MacabreFox

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

I’ll get to work updating my sheets, and I’ll post them over here when completed for you to revise and approve.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

<Snipped quote by MacabreFox>

Thanks!

I've added some edits here and there which I hope covers all of your points. The Gold thing, yeah pretty much I've made it less specific in the sheet.

<Snipped quote by Stormflyx>

@Stormflyx

Much better! You have my seal of approval on this. We just need approval from our fiercely fearsome Lord Commander @Dervish!

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Familiar Dangers and a Cowardly Flight

---

The second day in the Imperial City, Brynja continued on in her stupor and antics. After the previous night of arm wrestling at The Merchant’s Inn, an even larger crowd gathered for the next evening. While she felt sluggish, a contributing factor to all the many pitchers of ale she downed, she pulled herself out of it with a hot meal from Cassius. As she shoveled spoonful after spoonful of piping hot cabbage stew into her mouth, Cassius placed a small purse on the counter before her. She raised her eyebrows at the sight, unsure what he intended.

“This is for you. I had Danica help me count the coin from last night, and well, I thought I’d be doing you a disservice for all of the new patrons you brought in last night. Here. It’s small, but I hope it helps you on your travels, wherever you go hereafter.” Cassius watched as Brynja set aside her spoon, glanced between and the pouch before he nodded at her to take it. She reached for the purse, still expecting Cassius to laugh in her face and snatch it away. Yet when that didn’t happen, she claimed the pouch and opened it.

“Cassius-” Her eyes widened at the glittering septims inside, a hard lump forming in her throat.

“Like I said, it’s nothing much. 100 septims. Should be enough to get you a room, and some hot meals wherever you go.” He put one hand on his hip and let out a guffaw.

“I tell you! I’ve never seen a woman drink so much ale, I have to admit, you did make a good wager. Out of all the liquor, wine, and beer everyone drank last night, yours was a small percentage. I’ll leave you to it, I need Danica’s help with cleaning this place up, and I can’t find where that silly girl has run off too.” He grumbled, turning away before Brynja had a chance to say another word. She sat there, glancing between the cabbage stew and the pouch full of coins. Divines be praised, she had never had such good luck all in one day. She swallowed hard, trying to fight off the lump in her throat.

---

26th of Rain’s Hand

I have avoided writing in this journal for many a day, and for that, I am at fault. These days, the quill weighs as heavy as my own sword. Even now, each pen stroke is tiresome. My last entry was the last day in camp before we descended into the depths of a mortifying Dwemer hell. I have little idea where to start, so it is best to be blunt. Those who did not join us in our underground endeavours, have perished. We few, those who delved into the abyss, are the sole survivors. Rhea, Gaius, Balroth, Alim, Judena, Solandil, Durantel, Anifaire, Latro, Daro’Vasora, Megana, and I, are all who survived. I am weighed with a heaviness, call it not by guilt, but perhaps the word petrified suits the need.
I fear. I fear what will arise from this travesty. I am not afraid to admit that I wish it would all disappear. That I had never taken this contract, and that I was still on the roads in Skyrim. Then again, this event would still have transpired regardless if I had not penned my name on that line. And those lives would still be lost. I can only imagine how Rhea herself feels. After all, she hired every person, and brought them to that camp. I should not dwell on these thoughts much longer, lest I turn to the bottle too early in the day.

On another matter, I have not addressed the company I kept while in the Jerrall Mountains. The first that comes to mind is Daro’Vasora. What a cat. She plays with hearts as if it were that, a simple game. Zegol, her mentor, is an endearingly kind Orsimer, and were it not for my oafish behaviours, perhaps I would have enjoyed a chat with the man on the peculiar items in his store. Alas, my wounded pride got the best of me. I am still at fault for facing those I have injured. And Daro’Vasora did not play into my request to deliver those flowers to him. The expression on her face alone, drove a dagger straight through me.

Nevertheless, there is the case of Latro. The pale Breton with raven-black hair. I can see why the ladies would find him attractive. And I have no shame in admitting that myself. He did extend an invitation to me on the first night of my contest here at the inn. He opened the possibility for me to travel with him. Though, I am not sure how he would handle a woman like myself with a pitiful habit of turning to the bottle whenever possible.

Then, there is the independent Megana, a fellow sister from our homeland. I insist on calling her by her full name, since she has yet to correct me. Although the same cannot be said for poor Judena, our sole Argonian companion. She is touched with what seems to be a case of shortened memories, making it near impossible for her to recall the names of those newly met, lest she records each encounter in her logbook.

Ah, before I forget, as if I could, there are the three Altmers, each more different than the last. The first is the fragile, and seemingly dainty Anifaire. Durantel, an old codger who is defiantly set in his ways, and certainly his prejudices against all Men and Beast, save for his own kin. I find him particularly draining to listen to, though he is not inefficient as he would seem. And the last to mention is Solandil. As with Latro, I find him easy on the eyes, despite the looks he garners from others. It cannot be helped, with skin so pale, it is like me with my height. None can help but look. Though I am quite certain, after my lousy experiences with love, that someone like me with such manners would ever acquire attention from such men in general. I enjoy being alone, but being lonely is… well, a terrible feeling.

There is Gaius, and Balroth, who have served in the Legion together, though I cannot say if they were ever in one another’s company during the war. Nevertheless, they are seasoned warriors, and for that I can both appreciate and admire.

