cut.”

Shakti didn’t know what else to say about the pony subject. She had never ridden a horse or a pony. There were horses in Hammerfell, just not in the Alik’r. Shakti preferred to do her own walking. The Redguard changed the subject back to afterlife, perhaps against most social conventions, not that she knew or cared really.

“When I die, I’m going to the Far Shores. All--most Redguards go there when they die. Or so I’ve been told. I don’t really plan on dying anytime soon though so I do not think too much about it.” Shakti explained as if she was explaining her lunch meal, almost too casually. For some reason the subject of death and the afterlife never seemed to concern her. The only death that had ever affected her in a major way was her father’s. She tried not to think too hard about why.

“It’s not too different from Sovngarde if my studies haven’t failed me.” Calen replied. “Warrior culture and what have you, though the difference I think lies in the Hall of Valor being a non-stop celebration.”

Calen had a minor fit of nervous laughter before muttering to himself, “Warrior cultures, huh…”

Shakti grew concerned at the anxiousness and uncertainty in his usually bright laughter. She had no idea how to comfort him or to ease his fears. This was the first time she had ever truly worried about someone else’s mental state before diving into danger. Like a duneripper out of the dunes she was utterly clueless as to how she could help.

She placed a (what she hoped) was a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps we can sing songs to take your mind off of the danger? I know you like singing, I’ve heard you sing to yourself and to others.”

Shakti couldn’t help but feel like she was floundering.

“Most songs coming to mind are rather dour.” Calen admitted with a nervous chuckle. “But let me think if I can’t find one that’s…”

Then Calen thought for a moment, smirked, then started to sing a slow and haunting shanty,

“I heard, I heard, across the sea of sand,
On a wind sweeping ‘cross the land…
‘Beware, beware,’ an awful whisper warned,
‘Beware, beware, of…uh, Shakti.’”

The sudden abrupt ending disrupted the flow of the verse, and Calen’s smirk disappeared, which he replaced with a shrug and a ‘well what can you do?’ look. He followed it up with a quick comment, “What can I say? Improv songwriting is difficult.”

Shakti laughed at his song and clapped him on the back jovially. “I love it! The end could use some work though.” She hummed the tune again and spun away from him, giving him a wave. “We can work on once we are finished with this mission.” The Redguard girl smiled her best comforting smile and left Calen and his pony, humming his tune.

“Beware, beware,” she murmured, “Beware, beware, of me.”

---

It looked as though everyone was getting ready for the next leg of the journey. Some were preparing their arms and armor, some were packing down their campsites, and others were having their last minute conversations. Aries had very little to take care of aside from a suitcase that was being kept on the merchant wagon. She idley spun a single diamond ring on a finger from her right hand, mentally preparing herself for what lay ahead of them. She spent the morning with a cloth soaked from the water of the spring, scrubbing off the dirt and sweat from her skin and rebraided her hair. It was harder to do so by one’s self, but she had plenty of practice in the last couple of months.

Among the crowd, however, there was someone who seemed uncertain and uneasy with the coming night. Not the Nords nor Judena; it was the Altmer. The neurotic one that was quiet during the briefing before the palace offensive. The one that looked as though she may have one day come from money, but was long ago cut off from it The one Sevari had suspected of some kind of Thalmor loyalty. It was only one of his hunches, of course, but it was cause enough for concern; then again, she was here and not with the Dwemer. Regardless of where her loyalties might’ve lied before, she was in the thick of it along with the rest of Samara.

It was kind of pathetic. It wasn’t Aries’ place to do anything about it, but she had a role to play. Assimilate, gain trust, make friends with the enemy -- that was her job for the longest time. More importantly, she wanted to make sure that the elf’s weakness wouldn’t be a liability. She had already been too late to intervene with Samara twice before to save them from themselves.

So with careful, measured steps, her pace brought her before Anifaire. Nervous and shaky as dusk slowly fell upon the twilit desert. Instead of a critical gaze that would betray her earlier thoughts, however, she looked on with a gentle sort of tenderness. Like one would use when approaching a wild deer. Her nose and chin, slightly tilted downward, and her eyes coyly aimed up as if looking above a pair of spectacles that didn’t exist; she said, “Excuse me, my lady?” She said. She wasn’t sure exactly of her status, but it was a safe gamble to assume she would have appreciated the respect. “Are you doing well?”

