Mortarion

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

@POOHEAD189Shoot, my bad, sorry, soprry, been really distracted lately. I'll try and get something up asap!

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

The Choices We Make

By Morty & @Greenie

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18th of Midyear, late morning, Alik’r Desert tent village

It was somewhat shameful, but when Megana Corvus woke up the day after the prison break; the sun would soon be nearing its zenith and it was more than clear from the sounds of people outside her tent that most folk had been awake for quite a few hours. Groaning piteously and holding her head with both hands, she pleaded with Stendarr to have mercy on her throbbing head. Tea with Sevari had been nice, drinking rum with Gaius had been nice… having a stupid bet with the locals in a hookah den that she could down more drinks than they could had been stupid. She hadn’t won, and now she was nursing a dreadful hangover with lighter pockets than before.

Swaying as she slowly pulled herself up to a seated position, the Nord reached around with a hand, patting away at the ground until she found her shirt, carelessly dropped on the dusty ground in her drunken stupor. This is m'tent… righ’? A moment of panic had her standing up suddenly- the next instance she stumbled and moaned, head hanging and arms pressing against the sides, shirt still dangling from her hand in her face. The smell of smoke and drink filled her nostrils and she let out another groan, this one of pity and disgust. She really needed to control her inhibitions.

After a good while of freshening up and managing to find another shirt to wear, Meg guzzled down some water before finally heading out of her tent, eyes lowered against the light. She didn't quite feel hungry… or rather she felt as if she'd probably throw up anything she attempted to eat, so for the time being her mission was to simply survive, and hopefully find Jaraleet. She hadn't seen him since their arrival at the village, and truth be told he had seemed withdrawn even after the escape from the prison. Meg had been preoccupied with the entertainment the previous night, but with regret looming heavily on her senses, she hoped to find him and see how he was doing.

Unfortunately for the Nord woman, Jaraleet had withdrawn from the village almost immediately afterwards the celebrations had started. In truth, the Argonian hadn’t been in any kind of festive mood after their successful escape from the prison; what they had seen in the Necromancer’s room, plus the confrontation between Sevari and Gregor, had left the Argonian with plenty to think over. And so, like he often did when he needed to think, the assassin had found himself falling into the training exercises that had been ever-present in his life since he had been handed over to the An-Xileel.

“Through fields you till,” The assassin intoned in Jel as he lunged with his sword, “Through broken earth,” he continued on with the follow-up move. “Through crops that you will grow,” Jaraleet followed up, his breath heavy with the strain of exercise. “Honor that which is change.” So absorbed was he in his training and his recitation, that the normally keen eyed Argonian didn’t notice when Meg found him in the middle of his training routine.

“There y'are!” It had taken a while to find the Argonian, though probably not as difficult as it would have been if he was any other race. Meg paused a little ways away from Jaraleet, seeing he was absorbed in his training, though that did not stop her from speaking up. It was a shame she was still hard harbouring the remnants of her hangover, because otherwise she wouldn't have been amiss to a sparring session.

“Didn't see much of ya last nigh’,” she continued, pushing her messy hair away from her eyes- it was still damp from her attempt of dunking her head in water to clear her fuzzy mind. “Doin’ a'ight?”

Jaraleet paused as he heard Meg addressing him, his stance visibly relaxing as he turned to look at the Nord woman. “Hmmm, I didn’t feel in a celebratory mood truth be told.” He said to her, a look of concern briefly settling in his face as he noticed the poor state that Meg was in. “I am, more or less. Didn’t had much sleep last night, truth be told, but I’m used to that kind of things.” He said as he approached her, frowning slightly. “You don’t look too good yourself.”

“Wha’, me? I'm fine!” The declaration was only hampered by a little bit of sheepishness, knowing that despite her change of clothes, she did probably still look like a mess. However, she wasn't quite concerned with her state right now, a frown on her own face to rival his.

“And I’m Sanguine in disguise.” The Argonian replied drily to her comment that she was fine, shaking his head slightly. “Did you overdo it with the drinking?” He asked, raising one eyebrow in the direction of the Nord woman.

Meg let out a begrudging huff. “Maybe a li'l. What about you?” Ya didn’ feel like celebratin’?” From what she recalled, everyone had been taking a break from dour moods, enjoying the music and laughter and general happy vibes. Even the Khajiit man she had deemed scary had seemed in a celebratory mood of sorts… so why not Jaraleet?

“No, I didn’t.” He replied, somewhat bluntly, to her question about not feeling like celebrating.

“What's the matter?” Hands at her hips, she looked up at the Argonian, a decisive look on her face.

“Just got a lot of things on my mind to process at the moment.” He answered. It wasn’t the full truth, but it wasn’t a complete lie either. “Is it really all that surprising that I didn’t felt like partying after all we’ve been through?”

“Well, kinda?” Meg let her arms fall loose as she approached the Argonian man, her expression no longer annoyed, the frown on her face shifting to one of concern. “Everyone was happy t'get outta there, not jus’ alive but with Alim an’ Sirine's brother, an’ we even foun’ Gaius an’ Fjolte of all people!” A hint of a smile came to her face at the Nord she had never expected to see again, but it left as she focused on Jaraleet once more. “So… why not you? Wha’ is botherin’ ya?”

Jaraleet smiled at Meg, touched by her concern, and pulled her into a quick embrace. “I’m fine.” He muttered as he hugged her, letting go of her a second afterwards. “I’m just...worried about what the future holds. And some things I saw while in the prison.” He admitted, letting out a soft sigh. “Guess I’m a bit different from the rest. I’m not used to partying, truth be told.” He said, letting out a soft, self-deprecating, chuckle.

“We dunno what the future's gonna bring,” Meg replied quietly. She had been surprised by the spontaneous hug though not averse, and a little disappointed it had ended so quickly. “Tha’s why we gotta take the chance t'enjoy when it shows itself, no? Gettin’ out of there, alive with our friends…” She nudged him, a small smile on her lips. “If ya don’ know how t'party, I'm sure y'can learn.”

“Hmmm, I never said I don't know how to cut loose, you know.” He replied, smiling softly in her direction. “I'm just not used to partying all that much. And I wasn't in too much of a mood to do so, like I said previously.” He added after a second. “And I'm sorry, for worrying you I mean.” Jaraleet said softly, placing his hands on her shoulder and giving them a light squeeze.

“So y’said,” she agree, letting out a breath. “Min’ tellin’ me why y’weren’ in the mood then? What did y’see there?” Meg didn’t expect him to be shaken by anything, not after Gilane.

“The lair of a Necromancer.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I'm not shaken, if you are thinking about that….it was more the…” The Argonian said, pausing for a second as he thought how to explain himself. “The cleanliness of it all, I suppose. The place was equal parts a laboratory, I suppose, and a butcher shop where the prisoners were sent to be processed. It wouldn't surprise me if that's where the Dwemer got their means to power their automatons and other war machines.” Jaraleet said, pausing for a second to allow Meg to process what he had just told her. “It left me thinking, and without much of a mood to celebrate.”

“I’ve seen ‘em b’fore,” Meg replied after a moment of silence. “In Skyrim… sometimes me an’ J’raij would stumble on ‘em. Dunno ‘bout… ‘em bein’ clean though. Filthy, bloody. We were lucky they were abandoned.” Her face looked disgusted just thinking of the sight and smell, and what sort of horrible people could go through with doing such vile deeds. She let out a sigh, reaching out to pat Jaraleet’s arm. “I can see why y’wouldn’ wanna join in… jus’... hm.” Her lips were pressed tightly as she tried to think of what to say. “Y’don’ havta keep things in, y’can talk about ‘em. If not t’me, then t’others. Like Sevari? He’s yer friend.” She recalled the chat with the large Khajiit, her frown softening a little. “If anyone’s gonna know how y’feel, it’d prob be him. He did say y’both came from the same world.”

Jaraleet smiled at Meg’s words, nodding slightly. “You are right, I can talk with him. Like he said, we both come from the same world.” The Argonian said, chuckling softly. “Like you said, if anyone gonna know how I feel, it’s probably him.” He said, pausing for a second as a thought crossed over his mind. “And you, you do seem to have a knack for knowing how I feel.” He added with a small smirk.

“Well o’course I do,” Meg replied, sounding a little grumpy. She crossed her arms over her chest, letting out a sigh and shaking her head. “Y’should know by now I would. Ain’t like we’re friend’s or somethin’.” There was a definite hint of sarcasm in her voice, though she did manage a chuckle afterwards, relaxing her stance. “So don’ tell me, ye’ve jus’ been fightin’ with yer shadow since we got here? Didja eat an’ sleep at least?”

“I know, I know.” Jaraleet replied, smiling fondly at Meg. He chuckled sheepishly when she asked him if he had at least eaten or gotten some sleep. “Can’t say I did.” He admitted, knowing full well that the Nord woman would probably be less than pleased by his admission. “Honestly, it’s fine, I’m used to this. I swear.” He added after a second, hoping that Meg wouldn’t be too mad at him.