Lastly, there is Alim. While he bears many commonplace features found in Redguards, he revealed to me that he is also half Breton, an attribute Latro and him share. He possesses an endearing personality for the most part, though I would not trust him with my ale. I still have the foggiest idea how I received with an extra seven pitchers of ale that first night here, though I have a hunch he had a part to play.

For now, that is all. May these future days be filled with light.

By the third day, as promised, Brynja readied herself after a hot bath. She figured she’d best cleanse herself of the putrid smells that clung to her, sweat, alcohol, and bile. Not that it was her who had become sick, rather the contenders from last night. Her joints sang to the high heavens as she eased herself into the hot bath. For once, she skipped her armor, and decided to sport her leathers for the day. She saw no need to wear the heavy plate armor to a dinner party. Once she had readied herself for the day, Brynja decided to set out for Rhea’s manor. She had a hunch that she would become lost several times on the way over, so she thought it best to leave early in case that were to happen.

By high noon, she had indeed become lost. She had passed through the Market district several times, even though she had started off within the same place. There were far too many alleyways and side streets. As she settled into the square for a brief rest, she spotted the familiar dark hair of their leader, Rhea. She rose to her feet, elated that she would be able to find her way out with her guidance. And that was when...darkness fell. Like a wave cresting on the shoreline, a cool air turned many heads to the heavens. A wave of whispers, cries, and panicked voices rang out as the compelling sight of ships with wings floated overhead. She swore under her breath. Of all days! Brynja was certain that these ships belonged to the Dwemer, after all the mountain had blown up because of Dwemer designs. She scanned the area as people began to flee in terror. She should have done so as well, except for the fact that she was unarmed, and barren in terms of protection. Brynja was vulnerable.

Her eyes located familiar landmarks, and soon found herself bursting through the door to The Merchants Inn. Cassius was nowhere in sight, except for Danica behind the counter. Upon her entrance, the young barmaid raised her eyes at the sight of the towering Nord woman looming in the doorway.

“You must leave!” She shouted, not wasting a minute to spare.

“Why?” Danica asked, her brows knitting together. Surely, Brynja had drank one too many mugs of ale this morning for her to act so boldly.

“Don’t patronize me girl, there are fucking ships in the sky! Where is Cassius?” She demanded, making her way to the bar.

“He went to the docks to pick up some more flour. What do you mean ships in the sky?”

“For fucks sake.” She swore under her breath, “Listen. Whatever is floating in the sky can’t mean anything good. There are giant fuck off ships with wings in the skies over the city. The skies are dark as if this is the end of days. Go! Go home, and leave the city with your folks. This can only mean death for those who stay.” She abandoned Danica, and made her way up the stairs to her room. Never in her life had she slung on her armor as quickly as she did this day.

When she entered the lower part of the tavern, Danica was nowhere to be found. Good. With her rucksack fashioned over her broad shoulders, and her longsword clenched between her hands, Brynja emerged into the district to see a sight of horrors.

Three ships floated down, landing across the city. She swore again, the large crowd of people that once stood with mouths agape turned towards the heavens thinned dramatically. In an unfamiliar city, with her sense of direction robbed, Brynja knew she had to escape no matter what. She looked for the wooden sign posts, the horns and bells chiming echoing throughout the expansive citadel. By the braying sounds of call to arms, she could hear over the ruckus, the steady drum of soldiers rushing towards the ships in streets she couldn’t see. Following the tail end of citizens coursing through the paved streets, Brynja rounded a corner to see Legionnaires engaged in combat with an all too familiar Dwemer automata. She recognized the spheres and spiders that scuttled past, and headed for the citizens. She didn’t have time to understand what was fully happening, all she could see were the gleaming Dwemer metal, even in such dim lighting, figures that towered over the Legionnaires and made short work of them. The blood drained from her limbs, the longsword in her hand weighing heavier than she remembered.

‘Fuck this.’, she thought. Brynja turned tail and raced, shoving anyone over in her path. Now was not the time to play victor.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

@Stormflyx I’ve finished my review for Raelynn.

Review

Ok so here’s my thoughts:

It feels like there is a lot of potential here for a foundation of a character

However, it’s also lacking.

Her parents are listed, but not particularly mentioned? I’d like to see some more of her family background fleshed out.

Also, if she was given an ultimatum to marry someone or be cut off, surely there had to be a reason why they would go to such a severe measure? Was she stubborn and rebellious as a child? Did her parents not want for her to remain at home and siphon off their gold?

What exactly did her family pursue financially as a means to support themselves since they were so wealthy?

There’s also a hint at her adventures in the bio but there are no examples given to show us how she responded when faced with situations, except for the burnt body dragon encounters? It would help if you could give more accounts of her adventures.

She describes her personality as being sweet when meeting people, and then more harsh when people get to know her better. Was she always like this, even as a child? Or did she develop this after a certain encounter?

Also, I’d like to see her time at the College of Winterhold expanded upon since she lists Collette as a teacher/mentor. Did she choose to mentor her because she showed great potential? Or was it some underlying factor or event?

That’s about all I’ve got! The description and personality were thorough and gave an insight to her as a person. I did have one buff as to how she “always” has 250 gold on her, that’s pretty specific. Is that just because of the limit we set?

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

@Lemons Feel free to join us here: piratepad.net/wW2AqNGEld

It’s a big ol’ collab at the bar! I can have Brynja reply to Gaius :)

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Just thought I add, I’m open to collabs with Brynja, so lemme know if you’d like to do one!