“I’m…” Anifaire wasn’t certain how to answer. She was nervous, shakily fussing with her hair and clothing, wishing the anticipation would be over and they would simply begin. In truth, she was terrified, shaky and uncertain, afraid she or someone else was going to die later. She had tried to grab onto her anger about Alim’s capture, but it eluded her and she was left only with her fear. Trying to get it back, she said, “I’m all right. It’ll be fine.” She flipped her waist-length hair back over her shoulder, unable to decide where to put it, her pins lost. Since Gilane they had slowly dwindled in number, leaving her without enough to put her hair in its usual bun.

Aries’ eyes fell on Anifaire’s hair as she fidgeted with it and her clothes, the tell-tale sign that she was not alright despite her denial. She scanned the woman up and down for a moment before looking back up at her.

“Your hair is quite long. Beautiful, of course, but long.” She said, before taking a few steps toward the wagon. “Would you allow me to help you fix it up?”

Anifaire was surprised by the offer. She nodded and offered a small smile, pushed her hair behind her back. The Altmer had barely spoken to Aries before, truly, the only impressions she had were from the mission to rescue Daro’Vasora. Fidgeting slightly, she recalled how the woman had conducted herself, and most vividly, slitting a Dwemer throat. The memory had stuck with her in the following days, and being met with her face to face was unsettling. However, the woman was on their side. She would help find Alim, like the others.

“Please do,” she agreed.

Aries gestured for her to follow, and so she did. She led the way toward the merchant wagon that was commandeered by Zaveed, Sevari, and their little friend, before sitting her down on the edge. Anifaire’s anxious reaction to her offer had not go unnoticed even amidst the general sense of anxiety she exhibited, though she pretended not to notice. There was a peculiar sense of comfort in having the altmer’s back turned toward her. Not being in her direct eyeline and seeing her expose every vulnerable part of herself to her gave Aries a strange sense of power and control over the situation, even in an interaction as little as this one. Living for so long without it, she learned to cherish the little things.

“Where do you come from?” Aries asked as she went to work, reaching around Anifaire and pulling her hair back.

It was almost as if the woman could read her mind, how following the thoughts of slitting throats, Anifaire felt the tingling sensation of Aries’ nails brushing along her neck as the strands of hair were pulled away from her face. Having her back turned was unsettling, and a light shiver ran down Anifaire’s spine. She folded her hands in front of herself, ignoring her discomfort as she recalled the corpse of the Dwemer Aries killed in Gilane slumping to the ground. She could never do such a thing herself, she thought, but to help Alim...

“I’m from Alinor,” Anifaire replied. “And you?”

“High Rock. I’m a merchant from Shornhelm.” Aries replied with a half-truth. She might’ve been a Breton from High Rock who dipped her toes in trade, but she never much enjoyed the craggy landscape of Rivenspire. As she pulled Anifaire’s hair back, she decided that she didn’t know so much about altmer styled braids, and hoped that she would settled for one that was decidedly Breton. As she went to work, she craned her head around to get a better look at the doe-like expression on Anifaire’s face, she couldn’t help but see her as anything other than what Sevari described her as.

Aries sighed and decided that it was best to show at least a little bit of her hand if it meant gaining a little bit of trust from these people.

“I have it on good authority that you have certain… associations, if you will, with a particular Anvil-conquering organization. Is that true?”

“Oh… the Thalmor?” Anifaire asked uncertainly. “I suppose so. My family is rather involved in politics, but my mother and I occupied ourselves with learning magic instead. My sister is an agent… somewhere.” She really didn’t know, anymore, now that she had been out of contact so long. Last she had heard was Valenwood, a good year past.

She hesitated after she was finished, shifting her weight as though she might have to jump off the edge of the wagon; others had poor reactions to her connections in the past and her back was turned. Still, the hands working her hair were relaxing, and surely this woman wouldn’t attack her like those Redguards in the street.

“Don’t you worry, dear.” Aries replied, feeling the tension in the Altmer’s body. Her words wounded calm and understanding, even if Anifaire’s admission weighed on her chest like an anvil; too preoccupied with carefully monitoring her own words and reaction to think about how absurd it must’ve sounded for a human like her to be referring to an elf as dear, given how elves age. Aries continued, “I know you mean well. The mere fact of you running with us and not onto that Thalmor ship speaks volumes. We can’t choose our families.”

Anifaire relaxed, letting the Breton continue the braiding. She almost nodded but stopped herself as it would be disruptive. “Right,” she agreed, though she had never thought there was anything particularly wrong with her family until she was actually away from them. Lately, she wasn’t sure what to think of them. Still, knowing she wouldn’t be hated for her family’s affiliations was a comfort. “Thank you.”

