Spoopy Scary

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

“The galaxy has seen the rise and fall of empires and republics alike throughout the millennia. With each new era, a new reason to fight; likewise, running parallel an everlasting constant, more of the same fighting without reason. Conflict can ebb and flow, but never is it truly gone, nor should it be – the true balance of the Force is found in the light harmonizing with the dark. For one cannot exist without the other, and if made so, there is no true balance. A new dark lord will rise, and behind them will billow a cloak of followers that blots out the sun to return balance, or a new avatar of light to teach serenity to the lost and mercurial. This is the will of the Force.”

An ancient Sith holocron, author unknown

We are taken back to 3600 BBY, in the throes of the Old Republic era. Long before the Clone Wars and the days of Obi-Wan, and even longer before the Galactic Civil War between Darth Sidious' Empire and the rebellion. In these days, the Sith are a numerous and organized force, where the Rule of Two has not yet been set by Darth Bane. They are the upper echelon of Imperial forces, and nearly all acolytes can be found training on Korriban before their apprenticeship to a Sith Lord. Likewise, the Republic found allies in the Jedi Council, whose tenets teach peace and find abhorrence in the Sith's code of passion and emotion – a practice that often brings about chaos and destruction when not morally tempered. In a time of such strife, heroes and legends are made. Their stories get told throughout the ages so that their lessons may be learned, but not all stories told are about the battlefield. Some of the greatest stories of victory, tragedy, of fearsome men and women or of the virtuous, are of people in the background. Of those living parallel to history, and not all are remembered.

One such story is that of the Order of Revan. A collection of cultists devoted to the teachings of Revan, a fallen Jedi turned Sith, and Sith turned enigma. A powerful force-sensitive who embraced both sides of the Force, and the order of his followers, the Revanites, did so as well. Comprised of both former Sith and Jedi who seek balance and power through understanding. Story also goes that the order was organized on Dromund Kaas, the center of the Sith Empire, and was destroyed upon its discovery and the empire from thereon worked to erase all memory of their “heresy”. Another story is that of The Great Hunt, where bounty hunters across the galaxy participate in a galactic competition and be dubbed the greatest hunter of their time. Marks ranging from admirals, to Sith Lords, to Jedi, or system-renowned assassins. Any high-end mark that pissed off someone powerful enough to pay big money for their death is fair game – and the hunters, the mercenaries, must also kill another hunter assigned the same target. Most bounty hunters don't leave the Great Hunt alive. And any hunter found participating in this Great Hunt are often hunted down themselves, whether it be by the Empire or by the Republic. Either government would serve themselves well to quash such dangerous activities.

One of the urban legends tells of a ship, one named the Black Rancor. A modified freighter, so perhaps not as large as the name might suggest, but none the less formidable. It belonged to a pirate, Captain Barrigarter Oai, the Cannibal of the Outer Rim. For his crew hunted down not traders, but other pirate vessels. Leaving not a soul alive, and salvaging all the was left of their ships to further modify their own or to sell. Despite this seemingly noble calling, he was no less a pirate than any other, and not treating him accordingly promised a quick end to those who hesitated in pulling the trigger. His tale came to a close when he and his crew crossed the crime organization, the Exchange. Lured into a trap, a fleet of their vessels nearly destroyed the Black Rancor, and reportedly took it as their own with none of the crew left alive.

These stories only mean so much until it’s time to earn your next paycheck, though. These aren't your stories. Your story has kept you away from the war for the most part. Likely, you have been living from job to job, taking whatever it is you can get. Perhaps you're a smuggler, just doing what you can to get by. Maybe you're a bounty hunter, and no mark is too low or too high. A trooper on leave, or a deserter, and you just want to leave the war behind you. An imperial agent or officer who found their actions to weigh too heavy on their mind and retired – or perhaps you're a jedi on pilgrimage. A padawan seeking to learn the ways of the Force, or a knight trying to find balance again, who's wrestling with the dark side of the Force. You could be a Sith acolyte who sees truth in their Sith code, but practices it in a manner far less destructive than the rest of their religious sect, or an apprentice or lord who had found the light and now sees the world with different eyes. You could be either Jedi or Sith, and decided to abandon or go into exile – to hide, or to avoid all of the drama. Even droids, whether assigned on a task or mission by your master, serve alongside them, or have simply become autonomous from having gone too long without a memory wipe. There's no limit to who you are, but there is one thing that has brought you here: everyone always needs credits.

For one reason or another, it is at this turn of the century that your destiny has guided your steps to the beautiful garden world of Alderaan, a shining example of the Core Worlds of the Galactic Republic. During your stay, you either came across some form of advertisement, found an anonymous posting, or personally met with a somewhat older man by the name of Varen Kray. For those who met him, you know he's an older, waspish human with salt and pepper hair and gaunt cheeks, though built like a Mandalorian... but all of you know that he's a man who has a ship, a 578-R space transport called The Phoenix, and on that ship, he could be wanting you to pilot. To provide extra muscle. To keep up with the ship's maintenance. To negotiate. It doesn't matter where you come from, he just cares to have any man, woman, or droid on board that is capable of pulling their weight. It doesn't matter for how long, either, but there are bonuses in pledging to be apart of his crew. Contracts earn you only pay, but pledges receive benefits. All you know about the job is that he has to transport cargo from one side of the galaxy to the other through Empire space; from Alderaan to Tatooine, but has failed to provide much more information than that. A job as suspect as it is likely prone to danger. So...

...What are you waiting for?

---

Introduction

---

Welcome to the Price of Freedom. I would like to inform you right out of the gate that this RP was originally conceived for a few friends. Please be aware that because of the rather private nature of this roleplay, new applicants will undergo Donald Trump levels of vetting. Just keep that in mind and I apologize if, for any reason, you feel that I may be acting biased or unfair. Feel free to privately bring it to my attention if you feel unwelcomed and I'll try my best to rectify that error.

(Also consider that I'm naturally just very picky and your sheet will very likely have been placed under high scrutiny anyways.) Do not feel intimidated or dismayed, though! I will work with you to make any improvements if the rough draft doesn't make it through. I am not in the business of turning away interested players and potential friends!

With that disclaimer out of the way, and to avoid further digression, I’ll now explain on what to expect: this roleplay will combine elements from both traditional tabletop mechanics with writing based, forum-styled posting. This will allow us to not only write out an engaging story, but also measure what exactly your characters are capable of in order to maintain fairness and consistency. Now that might sound daunting, but let me assure you, I and my co-GM, @He Who Walks Behind, will be crunching all of these numbers behind the scenes so that you can focus on your writing. This might take a bit of autonomy away from you as the player, but it also ensures that we will be engaging one another consistently and that I will be taking an active roll in helping you tell the story of your character. If you happen to be struggling with any Star Wars lore, ask openly in the thread! My co-GM and I will do our best to get you the right answers, and you’re guaranteed to find at least one knowledgeable Star Wars fan in the thread.

These numbers will only come into play should you try to perform some kind of task that isn’t a guaranteed success. This provides a very real and palpable presence of chance and probability that would otherwise be artificially devised. Ergo, you don’t know what’s going to happen and the palpable sense of risk feels real. That’s good. Building that connection with your character makes them memorable. The numbers will not come into play when you’re simply interacting with your fellow players in a conversation unless you want it to. If you want to share things, make your own plans, that’s fine. If you want your character to, for instance, manipulate, lie to, or persuade another character and the other player wants to leave it to the roll of a die, then I or the co-GM will roll dice that’s modified by your Persuade skill and Personality stat.

I am also here to help your character. I’m not against the rule of cool! If in a moment of crises, and your character is struck by inspiration to perform something truly amazing, I might roll dice to see if they succeed… or maybe I might allow it. Your character saves the day and gets their chance beneath the spotlight (if you can tell I’ve been taking tips from Matthew Mercer... shh!). These are moments I would use very sparingly, but don’t get the impression that I’m not in your corner.

Otherwise, all of the basic rules apply:

• Don’t be an ass wagon. Seriously though, no god-modding - your character can’t do anything that’s beyond their ability or skill level to perform.
• No meta-gaming - your character doesn’t know anything they’d have no reason to know, and that’s often dictated by their backstory. Nobody gets special passes on these.
• No characters of the evil alignment - it simply makes no sense for them to be traveling with others in the way you’ll be. If your character embraces the dark side, that's one thing. If they endorse galactic subjugation and eating black licorice, that's another. I assure you, they won’t last very long.
• Stick to the setting - the roleplay takes place in the Old Republic era, which means that some of the stuff you know won't apply here because: A, that thing wasn't invented yet, or b, that person wasn't born yet.
• Finally, when submitting your character template, do so by sending it to myself and the co-GM first in a group PM. If you are accepted, you will be directed to post it under the Character Tab without the Backstory section. This way, the others are given a chance to explore your history and learn about your character instead of it all being right there in the open. It also allows just my co-GM and I to help you with your sheet if it doesn't pass right away without everyone else jumping in.

These rules are pretty lax, and most of the restrictions really reside within the universe’s lore, which the co-GM and I will try to enforce. Just be sensible and it’ll be smooth sailing.

Some good resources to be using is the Wookiepedia, content from the Knights of the Old Republic games and the Star Wars: The Old Republic MMORPG.

Now, let’s build your character!