“Hmph.” Meg’s little frown returned and she shook her head even more vehemently than before, short messy locks bouncing as she did. “Tha’ ain’t good enough. I don’ think it'll kill ya t'take a break an’ head back t'get some food an’ rest. 'Sides, I'm sure the others'll wanna know yer doin’ fine too.”

“Believe me, I know my limits. And I’m nowhere near them right now.” He said reassuringly, chuckling mirthlessly when she mentioned that the others would probably want to know that he was doing fine too. “Do you really think so? I’m not exactly the most popular member of our little group.”

“Y’don’ havta wait ‘til y’reach yer limits t’take a break,” Meg snapped, shoving the toe of her boot hard against the ground. She huffed before shaking her head yet again, this time less vigorously than before- her head still hurt and she really didn’t think it would help the way she was feeling. “Sorry.” Letting out a loud sigh, she then took a calming breath before continuing. “I’m just still feelin’ the remainin’ hangover… that bein’ said… I think yer wrong. I think more people like ya than y’think.”

“Alright, alright, how about I take a break now, and get something to eat with you. Does that sound alright to you?” The Argonian finally relented when Meg snapped at him, placing one hand on her shoulder. “If you are still hungover, it probably wouldn’t hurt to get something to eat, and probably some water to drink as well.” He added, a note of concern on his voice.

“Yeah well… you should too,” Meg replied, still sounding rather grumpy. “So yeah” She did find herself somewhat peckish now, and if it finally force the Argonian to let down his 'hair’, she was ready to be appeased as well. It was strange, she wasn't sure why it annoyed her so much that he seemed so self-depreciative when at times- no, it was most times- she felt the same about herself.

Attempting a smile, she reached up and took hold of the hand on her shoulder, removing it from there but keeping a hold of it nonetheless. She motioned with her head towards the tent village. “C’mon then. They have some pretty good food.”

“You don’t need to keep convincing me. I already said I’d go.” The Argonian replied, chuckling fondly. He smiled as Meg motioned towards the village, “Then lead the way, I haven’t been around it too much so it’s probably for the best that you show me around.”

“A’ight then.”

Leading the way back to the masses of tents and through the makeshift streets were no big feat for Meg, not after her ventures the previous night, even though much of it had been passed in tiredness or a drunken stupor. Now that she was awake and somewhat focused, she could appreciate the simple beauty of life here, reminding her of stories she would hear from passing by Alik’r warriors when she was much younger. She had found them so strange yet fascinating, and it had been hard to imagine such a large expanse filled with only sand. Not so any longer.

As she continued forward, her eyes caught sight of the teahouse she had visited with Sevari, and the conversation between the two loomed in her mind. “What did he mean?” she wondered aloud, looking at Jaraleet. “Bein’ from the same world?”

Jaraleet was silent for a second before he let out a sigh. “We are both assassins, spies.” He said, looking at Meg in the eyes. “In our world, we are just tools. As easily as discarded as a blade that dulls. That’s what he meant when he said that we are from the same world.”

“Well tha's jus’ wrong,” Meg replied sullenly. She didn't like- no, she couldn't stand such a thought. Everyone had a life, everyone was an individual with feelings. Treating people like they were just to be used and thrown away like a worn item was disgusting and sad in her opinion, and she couldn't think how anyone could make her change her mind about the matter. “Yer no tool! Yer a person, jus’ like me! Sevari is a person too.” Her lips pressed tightly after that, unsure she would be able to control her words.

But that’s what I am, Meg. What I’ve been all my life, and I accept this. The Argonian thought inwardly, opting to keep silent by how Meg had reacted to what he had said. “If you are thinking something, you know you can tell me, right?” He said as he pulled her a little closer to him, squeezing her hand softly. “Please, tell me what you are thinking.”

Gritting her teeth in an attempt to stay rational and not overly emotional, Meg remained quiet for a good moment before finally speaking once again. “It jus’ doesn’ seem fair,” she finally muttered. “Everyone's gotta choice… everyone should have a choice. D’you… wanna stay what y'are? Be a tool?”

“I….” Jaraleet began, falling silent as he pondered Meg’s question. “It is...a difficult question for me to answer.” He admitted finally, letting out a sigh. “This life is all I’ve known for as long as I remember.” Jaraleet said, shaking his head slightly. “Truth be told, I can’t answer your question. What I want is something I’ve had not much chance to ponder.”

“A li'l change never hurt anyone.” She paused in her steps and let out a sigh. Perhaps it was easy for her to say, she had never really been a stagnant sort; as soon as she had found herself growing weary of life in Whiterun, she had left for adventure. But not everyone was like her, as she had discovered time and time again in the last couple of months. It seemed despite the difficulties and lack of a mother she had endured as a child, things weren't all that bad.

She smiled a little. “'It is good t’be brave’, that's a Khajiit sayin’, learned it yesterday. An’ I gotta say, change needs a person t'be brave…” She licked at her dry lips, wondering if she was saying too much now. “It's yer choice anyway.” She abruptly changed the subject, pointing to a stall where a sweet and bready scent was coming. “How's ‘bout we try some of that?”

“One last thing, before we go in there.” Jaraleet said as he pulled Meg a little closer to him. “Thank you Meg, for what you said.” He told her, pulling her into an unexpected hug. “I think...I think that if I had a choice, I’d like to stay with you.” He said quietly, letting go of Meg after a moment. “Come, let’s go in there.” He added, motioning to the stall with his head before he guided Meg there.

“Ain’ like I'm goin’ off anywhere,” the Nord woman replied, somewhat molified by the hug she received. She knew very well there was still much she didn't know, but now wasn't the time to go into that. Smiling genially, she nodded. “I'm here, rain or shine- or snow if yer in Skyrim.” Pulling her money pouch from her belt, she held it out for the Argonian to take. “Here, we can use whatever's left.”

“Thank you.” Was Jaraleet’s simple reply as he accepted her money pouch, making his way into the stall with Meg and ordering for the two of them. Like he had told Meg, there was much he had to think about but, right now, he could enjoy a meal with her and her company. Whatever doubts he had could wait after that.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

Alright, it's, well, really short when compared to my normal posts but I managed to get something up. Sorry if it's, well, a bit mediocre in quality, my apologies.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

The Andred knight was silent for a long while after Calanon and Argon's words, doubt nagging at his mind. Was he truly being just a paranoid fool? His gut instincts told him that something out of the ordinary was afoot and, yet, all that they had found seemed to point to the contrary. The half-elf's words about waking threats best left sleeping if they continued their patrol also worried him.

He was about to suggest they return to the village before they instigated a threat worse than the Mantiraus when An-Hasst spoke. The Skayleigh's words served to bolster the knight's waning confidence. "I agree with An-Hasst." Nicademus finally spoke, nodding in the Skayleigh's direction. Whatever beasts or potential threats we might disturb now would also have been disturbed when your group or when myself moved on from the village." He continued on as he followed after Calanon. "It is best for us to take our chance now, when we have the village to fall back on still." He finished, falling silent once more as he resumed the march through the forest.

@The Fated Fallen@Gardevoiran@Fetzen@BCTheEntity@Stormflyx@POOHEAD189

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

@POOHEAD189 Sorry man, been distracted as all hell as of late, but I'll get a post up before the weekend is done.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

I reallyyyy should get something up soon too. Will begin to work on something asap.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Change of Pace

Brought to you by Mortarion and @Greenie

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14th of Midyear 4E208, early morning, Underground tunnel.

“How could it all have gone so wrong.” These were the thoughts that filled Jaraleet’s mind as the Argonian ran through the tunnels that they had once used to infiltrate inside the palace. He was no fool, he knew that the Poncy Man and his insurgency would try to get rid of them once they no longer saw any use in the group….but he hadn’t expected for them to attack them now. If it hadn’t been for Zhaib and Janelle’s spell they would all be dead now, their bodies riddled with the bullets from the rifles that Irranhu had stolen. His thoughts came to a sudden halt as he heard a moan of pain and his heart twisted as he looked down and saw who he was carrying in his arms: Meg.

As they had been running towards the tunnels, one of the insurgents had seemed to recuperate faster than his comrades and he had, unfortunately, managed to hit Meg in the leg as the Nord woman was making her way towards the entrance of the tunnel. “Don’t worry Meg, everything will be ok.” The Argonian said softly as he continued running through the underground passage. Now was not the time to let his mind be distracted with iddle thoughts, he reminded himself; his priority was to find Meg a healer who could look at the wound in her leg.

"Y- y'sure?" Meg wasn't. This hurt more than any would she'd had ever received, and it was all she could do to keep herself from screaming in pain or throwing up do to it. She barely even realized she was being carried by the argonian. One moment she'd been fine, the next she had let out a scream unlike any she had before and crumpled to the ground.

"What... happened?" Blinded by her own tears, she couldn't really make sense of anything right now.

“I am, I am, trust in me.” The Argonian replied, trying to make his voice as soothing as possible to ease Meg’s worries but he couldn’t help the worry that crept into his voice. “You were shot, by one of those drykillers from Irranhu.” Jaraleet answered, his voice cold and full of rage as he remembered the moment and his grip on Meg tightening ever so slightly before he relaxed again.