Aries was applying the finishing touches of the braid; with the Altmer’s long hair and towering height, the braids were wrapped around her her head twice like two crowns, before the rest of it was pulled into a braided bun in the center. It was awfully elaborate, admittedly, but if what she could glean and assume from Anifaire betrayed anything of her heritage, then surely she wouldn’t mind. There was only one problem, though -- she needed to secure it. Aries thought carefully for a moment with some hesitation, before sighing and telling Anifaire, “Would you mind holding this in place for a moment?”

“Oh, sure.”

With that, Anifaire held the braids in place while Aries returned to the wagon where her suitcase was stored. Looking over her shoulders, she then procured a key and unlocked it. Inside was an elegant, silky, red dress with a complementing gold-colored toga and other matching jewelry like a golden wreath circlet, similar styled armbands and necklace -- she hesitated for a moment, her eyes betraying a sense of longing, before reaching in and procuring a comparatively simple hair clip; but it was golden in color, it’s sheen like the sun itself, and had a fine engraving on it. She locked the suitcase after herself, and returned to Anifaire’s side.

“This is a lucky clip.” Aries said, flashing the golden piece of jewelry in front of her.

“It’s beautiful!”

“Yes, and valuable. That’s why I don’t wear it often.” Aries said with a chuckle as she began putting it in Anifaire’s hair. “Don’t lose it, okay? I would like it back at some point. I suppose I’m just sentimental like that.”

Anifaire nodded, reached one hand up to feel the new braid in her hair. It was different, but she liked the change. She smiled, and turned back to face Aries. She was surprised at the kindness she showed. “Thank you. I’ll be sure I return it.”

Character Sheets: Where do you stand?

Here's something to consider with post history: some roleplayers don't have an extended library of posts to choose from. Many are new, many more may dabble in different sections and individual roleplays of varying standards — you wouldn't want to make a hasty generalization: "This person wrote like this once or twice; they will definitely write like this for my roleplay."

@Karkinos

Of course, especially with new players. But if someone does have a catalog of repeat instances? Ho boy.

I have a hard time joining RPs if I don't know the GM these days. I've made way too many character concepts and spent too many evenings working on them to have them go to waste because the GM can't be bothered to keep the plot moving.

Character Sheets: Where do you stand?

@PrinceAlexus A counterpoint, but saying a character sheet is a big investment also goes hand in hand that participating in an RP is a big investment. I feel more comfortable taking a chance on someone who put effort into their sheet instead of someone who half-assed it.

A good rule of thumb is check the GM's posting history prior to even signing up
If they have run long-term RPs, they're worth taking a chance on. If the RP dies within a few weeks/ couple months, maybe give it a pass.

As I mentioned in my last post, I view character sheets as snapshots of a character at the start of an RP and not a total representation of them for the duration. I expect characters to grow and evolve as the story progresses.

@Karkinos I tend to treat personality sections as fields for character quirks, habits, and other things that don't change easily that doesn't fit in the bio or appearance section. Stuff that just helps with character consistency and offering tells, such as they wring their hands when they're uncomfortable, or break eye contact when they're lying. It's a good place for fears and phobias, prejudices, and things of that nature. It can be useful for other players as a reference, such as catching your character in a lie or reacting accordingly to certain body language or attitudes.

Character Sheets: Where do you stand?

Thing is, when you only want to manage X amount of players for an RP, you need some metric to determine if a player is going to mesh with the group, of their character is appropriate, and in my eyes, if a player is willing to put considerable effort into a sheet and patiently wait for and meet deadlines, then character sheets are invaluable; as a GM, I personally like to draw parts of different characters' bios and introduce them into a plot. It's very important to me that my players feel like the story values their characters and gives them personal story arcs. Sheets facilitate that.

I never liked the idea of fleshing out a character's history over the RP because a) most RPs don't last that long to have that be relevant and b) what ensures consistency? A sheet helps you keep track of important character traits and history. Also being able to write an interesting and fleshed out bio is a good gauge of how a player is for writing for my RPs; my games are very collab heavy and are more collaborative storytelling than a game (current word count is over 500,000 words). I view the CS as a snapshot of a character at the start of an RP, not necessarily who they are going to be the entire duration.

One system doesn't work for every style, so it's a mistake to try and treat all RPs the same, and enforce a singular set of standards for all players. Variety is important. I just know for the past 7 years, I've found what works for me and mitigates a lot of headaches, player drama and conflicts, keeps players engaged and active, and ensures a consistent writing quality and standard for all players. Having a detailed character sheet and a two part audition process is a necessary evil, I feel. The more you can do to mitigate problems and ensure that players are at least starting off at a certain level and standard does wonders to ensure the game has a good chance of going smoothly to the point all a GM has to do is keep things moving along to keep it alive.

