Peik

<Snipped quote by MacabreFox>

Hehe, that's pretty cool. I haven't been on a binge like that in a long while. Last time, I became the Master of the Thieves Guild and stole every single item worth more than three septims from every single Hold. I'm starting to play it again, and I'm kind of trying to play it like Thief. Minimal takedowns, and as few alerts as possible while snagging everything with any possible value. I made my new character a Nord lady thief because I wasn't really thinking about it, but maybe I'll reroll as Sagax. Of course the two main skills that would have given him any real viability aren't in Skyrim(Athletics and Acrobatics), but hey, whatever. I'll play around it.

Hell, maybe I'll fire up the CK and make game versions of everyone's characters and place them somewhere. Ashav'll be chilling by a fire in the middle of a bunch of dead bandits, natch, and I'd probably place Sevine where a lot of game is. Get some use out of that bow.@Frizan

I remember stumbling onto some shack with an archery trainer woman living there once. Could make a good spot.

The old Dunmer, fully clothed despite being positioned in a small hammock, lay mostly still, sleep having taken over him – occasionally, he stirred from his position and gave out a quiet snore, alongside a drip of spit drooling from the side of his mouth, but these occasions were rare enough to not be a bother for the others in the compartment. That, and well, compared to most sailors, this mer’s sleep was beyond natural grace. Most other sailors let loose snores not unlike roars, rumbling burps and farts of varying tones, starting from shrill, quiet gas leaks to explosive drum beats – on the other hand, this Dunmer’s sleep was much more lifeless, likely thanks to old age and an unenthusiastic grasp on life. Of course, the stillness of his sleep was also thanks to the deep state of dreaming the mer currently was in. Even though his body lay on the hammock, his mind and soul explored the depths of his brain, or perhaps the Dreamstride of Vaermina, though the old mer, in his current state, was not able to ascertain one from the other.

He walked through the streets of an abandoned town, in the dead of a moonless night, lit only by red lanterns smelling of incense, and even that, barely. The shadows outside the reach of the lanterns seemed to merge with the starless night, which created an emptiness left for the mer’s psyche to fill. Had he been awake, he’d have thought of the scene’s similarities with the supposedly Akaviri-inspired ink wash paintings of the Necrom School. In his dream-induced psychosis, however, he simply found it horrifying. Perhaps this indeed was the Quagmire, and perhaps Vaermina was taking the piss something fierce with him. Perhaps the group’s short encounter against the ice wraiths and the cold weather had messed up with his mood. Or perhaps he had gone into moon sugar withdrawal sooner than expected.

As the light of the lanterns began to dim, and the old Dunmer began to move more cautiously, someone’s presence suddenly lit up the premises about a hundred feet away from the mer. The Dunmer was almost blinded by the sudden change in brightness, and after a moment of dizziness, started walking towards the person. As he came closer, he managed to pick out features of a woman, seemingly in the nude – although her strong features betrayed an androgynous nature. ‘’Sadri,’’ she spoke out, and walked closer, which, for some reason, made the Dunmer recoil in fear. ‘’On your feet, sailor.’’

Sadri blinked and tried to pick out the woman’s face, but the light emanating from the woman was too strong to let him. Suddenly, with one step, the woman closed all the distance between her and Sadri, and clasped onto his missing arm. Sadri, in an uncommon display of bravery, decided to look at her in the face, and despite the brightness, made his best to pick out the woman’s visage. As he struggled to pick up her lines, she began to speak again. ‘’Everyone up.’’ 

‘’What?’’ Sadri asked, his mouth half open in awe.

‘’Everyone up. Everyone up!’’

Sadri woke up, skin drenched in cold sweat, to a sight of panic and hurry. A sailor rushed by, shouting for everyone to get up, and Sadri, in his waking-up blur, tried to get up from his hammock, and ended up falling off it, hitting the wooden floor. His ears rung like some sort of exotic instrument, courtesy of the collision, and in his dizziness, Sadri slipped as he tried to get up, falling again. Hitting the ground again amplified the ringing in his ears, which frustrated Sadri enough to get a proper grip on the hammock and pull himself on his feet. 

‘’What the fuck’s going on?’’ Sadri asked aloud, although he did not mean to do so, and nobody bothered to hear him anyhow. Despite that, as if on cue, an experienced sailor suddenly barged in following Sadri’s question and explained the situation in a rather blunt manner.

‘’Listen! We lost controls. Prepare to abandon ship!’’

Sadri gave out a sigh. The damn sea had swallowed his pipe first, and now his life? ‘’Well, fuck you, you godless sea,’’ the Dunmer thought, ‘’you’re not taking that from me.’’ It seemed Sadri’s frustration with the sea played more of a part in his will to live than his actual survival instinct – had he been in a different mood, he probably wouldn’t have lit up so easily, but right now, having lost his pipe, and having abruptly woken from his sleep, and now forced into a life and death situation because of the waters, Sadri could pull out his sword and chop at the waves in sheer hate. He moved out of the compartment, only to find sailors trying, in vain, to stop a leak that gushed in water like a burst Dwemer steam pipe.

Following this foreboding sight, the old Dunmer moved out of the compartment and got on top deck with youthful speed, fuelled by hatred, just in time to witness one of the lifeboats splash onto the sea as pieces of broken waves crashed upon the top deck. ‘’Lucky bastards,’’ he thought to himself for a moment, but then, as the ship canted one side up, Sadri saw more of the waves swallow the lifeboat, like they had once taken him, and his thought ended up getting thrown off his mind, replaced by a remark of pity.

As the commotion created an environment of chaos on the ship, Sadri immediately turned to face the stern of the ship, feeling it steer, even though barely – the triumphant, albeit nonetheless panicking and nervous expression of the helmsman made Sadri think that the ship’s controls, albeit limited, were still operational. He rushed from his spot to find the captain, Atgeir. He had an idea that could help their situation, even if in a limited manner. Throwing himself onto the poop deck, he grasped onto the railing next to the ship’s wheel, and explained his proposition.

‘’The lifeboat won’t be taking all of us, and there's a leak that can’t go unattended. If we fother the leak with some of the sails, we might just gain enough time to make it to land,’’ Sadri spoke, as he huffed to breathe in more air. ‘’I could see to it done, with help.’’

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