“Don’t worry, everything will be fine.” He repeated once more, giving Meg a brief smile. “If I could survive a shot to the gut, you can survive this. I know that you can.” He finished, giving her shoulder a light squeeze to try and reassure her.

Meg wanted to reply something coherent, but she was having a hard time. Even if she could, she knew very well she wasn't as strong as Jaraleet. Cuts and bruises she'd endured her whole life were nothing compared to getting shot. Why hadn't she run quicker than that? Forcing herself to calm down was an impossibility, so she tried to focus on anything other than the nauseating pain. Eventually however she simply passed out, which perhaps was for the better.

“Meg? Meg?” Jaraleet asked, worry plain on his voice, when the Nord woman didn't answer to his previous words. He paused to look down for a second and breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that she had just merely fallen unconscious. “You rest now Meg, I’ll make sure that everything will be alright.” He said softly as he began running again, focusing his mind entirely on one task: getting back to the Three Crowns and getting the Nord woman medical help.

---

The carnage that greeted them at the hotel did little to phase the Argonian, who ignored the wailing cries of those who had survived the Dwemer’s assault on the building. A lifetime of being an agent of the An-Xileel had deadened him to the horrors of slaughter and death, and the Argonian’s mind was focused on the task of getting Meg medical help above everything else.

The Argonian made a beeline towards the infirmary located in the hotel, kicking the doors open only to find himself greeted with more chaos. What staff was in the infirmary was occupied treating those who had survived the centurion’s assault, but it was clear that the vast majority of the wounded wouldn't survive. Spotting a bed that was mercifully empty, Jaraleet made his way there and gently deposited Meg in it. “Everything will be fine Meg, we are back in the hotel. I'll go and get you some help.” The Argonian said softly before he turned back to the chaos that reigned in the infirmary.

Quickly spotting a nurse that was making her way through the room, Jaraleet intercepted the woman in an instant. “You.” The assassin said, his voice cold and bereft of any sympathy or mercy, as he grabbed the nurse by the wrist. “You will help her,” He continued on, using his free hand to point at the bed were he had left Meg. “Is that clear?” He finished, his voice indicating that the woman had no choice in the matter whatsoever.

It seemed as if the nurse had indeed done what the Argonian had ordered; by the time Meg came to consciousness once more, the pain that had been assaulting her was quite numbed down. She could finally seen the state of her leg, bloody and reminding her of how Jaraleet's wound had looked. Bringing a hand to her mouth, she managed to quell the nauseated sensation that had returned. She didn't feel good despite the numbness of pain, and she was quite sure despite healing and potions, she wouldn't be walking for a while.

"This... ain' good," she mumbled, attempting to sit up. She was going to be a burden when they had to leave Gilane, and fast.

“Easy there, easy.” Jaraleet said as soon as he noticed that Meg had woken up once again, placing a hand on her shoulder. He debated inwardly for a second whether or not to tell her how bad things were before deciding that it’d be best to be honest with Meg. “Yes, things aren’t looking too good.” He finally said with a sigh, shaking his head slightly. “I take it the pain is less than it was before?” He asked her softly, a note of worry in his voice.

Meg nodded, though she was looking around herself. There were others here... but no one she knew. She could recognize the building structure and colours as the Three Crowns Hotel, but she didn't understand why there were so many others injured here.

"I don' think I can walk though..." She slowly pushed herself up on her hand, looking at Jaraleet, a question in her still groggy eyes. "Where're the rest...?" What had happened at the palace had to mean no place was safe for the group, and now that she could think, Meg knew they had to get out of here. "We- we need t'leave."

“We do, Gilane is no longer safe for us to stay in.” The Argonian said with a sigh, shaking his head slightly. “Alms it everyone is here on the hotel. Alim….Alim was captured while trying to hold back a group of Dwemer soldiers so that Rhona and Brynja could escape. We have no idea were the two of them are, but Alim has probably been carted off to one of the Dwemer’s prisons.” He finished, taking Meg’s hand in his and giving it a light squeeze. “We are currently gathering our things and then we are leaving.”

"Knew that would happen..." Meg let out a breath, shutting her eyes as she listened to the argonian speak. Alim gone. Brynja... It was hard to bear the stinging of her tears, and when she finally opened her eyes, though she was calmer, her tears nonetheless rolled and dripped off her chin. "Well... looks like we're gonna havta save him then, eh?" She pushed herself up completely, though when she tried to move her leg she found it rather difficult.

"Shit." This was going to be a problem. "Shit..." Her hands clenched into fists, her eyes falling on the scars that still decorated her knuckles. "My stuff... it's in m'room, in the chest. A chest piece... a bow. There's a pouch with septims..." She took in a breath and let it out quickly. "I need t'drop tha' off for Zahir. He's... he's gonna be waitin' for me..."

“I’ll go and get them, don’t worry. For now you need to get as much rest as you can Meg.” The Argonian said softly, placing one hand in her shoulder before giving her a pleading look. “Please, take it easy.” He said, chewing on his lip for a second as he thought about what to say about the matter of Zahir. “As to what happens with Zahir….we’ll have to see if we can find him.” Jaraleet finally said with a sigh, shaking his head slightly. “Is there anything else I need to get back from your room aside from what you mentioned before?” He added, wanting to switch away from the topic of Zahir. He knew that Meg cared about the Redguard orphan, but right now there was no time to worry about him.

“I can’ just leave him like- withou’ nothin’...” She knew it had to be selfish and stubborn, but it was her own fault she had asked the boy to trust her. Why had she taken that responsibility? Now she had to leave without warning and would only be leaving behind memories of broken promises. What if he ended up getting beaten up or even worse because he had no gold to spend? Maybe it would have been better if she had never met the boy… Her mouth trembled before she composed herself yet again with a deep breath. “That’s all. Don’ think I have any other shit.”

“Meg…” The Haj-Eix began before letting out a sigh. He knew this was a battle he couldn’t win. “Alright, we’ll try and find Zahir after we gather our things.” He conceded,shaking his head slightly “We’ll give him your money, maybe see if we can get some food from here too, and then we’ll explain to him why we must leave, ok?”

She shook her head. "No... yer kind but I know we ain' got that much time." Meg winced as she tested her good leg, letting it settle on the floor. "Outside the hotel, there was a spot I'd drop things for 'im, we can hide it there. Won' take long. I don' wanna waste time an' let anyone else get hurt."

“Hey, hey, what did I say about taking it easy.” Jaraleet said as Meg winced when she tested her good leg. He let out a sigh at her next words, shaking his head slightly. “If you are sure, then I’ll go and retrieve your stuff and see if I can find some food for Zahir. You stay here and, I don’t know, try and write something so that the boy knows what’s up, alright?” The Argonian said, waiting for a moment to make sure that Meg would do as he had told her and then left to retrieve her belongings from her room.

"Aye," Meg replied, nodding a little. She would wait here- it wasn't as if she could move without any help. Once the argonian had left though she reached down into her tunic's pocket. Inside was her map of Gilane, wrinkled from all the folding up. She straightened it up before turning it around to its blank side, and as she did, she pulled out some leftover charcoal in her pocket to write with.

ZAHIR, I HAVE TO LEAVE. SORRY I CANT STAY FOR YOU. BUT I WILL COME BACK. USE THE SEPTIMS PROPERLY. DONT GET INTO FIGHTS. BE SAFE.
TALOS KEEP YOU SAFE.
MEG

Shortly after Meg was done writing her letter on the back of the map, Jaraleet appeared. On his back he was carrying the backpacks in which the both of them kept their possessions. “Are you ready?” The Argonian asked once he had approached the bed, a note of concern in his voice. “You show me the way and I’ll carry you to the spot.”

The spot wasn't too far away, just outside the hotel gates in a secluded area where no one would think to go. Zahir had been the one to show it to her when they had first met, so she had trusted his judgement and it hadn't proven wrong yet. Meg could only hope he wouldn't hold it against her, but more than that, she hoped he remained safe and sound.

"Let's go," she said quietly once the money and note was dropped off. There was no sense lingering.

“If you are sure.” Jaraleet said softly, picking up Meg again in his arms before he began walking away from the spot. He knew that Meg was hurting, or would be soon at any rate, but now there was no time to stop, they had to get out of Gilane and rendezvous with the others. Luckily, despite having to carry Meg, Jaraleet managed to slip through Gilane’s streets easily enough and they soon found themselves in front of the city gates along with the others in the group.

Once they were there he made his way to where he, Sevari, and Latro had stashed their horses. “Here,” he said as he placed Meg on the horse’s saddle. “No idea how far away this oasis that Shakti is leading us to is, so it’d be better for you to ride the horse. Don’t worry, I’m used to walking long distances.” He told her, smiling at the Nord woman reassuringly.

Meg wasn't about to say no to the kind gesture. Even if she had wanted to, it would have been stupidity with her useless leg. "Thanks, Jaraleet," she replied softly, a weak smile on her face. She wasn't happy with the situation, but she was happy she had someone like him to depend on. Without thinking too much of it, she leaned over as much as she could without fear of falling and pressed her lips against his cheek. "I appreciate it."