Also, check applicants' posting history; if they have a history of flaking and not staying with an RP for long, you do not want them.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

I’m the Captain Now

A tale as told by Stormy, Shaft, and Dervs
Oasis, Alik’r Desert
Midday, 16th Midyear, 4E208…

“Daro’Vasora.” A Southern accented voice broke the Khajiit’s concentration as she worked on retrofitting some supplies into appropriate adventuring gear. Daro’Vasora looked up with a narrowed gaze and saw Zaveed approaching in that arrogant, carefree strut that she’d come to associate with him. He stood a bit apart from her, hands resting casually on his axes. He gestured to her arm. “How’s the arm?” he asked.

“Fuck off.” She hissed, spitting at the ground in front of him.

Zaveed put up his hands to stave off more vitriol. “I’m not here to arouse bad blood, my dear; I genuinely wanted to know if it was still causing you trouble.”

She turned away from him, her movements quick and jerky as it was clear she was doing everything in her power to ignore the source of her anger. “I only tolerate your presence here, murderer, because you offered something that we needed, no matter how despicable the cost was. At least I know Sevari can be reasoned with; two of our number can attest to that. Be grateful you have a brother who tolerates your miasma. Leave me the fuck alone.” Daro’Vasora growled, continuing to punch slits in a piece of leather to fit her lockpicks.

The privateer sighed, pinching the bridge of his snout with a thumb and a finger. “I cannot give you back your friend, but we need to find a working solution, Daro’Vasora. Our goals are aligned; that makes us allies. I know the place we are to go, I spent a considerable amount of time searching for Bakih, Sirine’s brother, and the Dwemer are nothing if not detail-oriented about their infrastructure.

“I am to liberate him to pay off a considerable debt I owe her, and you are looking for your friend and a potential solution to this Dwemer problem; it behooves me to behave in a fashion that is beneficial to your lot.” he explained calmly. “We jeopardize our respective quarry if we cannot at least trust one another to do our jobs, yes?”

Daro’Vasora glared at him. “I don’t trust you, period. Didn’t I just tell you to fuck off?” she asked.

Zaveed sighed, and with a shrug, he conceded. “As you wish.”

“About… what are you doing?” Daro’Vasora asked when Zaveed began to unbuckle his weapon belt. His axes and dagger fell to the mossy ground with a thud and he pulled a pistol from his chest harness, causing Daro’Vasora to tense and prepare to tackle the weapon from his hand; the last time she’d seen that particular weapon out, it was at her expense and forced her to sit idly by while he murdered Roux instead of charging him.

This time would be different. This time...

Zaveed held the gun out by the barrel, offering the grip towards the treasure hunter. Uncertainly, she took the grip in her fingers and Zaveed pulled back the hammer with a thumb, kneeling before her and pulling the pistol towards her forehead. He stared at her with his icy eyes, fearless yet resigned. “I cannot give you Roux back, Daro’Vasora, but if it can bring you a measure of justice for your loss, all you need to do is pull the trigger.” he said, holding the gun steady in her hands. “A life for a life.”

“What, I-” Daro’Vasora stammered before suddenly steeling herself, feeling her fingers grip around the contoured grip, her fingers sinking into the same grooves that had given Zaveed so much power over life and death. She leaned into the weapon, feeling the barrel press against his forehead and forcing to lean back. The rest of the cave faded from her sight, and she imagined what would happen when her fist clenched… would he feel a thing when the back of his head opened up and the foul mind that occupied his skull ejected in a splash of violent viscera? How would she feel when the deed was done, would she feel a measure of peace, of authority? It made it so easy to take a life, a small sliver of metal that recessed back into the grip. It was so insignificant a child could have the power… she’d never have to fight again, it would be enough to know that death could be delivered from meters away without more than a slight effort to discourage all but the worst fools.

The kind of fool that knelt in front of her, willingly putting the end of his long and interesting life in the hands of a woman who hated him. “What are you trying to prove, Zaveed?”

“Simple, my dear; either you do this now, or the moment passes and we can move past this point in our relationship. Sevari and Sirine can complete her mission and save Bakih; I might be something of a legend with my skill at arms, but it’s not as if I have a purpose anymore past that. If it helps, remember what I’d done and close your eyes; I will make sure your aim is true.” Zaveed said, reassuringly, considering the macabre circumstances.