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

I did a thing!

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Another Round

The Merchants Inn

The smoky scent of burning wood filled the Merchants Inn, while the din of glasses clinking and patrons conversing provided a cozy atmosphere. Most of the patrons were day workers enjoying the end of their day. This was the kind of tavern that Brynja could enjoy. The only piece missing was the sound of music provided by a self-proclaimed bard. She settled down onto a barstool at the counter, still sporting her armor. Her joints cried in protest at the weight of the steel, but she ignored it, she was accustomed to the pain, and to her it was more of a nuance than a concern.

The barkeep, an Imperial man with a crown of thinning grey hair, sidled up to her behind the counter, placing an empty mug before her where he then rested his elbows on the wooden countertop. “What can I get for you?”

“Have you any Nord Ale?” She asked, aching for a taste of home.

“Ah. I do, but I’d recommend our home brew. It’s made right here in the tavern, it’s called the Imperial Crown Ale, a favorite amongst the locals. It has a nice amber color, with a tart sweetness to remind you of the summer to come. Earlier this week it was voted as favorite ale of the year in Cyrodiil by the Black Horse Courier.” He said, a hint of pride in his words.

“I’ll take a mug then.” She nodded, Brynja was open to trying new types of alcohol, though she wasn’t picky by any means.

The barkeep grabbed the empty vessel, and brought her a mug full of Imperial Crown Ale, and moved on to make his rounds to those in need of a drink. It was on her second drink, and dangerously close on running out of coin, that she caught the barkeep’s attention. She uncovered his name to be Cassius after some idle pleasantries.

“Cassius, how’s business been?” She asked, an idea brewing in her head, her hand swirling the amber colored liquid around in the mug. He had been right, the ale was delicious. And it certainly reminded her of summer.

“It’s been slower than I’d like, to be honest. Why do you ask?” He asked, one brow lifting in a quizzical manner.

“Well Cassius… how about you help me out if I help you out?” She kept her face expressionless, she wanted him to take her seriously.

“What are you thinking?” He asked after a pause.

“I could draw in a crowd, if you give me room for two nights, and free drinks.” She watched as his eyes broke from her gaze, drifting to stare at a knot in the counter.

“That’d be a lot of coin I’d be missing out on.” He said after a few uninterrupted seconds of silence, Cassius shifted his gaze to her.

“I guarantee you’ll make more than what I consume.” Brynja pushed the mug away from her, hoping to show that she meant business.

“What do you propose?” He asked with a nod of his head.

“Have an open challenge available to patrons. An arm wrestling-drinking contest. Each participant chugs a drink of their choice, and then engages in an arm wrestling match with me. Charge them for their beverages, keep mine free, but charge them an entrance fee. There is no prize, save for beating me which comes with boasting rights, of course. I’ll wear my armor as you see me now, even the helm, it’ll be a nice show.” Now Brynja offered a half smile, this wasn’t her first time doing such a thing like this, although in Skyrim, it was rowdy drunks trying to challenge her to an arm wrestling contest while inebriated. This time, she was the one asking. Part of her thoughts flickered to Daro’Vasora’s words on her frivolous spending. Well, she might only have eight septims left, but Gods be damned, she’d find a way to get herself another drink.

“And in return?” Cassius’ tone indicated that he wanted to know what she was interested in getting out of an offer like that.

“In return, you give me two days worth of room and board, and free beverages if I ask. Trust me, I’ve done it several times in Skyrim. Even killed a man in a drinking contest. Though to be fair, he died in his sleep later that night, not at the table.” The half-smile had disappeared from her lips. There were other rumors she had heard about herself from drunken men and women in the taverns of Skyrim. Several apparently thought she slept with bears, for whatever reason.

“By the Eight.” Cassius whistled at her tale, “Well I tell you what. I’ll take a gamble on it. I could really use the boost in business here.” He turned his back to her, fumbling in a lock box before procuring a cast iron key. “Its the room on the first floor, end of the hall, last door on the right.”

“Thank you. If you put the word out to those in here, I’ll be ready in a few moments.” Brynja said, a bit relieved the barkeep decided to take her up on the offer. She had free room and board for the next two days, along with free alcohol. What more could she want? First thing on her list, a hot bath.

One hour later…

After soaking in the wooden basin in her room, Brynja replaced her full suit of steel armor, and made her way back out to the tavern. She could see heads turn as she emerged from the darkened hallway, Cassius had done a good job on getting the word out about the contest. A table in the center of the room had been cleared, two mugs, a pitcher of ale, and an expecting participant waited for her. As promised, she even wore her helm.

Cassius spotted her, and came around the bar to approach her, “Look at you. You look like one of the first Nords to land with Ysgramor. I’ve put word out that they would be arm wrestling a Daughter of Skyrim, a warrior that goes by the name of Brynja the Giant. Now, you have your first contestant. He’s about two drinks deep. But don’t go killing anyone tonight.” He said in a hushed voice. She could see he was excited to see how this would play out, the only thing he was really losing money on would be the alcohol she consumed, and the pay for a room.

“Good. Good. How much are you charging for the entrance fee?” She asked, Brynja didn’t want him to lose out on earning coin after all.

“20 septims to take on the mighty Brynja the Giant. There’s even a sign outside. This is the busiest I’ve seen this place in about a month! Go on now.” He gave her a gentle push on the arm to get her going. Not that she needed much persuasion.