Jaraleet was surprised when Meg leaned down to kiss his cheek, his hand moving to touch the spot where he had been kissed. He blinked, still somewhat incredulous, before he smiled at Meg. “It’s no problem, I’m glad to be of help.” He told her, taking her hand in his and giving it a slight squeeze before they started moving.

---

14th of Midyear, late afternoon, Oasis

It was probably the hardest journey Meg had ever made, and it wasn't even as if she was using her own two legs to make it like the times she had wandered the roads of Skyrim. When they came by the caravan, she immediately volunteered to sit in the wagon, even if it was being driven by the infamous Zaveed along with some Redguard looking woman who know one seemed to know. It didn't matter though. Her leg was hurting once again- while riding the horse kept pressure off of it, the jostling from the ride was enough to start the pain once more. The wagon was godssend for the Nord, and despite the clear negativity in the air, Meg was simply praising Mara she could rest under some shade. She did feel somewhat guilty to know the others were walking. At least Jaraleet could now ride on the horse though.

When they finally reached the oasis, it felt like days had passed, even if it night had not even come to pass. It was hard to even imagine such a place could even exist in the expanse of all the sand and heat, but here it was. A reprieve, a gift from the gods. Despite her soreness, Meg couldn't help but grin tiredly as she peeked out from the wagon, taking in the scent of sand, water and vegetation.

“You seem to be happy to be here, Meg.” Jaraleet commented as he saw the Nord woman peek out from the wagon. “I understand, I’m happy to be here too after the march through that blasted desert.” The Argonian laughed, shaking his head before settling on a smile. “There seems to be a nearby river, want me to take you there?”

"It was so bloody hot," she muttered. "Can' imagine how it was for y'all out there." The prospect of heading by the river was a nice one though, and the slight grumble in her voice disappeared. "Aye! Er... lemme try t'walk though. Don' wanna forget how to." Truthfully, she was just rather embarrassed now, especially with everyone there.

“If you are sure…” The Argonian said, a slight hint of reproach in his voice. “But if I see you wincing, I’m carrying you there whether you like it not.” He said, frowning slightly, as he offered Meg his hand so she could step down from the wagon.

Meg grabbed on to his hand and stepped out, putting all of her weight on her good leg, hopping about a little until she was sure she wouldn't fall over. "Isn' it amazin'," she marvelled, "how things're green in here?" She leaned against Jaraleet, not ready to topple over quite yet. "The sound of the river kinda reminds me of back in Riften when I was a kid."

“It is, never seen something quite like this in my life.” Jaraleet said, taking in the sights of the oasis. When Meg leaned against him, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders without thinking, not quite realizing what he had done. “Hmmm, tell me about it.” He said softly, pausing for a second as he realized that he might not have been all that clear. “About your childhood I mean.”

Meg blinked a little before grinning once more, shoving any notion of pain to the side for the time being. It was the first time he’d asked, and she was more than happy to divulge a little bit about herself. “I was born in Riverwood,” she started, mentally going back in time to try and remember. “Ma died when I was real small… Pa didn’ take it too good… but when he returned t’hisself, he decided t’move t’Riften. He used t’live there ‘fore he met Ma, y’see. He knew folks there, friends I s’pose? So we moved there an’ he’d go work as a bodyguard for rich skeevers.” She rubbed her neck sheepishly with her free hand. “I was s’posed t’stay in the house or head to Mara’s temple but… eh. I like t’wander ‘bout. Good thing too, that’s where I learned it all, sneakin’ about, sticky fingers… ehehe.

“But yeah, there were canals all ‘round, an’ even though I’d keep away from ‘em- I can’ swim- ‘t’was still nice listening to the water.” Her nose wrinkled. “Didn’ smell too great though.”

“You know….” Jaraleet started once Meg had finished talking, pausing for a brief second as he thought on what to say next. “Maybe once things have calmed down, if they do at any rate, you could….show me around Riften maybe?” He asked her softly, an edge of uncertainty to his voice. “Maybe I could teach you to swim too, if you are interested that is.” He added after a second, chuckling softly. Who knew what the future had in store for either of them but….right now, there wasn’t any harm in allowing himself to hope for such things, of this Jaraleet was certain.

Meg let out a small chuckle, hearing the note of hesitantion in the argonian's voice. "Sounds like a plan t'me," she replied with a nod. "Though I don'- well, I don' really live anywhere, but Pa's house is in Whiterun an' that's quite aways from Riften. Y'should visit the whole of it, bet you'd like it. Markarth's beautiful if ya like mountains..." She let out a small sigh. "It ain' hot like here, tha's for sure."

She blinked as she remembered his other comment. "Swimmin'? Me?" She looked a little nervous at the prospect. "I dunno... sound's kinda risky. Last time I tried was 'cause I was 'bout t'drown." She was referring to the dwemer ruins, of course.

“Hmmm, never been to Skyrim. It would certainly be nice to visit….” He replied wistfully, smiling ever so slightly. He chuckled softly when he saw the look of nervousness that crossed Meg’s face at the prospect of learning to swim and he smiled reassuringly at the Nord woman. “Hey, it’s only if you want, and I’d be there. Nothing would happen to you.” He said softly and reassuringly, giving her shoulder a light squeeze and pulling her just a bit closer.

"Hrmmm," Meg replied. It wasn't like she didn't trust her friend, but the idea of learning something so late in her life was a little daunting. Also, wasn't it argonians who could breathe underwater? He had natural affinity with water, unlike her!

"I mean, it'd be nice," she replied, relenting slightly. "Long as I don' feel like I'm dyin'."

“We’ll take it slowly, don’t worry.” He reassured her with a smile before chuckling slightly. “Plus, don’t think there’d be a better teacher than an Argonian.” He joked slightly. “Really, it’ll all be fine.” He added after a second. “But, like I said before, I won’t force you if you don’t want to.”

Meg looked up at Jaraleet before relenting even further. "Then once we're outta the desert," she decided. "Might as well, ain' a bad thin' knowin' how t'get across water." She then pointed over to a spot that looked nice to sit. "I'mma sit a bit, feelin' kinda tired from the walkin’."

“Then it’s decided, once we are out of this blasted desert, I’ll teach you.” The Argonian said, smiling at Meg, before moving his gaze to the spot where she was pointing at. “Hmmm, resting sounds good to me too.” He admitted, chuckling softly. “Want me to help you get there?”

"Aye that'd be nice," Meg replied. She still felt silly relying on the help, but who was she to say know? At least he had been kind enough to endure her stubbornness the first time. "Hm... thank you for all this, y'know. An' b'fore. About Zahir."

Jaraleet nodded and helped Meg make her way to the spot she had pointed, helping her to sit down before he followed suit. “There’s no need to thank me Meg.” He said softly once he was settled, smiling at the Nord woman. “If you need help, regardless of what it is, I’m here for you.” Jaraleet told her, pausing for a second as he pondered whether to not say what on his mind. “Do you….do you wanna talk about it? About Zahir and Gilane, I mean.” He asked softly, concern plain in his voice.

Looking out at the water, Meg remained quiet for a while before finally speaking. "I... I wish we didn' have t'leave him like tha'. I had a Pa growin' up, but there was lotsa times I was alone an' just walkin' on the streets, wantin' someone t'talk to, t'be my friend. Bein' lonely ain' fun... an', I've just done tha' t'him."

Jaraleet was silent for a moment, unsure of what to say, before moving closer to Meg and wrapping one arm around her shoulder. “We’ll return for him, one day.” He said without thinking, falling into a stunned silence as the realization of what he had just said hit him. “Once things have calmed down...we’ll come back and find him, ok?”

“Yeah,” Meg replied, nodding her head. When it all came to an end… whenever that was, she would go back to Gilane, even if it meant crossing all of Skyrim to do so. She had made a promise and she couldn’t go back on it. She looked to Jaraleet, smiling a little before looking back to the river, though even as she did, she leaned her head against him, taking whatever comfort she could. “Aye, ‘t’would be nice, travellin’ safe with a friend.”

Jaraleet nodded in response to Meg’s words, smiling at the Nord woman as he felt her leaning her head against his body. “It would be nice, yeah.” He replied, closing his eyes and allowing himself to enjoy the simple, peaceful, moment.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

_{Brought to you by yours truly and @Dervish}

14th of Midyear, late afternoon, entrance to the Oasis

The chat with Gregor went about as well as could be expected, Zaveed decided, a lingering sense of irritability pumping through his arteries like an accelerant for his blood. He watched the Imperial go, spitting into the ground distastefully before deciding his attentions were best spent elsewhere. Going to his pack and grabbing an apple, Zaveed took his dagger and began to peel off the faintest of slivers; it was something of a game, to see how many slices he could get out of an apple before reaching the core, with each piece nearly translucent from how fine the edge of the point of his blade was. He allowed himself a moment to savour the juices before looking up and noticing an Argonian standing by the mouth of the cave.

So, he’s the one. Zaveed thought, carelessly strolling over, apple in hand as his teeth mulched the skin and flesh of the fruit within his jaws.