---

Building Your Character

---

First, get the idea in your head. Keep in mind the top of the OP, virtually anything goes, but you must be aware of one important thing: this is a story of a crew trying to keep away from the war. They might be running away from it or maybe they were never apart of it. Whatever it is, even if they had chosen a side in the past, those ties are long gone. Neither the Republic nor the Empire are your friends. The Jedi, the Sith? You walked away from them.

Are you there yet?

If you're reading this, I'm going to assume you are - awesome! Before we go any further, familiarize yourself with the homemade class, stat, and skill system I've put in place. The names are a little different from the traditional attributes in most RPGs, but the concept is still the same and should be recognizable. If you're unfamiliar these sort of mechanics, don't you worry. Stats are basically a measure of your character's ability, whereas the skills determine what they can do, what they know, what they're capable of and how well they can do those things. You can have virtually no Personality and still be able to Persuade someone, though with a slight disadvantage. The difference is in how it's implemented, such as using logic instead of your charisma.

You get 2 Skill points per point invested in Acumen, or your intelligence stat. Your Skills are reminiscent of the skills in the Knights of the Old Republic games and they are governed by your Stats, and what that means is that your stats will have a marginal effect on rolls for the Skills that they govern. The effect that your Stats will have on your Skill rolls aren't very noticeable, so don't worry about trying to min-max and just try to make the most interesting character you can think of!

---

CHARACTER TYPES

---

FORCE-TRAINED:
This refers to any character is a Jedi, Sith, or any other type of character that is capable of using Force powers, whether its pushing, suggesting, or throwing lightning. Just because you have a couple of points in the Force stat doesn't mean you can use Force powers. It takes years of dedication and intense training to attune yourself to the Force in such a way that you can harness it, so your history section should reflect this. Force-Trained-type characters are also the only ones that can reliably wield lightsabers. In any other hands, they would clumsily swing it around until they accidentally sever off one of their body parts with it. On the other hand, most powers require a free hand or most of your focus, so even a master of the Force will find their powers drastically weakened by the encumbrance of heavier armor and gadgetry. Force powers, being quite a potent advantage in this roleplay, may present some balance issues. For this reason, look to the powers in Knights of the Old Republic II and keep in mind the fatigue that can occur from overusing Force Powers. As someone who is Force-Trained, you haven't had much time to invest into skills, but you spent a lot of time practicing self-mastery. Whether its training your body, mind or tongue, you have 2 extra Stat points.

EXPERT:
Experts refer to any living and biological character that is not trained in the force. If you are an Expert-type character, you have likely devoted your life to a certain practice. While the people training in the Force have spent their time meditating, you've likely been practicing your craft. You have the advantage of heavier armor and gadgetry. It is difficult to use the Force to its best capability when decked out in Mandalorian armor and carrying a mini-gun or something, but you don't have to rely on the Force. Okay, so maybe you're not a heavy trooper, maybe you do have equipment like jetpacks or stealth generators. Maybe you have grenades. Take a look at the list of Star Wars technology and you pretty much have access to most of it (assuming it's time period appropriate, of course). There are plenty of things to level the playing field when fighting jedi or sith - assuming you are a fighter - thankfully, the disadvantage of not being a crazy space monk has taught you to think outside the box when confronting new challenges. Because of your time spent into mastering skills, you have 2 extra Skill points in addition to the points granted by your Acumen.

DROID:
Droids are any intelligence residing within a robotic body and are entirely artificial and are usually built for specific purposes. Protocol droids are often built with the knowledge of thousands of languages and diplomacy protocols, or with the knowledge of laws and regulation and so forth. Astromech droids were built for piloting and repair, and are usually chock full of gadgetry which makes them flexible in almost every situation. Battle-droids are build for the express purpose of combat. That usually gives them some armor plating and built-in weaponry. Some droids are particularly dubious, such as assassin droids, which are practically a combination of different droid types and often masquerade as protocol droids while fulfilling the purpose of battle-droids and possessing the flexibility of astromechs. These droids are controversial in nature, not just because of their purpose, but also because of the programming that enables them to lie. Because Droid-type characters do not necessarily train themselves for anything and their capabilities are built in, you don't have to account for any installed gadgetry in your weight capacity and you have 1 extra Stat point and 1 extra Skill point in addition to the points granted by your Acumen.

---

STATS

---

You have 6 Primary Stats and 2 Secondary Stats. Primary Stats are the archtypical attributes which define your character's capabilities. Secondary Stats are calculated by those attributes that help us determine other minor, but important capabilities.

Primary Stats begin with having a value of 1/10. Think about it, having a 0 in any of them would practically make them useless or brain-dead, and the force runs through all living things. The only unique exception to this are droids, which begins with a 0/10 value for their Force stat and can never go any higher than that. Likewise, theses stats cannot go higher than 10/10. Consider 5/10 points to be the average for your character's race and character-type. The number of points you have to spend guarantees that you can pull off being a jack of all trades, being pretty good at a few things and not so great at others, or being awesome at a couple of stuff and bad at most of them. This gives your character some needed flaws while still illustrating the fact that your character is a cut above the rest of the common folk.

The number of stat points you are allotted will change depending on your Character-Type:

Expert-type characters will have a total of 25 points to spend on Primary Stats.

Droid-type characters will have a total of 26 points to spend on Primary Stats.

Force-Trained-type characters will have a total of 27 points to spend on Primary Stats.

This means, when you add them all together, you'll end up with a total of 31 points for Expert and Droid-type characters and 33 for Force-Trained characters.

Fitness – measures your health, endurance, speed, and athletic ability.

Power – measures how much physical strength you possess, which affects your carrying capacity and your ability to cause physical damage.

Coordination – measures your dexterity, aiming and precision, grace, balance, and piloting.

Acumen – measures your intellect and wisdom, how knowledgeable you are, and how many skills you have.

Personality – measures the strength of your personality; your charisma, persuasiveness, and leadership.

Force – in Force-Trained-type characters, Force sensitivity points measures your sensitivity to, well, the Force. In Expert-type characters, it measures your luck, awareness, intuition, and can have other mysterious effects.

Vitality - measures your Hit Point total, or HP, which when taken to 0, determines the disabling of a character. Making a Death Saving Throw and succeeding stabilizes your character, but you are still Disabled until given proper medical attention is given. Failing three Death Saving Throws in a row kill the character. Your character's Vitality is calculated by 2 HP per point invested in Fitness and 1 HP per point invested in Power. You do not put any points into this yourself.

Carrying Capacity - measures the amount of weight your character can carry and not be too over-encumbered to run, use skills, or fight. This is calculated by 5 KG per point invested in Power and 2.5 KG per point invested in Fitness. Your total carrying capacity is considered to be 50% more than your Carrying Capacity. You do not put any points into this yourself.

---

SKILLS

---

Skills are handled a little different from Stats! They all start off at a value of 0/5, and the number of Skill points you have to spend is determined by your Acumen. You get 2 Skill points per point invested in Acumen. This means the maximum number of Skill points possible is 20 (not considering character-types), and that would require your character to be an unequivocal genius with 10/10 Acumen. Even then, you would not be able to master all of the Skills (which would require 40). Nobody is good at everything!

Awareness – Governed by Force, Awareness allows you to notice small details, from spotting mines to changes in behavior.

Computer Use - Governed by Acumen, Computer Use allows you to hack into programs and navigate through not only the data streams, but the cockpit of a starship.

Demolitions – Governed by Acumen, Demolitions allows you to set and recover mines safely, and determines how knowledgeable you are about explosives, including how to make them.

Persuade – Governed by Personality, Persuade allows you to make a person share information they might be reluctant to share.

Repair – Governed by Acumen, Repair allows you to fix disabled mechanical devices such as droids and ships.

Security – Governed by Coordination, Security allows you to access electronic devices, such as passing through locked doors and containers.

Stealth – Governed by Coordination, Stealth allows you to pass by quietly and unseen, and determines how proficient you are with stealth generators and other camouflage devices.

Treat Injury – Governed by Acumen, Treat Injury allows you to perform first aid, medicate injured people, or even surgery.

For a sense of scale, consider 0-5 to be like the Elder Scrolls skill system:
0 = untrained
1 = novice
2 = apprentice
3 = adept
4 = expert
5 = master

---

CHARACTER TRAITS

---

Character traits are little perks that will be granted to you upon the acceptation of your character by myself or a co-GM. What these traits do is provide a little bit of a bonus and a little bit of a flaw that is unique to your character and is determined by your race and your backstory. The reason for this is that so many races have so many unique abilities and weaknesses that cannot be wholly accounted for by your stats, such as extra limbs or supernatural hearing, and your backstory will also affect your capabilities.

Let's start with Racial Traits. A wookie with 10/10 Power shouldn't be comparable to a human with 10/10 Power, so there will be Racial Traits to account for the differences between species (as well as our holistic approach to number crunching). For instance, a wookie might get a minor, circumstantial bonus somewhere else that reflects their culture. A flaw will also be present in the racial trait. So to give you an example of what these minor traits do, a wookie would have:

Claws: You have naturally long, sharp claws. You are intuitively adept at climbing up things quickly, and while they grant damage bonuses in combat, you will suffer a permanent social penalty if you use them for that purpose and be labeled a "Madclaw."