Brynja moved with a heavy, lumbering gait, the sound of her footsteps drew the attention of even more people. She wanted to instill a bit of fear in her first contestant, and those that thought they could defeat her. The man seated at the table was a Breton, his face red from the alcohol. He was a small man, somewhat older, perhaps in his late thirties to early forties. He was lean, with scraggly brown hair. She smiled. This would be fun.

She settled down into the chair across from him, and uttered not a word. His nose shriveled up in distaste at the sight of her, to those taking interest, Brynja looked like a wall of steel. Immovable. She proceeded to fill her mug with ale from the pitcher. Then, she downed the drink in one go.

“You don’t look so scary like Cassius made you out to be, Nord. Here I was expecting an actual giant from the land of Skyrim.”

She would rely on fear in this contest, what could be more intimidating than facing off against a woman of her size, silent, and dressed in full steel, unable to discern her expression. True, a large portion of her face was revealed, but it was her eyebrows that often gave away her true feelings, and with those covered by the steel helm, she had a damn good chance of instilling fear in her opponents. She said nothing, only laying her arm out across the table, hand extended upright, ready to begin.

“Ha, the silent type eh?” He gave a short laugh before joining hands, their forearms crossed. “No matter. I’ll make you regret going against me.”

‘Mighty words for a man so small.’, she mused. With a solemn nod, the fight commenced.

She let the Breton to engage first, why waste strength when she could use it when needed? She almost laughed as the man put his weight into his arm, trying to force her hand down. That was one of the benefits after serving Rorik, countless years spent wearing armor and fulfilling quests from the Jarl had toughened her body. Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she struggled not to laugh. The man grunted as he strained in desperation against her, his arm looked pitifully small in her hand. There was no sense in robbing a man of his dignity. She pushed his arm down against the table, as if she were slicing butter. The man scowled as she released his arm, a look of humility as he realized he had overestimated himself.

“A fair game.” Brynja said, she gestured to the barmaid to fill the pitcher, as the Breton left to nurse his injured pride, another contestant took a seat in the empty chair across from her.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Just an update on my post for Brynja. I’ll be home today, and I’ll be able to finish it up, but I’ll hold off on posting until you guys have gotten a couple posts in :)

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Breaking Things

A collab by @Dervish and I

3 Hours Later…
The sheer size of the Imperial City frustrated Brynja, she had taken a wrong turn somewhere along the line, and after help from several locals, she ended up in the market district. It was unlike anything she had experienced, there were so many people, of all races, wandering through the streets. Hell, she had even seen a handful of Nords. Though none of the citizens paid much attention to her, except for the occasional gawker, perhaps they thought her another contender in the Arena? She certainly looked the part, she hadn’t the place to relieve herself of her armor, so she stuck to wearing it.

Her brow was slick with sweat as she tried to navigate around the daily hustle and bustle, on one occasion, she elicited a yell from a carriage driver as she had strolled blindly into the horses path. To say the least, her nerves were frayed from the overwhelming sensations of such a lively city. She had tasked herself with replacing some of the items destroyed in the flight from the mountains. Her journal for one, was completely waterlogged, her inkpot destroyed, and her quill snapped in half. And that was just half the problem. Her potion bottles were shattered, and all of her alchemical ingredients had been saturated with a mixture of ink and water. A complete mess.

On her search, Brynja caught the attention of a gaping child, a little Dunmer girl. She could feel the child’s eyes on her back, gawking at her sheer size surely, when she turned to face her. She had to admit it, she was hopelessly lost. “Little girl.”

Her crimson eyes widened, as if she were caught stealing.

“Can you tell me where I can find some potion bottles?”

“Ah… there’s a shop, down yonder, with a big wooden sign. It’s got two large C’s carved into it.” A flash of a smile crosses her face before she turned and ran off.

“Bloody kids.” Brynja grumbled as she trudged off.

Sure enough, a wooden sign depicting two engraved C’s with the words Curious Curios scrawled in an elegant script caught her attention as it hung above a storefront. Uncertain if she had found the right place, Brynja decided to give it a shot, and opened the door. She crossed the threshold into a dimly lit room, where she stood with a profound look of confusion splayed across her features. Her eyes blinking fast to adjust to the glow of oil lamps.

A number of mounted oils lamps fixated on varnished wood beams, each were carved into cylindrical shapes with flat ends for the lanterns and other objects to be mounted for display. Along the southern walls, oval windows let in a decent amount of light, the glass divided into green and clear checkers between iron struts that formed a cross-hatched diamond shape. The floors were hardwood, and someone very clearly cared about how clean they were kept, and despite some obvious wear, they had a sheen like they were varnished every few years.

The north wall that lead to a backroom behind a door, and a spiral stairwell were roped off, more of a polite deterrent for curious visitors than something meant to act as a barrier. A well-stocked bookshelf took up most of the free space, filled with a mix of books and smaller display items like stones, inexpensive jewelry, skulls, common decorative bits found in tombs and ruins, pieces from dwemer automata such as gears and struts, and baskets filled with soul gems. More expensive pieces, such as swords and more rare artifacts, were kept in locked glass cases of thick glass and wood that was stained black. Across the floor, all manner of other things were kept, such as a large globe, a map case, an assortment of calipers, alchemy tools, gemstones, and more impressively, a complete cave bear skeleton and a woodland troll skeleton; a pair of mammoth tusks, a trio of varla stones in authentic Ayleid pedestals, and an assortment of welkynd stones, giving off lighting where the torches did not reach. All in all, it was an impressively kept shop.