Zaveed stood beside the Argonian, not saying anything for a few moments as he thoughtfully concentrated on the apple. Four slices. Five. He made a slightly larger cut and offered it to the infamous interrogator in his midst. “You seem to be quite the popular one.” Zaveed observed. “Seems like half of Gilane knew of what happened to Nblec, and yet you were the one to take the fall for it. How much of a merit does that particular story hold… Jaraleet?”

Jaraleet looked over as Zaveed approached him, not saying anything as the Khajiit stood beside him. He accepted the piece of apple that his one-time enemy offered to him and swallowed it down. “I could say the same to you Zaveed.” The Argonian said in response to the Khajiit’s comment about his ‘popularity’. “Hmmmm, why don’t you tell me that? How much merit do you think those accusations hold?” He asked, turning to look at the Khajiit. “I assume that Sevari told you my name, no? Or did they have dossiers on every one of us in the Dwemer’s secret police?”

The privateer let out a slight chuckle, turning his attention back to the apple as his knife began to work again. “If we had dossiers on each of you, my job would have gone so much smoother. We knew about Roux and worked our way from there. As for your rumours, honestly? I don’t think you killed him. I’ve interrogated my share of people, and they don’t suddenly die from having nails driven… under nails.” he replied, smiling a bit at the repetition of words. Ta’agra had two very different sounding words for the two distinct thing, although one turned out being a variation of ‘claw.’ “I’m almost certain Gregor soul-trapped the man when your backs were turned.” glancing over at Jaraleet, he added. “I knew he was a necromancer from when I fought him. He just told me it was you and Raelynn who know his secret. I intend to honour that, for some reason.”

“Ah, I see, I see.” Jaraleet said in response to Zaveed’s comment about Roux. “As for your assumption, you’d be correct in it.” He said with a light shrug, falling silent for a moment as he pondered what the Khajiit had said. “I had my suspicious that if someone else in the group knew about Gregor’s secret it’d be Raelynn.” The assassin said after a second, letting out a sigh. “But it is good to have confirmation on that. As to why you are honoring that request, I suppose you must pay your debt back to Raelynn in one way or another.” He said, shrugging slightly. “And if it makes working with us any easier….I do not necessarily approve of Gregor’s methods but, you know what they say, ‘Better the Dremora you know’ or something along those lines.” Jaraleet spoke, pausing for a second. “Plus, I do not want to provoke him unnecessarily. I still don’t know the full extent of his capabilities and would rather not take my chances.” He added, shrugging slightly.

“I’m surprised that you agreed to come. I’d have expected you to avoid us if anything, not strike a deal to work together.” Jaraleet said, glanzing at Zaveed with a curious look.

“I have a rather concrete idea of exactly what he is capable of.” Zaveed muttered, stopping the notion with the knife. “These scars aren’t for show. If a time ever comes where you find yourself opposing him, do not give him the chance to cast anything.” the Khajiit warned darkly, his pupils narrowing.

With a shrug, the mood passed. “It wasn’t really much of a choice, truth be told. Sevari gave up his own biological brother to protect me, and he sacrificed his career to spare my sister hers. Now he’s alone without friends or family, except for me. And he’s all I have left, too.” Zaveed rolled his eyes. “Apparently, he thinks you and Latro are his friends, but what the fuck do I know? So tell me; you seem rather cordial towards me, a contrast to my chat with Gregor. Why is that?”

Jaraleet nodded in response to Zaveed’s advice, noting it inwardly in case it was ever necessary to call upon it. “Is it really that surprising?” The Argonian asked rhetorically, letting out a mirthless chuckle. “I can work with Gregor who’s at fault for almost everyone believing me responsible for Nblec’s death.” He said, shrugging slightly. “But to give a more proper answer, I don’t see why I shouldn’t be cordial towards you, we are allies after all. There is no point in antagonizing you any further, we have enough enemies out there as it stands.” The assassin said, turning his gaze to look at the cave’s entrance. “Wouldn’t you agree that it makes sense?”

Zaveed nodded; Jaraleet was a pragmatist. “Leave bygones as bygones.” he agreed, slipping more slices between his teeth. “I’m a privateer by profession, my worst nemesis one week was my brother in arms the next. Everything I’ve had to do to survive, to claw my way out of one shit heap to the next, it was only possible by not lingering on what has been and instead focusing on what could be.” he looked over at the Argonian. “Right now, what could be is me having my throat slit while I sleep by anyone behind us. Sevari, Sirine, and I are outnumbered considerably and here at his choice; I’m here because I love him and want to try and do right by him. Do you have family?” he asked.

“That’s a complicated question to ask one of the Saxhleel, you know?” Jaraleet laughed, shaking his head slightly. “Only my father is left alive of my biological family. But, yes, I do have a family.” The assassin said, smiling fondly. “Those of us who are born under the Shadow share a link that transcends blood. We are united by a common purpose, and the ties that we forged during our training.” He said, letting out a sigh. “We were all that we had to support the other. I’m sure it was much the same between you and Sevari, no?”

Zaveed pondered that for a moment. “Not quite the same as yours, I think.” he said after a spell. “We aren’t related by blood, but rather circumstances. We grew up on the streets of Senchal as orphans, he helped save my sister and I from being caught by guards for stealing, and he helped feed us and since then we were a family that looked out for each other, slept together, suffered together. I think after decades apart, both of us hoped to see the other would have succeeded where we had each failed.” he sighed. “We’re both Khajiit who are cut from a very bloody cloth, our paths went very different ways, but neither of us could be described as good men. Only my sister turned out alright.” he smiled, looking into the blue sky beyond the mouth of the cave.

He resumed his attention to the apple. “Forgive me for my ignorance on the matter, I’ve very little experience with your people’s customs. What significance does the Shadow hold for Argonians?”

“Oh, on the contrary, after hearing you say that I think that the relationship between you and Sevari isn’t that different than the one between me and my brothers and sisters.” Jaraleet said, chuckling softly. “Those born under the Shadow have been chosen to serve Sithis.” He shrugged, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “We are the blades that eliminate the enemies of Argonia and who send those who have the misfortune to cross us back into the Void.” The assassin explained. “Before it’s destruction, we had a….working relationship with the Dark Brotherhood you might say. Any youth born under the Shadow would be sent to them to be trained as Shadowscales so that they might serve the Brotherhood and the Dread Father. Of course, those days are long gone, now our only masters are the An-Xileel.”

“So, where does that leave you?” Zaveed asked curiously, mulling over the casual place of Sithis in the Argonian pantheon. That was a revelation he hadn’t expected to hear. “What becomes of Shadow born Argonians if they are not Shadowscales these days?”

“We are Haj-Eix. Or Hidden Scales, if you prefer to use Cyrodiilic.” He replied with a shrug. “We are assassins and interrogators as needed be. Our functions haven’t changed all that much, if at all.” Jaraleet said. “It just took a while for us Shadow born Argonians to be given purpose again.”

“Very forthcoming.” Zaveed observed. “You are a long way from home to really serve your purpose, if I may. Do the others know that you’re a professional political murderer?”

“What is one more secret, I trust you will not lose sleep over keeping that along with what Gregor told you. Plus, I’m sure that sooner or later your brother would have told you.” The assassin said with a shrug. “As it stands, the only ones who know are Latro and Gregor. Alim knows that I’m an assassin, but not the full story. And of course there is your brother as well, and you now.” Jaraleet explained, pausing for a second. “The others merely think that I’m a former soldier of the An-Xileel. Of course, I’m sure that a few others in the group suspect that there’s more to me than I say, namely Daro’Vasora and Janelle.” He finished, turning to look at Zaveed. “I trust that my vocation doesn’t bothers you Zaveed, correct?”

The privateer shrugged. “Only difference between you and I, from a practical perspective, is I committed most of my violence out at sea with a crew whereas you’ve skulked in the shadows and killed in the dark. I’ll keep it between us, although I must admit, I wasn’t expecting this sort of candor from you.” he turned to look back at the group, a frown crossing his countenance. “You know, I tell people that I’m not overly concerned by what they think, but for some reason this group… it’s like looking at a list of terrible things I’ve visited on people in display and me being here just aggravates the wounds. I don’t know if it’s guilt or discomfort for being around people who wish ill upon me, but I’ve seldom felt I was more of a thorn than I am now.”

“You say that, but you revealed to me that Gregor had told you his secret almost immediately. One would expect that, after being told to keep something like that secret, you would think before speaking about it. But I understand why you told me.” Jaraleet said with a chuckle before he turned along with Zaveed to look back at the group. “Give them time, you would be surprised but they can be rather accommodating once you get in their good graces. Not that I have much to say about that, given that shortly after I’ve joined them the vast majority of them must think of me as a murderer.” He shrugged, turning to look at the entrance of the cave once more. “I can’t say that things will be easy, as you noted your presence here aggravates old wounds, but…” He paused as he searched for what to say. “Well, I don’t know what to rightly say truth be told.” The assassin spoke after a second. “But what will happen will happen, as simple as that sounds. Who’s to say why our paths intersected, but I’m sure that we’ll see the why of it eventually.”