Background Traits will also be issued. Let's assume you are a Republic trooper who went rogue and deserted the battlefield. Your background will reflect your long history of service to the Republic and you will gain circumstantial bonuses that will benefit you outside of combat situations. On the other hand, your ID is also flagged in Republic databases which may get you denied in some places and perhaps even find enemies as Republic officials pursue your arrest. I want Background Traits in particular to have no mechanical benefit within combat, and to instead be there in order to help enrich the story. They will be entirely unique to your character!

---

Character Templates

---

When filling out the character template, keep a couple things in mind: First and most importantly, what do you think would be most interesting? We'll let you know if it's possible or not, but being interested in your own character is the best way remain interested in the roleplay and is what makes it all worthwhile.

Secondly, consider what roles might be fulfilled. It's actually not that big a deal that every skill gets filled out by a number of people, and having a ship full of doctors or a ship full of combatants will both meet their fair share of challenges and it would be interesting to see how they handle them. What I mean is that it's important to have characters from different walks of life in order to create variety and spice up the diversity of the roster.

Thirdly, ask yourself if your character has a reason to be with the crew. Lone wolves are fine, but if there's nothing keeping your character bound to the crew, then what's the point in them staying, eh?

Finally, when submitting your character sheet, do so by creating a private conversation between yourself, my co-GM, and I using the guild's private messaging system and sending it to us. This way we can help you work on your sheet if it needs the help without it clogging up the rest of the OOC thread. Should your character be accepted, you will be directed to post your character in the Character Tab without the Backstory section. The co-GM and I will know it, but it will allow the other players to explore your character's history in-game and take genuine interest in your character. If you and another player decide that your characters have history together, you can let them know however much you want.

Remember: Racial Traits and Background Traits will be issued to you by myself or a co-GM. Do not attempt to create your own.

Copy this template

When filling out the template, remove the spaces in your hr tags.

[hider=Your Character's Name]
[h r][center][h3]Profile[/h3][/center][h r]
[b][u]Name:[/u][/b] (Pick some that is lore-accurate according to your race.)
[b][u]Race:[/u][/b] (Some of the countless sentient species and droid models in the galaxy might be less practical than others.)
[b][u]Gender:[/u][/b] (How does your character identify?)
[b][u]Age:[/u][/b] (Keep in mind that different races age differently.)
[b][u]Character Type:[/u][/b] (Force-Trained, Expert, or Droid?)

[b][u]Appearance:[/u][/b] (Everything from the freckles on your body to the clothes on your back.)

[b][u]Personality:[/u][/b] (There's the side of you that you keep to yourself, and the side of you that you show to others.)

[b][u]Backstory:[/u][/b] (Your backstory defines your character and determines who they are. Flesh it out!)

[h r][center][h3]Capabilities[/h3][/center][h r]
[b][u]Stats[/u][/b]

Fitness: 1/10
Power: 1/10
Coordination: 1/10
Acumen: 1/10
Personality: 1/10
Force: 1/10 (Droids use 0/0)
Vitality: (Generated by Fitness[x2] and Power[x1])
Carrying Capacity: (Generated by Power[x10] and Fitness[x5])

[b][u]Skills[/u][/b]
Awareness: 0/5
Computer Use: 0/5
Demolitions: 0/5
Persuade: 0/5
Repair: 0/5
Security: 0/5
Stealth: 0/5
Treat Injury: 0/5

[b][u]Racial Trait:[/u][/b] (Will be assigned to you by me or a co-GM.)

[b][u]Background Trait:[/u][/b] (Will be assigned to you by me or a co-GM.)

[h r][center][h3]Miscellaneous[/h3][/center][h r]
[b][u]Inventory:[/u][/b] (Create a list including gadgetry and weaponry and their approximate weight.)

[b][u]Other:[/u][/b] (Include other minor details that you don't think fits in elsewhere in the template.)
[/hider]

What your template should look like

---

Profile

---

Name: (Pick some that is lore-accurate according to your race.)
Race: (Some of the countless sentient species and droid models in the galaxy might be less practical than others.)
Gender: (How does your character identify?)
Age: (Keep in mind that different races age differently.)
Character Type: (Force-Trained, Expert, or Droid?)

Appearance: (Everything from the freckles on your body to the clothes on your back.)

Personality: (There's the side of you that you keep to yourself, and the side of you that you show to others.)

Backstory: (Your backstory defines your character and determines who they are. Flesh it out!)

---

Capabilities

---

Stats

Fitness: 1/10
Power: 1/10
Coordination: 1/10
Acumen: 1/10
Personality: 1/10
Force: 1/10 (Droids use 0/0)
Vitality: (Generated by Fitness[x2] and Power[x1])
Carrying Capacity: (Generated by Power[x10] and Fitness[x5])

Skills
Awareness: 0/5
Computer Use: 0/5
Demolitions: 0/5
Persuade: 0/5
Repair: 0/5
Security: 0/5
Stealth: 0/5
Treat Injury: 0/5

Racial Trait: (Will be assigned to you by me or a co-GM.)

Background Trait: (Will be assigned to you by me or a co-GM.)

---

Miscellaneous

---

Inventory: (Create a list including gadgetry and weaponry and their approximate weight.)

Other: (Include other minor details that you don't think fits in elsewhere in the template.)

---

Sources

---

The Star Wars universe and lore is as wide as the galaxy it resides in, and that means there is a lot of information you might not be aware of or questions you need answered. While my co-GM and I like to think of ourselves as pretty Star Wars savvy, there's a lot even we are not 100% sure of or don't have the answers to. While we certainly help to find that info for you, you might find it easier or faster to look for it yourself instead of waiting for us to see your question and go hunting the answers down for you - we've got busy lives, too. As a disclaimer, the following links might not be the only viable sources available on the internet, so if you find one, let me know and I'll see if it's enough to add to this list. Keep in mind that not all games or forms of media will be helpful. Some might be strictly fanon, or take place too far in the future for the content to be relevant to the Old Republic Era.

> The Wookiepedia - Perhaps the most well known source for Star Wars information with easily navigated pages and a wealth of information on both the canon and extended universes. As a sub-note, there is no wiki exclusive to the Knights of the Old Republic RPGs, but the Wookiepedia can and will cover it all. Fans of KotOR will know that the skill system we have is inspired by those games, so you can bet your money there will be some resources from that media platform that I will try to incorporate within the roleplay (though keep in mind, any of the events in KotOR occurred 400 years in the past).

> Star Wars: The Old Republic Wiki - If you've never played SWToR, give it a shot. Imagine Star Wars in a World of Warcraft type of format. Not only does this MMORPG stay true to the essence of Star Wars, it can also provide a lot of context to the current setting since this form of media is the closest you can get to the timeline this RP will be taking place.

Music Appreciation Thread

@SleepingSilence, I don't know how to rate the song since I don't really listen to pop music that much, but the song is actually pretty good and enjoyable enough to listen to. It's relaxing and has inspiring enough lyrics even if they're a bit lacking in creativity, I think. It's better than average like you said, so a 6/10 maybe, but perhaps I'm not giving it enough credit.

---

Baybridge: Halcyon Days [Superpowers/Semi-Sandbox]

Underneath the Sycamore by Death Cab for Cutie

---

Two days later, Aaron still felt low. He woke up, did his usual morning routine, and locked himself in his workshop for three hours. Lily hadn't returned his calls. He tried to throw himself into his work, floating each candle individually between his hands and molding it by feel into the shape he desired. He completed the candles for three chandeliers, two candles decorated with an image of a rooster, and a set for a nearby church. At lunch, he ate in his workshop. Katie knocked on the door, but he didn't answer. He could hear her standing outside the door for a few minutes. Then she walked away to greet a customer. Aaron sent an email to his therapist.

Dr. Wright,

Things have gotten bad again. Do you have any openings for next Monday?

- Aaron

At two PM, Aaron came out of his workshop and manned the cash register. He didn't talk much. He could tell after a while that the regulars knew when he was in a bad mood. He wasn't sure if that uplifted him or depressed him further. There were very few people that had come in today, given the gloomy weather on a day like Wednesday. Anybody outside their homes were likely at work or at lunch, so every time a door opened and the bell rang, Aaron would peek out from behind the counter. This time, he saw the familiar face of the blonde Polish girl who had helped him three nights ago.

Andrea was pacing through the small store, taking in al the smells and appraising all of the handiwork placed on the shelves. All of the colors and scented oils were almost dizzying, yet she also found them relaxing to a degree. She looked back down at the watch on the underside of her wrist and picked up the pace to the counter where she found Aaron sitting behind the register. She greeted him with a smile that looked only relieved.

"Oh, Andrea!" Aaron said. "I-I didn't expect you to come in!" He almost looked shocked, like he was going to fall off of his stool, prompting lighthearted laughter from Andrea.

"Cześć!" She said with a wave of her hand. "I wanted to check in on you after... you know."

"Oh, yeah, right," Aaron replied. "It's been tough. I'm not too, uh, good under pressure, if you couldn't tell." He smiled a bit and looked down at the cash register.

"No?" Andrea joked, looking slyly down at the man his chair. "Why don't you tell me all about it?"

Aaron visibly tensed and closed his eyes. He sniffled a bit, but he could keep it under control. In the moment Aaron's anxiety began flaring up once again, Andrea just smiled and put her hand up reassuringly, "I'm sorry, I was just kidding. You don't have to worry about it."