Out of the back room came an orismer man, standing only slightly taller than Brynja. His chin had a grey-black beard that was braided with care, matching the ponytail he wore proudly atop his head. Both of his tusks had ornate rings about them and he was adorned in a forest-green tunic and dark brown trousers with ankle-high boots to match. He carried himself with a straight back and purposeful posture, a man of refinement. However, a pair of curious and welcoming emerald eyes peered out under bushy eyebrows, he looked up from a book he had been carrying with him with one hand, taking notice of his new visitor.

“Why, greetings! You are a new face, welcome to Curious Curios, where the wonders of the world end up for fine folk like yourself to lose yourself in. May I be of assistance?” he asked, a polite refinement to his voice, hinting at a respectable upbringing.

“Oh… uh… hello. Yes. I was told I could find some potion bottles here? But…” as her eyes adjusted to the lighting, she could see, that once again, she had perhaps walked into the wrong store. Her gaze shifted to take in the items on display, trying to locate what she sought.

“I think I might be lost…” She said through a terse sigh, “Unless you happen to have some glass bottles I can use for holding potions in?”

“Almost all of the bottles you’ll find here are somewhat antiquities at this point, my dear.” The orc replied politely, walking over to guide Bryna to the shelves where some of the glassware were displayed.

“Not to say that some of it wouldn’t suit your purposes, mind you, but there’s some history to most of what we have in stock, or generally just ornate craftsmanship. If you were planning on keeping them in your abode and for gentle use, I would think they would suit your needs and give a fine second life to them, but if you are planning on going out on rough and tumble adventures, I would recommend a proper alchemy shop. There’s a few within a ten minute walking distance around the Market district, although I would highly recommend Reginald’s Reagents and Supplies to the north. He seems to be a bit more fair minded when it comes to budgetary concerns, and he carries a fine stock, although not as much in the way of specialty items.”

Brynja had followed the orc over to the shelf, and took to admiring the ornate bottles. Too bad, if she weren’t traveling, she might have bought one of the bottles before her. They were, in her mind’s eye, what looked to be captured essences of the stars worked into glass, truly a marvelous work of craftsmanship. There were some bottles with red and green hues, while others appeared in curious shades of blue and deep purple. Others were clear, or amber colored, and came in all shapes and sizes. With a heavy hearted sigh, she turned to the orc, “Well thank you for your help, sir. If I weren’t on the road, I’d surely buy one of these bottles.” Or if she had a home to store it in at that, she thought bitterly.

Just as she turned away from the shelf, she felt her rucksack catch on something, and the sharp sound of glass breaking froze her to the spot. Her face turned crimson at the sound, not the first time in her life that her size had been a factor in knocking things over. “Oh Gods be damned!” She hissed.
“I’m terribly sorry, let me pay you for the…” She turned then to look at what it was she had broken. A small amber bottle with a long neck, with a carved topper in the shape of a flower lay shattered on the immaculate floors. It certainly looked expensive. “...bottle.” She finished, a hard lump forming in her throat.

The orc simply closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. Within moments, his composure was back to normal, and he gently guided Brynja away from the site. “If you would, please remove and carry your pack while in the store. I would be amiss if I didn’t say I’ve done something similar on more than one occasion. It’s a shame, I was rather fond of that piece, it is-”

“A perfume jar dating back to the early 3rd Era, likely around Magnus Septim’s reign. It was found near Cheydinhal in some elderly hag’s possession that she was trying to barter off for skooma money. You’re rather fortunate that that wasn’t one of my prouder finds, Brynja.” An all too familiar voice came from the stairwell.

Setting the rope back into position, and now wearing a nicely fitted red and black dress with a plunging neckline, a ruby amulet set into a white gold fixture of Redguard design and the same dwemer wrist bangles that she had plundered in the ruins up in the Jerall mountains was Daro’Vasora tidied up, and actually looking somewhat feminine and well-kept from how Brynja was accustomed to seeing her. She regarded the broken glass with impish eyes. “I don’t suppose you have a spare 60 Septims to pay for that one, do you?” she asked.

She felt like she was in front of her mother again during one of her lessons in etiquette. She grimaced at the sound of Daro’Vasora’s condescending voice, sending a shiver down her spine, funny how the two women sounded so similar.

“Hello, Vasora.” Brynja said with a curt nod of her head, her eyes lingering on the Khajiit before her for a few seconds too long. It was strange, certainly, seeing her fellow companion appearing… well… in an outfit that complimented her figure.

“I…” She fished for her pouch of septims tucked inside her breastplate, “not exactly…” of course she didn’t. She had spent half her money on drink alone in Bruma. 60 septims for some old timey perfume bottle? She was actually 25 septims short of what Vasora asked.

“I didn’t think so. I’m surprised if you were actually able to hold onto that kind of coin at one time. You’ve always struck me as… frivolous.” The Khajiit remarked, staring up at the troll skull staring down at her.

“Sora, we’ve spoken about this.” Zegol chided her. “This woman is a guest and customer, berating her for an accident is unbecoming.”

“We’re colleagues. She’s one of the ones who came back to town with me. Did you not hear me call her by name?” She asked with an innocent smile. Zegol grunted, unamused.