Zaveed snorted. “Accommodating enough to harbour the man that tried to soul trap me. I don’t think there’s an up for me to strive for, nor an acceptance I could wish for. It is not an aspiration of mine, but if you can help make sure I don’t get murdered in my sleep, I’ll try to return the favour somehow.” he said with a shake of the head, he took a large bite out of the apple before tossing it carelessly. “I never much believed in fate, nor destiny. Life’s far too ruthless to be by design. I appreciate the talk, Jaraleet. Take solstace in the fact you’re no longer the most loathed person in this particular party.”

“Don't be so harsh on them, most of them are good people. But I'll try to ease things with the rest of them.” Jaraleet said to Zaveed before he left, shaking his head slightly. He looked as the Khajiit left, simply nodding in response to his last words, and turned back to the entrance of the cave and resumed his watch.

Mass Effect: Sinless

Khosin Grathe Sedgoroh

Khosin Grathe Sedgoroh

Race: Batarian
Sex: Male
Class: Sentinel
Age: 41
Homeworld: Khar’shan

Appearance:

Hider

At a quick glance, it becomes readily apparent that Khosin has a lean figure when compared to other men who have underwent military training, standing at 6’7 feet and weighing 180 pounds. However, in spite of this, Khosin has an athletic, muscular, build thanks to his training. It is thanks to this very training, coupled with almost 3 decades of combat, that Khosin’s body is riddled with multiple scars, albeit these are often hidden behind his armor or whatever clothes he is wearing at any given situation.

The only things that make Khosin stand out from other Batarians are the red prosthesis that replaces his right forearm and the tattoo located on his neck; otherwise, Khosin looks like your average, brown-skinned, Batarian seen throughout Omega or in one of the Hegemony’s worlds in Kite’s Nest. When outside of battle, Khosin usually wears short-sleeved shirts with matching cargo pants.

Psychological Profile:
On the surface Khosin seems like an affable enough man, ready to go out for drinks with his comrades or to engage in small banter with them between contracts. But, were one to look deeper, a pattern would begin to emerge in the way Khosin behaves himself; he prefers to keep conversations focused on the present and away from himself and his past, not divulging anything truly personal. In other words, despite his seemingly affable disposition, it becomes apparent that Khosin keeps people at arm’s length rather than allowing himself to form deep friendships with his comrades. This stems mainly from the loss of his previous crew and from the simple fact that mercenary crews are volatile by their very nature, with their members changing regularly as they replace their losses be they due to the death of one of their members or from their retirement. It is simpler, and better in the long run, to keep a certain amount of distance in Khosin’s mind.

Aside from this, Khosin prefers mostly quiet afternoons where he spends his time with either a book, doing maintenance on his prosthesis, or practicing his woodcarving. Though, like mentioned previously, he isn’t opposed to going out for drinks or more social-oriented activities.

In contrast to his demeanor during down time, when in battle Khosin is fully focused on the mission and on the task of achieving the objectives that he and his teammates set out to do and fully ready to do whatever is necessary to achieve said goals. This is a result of the training that Khosin underwent when he joined the Hegemony’s military forces, in which he and other trainees were taught to pursue decisive victories no matter what methods they had to employ to achieve said victory.

“Defeat your enemies so thoroughly, so decisively, that they can’t get back up to challenge you again. That is the only mean to attain true victory.” Such were the words of one of Khosin’s instructors, words that the Batarian still remembers to this day and which shape his choice of tactics in the battlefield. Still, in spite of the ruthlessness that Khosin displays on the battlefield, it is not like he fights that way due to deriving pleasure from it, rather in his mind it seems the most efficient way to fight and the best way to ensure that any battles in which he participates are as short as possible, no matter how bloody they might be.

Equipment:

• Kishock Harpoon Gun
• M-96 Mattock
  *Improved Heat Sink, Omni-blade Attachment
• AT-12 Raider
  *Polonium Rounds, Extended Barrel
• Medium Partisan Armor Set
• Cipher Model Omni-Tool
  *Utilizes all regular functions, omni-blade replaced with Enforcement gauntlet
• Gemini Bio-Amp
• Prosthetic forearm

  

Powers:

• Drone
• Flamethrower
• Reave
• Tech Armor
• Shockwave

Background: Born from a moderately wealthy family in 2143 CE, Khosin found his initial life to be an easy one. His parents were a loving couple that often doted on their children, and he adored his trio of younger brothers and sisters and the discovery of biotic potential within the young Batarian proved to not be problematic and his family managed to find a school that accepted Biotic children easily enough.

As such, most of the life of the young Batarian would be a pleasant -fairly uneventful- one. His parents were kind people, treating their slaves well, and would recite excerpts from the Pillars of Strength from time to time to their children. In short order, Khosin's family was a 'model' family so to speak within the society of the Batarian Hegemony.

That all would change the year 2165 CE, when his father invested most of the family's funds in what -at the moment- seemed a secure investment in a fledgling mining colony being funded by the Hegemony in the Skyllian Verge. But what seemed to be a safe prospect turned to be anything so, as the colony was lost to the Alliance's aggressive colonizing efforts which -along with the Council favoring the Alliance in that particular instance, and the Hegemony paying a meager, if they paid at all, insurance- the Sedgoroh family found itself barely making enough money to not sell themselves into servitude. It was at this point that Khosin found himself enlisting with the Hegemony's military in the hopes of making the humans that had ruined his family pay, a decision motivated mostly by the newfound hatred of humanity that the young Batarian felt.

It wouldn't be so and although Khosin proved himself a capable soldier he was deemed a troublemaker -starting fights with his fellow soldiers and getting into arguments with his superiors- and was being considered for a discharge before his second year within the military, it was at this time when he was approached by a Colonel within the Hegemony's military for a 'special' project as the man himself put it. Seeing no reason to say no, Khosin accepted the offer that the colonel gave him and soon the young Batarian found himself listed as being honorably discharged, a cover for his transference to the command of colonel Khesrak Sed’mevan.

The 'special' project of colonel Sed'mevan, as it turned out to be, was to be inducted into a black ops squad of the Hegemony’s External Forces. The principal objective of the squad, as colonel Sed’mevan put it, was to raid ships that travelled near the Mass Effect Relays that led to Hegemony space, preferably those of the Alliance if the opportunity presented itself, and then funnel the resources back to Hegemony space via Sed'mevan's contacts in the black market. However, before Khosin could join the team he, along with the others who had been earmarked for the colonel’s squad, would have to undergo the training that those selected to join the Hegemony’s External Forces underwent before they were accepted into it.

The training was arduous, pushing Khosin and his fellow trainees to their limits and beyond them in most occasions. It wasn’t uncommon for some of them to die during the hellish exercises they were subjected to but, in the end, Khosin and many of the other trainees persevered through the program and were accepted into Sed’mevan’s black ops squad. The newly formed squad was promptly given a ship, which was swiftly christened as The Serrated Sun by the members of the squad, and told to set off to do the task that the colonel had given them. Being an off the book squad, Khosin and the other crew members of the Serrated Sun enjoyed a great deal of freedom in how they conducted themselves both during their free time and during missions; as long as they raided ships and funneled the resources back to the Hegemony, they were free to do as they pleased. In this freedom were planted the seeds of Khosin and his squadmates downfall.

As the years went by and the crew of the Serrated Sun continued with their piracy of those ships unfortunate enough to be caught by them, Sed’mevan’s hold on the group began to loosen more and more as the crew of pirates became emboldened by their successes. Issues where Sed’mevan’s orders ‘mysteriously’ weren’t received became more and more frequent and the crew began attacking instead more high profile targets and keeping more of the spoils for themselves. The continued assault on ships eventually got the crew on the radar of the Alliance and colonel Sed’mevan, who at this point considered the corsairs of The Serrated Sun a lost cause, was more than happy to let the crew fall to the Alliance, withdrawing information from his one-time subordinates about a trap that the humans had prepared to wipe them out.

The plan of the alliance was simple: have one of their transports, usually staffed with non-combat personnel, actually be manned by trained forces ready to eliminate the corsairs while keeping the facade of being easy prey to the emboldened pirates. Predictably, the crew of The Serrated Sun, their egos bloated from years of easy piracy, fell for the trap set out for them by the Alliance. What originally seemed like an easy run soon turned into a bloodbath, the trained marines of the Alliance more than capable of being a match for the batarian corsairs who had grown accustomed to assaulting ships piloted with only a token security detail. The heated firefight between marines and corsairs soon turned in favor of the former, with more and more of the Batarian pirates dying by the second. Khosin himself was taken out of the fight near its end, his right forearm mangled beyond use by a close-quarter blast from a shotgun, narrowly avoiding death thanks to the quick intervention of one of the few corsairs that still stood unscathed. The battered corsairs beat a hasty retreat to their ship, leaving those of them that couldn’t muster up the strength to run back to The Serrated Sun behind for the Alliance to deal with. But, even when they had made their way back to their ship, their troubles were far from over. Fighters soon appeared and began pursuing the Batarian’s ship; after only a few hours of pursuit, critical systems were failing aboard the Serrated Sun and those who could had found their way aboard the vessels escape pods.