"I guess you deserve to know, considering you had to deal with it," Aaron said. "I uh, actually do you mind coming back into the workshop?" He pointed towards the wooden door behind the counter. "I'd rather not...you know, let the whole world know."

"I, ah... sure." Andrea agreed. Though it wasn't without some nervousness; while she did help him a few days back, she still had only just met him. Still, he appeared harmless and didn't seem to bear any ill intent toward her - and perhaps he deserved to be treated with understanding. Perhaps her trepidation was also just from her own... experiences. She looked back down at her watch anxiously. Musing with some awkwardness, she said, "Just so you know, I can't stay too long. Maybe fifteen minutes left? I actually took my lunch break to come here."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Of course," he said. He opened the door and walked in, Andrea following close behind. He realized that maybe a young woman would be nervous walking into a back room with a strange man. He tapped his fingers on the table and thought of how to speak. It was tough talking about his anxieties, especially with people he didn't know too well. 'I need to do this. I can't just keep being afraid.'

"So basically," he began. "I, uh, have this thing called...panic disorder. When I'm outside around lots of people, I tend to, well, not do so well. I start having the kinds of symptoms you saw the other day, like, no I don't need to list them. You get the idea." He paused a minute. This was tougher than he thought. "It doesn't help either that I have, y'know, I'm not the same as most people." He couldn't push himself to blurt out about his abilities. That was too much, perhaps.

"You feel like there's a crushing weight on your chest and you can't breathe." She said. "That the room got ten degrees hotter and that the whole world is staring at you? All of your thoughts come out at once?"

Aaron's mouth hung agape.

"Uh, yeah," he said. "It's like that. It's, well, it's exactly like that."

"I,um... I felt it. You know..." Andrea pointed between him and herself. "I felt a lot of it."

"Oh, is that how that works?" He asked. "I didn't want to pry. I wasn't sure what was happening."

"Oh no, it's fine!" She said in trying her best to resassure him. "It helped you, didn't it? And, like, I like to think I'm pretty good at handling that sort of thing."

"You helped a lot, yeah," Aaron said. He paused and looked down at his hands. They were getting a little cold and small cracks formed on his knuckles. He clenched his fists a bit and the cracks disappeared. "So you probably figured this out too, huh?" His skin bubbled a bit at the mentioning.

"At first, no." Andrea admitted. "I knew you had a power, I just didn't know what. Now that your head is clear, I can tell that you're made of wax. You know, not nearly enough metahumans use their powers to actually make something of themselves. It's either fighting this guy, or comitting that crime... I'm glad you got find something you love out of it."

"I can't hurt people," Aaron said. "I absolutely hate seeing people get hurt. When I was at the Academy, most kids around fantasized about being super heroes or RAVEN agents. I didn't want any of that. I stayed away from them and worked on my art. Now I have this shop, and every day I do work that makes me happy." Aaron lifted his arms up and bubbles of glowing red wax lifted away from his skin. It floated between his hands, changing shape and color as he stared down at it. He stood up and more bubbles floated off of him. They hovered in the air and then began orbiting him like moons around a massive planet. He brought all of the bubbles together into one large orb between his hands. He hadn't showed off in years. It was actually quite fun, so fun that he forgot the door was open. He brought most of the wax back onto his skin, and it solidified. What remained he stared down at until it morphed into a birdlike shape.

"Wax is quite delicate," he said. "It can melt and break easily, but when some time and effort is put into it," he finished a beautiful eagle and it floated into the air. "It can become quite beautiful."

"I went to the academy, too." Andrea said absentmindedly as she pleasantly stared at the wax sculpture. "I also went to a real college. I can tell you from experience that their curriculum wasn't that great. Half the purpose of the academies are to serve as pipelines to DOVE and RAVEN. Don't get me wrong, the Academy - they've done wonderful things for me, but... they got me into thinking that being an intern for DOVE was my best option and now I'm not so sure."

"You seem to be very good at it," Aaron said. "I was in a bad place and you gave me the support I needed to hold myself together. There's a lot of people in this world who could use that, especially people like us." The eagle floated down into his hand. He focused hard to try and make it move, but to no avail. He hadn't yet mastered making wax objects move like animals.

"My time is almost up." She said after short while. "I might just buy a couple of candles on my way out, Aaron. They're goreous."

"Uh, thanks," he said. "I appreciate that. I work hard on them. Would you like to keep this?" He held the eagle out.

"It's lovely," said Andrea, but her hands were held out in refusal, "but like you said, you work hard on them. You know what they say how if you're good at something, never do it for free?" She could have rolled her eyes for not following her own advice. She patted her pockets and continued, "Besides, all I can spare to spend is on some of the little ones and I don't have a lot of space in my apartment anyways, so it works out."

"Oh, alright," Aaron said. The eagle melted back into a ball of wax. "So, what can I get you?"

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Five of One Thousand Steps: Loss
_{by @Spoopy Scary and @Gcold}

---

26th of Sun's Height, Morning

---

Sleep came to Wylendriel far easier than she had expected the previous night. She expected to be up all night wondering if she had made the right decision in joining these mercenaries. Wondering if in doing so, she had forsaken any of her values or if this new fork in the road would lead her down a path that would direct her away from her pilgrimage. After all, her soul was on the line. However, the day's events had taken more out of her than she had expected. She was whittled down from the long journey from Whiterun to Dawnstar, to the amount of magicka she has spent healing the argonian refugees and the mercenary Niernen, and speaking of whom, she only had enough energy to spare to report to Ashav before resigning to bed. In exchange for letting him know of Niernen's improved condition (and hopefully improved spirits), he let her know of her first assignment to Bleakrock Isle. It was east of Skyrim, nestled between the nord country and Morrowind. In other words, it was the front. The stories of the Kamal were just a boat ride away from being reality.

The day Wy had woken up from bed, refreshed and ready to go, she did her typical morning rituals: her prayers, for starters. Thanks to Kynareth for the beauty of life, and to Y'ffre for the privilege of breathing the air. Then maintaining her hygeine, consisting mostly of swishing a mixture of hot water and lots of salt in her mouth to both grind the plaque off her teeth and cleanse her mouth with the salt's antibacterial properties. Then she went downstairs of the inn so that she could eat. Sharp and aromatic goat cheese and similarly pungent smoked fish, along with a mug of water that was flavored with a dollop of honey - that was the best bang for her buck she could get out of the ten gold pieces she had left and Dawnstar's already paltry food shortage. Still, she wasn't picky and enjoyed the meal all the same after a brief prayer of thanks over her plate. Also, of course, after hesitating to grab the food with her bare hands before remembering what Skyrim classified as table manners. She picked up a fork and knife with some reluctance.

"It looks like those mercenaries are finally leaving Dawnstar for good!" One of the two nord women said at a nearby table. She was redheaded and freckled, and wore her hair in a long braid down the middle. The other was stark blonde and carried a little more weight. Wylendriel wasn't ordinarily the nosy sort, but with as little as she knew about the comings and goings in the Pale, she couldn't help but figure she could learn someting. She continued to eat, seemingly minding her own business. "It's about time if you ask me. I've nothing against them, but food around here is scarce enough as it is without them, thanks to the refugees. Again, nothing against them."

"Don't be so sure," said the blonde one, "just half of them are sailing off. Word is that some of them are staying behind to help investigate those murders."

The murders... Wy thought she had heard of them lately, they were one of the two jobs she could've been assigned to. It was disconcerting that she had just spent the night in a town that had a serial killer lurking in the shadows. It reminded her of that old giant, disrespecting the circle of life and profaning nature's bounty... it was for that reason that part of her felt somewhat responsible for taking care of the situation. If she were on that job, she could likely provide autopsies for the town guard, but for now it was out of her hands.

"They are?" Replied the redhead. "Well, I guess it's for the best. Damn, it makes me nervous. I can't help wondering if I'm going to be next - or you. They already found another one."

Either assignment were gruesome cases. On one hand, she could be sent to the front lines to patch up wounded soldiers with injuries as ghastly as she'd ever seen. On the other, the murder spree was getting highly out of hand. It targeted civilians and with there being only one enemy and a bunch of friendly faces, it became very personal. Any one of those faces, those friends and neighbors, could be the killer. What could be more nerve rattling that that? The priestess finishes her food and drink and stacked the mug on top of the plate got up to bring the dishes to the innkeper at the other side of the inn as a courtesy. The two nord women continued their gossiping.

"Did they?" The blonde gasped. "Who was it?"

"It was one of the argonian refugees. He was an older lizard... Climbs-From-River, I think."

The sound of a silver plate and pewter mug crashed together on the floor with a wooden thud, alarming a couple of the patrons including the two women. The innkeeper was visibly surprised, as his hand was already reached out to take them before they fell from Wylendriel's hands. She stared at the two women with her mouth agape and her eyes fixated on them. Her chest felt tight.

"W-what... what did you say?" Wylendriel asked.

The redheaded nord softly stammered, "Uh... an argonian refugee, Climbs-From-River. He died last night. Murdered, under the same MO as the other victims. Are you...?"

The woman hardly had the time to finish her sentence before Wy stormed out the front door in a furious march. Outside, her breathing was ragged, fast, and sharp. Nearly hyperventilating even, but her hands were tightly clenched, ignoring the stinging pain of her pointed nails digging into her palms. Her teeth - grinding together; her eyes - dilated, and although her heart was filled with sorrow and broken from grief, she felt consumed by rage. Her mind was a burning whirl of emotion, namely hatred and... offense? For whatever gods-forsaken reason, she felt slighted and stolen from.