“My point still stands. You still have a room here, you always will, but you will respect my rules while staying with me.”

Daro’Vasora grinned, picking up one of the welkynd stones from the shelf, spinning it in her grip. “Oh, hush old man. Just put these closer to the front with a sale tag on it, and you’ll make the coin back with a single transaction. Now Brynja might have the physical grace of her dearly departed relative’s skeleton we have on display, but at least allow her to make it up to you. Do you not have a package you need sent off?” she asked the orc.
A smile crossed the orc’s face. “I’d say that’s a fair compromise. Would you mind running something down to the courier for me, Brynja? I would consider that a fair compromise and apology. The walk just isn’t as kind to my knees as when I was a younger man.”

“Yes, of course.” She said, her eyes darting to Vasora. Always with the troll and giant taunts. The Khajiit was no different than her brothers, the rowdy kids from her childhood, the soldiers in the Legion, or even the men she encountered alone these days. “I can ensure you that I’ll get it there safely. Where… ahm, am I taking this package to?”

“I’ll take you there. We want to make sure that your parcel arrives, no?” Daro’Vasora said, smiling innocently as Zegol disappeared into the back room for a few moments. He emerged with a cloth and twine wrapped parcel with a note on top with the relevant delivery information. He handed it to Brynja gratefully. “Please don’t fret over the glass, my dear. This is a very kind favour you’re doing for me, I am grateful.”

“It is the least I can do for destroying your priceless bottle.” She could feel the heat in her cheeks return. Her mother always chastised her for her lack of “bodily awareness”.

And so, Daro’Vasora set out with Brynja in tow. The Khajiit seemed to be in her element among the crowds and smooth stone streets. Merchants hawked their wares in front of stalls set up in neat and orderly rows, and a number of store fronts promised wares ranging from books to arms, alchemy reagents to horse saddles.

“So, in the largest city in Tamriel, where you could go your entire life without seeing the same person twice, you show up in my personal life in a matter of hours. I don’t know if I should be annoyed or impressed.” Daro’Vasora said, her strides measured and almost elegant. It was as if she transformed in a matter of hours.

“Well if it’s any bit of consolation, I wouldn’t have recognized you had you not changed clothes. Or said my name for that matter. Though I suppose it’d be different for a big oaf like me, what with the intelligence and size of a troll. Or giant. Probably both.” She said the last few sentences under her breath.

“You’re surprisingly modest.” Daro’Vasora observed. “I would have thought you’d have wanted to refute my snarky comments.” Brynja merely grunted in response.

Daro’Vasora made a line towards one of the food vendors, an unassuming man reading from The Black Horse Courier, the oldest newspaper in the city. He smiled when he watched the women approach, and after a polite exchange, Daro’Vasora left with a bag of honey-glazed tree nuts. She took one for herself and offered another to Brynja.

“I always get these for Zegol. It’s kind of my little appreciation ritual when I get back into town and need to stay with him.” she explained.

Brynja eyed the glazed nuts as if they were coated in poison, and came out the asshole of Sheogorath himself. She accepted the offering, nevertheless, and popped the treat inside her mouth. Once she had swallowed the morsel, she cleared her throat and looked at Vasora, “So how did you end up with the orc, seems like an unlikely pairing.”

“Long story short? He’s an old associate of my father who agreed to take me in after Leyawiin grew perhaps a bit too small for my liking. I had similar interests to his profession as a relic hunter, proved to him that I am historically inclined, and instead of just being a leech, I helped him expand his business. The more he taught me the tricks of the trade, the more I was able to bring back for him to sell off. Of course, his connections became my own, and I’ve earned quite a bit of coin thanks to what I’ve learned from Zegol. He’s practically an uncle to me, I love him.” The Khajiit explained, letting out a light sigh as she debated taking another nut before tying the bag off.

“He’s the most kind soul I’ve ever met, and he’s the kind of man who would give whatever he could spare if it helped out someone in need. I hate seeing people take advantage of him, and I spent most of my teen years being the biting voice he lacked because I can’t stand by and watch people talk down to him, or try to swindle him. He wants to believe everyone’s good, that the bad ones just don’t know it yet. That’s why instead of being upset over your clumsy mistake, he’s grateful you’re being so generous to him. He would have let it slide, but to me that’s income that he won’t be getting, and his business is very volatile. Sometimes, every septim matters. I trust you understand.” Daro’Vasora said, glancing over at Brynja. She knew the city well enough that she didn’t even need to look at the signs.

It was strange, hearing the kindred words uttered by Vasora, Brynja was used to hearing her sardonic wit. She listened to every word, coming to understand the Khajiit and how Zegol helped influenced her. When it came to the matter of septims, a winded sigh escaped.

“I understand… I spent a bit too much of my coin in Bruma.” She said, though it didn’t justify her spending habits, “Couldn’t sleep much.” She added in a mumble.

“What of your folks? You mentioned your father…” Brynja said, hoping to turn the tide of conversation back to Vasora. She didn’t like talking much about herself, it only made her feel awkward, and out of place. Far too much darkness haunted her, so she preferred to push it down into the crevices of her mind when it came to conversation. It helped her to focus on another’s voice than listening to the one inside her head.