Her grip was so tight, she felt as if she could crush the metals in her hand if it grew any tighter. Daro’Vasora was suddenly aware of the crowd gathered around her, silence hanging heavy in the air, the river’s song even seem muted. She felt the blood pumping through her veins, her ears hammered.

A slight shift of a finger, and she’d end this nightmare in an instant…

Her gaze met Latro’s, and she recalled what he had looked like… what Pale-feather had looked like, a being so fetishized by violence and slaughter that she’d grown to be afraid of the man she loved. Did he see her the same way now? So cavalierly holding a damned pistol to Zaveed’s head, intent to end the wretch’s life…

The pistol was withdrawn suddenly, and she held it aloft. “I’m keeping this,” she declared suddenly, marching off in the opposite direction. Zaveed nodded, rising to his feet and cleaning his knees off of the detris of the ground.

“So, that’s who you choose to be.” he observed to himself.

“Not me.” A cold voice snaked out from behind him. As he turned, Latro gave him only a moment to recognize who it was before he reared back with his fist and sent it hurtling into the Khajiit’s mouth. As Zaveed stumbled back, he shook his hand twice, one of the knuckles bleeding from catching a tooth. “Told you I’d hurt you.”

Raelynn had been sat reading from an Alchemy text and decanting potions when the punch was thrown, and the sound of the thwack startled her enough to lift her head and look up from the pages. It was Zaveed. What have you done now? she thought with a scowl, and unable to resist she made her way over to the source.

With that, Latro stalked off after Sora, lest he decide to pick up where she left off, the crowd dispersing with him. Sevari was the next to step up to Zaveed, but his hand was placed reassuringly on his shoulder, an exasperated half-smile on his face. “Can’t say you didn’t have that one coming, brother.” He spared a glance at Latro and Sora’s retreating backs before looking at Zaveed again, “What in the fuck was that, you bloody fool?”

The Cathay let off a low chuckle as he cradled his tenderized face and spat out blood that was not his before a more hearty laugh escaped his throat like a thunderstorm. “Do you not see, Sevari? I am merely being a diplomat. Now everyone can see what kind of leader she chooses to be, and her choice of whether or not to pursue vengeance over her fallen friend has already come and gone. The anticipation was getting to me, so I simply hurried things along. Things go much more smoothly when we face the same way instead of inwards, yes?”

“You,” he paused for a moment, the words not finding him despite his searching, he settled for a shake of his chuckling head, “You’re a fucking madman.”

He pushed Zaveed lightly and his chuckle became a full laugh, the sound of relief and bewilderment abound in it, “You and your fucking gambits, you ass.” He shook his head, “Don’t be a fucking romantic like that in the prison if we see somebody else we put away.”

Zaveed rapped his knuckles on Sevari’s chest. “It runs in the family, don’t you know?” he grinned and offered a wink. “You should have accompanied me on the Wrath, brother. You’d be absolutely maddened trying to figure out how I’ve grown into such a distinguished gentlemen. Besides,” Zaveed slumped down on a crate, his legs feeling weary all of a sudden. “Daro’Vasora does not have the eyes of a killer. It wasn’t as much of a gamble as you’d think, but she was given all of the power in the situation… and one of my sidearms.” he sighed. “That was my favorite one.”

The Breton, despite being so small, could really make her footsteps heard, and she did just that as she pounded her way over the stone to the place the two Khajiit sat. “What in the ever living fuck just happened?” she asked, an out of character use of colourful language for her. Her hands instinctively found their way to her hips and her foot began tapping on the floor impatiently. “What did you do to incense Latro?” She shot as lofty a glower as she could at Zaveed, before snapping her head to look at Sevari, tearing a hand away from her hip to point at him, “don’t you dare laugh either.”

Sevari’s smile had vanished as quickly as Raelynn’s foot taps. He held his hands up and took a step back as Raelynn acknowledged him. As it stood, he had no plans of laughing now.

“Oh, nothing too elaborate. I just forced Daro’Vasora to hold one of my guns to my head and make an executive decision of whether or not my blood would sate her hatred, lest I let this wound fester and this entire rescue plot burns up like some pisspot Nord village after a dragon’s been through. Crisis resolved; we all live, and no heart-wrenching betrayal haunts us when it’s much harder to dispose of a body properly. Other than that, is laughter between family so wrong?” Zaveed said impishly, regarding his claws with sudden interest.

“Is this a joke?” she asked, blinking in disbelief, running her lower lip through her teeth as an attempt to hold her tongue to stop a verbal barrage from flying from her face. All she could do was shake her head and tsk through gritted teeth. “I can’t believe you… After what we spoke about last night.”