The Alliance was thorough and many of the pods were either intercepted or outright destroyed but, either through providence or sheer luck, Khosin’s pod managed to avoid capture. Eventually, in a twist of irony, the pod in which Khosin had escaped was picked up by a Turian merchant ship making its way to the Terminus system, towards Omega specifically. The Turian merchants didn’t ask too many questions, and what questions they asked were answered with difficult to track lies, and gave Khosin medical aid for his mangled forearm which unfortunately, due to the lack of timely first aid, had to be severed. Eventually Khosin was deposited in Omega and, after paying a small fee to his rescuers, disappeared into the bowels of the space station.

With only the weapons on his back and the clothes that his Turian rescuers had graciously given him, Khosin was left adrift on the galaxy. What meager savings he still had left after paying his rescuers soon went away when the Batarian bought himself a prosthetic replacement for his lost forearm. Lost in the world, and far too used to violence to ever reintegrate into a civilian life, Khosin soon found himself working on the closest thing to his previous occupation: as a bouncer for one of the many strip clubs that dotted the levels of Omega. But, even with a steady job as a bouncer, part of him itched to return to the old days or, at the very least, something similar to them. Still, it’d be many years before the Batarian would have the chance to leave the station yet again and, as the years wore on, Khosin himself began to change. Slowly but surely, the hatred that had at one point drove Khosin to join the Hegemony’s military began to evaporate as he lived on Omega and he was forced to live amongst the humans that he had once so thoroughly despised for his family’s misfortune.

Eventually Khosin managed to gather enough money to buy a new set of armor and, shortly after that, the former corsair entered the world of mercenaries, leaving behind his job as a bouncer. Settling into the lifestyle of a mercenary was easy enough for Khosin, who had long ago grown accustomed to risking his life on a nearly daily basis during his time on the Serrated Sun. And so Khosin settled into the life of one of thousands mercenaries on Omega, sometimes working by himself to clean nests of Vorcha or sometimes working in groups with other mercs as security for a merchant or to wipe out a gang or two from time to time.

Strengths:

• The training undergone by those chosen for the Hegemony’s External Forces is a brutal one, with a fatality rate of 18% amongst the trainees that undertake it. Khosin, having undergone such training, has an incredibly high amount of resilience, both mental and physical, and as such he is an incredibly disciplined fighter, being able to keep his cool even in the face of overwhelming odds.
• Like most Batarian soldiers, Khosin is an utterly ruthless combatant. Enforcement gauntlets, harpoon guns, polonium rounds, Khosin is willing to use any sort of weapons, no matter how cruel they might be, as long as they get the job done in a decisive, quick, way.
• As a Sentinel, Khosin is skilled in the use of both technology and biotic-based abilities. This gives him a greater degree of flexibility during combat when compared to other combatants, allowing him to react to a greater number of threats.

Weaknesses:

• While Khosin’s prosthetic forearm is built sturdily enough, there are still some defects in it’s making. The most crucial of them is that, should a sufficiently strong electricity shock hit the prosthesis, it will stop working and, even worse, send Khosin’s right arm into a brief fit of spasms as the electric current makes its way from the metallic prosthesis to the flesh and bone that connect to the robotic appendage. Along with this, the prosthesis requires frequent maintenance to ensure that it works to its full extent.
• While Khosin’s ruthless tactics might be useful in battle, not everyone might approve of them which might cause some friction between Khosin and other members of the team who might disapprove of the use of such tactics in combat.
• Due to the very tactical flexibility afforded to him by his Sentinel training, Khosin is unfortunately outclassed by other combatants who specialised in only one specific form of combat. As such, when specialist are required, Khosin is of less use that he’d like to be.

Misc:

• During the process of recovering from the loss of his forearm and getting accustomed to his prosthesis, Khosin picked up woodcarving as a means to help himself regain fine motor control in his prosthetic hand. As time went on, the Batarian found the hobby to be relaxing and a way to wind down after a stressful day, during his time as a bouncer for a strip club, or after a mission once he became a mercenary. As such, even to this day, Khosin continues to practice his woodcarving skills as often as he can.
• Khosin also enjoyed doing maintenance on his prosthetic arm, finding the task a way to center himself, sometimes even reciting excerpt from the Pillars of Strength as he works on the robotic appendage.
• Khosin also enjoys reading in his free time whenever he isn’t occupied with his woodcarving or doing maintenance on his prosthesis, a holdover from the days before his family lost it all and were forced to live in on the streets.
• During his time on Omega, he picked the bad habit of smoking tobacco. As such, Khosin can be found from time to time smoking his own hand-rolled cigarettes.
• He periodically sends an amount of credits back to his family in Kite’s Nest to try and help them survive and, hopefully, one day be able to regain what they lost all those years ago.
• The tattoo on his neck is his own form of honoring his deceased comrades from The Serrated Sun
  
  *Tattoo design

  

Mass Effect: Sinless

Khosin Grathe Sedgoroh

Khosin Grathe Sedgoroh

Race: Batarian
Sex: Male
Class: Sentinel
Age: 41
Homeworld: Khar’shan

Appearance:

Hider

At a quick glance, it becomes readily apparent that Khosin has a lean figure when compared to other men who have underwent military training, standing at 6’7 feet and weighing 180 pounds. However, in spite of this, Khosin has an athletic, muscular, build thanks to his training. It is thanks to this very training, along with almost 3 decades of combat, that Khosin’s body is riddled with multiple scars, albeit these are often hidden behind his armor or whatever clothes he is wearing at any given situation.

The only things that make Khosin stand out from other Batarians are the red prosthesis that replaces his right forearm and the tattoo located on his neck; otherwise, Khosin looks like your average, brown-skinned, Batarian seen throughout Omega or in one of the Hegemony’s worlds in Kite’s Nest. When outside of battle, Khosin usually wears short-sleeved shirts with matching cargo pants.

Psychological Profile:
On the surface Khosin seems like an affable enough man, ready to go out for drinks with his comrades or to engage in small banter with them between contracts. But, were one to look deeper, a pattern would begin to emerge in the way Khosin behaves himself; he prefers to keep conversations focused on the present and away from himself and his past, not divulging anything truly personal. In other words, despite his seemingly affable disposition, it becomes apparent that Khosin keeps people at arm’s length rather than allowing himself to form deep friendships with his comrades. This stems mainly from the loss of his previous crew and from the simple fact that mercenary crews are volatile by their very nature, with their members changing regularly as they replace their losses be they due to the death of one of their members or from their retirement. It is simpler, and better in the long run, to keep a certain amount of distance in Khosin’s mind.

Aside from this, Khosin prefers mostly quiet afternoons where he spends his time with either a book, doing maintenance on his prosthesis, or practicing his woodcarving. Though, like mentioned previously, he isn’t opposed to going out for drinks or more social-oriented activities.

In contrast to his demeanor during down time, when in battle Khosin is fully focused on the mission and on the task of achieving the objectives that he and his teammates set out to do and fully ready to do whatever is necessary to achieve said goals. This is a result of the training that Khosin underwent when he joined the Hegemony’s military forces, in which he and other trainees were taught to pursue decisive victories no matter what methods they had to employ to achieve said victory.

“Defeat your enemies so thoroughly, so decisively, that they can’t get back up again to challenge you again. That is the only mean to attain true victory.” Such were the words of one of Khosin’s instructors, words that the Batarian still remembers to this day and which shape his choice of tactics in the battlefield. Still, in spite of the ruthlessness that Khosin displays on the battlefield, it is not like he fights that way due to deriving pleasure from it, rather in his mind it seems the most efficient way to fight and the best way to ensure that any battles in which he participates are as short as possible, no matter how bloody they might be.

Equipment:

• Kishock Harpoon Gun
• M-96 Mattock
  *Improved Heat Sink, Omni-blade Attachment
• AT-12 Raider
  *Polonium Rounds, Extended Barrel
• Medium Partisan Armor Set
• Cipher Model Omni-Tool
  *Utilizes all regular functions, omni-blade replaced with Enforcement gauntlet
• Gemini Bio-Amp
• Prosthetic forearm

  

Powers:

• Drone
• Flamethrower
• Reave
• Tech Armor
• Shockwave

Background: Born from a moderately wealthy family in 2143 CE, Khosin found his initial life to be an easy one. His parents were a loving couple that often doted on their children, and he adored his trio of younger brothers and sisters and the discovery of biotic potential within the young Batarian proved to not be problematic and his family managed to find a school that accepted Biotic children easily enough.

As such, most of the life of the young Batarian would be a pleasant -fairly uneventful- one. His parents were kind people, treating their slaves well, and would recite excerpts from the Pillars of Strength from time to time to their children. In short order, Khosin's family was a 'model' family so to speak within the society of the Batarian Hegemony.