“Still in Leyawiin, being the properly connected upper echelons of society. They’re actually supposed to be coming here next month some time, it’s part of why I took Rhea’s job offer. I wanted the extra money to lodge and feed them for their stay.” Daro’Vasora explained, offering a quizzical glance. “So no, I’m not an orphan, if that’s what you were worried about.”

“Wasn’t worried about if you were an orphan. Just curious about your folks.” Brynja said, “I figured some light conversation wouldn’t hurt.” She stopped walking midway in an attempt to gather her bearings, not that it helped, she was already lost again.

“How much further til we’re there?”

“It’s near the Talos Plaza gate.” Daro’Vasora explained, which gave them a bit of time yet. It was something that was an essential truth about the Imperial City; it could either be extremely quick and convenient, or the better part of the day to do something unless you were willing to pay for public transit. Fortunately, the courier was more along the former. After a few more twists and turns, their destination was up ahead next to the city stables where a number of horses were corralled. The two women entered the courier’s shop where a young Breton man in his early 20s with a sandy blonde ponytail and freckles across his nose busied himself with writing in a ledger.
“Perceval. It’s been a while.” Daro’Vasora announced, walking up to the counter. The man’s face lit up.

“Oh! Daro’Vasora, it’s been far too long. I’ve been missing you.” He looked over to Brynja and the parcel she carried. “And who might you be, madam?”

“You can call me Brynja, no need for formalities.” She extended her hand towards the Breton for him to shake. He reached out to shake her hand, and when her hand curled around his, an expression of grimace spread across his face.

“That’s some grip you have!” He exclaimed, holding his hand to his chest, before shaking it out in an attempt to return some feeling to his extremities. Taking the parcel, he read the note on top, and recorded the information with surprisingly pleasant handwriting.

“That will be six septims, and we’ll have it on its way.” Perceval said amicably, a light suddenly coming on in his eyes.

“Oh, I just remembered! Something came in for you, Daro’Vasora! Give me a moment.” he disappeared behind a curtain into the backroom, leaving the two women in front of the counter, and Brynja searching her coin purse.

When Perceval came back, he carried a wax-sealed scroll and a small jar that was evidently filled with sweets. “That’s just a bit extra, for being such a… you know, wonderful customer. A thank you reward!”

“I’m sure you give that to all the girls. Thank you, Percy.” Daro’Vasora said, taking both the scroll and the jar with a playful brush of a finger across his hand. He beamed, acting like a love-sick puppy.

“It is my genuine pleasure.” Perceval said, receiving Brynja’s payment. That transaction concluded, the duo headed outside again. Daro’Vasora placed the jar in her bag and peeled back the wax seal with a claw. Her eyes began to scan the parchment, the Khajiit navigating around the crowd with well-practice peripheral vision. “That boy’s taken a fancy to me ever since he laid eyes on me. Some kind of cross-species fetishist, that one. As long as he keeps showering me with gifts, I let him dream. We both win, right?”

Brynja cast a long sided glance at Daro’Vasora, she felt sick. Not for her… but of other past reminders. It reminded her of Rorik, and his loose ways. Playing with the hearts of maidens as if they were nothing more than butterflies flitting between flowers. Her stomach turned at the recollection.

“I’m not the one to tell you how to live, but I think it’s a bit cruel to lead someone along like that. Why not tell the poor thing the truth, and save him the heartbreak?” She asked as her eyes swept the area, a weak attempt to remember her whereabouts.

“Shall we head back to your mentor’s? I’m still in need of a few items anyways. He’ll be happy to know the parcel was mailed out accordingly.” Brynja stated. Though she would have to decide on how to spend her coin wisely.
The Khajiit blinked, shaking her bag. “Sweets, remember?” she reiterated, practicing a well-practiced tone of playful ignorance.

“Besides, if he wanted more than the fantasy, he’d ask me himself. So far, just schoolyard infatuation that he’s too shy to act upon. Not saying I’d say yes necessarily, but I’ve been proven wrong before. He also has no idea what I do for a living, and chances are I’ve pilfered and sold something that belonged to his great-great-grandmother. Ignorance is best, yes?”

“Bliss. Ignorance is bliss.” Brynja corrected her, not the best, but it could be bliss. “I suppose if you enjoy the benefits of free sweets, then by all means, don’t stop. Honesty never hurt anyone, or at least a dilated version of it.” She added.

“In my experience, honesty only really counts if you are close to someone. All bets are off past that, because someone will try to swindle you. And yes, we’ll head back that way. What did you need to acquire?” Daro’Vasora continued reading over the note, letting out a long, annoyed, “Ugggh, him, really?” she asked rhetorically, her ears folding back and a quizzical raise of an eyebrow were involuntary reactions to the news she was reading.

“La’Shuni’s my kid sister, adorably innocent girl at that. She’s apparently seeing J’Kharrid, who’s a real piece of work. I thought I taught her to have some better standards, but alas, I can’t be there to teach her such fine things as taste, and that she could have anyone she wants, settling for bloody J’Kharrid is like settling for someone who eats paste because one of his crossed eyes lingered on you for too long.” Daro’Vasora said, rolling up the parchment, and putting it away. “She better not be bringing him up here next month. I might sign him up for the Arena just to make a point.”

“I…” Brynja stopped short of giving her a response, as she let Daro’Vasora’s words sink in about her sister.