“You forced her to make a decision whether or not to kill you in front of her friends?” She puffed a breath from her nose indignantly, volume increasing, and suddenly felt as though she needed to sit down. “I saved your life…” she said, stressing every word. “So what? So that you could go and gamble it away like that? Do you think this is a game?”

“No joke, no game. Just a gamble, just like waiting for a group of people to catch up with our wagon that I was certain were going to try and murder me upon contact.” Zaveed replied, regarding Raelynn steadily. “Words weren’t going to get through to her, and if we’re going to do this little job we’ve mutually agreed upon without distrust buggering it all to the Deadlands, then we needed to put this mutually murderous bit of escapades aside in an expedient manner. I knew she probably wasn’t going to go through with it, but if that was the cost for taking a life that was dear to her, then so be it.” Zaveed said, regarding Raelynn steadily.

“People are going to get hurt on this path, you know this. I know this. I’d just rather put this air of mutual loathing and distrust to bed so instead of wondering how many knives are going to be sticking out of me come morning, I can focus on wondering how many knives I can stick in some Dwemer bastard’s smug face before fate eventually decides I’ve had my fill of shitty deeds.”

“Why are you being this way…?” she breathed, face falling to a frown. “You didn’t think it might be the slightest bit traumatic for her to be asked, by you, whether someone lives or dies? Regardless of who it was - you didn’t stop to think that might remind her of something horrible?” All of a sudden her posture softened as she turned around to see who was and wasn’t watching, she felt her heart beating and chest tightening. “Stop talking to me like this… Like you’re so omniscient. Just stop it… Ripples Zaveed, ripples…” she began shaking her head in disappointment at him, the anger had left her body and it showed. She was just deflated now. Deflated and embarrassed for adding to the scene with her shouting.

“Raelynn…” Zaveed said quietly, stepping towards her. “She’s going to have to make these kinds of decisions, regardless of whether or not she feels she is ready for them. Everyone will, because that is the cost of pursuing this thread. Life and death, the very thing you held in your hand with my own; you had chosen at first to drive my own dagger into my heart, but you stopped yourself because you made the same choice she just did.”

The Khajiit sighed, crossing his arms. “Look, I’m not all knowing, I just know that I’m a man who’s done some pretty shitty things who’s had to make tough calls, like this. She made a choice; she chose to move past her grievances. Next time I go to talk to her, I know we won’t be expecting hostile intent. I have ideas, experience, skills… all of which can help us.” he grunted, exasperated, “But I can’t be of help if no one bloody well gives me a chance. Doing this, I stripped myself of only being a monster in her eyes, like a dog exposing his throat to show submission. Maybe we can all move forward now.”

“No,” her finger came up to her chest height and she pointed at him, taking steps back as he stepped forward to her. “I would have helped you to talk to her… You showed me something last night that was different. I tell you change doesn’t happen overnight and you force a scenario like that… Maybe you’re right - but I will never understand you…” came the voice as a low growl, ferocious and protective.

“Perhaps you are right, Raelynn. Perhaps you know a better way. Perhaps, if we had time…” Zaveed said, trailing off. “Maybe I just think I deserved the other outcome. I suppose that’s what this boils down to; I’ll never be able to repent who I was, and no one’s ever going to believe I can change, so I have something to prove, and if not… well, Sevari will move on and Sirine will get her brother back in the end, regardless. I’m sorry I’m not the man you thought I was.”

With a nod, Zaveed went to collect his discarded weapons and began to strap them back to his frame.

“I believed you could.” Raelynn tucked a strand of her hair that had shaken loose in the scuffle. She looked in his direction, daring him to look her in the eye and see her disappointment for himself that was sitting as a tear ready to fall. “Now I’m the fool.”

He didn't turn, not yet. “You know, I still go to sleep and hear the deafening sounds of my ship being torn apart, men and women screaming before they were crushed or drowned. People I've known for decades… just gone. I never gave up after that, but I never stopped feeling like I didn't deserve to be here in the end, the only one standing on the graves of my family.” the Khajiit explained, finally turning to face Raelynn, his face registering surprise at the tears welling in her eyes. He looked away again, feeling a crushing guilt. “I just follow the path I know, and it is hard to leave it. I never expected you to shed tears for me.” he admitted, the pit in his gut swelling.

“Fuck that.” Sevari said, shaking his head while lighting his cigar, “I liked a few of them. Hell, I fucked one a lot and I liked her and we talked about our dreams and what we wanted from life. But we’re alive. We’re trying to be better men, we’ll keep trying. Do it for them, the ones who never got to retire after the big score.”