'How dare they?' She was thinking. Whoever had done this, awful, terrible act, she wanted to hurt them. Not even kill them, no, that felt too... merciful. There had to be justice befitting of the Green Lady.

'When I find them, I'm going to punish them.'

It was only justified.

It also only took a minute for Wy to reach the large field tent in front of the docks where she first met Ashav. Unlike last time though, she abruptly ripped open the entrance that was uncharacteristic of her typical disposition and her face was flushed red.

"Ashav!" She barked.

The redguard was already gearing up in preparation for today's departure to Bleakrock and consulting with Edith about the state of their supplies when the company's newest hire entered. Though he winced at the ruckus being made so early in the morning, he still maintained the professionalism he exhibited when the priestess first met him.

Edith's hand flew to her sword as soon as Wylendriel walked. She stepped forward to intercept like a loyal housecarl protecting her thane. "It's alright, she is the chaplain I hired last night." Ashav calmly explained in a way that extruded easiness and authority the same time.

"It's commander now." Ashav corrected the Bosmer sternly. There was something about what he said that stoked her ire, like as though he were exercsing his control. That must have been it, he was expecting her to answer to him now. It just made sense.

"Ashav." Wy repeated. "Put me on the murder investigation."

"Why?" Ashav asked in a neutral tone, lacing his fingers together. The priestess was about to answer with outage on the tip of her tongue, but the simplicity of the question stopped her in her tracks for a moment. Why? She was forced to think for a moment, and for that moment, she was trepidatious. She was losing control of herself! The implications of her sudden breakdown agonized her, and though she still felt sorrowful over the death of her new friend, she was now forced to confront of herself and had to ask herself what she planned on doing - she had to seize back her control. While her rage had not entirely subsided, she managed to center herself a little and looked calmer than she did moments ago.

"...The last murder was of a friend." Wy admitted. She plucked the feather that was adorning her hair and held it gingerly in both hands. She continued to explain, "The Saxhleel pakseech, Tzinasha. I helped his people recover just before I entered Dawnstar. He was very kind to me."

"Sorry for your loss." Ashav's eyes softened for a moment, his fingers briefly unlaced. Then he was back to his typical stern self, however, his expression showed something empathetic on its blankness. "Let me tell you something Edith and I have learned on this job." He said in his raspy voice. "You can't go forward when you dwell on the past, and when you're stuck on your losses, you will easily lose yourself." Ashav glanced down to the table and then at Edith, who traded a worried look with him but ultimately nodded.

Wy dipped her head solemnly, as though in understanding of what Ashav was telling her, but something didn't feel right. She was absolutely distraught, just... perhaps not as much as she felt she should be. She felt angry, too, but she hid those feelings to instead convey an appearance of melancholy. Needless to say, it was in no small part to her grievous experiences that it came to her with little difficulty. She still felt she had a sense of justice guiding her hand, twisted though it may be, and she knew she would've chosen to stay in Dawnstar anyways. There was more on the line here than just revenge.

"Now, what can you do for the investigation?"

"I'm a priestess... commander." Wy replied simply. Her conduct seemed to have found its way back to her. "As a restoration expert, I can perform autopsies and find the cause of death, which'll give us a lead to further evidence. Also..." Wy cleared her throat and, after some hesitation, continued, "I understand that the front lines will need medics, but what good is fighting a war to protect civilians when the civilians are dying anyways? The guard doesn't have the situation under control. The sooner the situation is resolved, the smaller the death toll."

It was Edith who responded first. She coughed uncomfortably, her eyes darting between Ashav and the Bosmer as if alerting him to the very being of Wylendriel. Ashav picked her meaning and addressed it accordingly. "You are aware that the locals, Nords, are hesitant to let Bosmer access their honored dead. They have concerns of your dietary choices."

"Ashav, the ship..." Edith gently reminded him about briefing the Steelhead mercenaries, however, Ashav waved her down again.

"Dawnstar is the bastion of Stormcloak nationalism." Explained Ashav. "The people here hate foreigners; there were lynching, even against Nords, for simply speaking in favor of the Empire. Everybody is more on edge than ever, and many will see you as a cannibal instead of a priestess. I fear not only for your safety, but also disruption to the investigation process. If the authorities as much as see you look at a corpse funny, they will likely turn you into a convenient scapegoat."

"Ashav, we don't have time for this." Edith said more firmly this time.

"Please, sir." Wy pleaded.

"Fine, if you insist, priestess." The Redguard took out a sheet of paper and started writing on it. "I do owe you a favor for repairing my nose last night. With that said, you should keep your head above personal confrontations and act low-key when conflict arise from this investigation."

"Sign here." Ashav slowly inched the paper forward, giving Wylendriel her last chance to back out.

"Thank you commander." She muttered. She took a quill from Ashav and was about to sign her name in Bosmeri, but carefully considered what her commander had just told her of Dawnstar. It might be best to get into the habit of writing in Cyrodilic more often. As she wrote, she looked at Edith carefully from the corner of her eyes. As far as she was aware, the quartermaster was just trying to get in the way. Still, they had a point. Perhaps it was best to harken back to her first days in Skyrim and speak when spoken to - she wasn't in Whiterun anymore, after all. Though she had to wonder how much harder that must be than before. She wasn't cursed back then. She clutched her stomach with her spare hand.

"I'll make sure we settle these murders once and for all." Wy grimly promised. With that, she turned around and started heading back out the tent, but before she truly vanished from their sight, she turned around and peered in once more for a few parting words. "By the way... fixing your nose is what you pay me for, isn't it? You'll owe me once I give you an actual favor."

Baybridge: Halcyon Days [Superpowers/Semi-Sandbox]

Also common knowledge: Johnny's star-shaped nipple piercings, after his sex tape was famously leaked onto the internet.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Announcements

• 0th posts of all three tabs have been updated
• There are now 10 dead player characters
• New writing prompt: "How does a certain world event affect someone your character knows?" Again, alternative formats such as poetry, play or essay is encouraged
• You may still submit old prompts if you have already started on them

@Gcold

So I tried to mimic the communicative style of Spinners, but it probably turned out kind of awkward instead of authentic. Perhaps a Spinner attempting poetry is just more convoluted than they normally are?

Dance of the Spinners

Dance of the Spinners

When the echoes of He are not echoed in the songs of us,
and his tapestries are not woven into the songs of birds
which reflect upon the sea and unto us, as would be just,
the echoes of the Storyteller around that which we gird
floating adrift, so we must swim as the Bosmer must,
but the Bosmer cannot see or hear or sing unspurred.

Without an echo to which to swim, but without ears with which to hear,
the Bosmer sit stagnant, with none else but the self to echo.
The Silvenar with blood running gold, nay not him but all far and near,
for whom to echo songs of echoes when there's no ears or fellow
when the fellow drinks gold to blind the self of running blood and fear?

No pleas to the Green Lady to act, surely, she too deafens,
with no voice and no song, and no heart and no body
to neither speak nor fight in the Bosmer's name, or take up weapons -
expression of Bosmer tradition cannot be fated to disembody.
True, not like this, the future yields promise in light of transgressions.

Bosmer corrupted by promise, made fools and sinners,
when Thalmor came with gifts to hide their slaughter.
Of six veils to tread, in the changing of Nirn, one is rarely thinner
still reminded were we by the daughter of wood and sky, that daughter -
my daughter - to sing and fight again, to fear the dance of the Spinners.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Ok guys, it's

WRITING PROMPT TIME

This topic will be on your character's spritual animal*.

<sub>*Note: you may also write about your character's attitude towards animals in general, or their view of nature in general, or their attachment to a certain geographical location**.

**Extra note: Bland is the new creative; try writing in essay form.</sub>

@Gcold

Part I: The Lesson

The strands of sunlight that filtered through the cloudy skies shown upon the frosted fields of Whiterun hold. On this day, the second day of First Seed and year one ninety-nine of the fourth era, the frost shone like glimmering stars that had fallen from the skies. The sun was dipping behind Skyrim's mountains, casting a orange and pink hue over Tamriel. In Whiterun stands a wondrous tree at the feet of the castle of Dragonsreach, one that is revered by the holy men and women who reside in the temple it shares a space with.

It is in this house of faith where a particular young elf and her mentor has spent numerous hours in the study of conjuration; where the magic comes from, how it is harnessed, and the dangers inherent in its practice. The summoning of familiars was a tradition among the priests and priestesses of Kyne the Nordic patron of the hunt, as the animal spirits would act as their guardians. These holy men and women took a more combative perspective of Wylendriel's lady, Kynareth, but their origins were derived from the same concept: she was the most powerful of the wind spirits. This was common ground they could find where there was enough to elicit understanding on both ends.

Regardless of the differences in their faiths, her mentor, Jadis Starhearth, an older nord woman with salt and pepper hair, was very knowledgeable in both magic and the divines. In that respect, she was very careful in treading the line where her faith would collide with hers, but keen on preaching what she felt she knew to be the truth. She stood a few paces beside Wy with her hands held behind her.