“The irony.” She chuckled, indeed, her own sister, Elyse, tormented her suitors, much like Vasora. “Honesty is best when it comes to the matter of the heart, especially if you’re not particularly interested in someone that gives you such attention. There’s no worse a feeling. Feeling that you’re in love, or infatuated as you put it, and you go out of your way to do things you normally wouldn’t just to show them how much you care, when in the end, they were only toying with your heart, and they leave you high and dry for some other woman. And the reality comes crashing down around you that they never loved you at all, and this whole time you thought they did. There’s no worse a feeling, Vasora. For everyone else, they can all fuck off with honesty.”

“So, uh, are we still on Perceval or are we on you now?” Daro’Vasora asked, amused by the sudden vehemence Brynja was showing. For someone who was typically guarded, this was a waterfall of emotion.

A hard lump formed in her throat. Fuck. For fuck’s sake. Why in the bloody blazes of Oblivion had she opened her mouth about love. “It’s… it was a hard lesson I had to learn. I made a lot of mistakes for a foolish man. A man I thought fancied me.” She snorted, “Hah. Can you imagine that? That’s an entertaining thought for you. Someone fancying me, aye?”

She cleared her throat, “I need some ingredients for alchemy.” And a good drink.

Daro’Vasora shrugged. “You’re a mixed bag, and you drink too much, but you’re a conventionally attractive woman with a pleasant voice. Most men probably fancy you, at least superficially.” she said, mentally steering them towards Reginalds’ shop. “Look, even I have men, and some women, attracted to me, even in most places that aren’t Cyrodiil or Pelletine, or Anequina, that tend to subject me to quite the outpouring of vitriol on account of me being a cat, less than men or mer. Don’t sell yourself short. You don’t have pointy ears or a tail, and I’m reasonably sure no one has ever threatened to turn you into a coat or a pair of slippers.”

“You don’t have to make me feel good about myself.” Brynja grumbled, she hated that the most.

“It’s not that I’m not interested in men or women, so to say. It’s just the fact…” she stopped speaking, why bother? Vasora would probably use whatever she said against her to taunt and goad her later.

“It’s just the fact that love isn’t quite the same as I imagined when I was a little girl. The mind is a dark and scary place when you’re alone, and I prefer to keep my ghosts to myself.” She finished.

“Has the delectable Vasora ever had a partner? Or is it all fun and games for you?” She asked, turning the conversation away from her again. She could feel the seed of bitterness and rage boiling in her stomach. A drink would help her forget. Help quiet the shadows in her head. It helped. For a little while.

The Khajiit regarded Brynja for a moment, deciding how to proceed. “You know, you seem keen on plucking answers out of me without extending the courtesy. I think I’ll let that one sit out in the open and let your imagination do its work.” she said, not maliciously, but enough to let the Nord know that she was done giving without receiving anything in return. It’s not that Daro’Vasora particularly worried about Brynja, a woman she was likely never going to see again after this week, knowing too much about her, and she wasn’t a secretive woman to begin with. She simply wasn’t ashamed of who she was or who she associated with.

Over the next hour, the pair went to the alchemy shop, and true to Zegol’s word, the proprietor was indeed affordable and quite helpful for Brynja’s needs. Daro’Vasora spent her time reading over the letter again, grinding her teeth at J’Kharrid’s name, wishing she had something to chew on.
Before long, both were standing outside of Curious Curios once more. The sky was a forget-me-not blue, where a few lazy white clouds drifted across, a rather pleasant day.

“Thank you, for being my guide. Again, I’m sorry about the perfume bottle. Will you give these flowers to Zegol? I’d do it myself, but I still have some errands to run.” She held out a bundle of lavender, and white lilies.

“You coudn’t spare five minutes?” Daro’Vasora asked incredulously.

Brynja stared dead-eyed at the Khajiit, she could have said so many words in response to her question. And instead of answering at all, Brynja simply brushed past Daro’Vasora, and entered the shop, bundle of flowers in hand.
On crossing the threshold, she called out for the orc, “Zegol?” Perhaps he had gone to the back room?

Zegol appeared a few moments later, looking surprised to see them both back so fast. “Welcome back! I trust there weren’t any issues finding your way?” he asked.

“I delivered the package for you, as promised. And… these are for you. It’s nothing much, a small gift for breaking the perfume bottle.” Brynja extended the flowers to him to take.

The orc blinded in surprise when he was offered the flowers, it was an exceedingly unexpected and thoughtful gesture. They were pretty white and yellow things with the occasional splash of blue, and while Zegol never was one to know one flower from another, he could still appreciate them.

“You really didn’t have to do this, but you’ve proven to have a kind soul. Thank you, really and truly.” He said earnestly, a warm smile across his face.
“I wish you the best of days. Take care of yourself, Zegol.” Brynja bowed her head, and turned to leave. She caught Daro’Vasora’s eye, but said not a word to the Khajiit. She shut the door behind her, setting off for the nearest tavern.

“You never mentioned that your friends are so thoughtful.” Zegol said to Daro’Vasora when they were alone, finding a pot to put the flowers in. The Khajiit followed, glancing back at the door.

“Yeah, she’s alright. It’s like you like to tell me, everyone’s good deep down. She even insisted, if you can believe it.” Daro’Vasora lied, pulling out the bag of nuts she purchased earlier to set down on the counter. “For that big old sweet tusk of yours.” she said.

Zegol laughed, overjoyed. “It’s never a surprise, but would you fault me for saying that this is one of the things I look forward to most when you come visit?”

“Not at all. You better eat them before I start feeling peckish, alright?”