That all would change the year 2165 CE, when his father invested most of the family's funds in what -at the moment- seemed a secure investment in a fledgling mining colony being funded by the Hegemony in the Skyllian Verge. But what seemed to be a safe prospect turned to be anything so, as the colony was lost to the Alliance's aggressive colonizing efforts which -along with the Council favoring the Alliance in that particular instance, and the Hegemony paying a meager, if they paid at all, insurance- the Sedgoroh family found itself barely making enough money to not sell themselves into servitude. It was at this point that Khosin found himself enlisting with the Hegemony's military in the hopes of making the humans that had ruined his family pay, a decision motivated mostly by the newfound hatred of humanity that the young Batarian felt.

It wouldn't be so and although Khosin proved himself a capable soldier he was deemed a troublemaker -starting fights with his fellow soldiers and getting into arguments with his superiors- and was being considered for a discharge before his second year within the military, it was at this time when he was approached by a Colonel within the Hegemony's military for a 'special' project as the man himself put it. Seeing no reason to say no, Khosin accepted the offer that the colonel gave him and soon the young Batarian found himself listed as being honorably discharged, a cover for his transference to the command of colonel Khesrak Sed’mevan.

The 'special' project of colonel Sed'mevan, as it turned out to be, was to be inducted into a black ops squad of the Hegemony’s External Forces. The principal objective of the squad, as colonel Sed’mevan put it, was to raid ships that travelled near the Mass Effect Relays that led to Hegemony space, preferably those of the Alliance if the opportunity presented itself, and then funnel the resources back to Hegemony space via Sed'mevan's contacts in the black market. However, before Khosin could join the team he, along with the others who had been earmarked for the colonel’s squad, would have to undergo the training that those selected to join the Hegemony’s External Forces underwent before they were accepted into it.

The training was arduous, pushing Khosin and his fellow trainees to their limits and beyond them in most occasions. It wasn’t uncommon for some of them to die during the hellish exercises they were subjected to but, in the end, Khosin and many of the other trainees persevered through the program and were accepted into Sed’mevan’s black ops squad. The newly formed squad was promptly given a ship, which was promptly christened as The Serrated Sun by the members of the squad, and told to set off to do the task that the colonel had given them. Being an off the book squad, Khosin and the other crew members of the Serrated Sun enjoyed a great deal of freedom in how they conducted themselves both during their free time and during missions; as long as they raided ships and funneled the resources back to the Hegemony, they were free to do as they pleased. In this freedom were the seeds of Khosin and his squadmates downfall.

As the years went by and the crew of the Serrated Sun continued with their piracy of those ships unfortunate enough to be caught by them, Sed’mevan’s hold on the group began to loosen more and more as the crew of pirates became emboldened by their successes. Issues were Sed’mevan’s orders ‘mysteriously’ weren’t received became more and more frequent and the crew began attacking instead more high profile targets and keeping more of the spoils for themselves. The continued assault on ships eventually got the crew on the radar of the Alliance and colonel Sed’mevan, who at this point considered the corsairs of The Serrated Sun a lost cause, was more than happy to let the crew fall to the Alliance, withdrawing information from his one-time subordinates about a trap that the humans had prepared to wipe them out.

The plan of the alliance was simple: have one of their transports, usually staffed with non-combat personnel, actually be manned by trained forces ready to eliminate the corsairs while keeping the facade of being easy prey to the emboldened pirates. Predictably, the crew of The Serrated Sun, their egos bloated from years of easy piracy, fell for the trap set out for them by the Alliance. What originally seemed like an easy run soon turned into a bloodbath, the trained marines of the Alliance more than capable of being a match for the batarian corsairs who had grown accustomed to assaulting ships piloted by non-combatants and with only a token security detail. The heated firefight between marines and corsairs soon turned in favor of the former, with more and more of the Batarian pirates dying by the second. Khosin himself was taken out of the fight near its end, his right forearm mangled beyond use by a close-quarter blast from a shotgun, narrowly avoiding death thanks to the quick intervention of one of the few corsairs that still stood unscathed. The battered corsairs beat a hasty retreat to their ship, leaving those of them that couldn’t muster up the strength to run back to The Serrated Sun behind for the Alliance to deal with. But, even when they had made their way back to their ship, their troubles were far from over. Fighters soon appeared and began pursuing the Batarian’s ship; after only a few hours of pursuit, critical systems were failing aboard the Serrated Sun and those who could had found their way aboard the vessels escape pods.

The Alliance was thorough and many of the pods were either intercepted or outright destroyed but, either through faith or sheer luck, Khosin’s pod managed to avoid capture. Eventually they managed to, in a twist of irony, be picked up by a Turian merchant ship making its way to the Terminus system, Omega specifically. The Turian merchants didn’t ask too many questions, and what questions they asked were answered with difficult to track lies, and gave Khosin medical aid for his mangled forearm which unfortunately, due to the lack of timely first aid, had to be severed. Eventually Khosin was deposited in Omega and, after paying a small fee to his rescuers, disappeared into the bowels of the space station.

With only the weapons on his back and the clothes that his Turian rescuers had graciously given him, Khosin was left adrift on the galaxy. What meager savings he still had left after paying his rescuers soon went away when the Batarian bought himself a prosthetic replacement for his lost forearm. Lost in the world, and far too used to violence to ever reintegrate into a civilian life, Khosin soon found himself working on the closest thing to his previous occupation: as a bouncer for one of the many strip clubs that dotted the levels of Omega. But, even with a steady job as a bouncer, part of him itched to return to the old days or, at the very least, something similar to them. Still, it’d be many years before the Batarian would have the chance to leave the station yet again and, as the years wore on, Khosin himself began to change. Slowly but surely, the hatred that had at one point drove Khosin to join the Hegemony’s military began to evaporate as he lived on Omega and he was forced to have to live amongst the humans that he had once so thoroughly despised for his family’s misfortune.

Eventually Khosin managed to gather enough money to buy a new set of armor and, shortly after that, the former corsair entered the world of mercenaries, leaving behind his job as a bouncer. Settling into the lifestyle of a mercenary was easy enough for Khosin, who had long ago grown accustomed to risking his life on a nearly daily basis during his time on the Serrated Sun. And so Khosin settled into the life of one of thousands mercenaries on Omega, sometimes working by himself to clean nests of Vorcha or sometimes working in groups with other mercs as security for a merchant or to wipe out a gang or two from time to time.

Strengths:

• The training undergone by those chosen for the Hegemony’s External Forces is a brutal one, with a fatality rate of 18% amongst the trainees that undertake it. Khosin, having undergone such training, has an incredibly high amount of resilience, both mental and physical, and as such he is an incredibly disciplined fighter, being able to keep his cool even in the face of overwhelming odds.
• Like most Batarian soldiers, Khosin is an utterly ruthless combatant. Enforcement gauntlets, harpoon guns, polonium rounds, Khosin is willing to use any sort of weapons, no matter how cruel they might be, as long as they get the job done in a decisive, quick, way.
• As a Sentinel, Khosin is skilled in the use of both technology and biotic-based abilities. This gives him a greater degree of flexibility during combat when compared to other combatants, allowing him to react to a greater number of threats.

Weaknesses:

• While Khosin’s prosthetic forearm is built sturdily enough, there are still some defects in it’s making. The most crucial of them is that, should a sufficiently strong shock hit the prosthesis, it will stop working and, even worse, send Khosin’s right arm into a brief fit of spasms as the electric current makes its way from the metallic prosthesis to the flesh and bone that connect to the robotic appendage. Along with this, the prosthesis requires frequent maintenance to ensure that it works to its full extent.
• While Khosin’s ruthless tactics might be useful in battle, not everyone might approve of them which might cause some friction between Khosin and other members of the team who might disapprove of the use of such tactics in combat.
• Due to the very tactical flexibility afforded to him by his Sentinel training, Khosin is unfortunately outclassed by other combatants who specialised in only one specific form of combat. As such, when specialist are required, Khosin is of less use than some of his other comrades might be.
• In spite of getting over his prejudice against humans, Khosin still loathes the Alliance. As such, any pro-Alliance comments or viewpoints might, at best, be greeted with a derisive sneer or cold silence from the Batarian's part. At worst, he might argue back against the person in question and, if sufficiently pushed, Khosin could get, somewhat, violent.

Misc:

• During the process of recovering from the loss of his forearm and getting accustomed to his prosthesis, Khosin picked up woodcarving as a means to help himself regain fine motor control in his prosthetic hand. As time went on, the Batarian found the hobby to be relaxing and a way to wind down after a stressful day, during his time as a bouncer for a strip club, or after a mission once he became a mercenary. As such, even to this day, Khosin continues to practice his woodcarving skills as often as he can.
• Khosin also enjoyed doing maintenance on his prosthetic arm, finding the task a way to center himself, sometimes even reciting excerpt from the Pillars of Strength as he works on the robotic appendage.
• Khosin also enjoys reading in his free time whenever he isn’t occupied with his woodcarving or doing maintenance on his prosthesis, a holdover from the days before his family lost it all and were forced to live in on the streets.
• He periodically sends an amount of credits back to his family in Kite’s Nest to try and help them survive and, hopefully, one day be able to regain what they lost all those years ago.
• The tattoo on his neck is his own form of honoring his deceased comrades from The Serrated Sun
  
  *Tattoo design