“I poured a lot of wine and mead and whiskey over the ground and said a lot of words over the graves of the bastards I ran with before I came to you.” He huffed, “The ones who lived, who weren’t hanged or jailed, we were going to live for them because that’s what they would’ve wanted. Do the same.”

“Do it for your fucking brother, at least.” Sevari spoke through the smoke. “The one who’s trying to be a better one to you. If I could go back, I’d trade that forty-thousand and forget all about the Thalmor, just show up at that tavern to see Zaveed, not Captain Greywake. I’d be Sevari, not Savian Kastav. We’d just be brothers.”

“What a bloody waste of good booze.” Zaveed lamented with a pained smile. “I guess we cannot linger on what might have been, yes? Even so, going down with the ship wasn’t good enough. It truly was the best time of my life the past few years…” he shook his head, standing upright, his posture less sure, his shoulders slumped. “I’ll get over myself and continue being the easy to despise villain before long, it’s just tiresome. I think I shall retire to my bedroll and gather my strength, it has been an exceedingly long life of late.”

Raelynn’s eyes had flicked between the two of them as they spoke. Theirs was a strange relationship, with parts of their history they would never share and she would never know. The others would never know. Zaveed’s confession lay heavily on her. She’d been there in the very same shoes only recently. Devoid of hopes and her future unclear - but now it was clear as day. She took in a deep breath, and strode back to the two Khajiit men, her tears gone, a little anger still sitting in her stomach, but somethine else sat beside it. This was the small ripple she could make. “Gods be damned…” she muttered tersely.

She met Zaveed and wrapped her arms around him tightly, there was no brushing of her hands or any real movement of comfort, she just knew he needed to be held, and held with as much force as she could gather in her small frame.

The sudden embrace caught Zaveed off guard, and he had to step back a pace to retain his balance. A sob escaped his throat as he returned the gesture, holding her in his arms and wondering how long it had been since he’d really had someone do something as simple but supportive as this. His arms wrapped around her, his chin burying itself in her neck. “Thank you.” he whispered. His body shook, but for the first time in so long, he felt safe.

“Don’t thank me,” she whispered, “do better.” She loosened her grip, and stepped back from the Khajiit, her eyes darting to Sevari where she gave him a gentle nod. “We have a job to do, so pull yourself together, Captain Greywake.” She said it in a harsh tone, but there was something there that suggested an attempt to cheer him up. After that, she turned on her heel and made her way back to her work, thoughts running through her mind thick and fast. Her normally gentle feet stomped against the ground under the weight of it all.

Zaveed sunk down into a crouch, cupping his hands over his mouth as he watched her go. She was right, after all; there was a job to attend to, and he couldn’t see it through if he got caught up in silly sentimentality. He took a few moments to collect himself and purge his uncertainty, as he’d done so many times before, and soon he stood, cracking his neck and loosening up his muscles. Turning to Sevari, he nodded. “Well, that was humiliating.” he said with a wink, his usual charm and bravado back. “I’m going to go fight my own shadow, but you’re welcome to join me if you wish to have an axe swung at you a few times and call it ‘training’.”

---

“Can you believe that asshole?” Daro’Vasora exclaimed suddenly when they reached the edge of the encampment, away from prying ears. She still held the pistol in her hand, like it refused to leave her grip. She looked at it with a mixture of curiosity and distaste, and her mind kept racing over the small fact that she nearly made the decision to murder a man in cold blood. She tried, and failed, to keep her hands from shaking and the weight of it all.

“I’m okay; it’s just, fuck.” she managed, meeting Latro’s gaze.

“Should’ve given that thing to me.” He growled, “I’d have given us some peace.”

He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. Mazrah had talked about anchors, and he opened his eyes to his lover, a somewhat easy smile returning to him. “We’ll be through with this. Maybe we’ll part ways with them once we get done with the prison.” He placed a reassuring hand on Sora’s shoulder, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I’m a good man for you, Sora. One thorn in our side can’t erase the fact we have good people here with us. Don’t miss the forest for the leaf.” He smiled.

She pulled closer to him, burying her face in his chest. “You already are, Latro. You’re struggling with something that’s outside of your control right now, but I’m not going anywhere.” Daro’Vasora said, squeezing him tightly. “I never realized you had such a mean right hook, though. Always full of surprises.”

“Turns out I don’t just punch Falmer for you.” He smiled, squeezing her a bit tighter, “What can I do to make you feel better?”