"...as such, the summoning of your familiar draws from a different energy than the entities in classical conjuration spells. This school of magic generally draws upon daedric power from one of the realms of Oblivion. Channeling magic through both incantation and binding runes usually ensures a safe conjuration - but is never promised. Your familiar is the summoning of an animal spirit you are familiar with after you have built a connection with them."

"There's an important distinction to be made however," Wy's mentor continued, "and that is to understand that not all daedra are the same. The difference between aedra and daedra is that the daedra chose not to give their power in creating the world, but that alone is reason enough to approach them cautiously... for their decision was made in opposition of your existence in the first place. It is that same decision that gives them more presence on Nirn than the Nine. In order to banish summoned daedra, you must sever the magic that binds them to Nirn and the summoner. But first, you must learn how that binding works."

Wy nodded and closed her eyes. Session after session, they have gone through this. Building a relationship with animal spirits was a complicated task, for it was one of those things where you needed experience to summon one, but need to summon one for experience. To find a spirit required a spirit of your own which was compatible with the animal in question. It was for this reason that what few nord conjurers existed usually conjured wolves, since ingrained in their culture was a fierce sense of loyalty and honor (and quite often enjoying the carnal aspects of life). Rare exceptions among them could call upon hawks, elks, and even bears.

She had to picture an image in her mind of the spirit she sought to conjure forth: a doe. Feel the energies around her and communicate with the spirits, connect - she struggled. She strained her body to squeeze out what magicka she could, but the magicka went nowhere. With a sharp breath, she relaxed her body and squeezed her eyes shut in frustration.

"Again, Wylendriel?" Jadis asked, sounding surprised. "Strange. You're such a focused study."

"I don't know why this is so hard for me! Back home, we hold such reverence for nature and her spirits." Wylendriel bemoaned.

Her mentor smiled at her, though solemn it seemed, and she sat beside the bosmer girl and rested an arm around her shoulder. "Still thinking of home?" She asked.

"How can I not?" Wy replied.

"You torment yourself with your own thoughts. Little wonder, how can the spirits trust you if you do not trust in yourself?"

"But what if I never left?" Wylendriel argued, her voice escalating to a panicked tone. "I could've stayed and helped my people more than I would've by abandoning them."

Jadis looked slightly disappointed and began her incoming lecture with a huff. "You waste the time the Divines have given you by dawdling on the past. We can only move forward. Remember, it's natural to doubt yourself - but don't ever second guess what you know is moral."

Wy took deep breaths with closed eyes while she took in her mentor's wisdom. Part of her debated it - what if, despite her intentions, she made the wrong choice. But like Jadis said, there was no changing what happened. She was left with the question: was resisting the Dominion on behalf of her people, some of whom who were suffering by their hands, a moral decision? The question answered itself.

"So," Jadis continued, "what kind of spirit did you try reaching out to?"

"A doe," she answered.

"A doe?" She parroted incredulously. Jadis knew that the temple's newest initiate had earned the reputation in Whiterun for being doe-like. The smallest thing in a town full of mountain sized nords, wary and cautious in a new land and ever on the look-out for the Thalmor, all while exuding an aura of innocence... the kind of reputation she has obtained must have gotten to her head. Jadis has seen first hand what her spirit was really like. Wylendriel shrugged awkwardly, prompting her mentor to sigh. "And why do you think that?" She asked.

"I... don't know." Wy replied. Her answer caused Jadis's wrinkles to furrow, and her express became stern.

"I think it's time that you've spent some time in meditation." She finally said.

"Meditation? But I usually--"

"Not like this you haven't." Jadis said. "You've become disconnected from nature. I want you to stay outdoors for up to a week. No contact with civilization." Wylendriel's eyes went wide with surprise, but said nothing, allowing her mentor to continue. "Once you discover what you've been looking for, or until the allotted time is up, you may return. I trust that you, as a bosmer, will be self-sufficient enough to handle this?"

"Y-yes... of course." Wy muttered, staring at the ground, trying to understand Jadis' decision. Spending time outside the walls didn't bother her. She wasn't afraid of nature - she'd take towards the south to be among the woods in which she could easily traverse and be outside saber cat territory. The question was why. Why did she want her to do this? What was she planning?

The two bid their farewells to each other that evening, and what remained of that night was to be devoted to rest so that she may prepare for the following day... but sleep did not come easily to Wy that night. She tossed and turned, and sometimes layed totally still - but that air was as still as she was, the night quiet from the chill air which warded insects back into their burrows. A nearly maddening silence that provided no relief by means of white noise to distract her from her own thoughts and reflection upon the day.

Today in particular was a gross reminder of failure, inadequacy, and insecurity. Still hunted and reviled by the Thalmor, no conjuration has been yet mastered, and each passing day leaves her longer away from home than ever before. She was an outsider here who didn't quite belong, neither her nor there - which leaves her to wonder about her mentor's feelings. She has committed to teaching her all about the Divines, but there are times like these where she'd send her away. What was she planning? Was there even a plan? And what can she expect from the trials ahead?

The time between brief periods of shut eye was spent on prayer and meditation so that she could find answers to her questions. Sometimes, sprawled out on the floor, she'd write letters that will never be sent. They were on sometimes on these peculiar sheets of parchment made from thin layer over thin layer of peeled goat skin, traded from the local butcher and pressed, and then dried into a single sheet. The burnt end of a bird quill was her pen, and a small candle her ink jar. Each pen stroke done gently, singing and staining with black ash, and in the Bosmeri language of her people.

"To my dear friends and family - to all the cherished people of my homeland - to the entire breadth of Valenwood;

Traveling the world has both costs and merits. While on one hand, the experience has broadened my perspective far beyond the horizons I thought to have known. In this, I am blessed with the opportunity to learn from the multitudes of people I have crossed paths with along my journey, and even now in Skyrim, my eyes have opened wide enough to see a world I was previously blind to - to this I thank a most wise and gracious elder by whom I'm being mentored.

But at the same time, I feel home-sick. I live in a land so different from my beloved home where everything I think I know feels wrong, as if I feel my head falling towards the sky, but lose my footing upon the ground. In the most disorienting of fashions, my identity struggles to resist becoming unraveled. I fear this culture-shock will be my undoing if I cannot find familiarity in the frozen north. Not all is lost, though. I find comfort in knowing that by the end, we all become one with the Earth Bones and I will find my way home to Y'ffre. Kynareth's guidance provided, I will find the Storyteller having lived a fulfilled life.

The Thalmor has not found me yet, and I swear upon the green, that neither they nor any mortal force upon Nirn will bring me to heel. Do not worry for me. No matter my outcome, the cycle will live on and I will see you again when we become one. With any luck, we’ll have our reunion before then.

Your own, Wylendriel Greensky."

Practice of such correspondence, even unsent, at least reminded her that there was a place in which she could belong. She folded the paper - if one could call it that - into a small square and stuck it into a side pocket of her satchel that sat upon the floor beside her. It somewhat renewed her resolve, and with that, she finally turned herself into bed that night and let the chill air lull her to sleep beneath her warm fur covers.

Part II: The First Day

Dawn followed after dusk in what felt like no time, and with only brief periods of sleep throughout the night to ready herself, she awoke that morning feeling vastly unprepared. She felt beaten and exhausted, and every shred of light felt like burning needles sticking into her eyes. Despite how she felt, however, she knew that it would be best to leave before her mentor awoke. She took a moment to compose herself - taking deep, slow breaths and a brief prayer to Kynareth in order to thank her for the breath she has taken, and went to work.

Quickly constructing a bindle to fill in simple necessities and rations, such as aged cheeses, cured meats, a couple of salt blocks, and a water skin. She felt it would betray the experience of the challenge if she brought her satchel that was full of most of what she'll ever need. She headed straight out the door to meet the blue-pink skies of today's dawn and hurried down the steps towards the market level before following the street that led her to the gates. The pitter-patter of her feet along the masonry did nothing to disturb the city's quiet slumber.

From there on, she followed the road eastbound past the local farmland, so that within minutes she can take the south road that would eventually take her up the misty mountains. She took in the refreshing smell of pine and fresh rain that had a mint-like coolness that barely stung her airways, and it felt almost homey. Out here, she can avoid some of the most dangerous of Skyrim's fauna. For instance, giant territory were often on large expanses of land - it was difficult for them to navigate the forests. Most especially saber cats, which preferred lurking in the tall grasslands, and their fur kept them warm in the tundra, so that their powerful legs can jump over snow banks. Out here, the easily distinguishable color of their fur would make them easy to spot among the evergreens, and the elks could take off at an impressive pace long before the cat could close enough to stalk them.

The most she had to worry about out in the southern stretch of Whiterun Hold were wolves. A clumsy lot, truth be told, and Wy was confident she could stay at least a step or two ahead of them. They weren't like hoarvor or stranglers, which relied on subterfuge to get the drop on their prey, they were flat-footed noisy things. So when she climbed up the trail and found old tracks of, say, three dogs or something similar, she wasn't worried. Still, this early in the morning when all the bugs and birds start making all of their racket, the wolves may be waking on empty stomachs, which meant that she might want to perch herself in the trees for a little more rest soon.

Gods, the rest she could have! Only hours ago had she awoken from one of the worst nights of bed rest thus far, and it would do her well to catch up on some shut eye. Even so, all this time she still had her mind on her purpose for being out here in the first place. This was post-failure in her conjuration practice, and Jadis wanted her to find something out here. Find a compatible spirit, perhaps? It seemed all so contrived - the bosmer people had a profound connection with nature and it's creatures, so it wasn't like she misunderstood the nature of these creatures. With each little critter that scurried past, she kept a trained eye on - but nothing clicked.