That earned a laugh. “That’s it, that’s the secret. I’ll just have you punch everything that gets in my way, a mighty weapon without equal to end all wars. Latro, the second Numidium.” the Khajiit smiled, feeling comfort in Latro’s embrace, his warmth a reassuring presence. She sighed contentedly, grateful for the distraction. “This… this is nice. You’re doing plenty already.”

She stayed like that, letting the moments wash over her. Still, Daro’Vasora couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d almost crossed a terrible line. “Latro… I almost did it. I was so close to killing Zaveed, I didn’t hesitate and then I saw you and I remembered how I felt when you… when Pale-feather got out.”

He let go a long breath, “I’m sorry.” He said, voice quiet, “It won’t happen again. Mazrah says she can help me.”

He pulled back a bit to look his lover in the eyes, “But just say the word.” He whispered, “I won’t let him harass you like that. You are far more important to me than Sevari’s friendship.”

“Sevari…” Daro’Vasora said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay. I know. I’ll be fine, I just want you to know that I think I have more of a window into what you must be going through. We’ll figure this out together, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sevari?” He asked, pulling away from her to look at her quizzically, “Why’d you say it like that?”

“Did I make a mistake, Latro?” she asked. “Why are they here?”

Latro looked away from her and thought about that. “You?” He said, “Us. We decided to let them be here. We just need to deal with the…” He paused, chewing his lip. He didn’t want to make it seem like it was a horrid decision to bring them along, “the circumstances that our choice brought.”

“I’ll be here, right beside you.” He squeezed one of Sora’s arms reassuringly.

She placed a hand on top of his, her eyes pleading. “I know you will. I'm just so damn tired of everything that our choices seem to bring. Everything from the first Dwemer ruins to coming to Hammerfell, and now we're going into another set of ruins to muck about with the same device that started all of this…” she murmured, closing her eyes and placing her forehead against Latro's chest. “I'm just so tired of losing everything.”

“I know, my love,” he said, giving her his easy smile. He knew she never forgave herself for letting Rhea activate the device that set all of this in motion. It had been a point of contention for them soon after they survived it. He wouldn’t let it be a point of contention now, “I know. But we have no other choice but to keep going forward.”

He remembered the bodies in the street. Women, children, pets, anything that lived. The Dwemer had swept down like a force of nature. And he could still feel the pain and loss of those thousands of souls lost there amongst the bloodied gutters. He shook his head and sighed, “We were there, Sora. We owe it to the Imperial City, all the souls there, to keep going forward.”

“I know. It's why I'm here. I could have left, I was so damn close, but I stayed.” she said, recalling Rhea's face in her final moments. “I wanted nothing more than revenge, then to run when it seemed hopeless, then I tried to give everyone a chance to start fresh away from the war and led them right to the thick of a much more personal one. It's not the necessity of what we are doing, it's how I'm doing it.” she explained quietly.

“I don't know why everyone looks to me, why they risked their lives for me. I've been disloyal, arrogant. I'm someone that has spent her entire life looking after herself and the prospect of trying to do the same for others is daunting.” Daro'Vasora reached up to Latro's face, searching his eyes for answers. “What if I'm wrong?”

Latro grunted at that, at first not knowing what to say. He didn’t know the first thing about leading people, but he did know what Francis had once said, and he spoke it to Sora in turn, “Leadership,” he started, gathering strength to start again with some confidence. Fitting, given the words to be said, “Leadership, Sora, it isn’t about being right or wrong. Leadership is about being sure.”

“These people trust you, I trust you. It sounds disingenuous, it sounds like a charlatan’s deed, but a leader sometimes only has hope and luck on their side.” He tried to give her his easy smile, “Hope and luck is how I’ve stayed alive long enough to meet you. It’s how we got you back from the Palace. You have to believe you can before you do.”

He hugged her once more, planting a kiss on her forehead, “And I already believe you can,” he gave her his easy smile, “I’ll be beside you through everything this life throws in our way, my bluebird.”

A warmth permeated Daro'Vasora's chest and she placed a balled fist over Latro's heart. “Hope and luck. I think I might know a thing or two about that.” she said with a warm smile, leaning up to peck the Reachman's cheek. “I think this bluebird name is starting to stick. I guess it's up to us to open the birdcage for the rest of the flock.”

She looked to the group, gathered around in their small factions, a vulnerable village built on hopes, luck, and dreams. They were putting it all aside to do what they knew in their hearts to be right.

“Thank you, for being the star that guides my way.” she said, taking Latro's hand in her. “Let's go do something worthy of song. Together.”