Her stomach growled and an ache shot through her gut. She should probably find something to eat out here before she rested while she has the chance. Not wanting to waste her rations so soon in her adventure, she did some searching. The Green Pact forbade destroying or consuming vegetation in the wilds of Valenwood, but… the mere idea of taking the berries off a nearby bush, even if it was in Skyrim, just seemed so wrong and disgusting to her. Instead, she thought she could instead find a small treat to hold her over - and she knew exactly what to look for.

She had to find a tree with high branches near a flowering field. A flowering field required sunlight, so it had to be in less dense part of the wood… closer to the river, further eastward and down from the mountain, and that wasn’t very far. It took only a few minutes of navigating the rocky terrain until Wylendriel found one such tree, and high enough in its branches hung a beehive, but not so high that it would be buffeted by the cold winds. This early in the morning, as chilly as it was, the hive was mostly inactive while the bees inside kept warm. She lifted a long fallen stick from the ground to carry on her robe, and began climbing a nearby tree with lower branches.

The elf nimbly climbed higher and higher with each branch; swinging with grace and using her weight to throw herself up to the next level, and fearlessly bounding from one side to the other like she has been all of her life. By the time she was fifteen feet off the ground, she moved onto a branch thicker towards the trunk and aimed at the tree that had the beehive in its branches. From the branch of the first tree, Wy leaped and caught the branch of the second in her hands. She let herself hang for a moment as a big smile stretched over her face - relishing in the moment of what it felt like to be at home again - before she swung her feet to wrap herself around the branch and finally crawled around until she was back upright with her back pressing against the trunk. With a stick in hand, she leaned over and slowly inserted it through the main entrance point of the hive. She felt the writhing swarm inside through the stick, but with as cold as it was outside, they remained quiet and dormant.

She pulled the stick out with care and covered with honey - the bees on it, exposed to the air, quickly crawled back inside the hive for warmth, just like how Wy inched closer back towards the trunk and - at last - leaned back comfortably, licking away at the sweet, raw honey. It was made from… mountain flowers. A hint of lavender. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply, transferring the honey to her mouth using her finger, taking this moment to relax and let the sun’s rays warm her body. The faint sound of a wolf’s howl echoed in the distance, confirming Wy’s concerns, but as high up as she was, she wasn’t concerned about them.

When her fill of the honey that coated the stick was met, she tossed it to the ground and used her waterskin to wash her face and hands of the sticky mess so that the hive wouldn’t smell the honey on her when they became active. She hopped a few more branches until she found two that made a narrow v-shape and nestled herself between them. Closing her eyes once more, she finally allowed herself a moment of rest while she thought about the road ahead. There were few minutes to spare in the time allotted to her, so she had to figure out the challenge Jadis issued. What was her familiar? What spirit was she compatible with? Unlike last night, she drifted off to sleep in very little time.

This sleep would only last a couple of hours. Still, in spite of that, it was a couple of hours of needed rest.

When she later found herself joining the waking world once more, it was when the midday sun was beating on her face through the thicket of leaves. It wasn’t the most pleasant of ways to be awoken, for sure, and she groggily reached for the waterskin at her side while shielding her face from the sun. Taking a quick swig to hydrate her parched mouth, she looked around at the forest floor just as quickly to take a quick assessment of her surroundings. It was quiet. The bees were investigating the stick Wylendriel had tossed before she took her nap, apparently collecting what they could to return to their hive. Judging from the lack of pain on her body, she must’ve cleaned up well enough to avoid inciting their wrath. Just as she started budging, she heard a rustle in the grass below - Wy stopped. Looking down again, this time she saw something she did not before. The shape of a dog resting in the shade, staring at her with hungry yellow eyes. One of the wolves. It must’ve saw her up in the trees and decided to wait for her to come down. Strange… strange and clever. Especially considering how Wylendriel’s robes should’ve provided her with some camouflage - but still strange.

'I would’ve suspected this behavior from saber cats. I guess he’s having a hard time finding food.'

It was looking as though she had to stay up in this tree longer than she thought. It was doubtful there was a single, lone wolf out here. There had to have been others lurking about, or at least within earshot. Her eyes locked onto the wolf below and narrowed. It must have known she had saw it by now. Even with her people’s affinity, she doubted she could pacify it. Sociability didn’t take precedence in a creature’s instincts before hunger. The smartest move would be to wait it out.

In the meantime, Wylendriel watched the natural world pass her by. The sun had shifted in the sky by about forty-five degrees, so about an hour and a half must have passed since then. Her eyes were no longer trained on the wolf that still waited impatiently at the base of the tree, pacing around and occasionally fixing its eyes on something in the far off bushes - likely others of its pack - but instead on other life, keenly studying them. Wondrous things could be discovered if one just stopped and looked. At the top of a nearby tree was an eagle’s nest. The mother wasn’t home, but her chicks waited patiently for their food to be delivered to them. One of them was flapping their little wings over and over without getting anywhere, jumping up and down, it's little wings wasn't quite strong enough for its fat body.

Then a gust of wind picked up, cutting through the air, and curling underneath the eagle chick’s wings. It was carried out of the nest and started falling - the chick flapped its wings like crazy, but all it did was slow its fall to the ground. Her heart began to ache - it was surely a death sentence for the poor thing. It landed on a soft pile of grass, and the sudden rustling and all the crying it made captured the wolf’s attention. It's eyes were now fixed on the helpless bird, which was the size of a small cat. Plenty big enough to satisfy its appetite. Wylendriel felt her heart ache for the poor thing… but it would betray Y’ffre’s lessons to interfere, disrupting the circle. One swift chomp - crack! - and the bird’s neck went limp. The sound of wet chewing and cracking bones was difficult to ignore. A shriek cut the air. A large eagle was circling overhead, having heard the earlier cries of her baby. She swooped down with talons bared, clawing at its back, and the wolf jumped back and yelped in pain and surprise. The eagle persisted and the wolf grabbed her by the end of one of her wings and pulled her to the ground.

Though wounded, the eagle pulled free and scrambled to her feet. She bravely stretched her huge wingspan out and slowly stepped towards the wolf. The bird must have known it wasn't a fight she could win, but she still bothered with trying to scare the wolf off. However, the wolf had only snarled and took a few steps towards the mother eagle. Wylendriel narrowed her eyes. Now the wolf was being greedy. He had already eaten, he shouldn't be worrying himself with fighting the angry mother. Furthermore… Wylendriel’s eyes fell back to the nest. The wolf would be killing more than just the mother.

The priestess got to her feet and balanced on the branch, then leaped to an adjacent branch and climbed back onto the branch which held up the beehive. She crawled as cautiously and as gently as she could to avoid disturbing the hive, but quickly enough to act.

“Song of night-tide canopy - stars woven between your leaves. Crow's watching eye; snake's empty belly - moving, dancing in every moment... forgetting what comes and what is gone."

Murmuring her quick prayer to Y’ffre, she took her skinning knife and cut the stem holding the hive to the branch and let it plummet near the two creatures below - this would hurt the hive to some extent, but it could be easily rebuilt. She just retreated to the branch she was resting in earlier and watched the angry swarm target the two nearby animals as the hive busted open. A couple stings in the wolf’s muzzle and it was gone. The eagle was mostly unbothered by them and weakly flapped her wings and flew back up to the top of the tree to tend to her wound and her chicks. Wylendriel sighed and let the wolf put distance between them, thankful that she was forgotten about. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that the eagle was watching her until every time Wylendriel looked back at them.

Part III: To Survive

Three days later…

The sun was inching closer towards sunset, and the air was hot.

‘Why is that thing here? Of all places!’

Wylendriel’s breath, weak and raspy, panting. The grass and leaves rustled with every step. An unnoticed flower trampled underfoot. No Green Pact bosmer would ever dare…

‘No wonder the past couple days have been so quiet! To think… up here? In the mountains?’

A loud, earth-trembling quake reverberated through the woods. Then another - footsteps of something utterly massive.

“Why is that giant chasing me?” She cried. An old, low hanging branch of a tree she had been too distracted to notice whipped her in the face as she ran for dear life, scraping her and drawing droplets of blood. The pain, as much as it stung, didn’t seem to matter so much when escaping the threat of being crushed into paste or being torn limb from limb. That moment of gazing upon an old elk, so great in its majesty with a rack of antlers as wide as a carriage, were but fleeting seconds before the instant it took for an even greater giant to crush the poor creature in the palm of its hand. Then his sights were set on her, and he dropped it… she wasn’t even sure if the giant was hungry or not. If that was the case, why did it even bother pursuing her?

The trees behind her exploded into splinters as the giant bull rushed her direction. It seemed that what stamina she had drained from him had returned, and he was well on his way to being right on her heels… rather, it might be more appropriate to say he'd be right on top of her!

’Damn it! I have to do something! She thought in the midst of her panic. The further down the mountain she ran, the steeper some of drops were and the thicker the foliage was, but the ledges were but minor steps for the giant and the thickets did nothing to slow him down. If memory served correctly, there should be a caverns up here, east of Whiterun and the river. It was a delve favorited by bandits, but…

Wylendriel turned around briefly and saw the giant charging closer, shouting a guttural roar and spewing spittle with a fallen tree serving as the club in his hand. She doubted that the club was the thing he actually wanted to kill her with. Ugh, fine! There wasn't any time to be worrying about bandits. Wylendriel’s mad sprint brought her to the river soon enough, and she seemed inches away from the giant’s grasp, but she took a sharp left towards the north and avoided the massive paw. The giant’s foot tripped upon the edge of the riverbank and slippery slopes and brought the creature tumbling down onto his side with a thunderous crash. He roared after the little bosmer in anger. In the time it took for him to get up, the fleet footed elf was already making progress towards a slope up the next mountain, and White River Watch was coming into sight.

It was a minute or two later and her feet were smacking against the wooden stairs that were built against the mountain slope. The muffled sound of thunder was following her. She had to get inside the cave before the giant--

“What's a pretty little knife-eared bitch doing here, eh?” Sneered a voice up ahead. From the cavern’s shadows came a bandit, who was currently notching an arrow on his bowstring. She barely noticed the smaller nord man behind the first, who was resting a short blade on his leather shoulder armor.

“Pretty? Nah, Brim, you're thinking of them high elves,” he said, putting particular emphasis on what kind of elf, indicating no particular love for any sort of elf. “She's one of them gross cannibal sorts. Ain't no mouth I wanna be stickin’ my tongue in.”

As revolting as the discourse was, she was in a panic and didn't have time to be disgusted with them. Still, it was clear to her that these two had no intention of just leaving her be - she had to think of something.

“I am a priestess from the Temple of Kyne!” Wylendriel spat. “Let me through, I don't have--”

“Gee, Jold, now that I think of it, I did hear that temple took in a cannibal.” Brim mused.

“Ain't no temple o’ mine!” Jold added. “Now Zenithar - mister money bags - that’s a god I can get behind!”

Wy’s senses, far sharper as they were, could tell that the giant was just around the corner, and was visibly anxious to get moving. “You're wasting time!” She urged.

“I agree,” replied Jold. “Kill ‘er.”

It was as soon as Brim pulled back the string of his bow that the giant peered around the mountain. As quickly as Brim saw it, turned and shot the arrow at the giant when it started running up the mountain slope. Wy flinched, and was momentarily confused, but looked back when the giant roared out in pain. Brim started notching another arrow and, like a doe, Jold was frozen solid upon sight. Wy pushed past the both of them and scrambled towards the caverns, breaking Jold’s fearful trance. As the giant inched closer, Jold followed after Wy into the caverns and Brim shot another arrow only for it to get caught by the giant’s massive club. The bow-wielding nord was too slow to get away from the monster’s swing and was batted off the mountain, where he'd presumably land in The Pale. Unrealistic, yes, but she couldn't help but wonder how far his body would fly from a swing like that. He was probably dead upon impact. She'd pray for the loss of life, but…

”You elven bitch!” Jold screamed, jumping atop of her, fighting with her in trying to wrap his hands around her throat. “You led that thing here!”

Wy stopped trying to slap his hands and instead grabbed his wrists. After a brief second, her hands started glowing green and it wasn't long after then she felt herself slowly reenergizing and the bandit’s grip growing weaker. When he finally released her, she gasped for air and threw the man off of her with strength unseemly of a priestess thanks to that magic. Unfortunately, she didn't notice the giant reaching its arm through the cavern, and Jold was within reach. The giant pulled him closer with his fingers, probably grinding him into the floor a little bit and crushing his bones. After he was pulled into the giant’s palm, the monster squeezed hard with a grunt. Wy just heard sickly wet noises and breaking bones mixed with the he screams that were suddenly silenced. She felt like throwing up. The giant just dropped dead Jold and tried its damnedest to inch after Wy, and she kicked her feet trying to get as far away as she could. This greedy thing… it wasn't like the wolf, it wasn't concerned with eating at all! It was hunting for sport!

Wy climbed to her feet and started running deeper into the caverns. If the layout was what she thought it was, if her brief survey from the outside was any indicator, there should be an exit that could help her escape for good. Running through the caverns, barely noticing the lack of bandits present (were there only two?), her hunch was right as the end of the cavern ended at another wooden platform. She looked all around her… it was like a steep drop on every side. She tried to look around the edge of the mountain to see if the giant was still peering into entrance or if he finally gave up… much to her dismay, it was neither of the two, but was looking straight at her and he definitely seemed to be trying to figure out how to get to her. Wy sighed and let her shoulders drop… finally, she can relax.

The tree that giant has been using as a club came flying right at her.

She dove out of the way back towards the cavern as half of the platform broke into splinters. “Oblivion damn you!” She shrieked, covering her head from the falling debris. Her hands got scraped up pretty badly, though it was manageable. She was more alarmed by the sound of the nearby rock tumbling down the mountainside. She sneaked a peek around the mouth of the cavern. Nothing. Was he gone? She peeked a little bit further...

Just as Wy inched closer, the giant’s face swung around from the other side of the rock, staring at her from a mere few feet away.

’That bastard climbed the side of the mountain. Like a damn imga!’

The priestess jumped to her feet and bolted back towards the cavern, and the giant was pulling himself up to be level with the cavern’s exist. She was far enough inside that she would be out of the giant’s reach, but now she was on her hands and knees trying to catch her breath.

’I can’t believe this. He has me trapped inside. Kynareth, how am I going to get out?’

She was answered with a half-hour of silence. Why was she so quiet? Was this a test? Every time she thought the giant was gone, he’d peer in through the hole to see if she were still there. That damn, crafty… ugh! She has been waiting so long for him to leave!. She can’t just wait until he brings the damn mountain down on her head. If she headed out the other way, the giant would simply see her leaving and climb back over. It was just like the time with the wolf… how did she get out of that mess? A gust of wind from outside blew through the tunnel, and as cold as it was, sent shivers up her spine. Her memories flashed before her eyes - a gust of wind and the chicks fell. Cried for help - eaten. The mother arrives… the mother arrived and she fought. Fell wounded… she stood her ground. Wings out. Stood her ground… wings out. Wylendriel looked up at the giant, half of whom’s face was looking into the inside of the caverns. Stand her ground. That’s the only way she was gonna get out of here.

“I think I finally understand...” Wy muttered. "Thank you, Jadis."

She pulled herself up to her feet and dusted herself off, stung her hands a little bit. They were still roughed up, but they were so minor that went the priestess brought her hands together and bathed them in a restorative light, they were healed over in a moment’s notice. She took a deep breath, drew her skinning knife, and paced forward with her hands at her sides. Chin up. Lip steadied. The giant’s interest was evidently piqued as she started moving closer to his reach.

“Forgive me Y’ffre, the Storyteller, and Kynareth, the mother, for what I am about to do…”

Another step, and the giant looked in.

“...to send you a child of Nirn, for its transgressions against nature’s balance...”

Another step, and the giant’s hand reached in through the mouth of the cavern.

“...for they would profane your bountiful treasures…”

Another step, and the hand went to grab the priestess.

“...and forgetting what will come, and what is gone.”

As the giant tried to take her into his grasp, Wy plunged the knife deep into the giant’s finger beneath his fingernail. He reared back in pain, pulling his hand out of the cavern and holding it in the air before him as he latched onto the mountainside with his other hand. ’Now --’ she raised her hand in the air and made the clear mental image of the animal she was looking for… the eagle, standing its ground before the wolf; collected her magicka and sought to bind this animal spirit to her, not to the land- she was Nirn, but one small part of it - and an eagle in a brilliant white-blue luminescent glow materialized before her. From Aetherius it flew, and it kept flying towards the giant outside the cavern with its talons bared and sinking them into the monster’s eyes, bloodying them to pulp then dissipating in thin air.

The giant roared once more in agony and lost his grip upon the mountain and fell backward. Each second was followed by one thunderous crash after another as it tumbled upon the mountain. Eventually the giant’s roars stopped when his head smacked against a boulder real hard, but the continued to fall until he finally hit the ground and lay lifeless beside the river. Wy rushed over to the cavern exit and peered over the edge - sure enough, he lies motionless at the base of the mountain. Her knees felt weak. She did it! She actually conjured... she... Jadis wanted her to find herself and... she wasn't any doe, no; but most importantly, she's survived. The priestess fell on her bum and pressed her back against the cavern wall. The only thing she had energy to do was to stare toward the ceiling and laugh to herself, tears of relief running down her face.

She was glad no one was here. She must have looked like a maniac.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Four of One Thousand Steps: New Allies
_{by @Hank and @Spoopy Scary}

---

25th of Sun's Height, After dusk
Dawnstar

Niernen had tried to go back to bed after the performance review but her exhaustion seemed to have made place for anxiety and stress. She hadn't seen her brother after he had stormed out of her room, too afraid to follow him, and the uncertainty of what he was up to kept gnawing at her like a hungry skeever. She gave up on sleep eventually and crept back down into the common room -- which was still full of people, including boisterous mercenaries spending their pay frivolously -- and sat down in a quiet corner with a strong drink. The stuff was disgusting but the Dunmer would make do. She put her broken leg up on a chair, inspected the wooden splint and, satisfied it was holding up, leaned back and closed her eyes. The splint had reminded her of Valen, as he'd been the one to apply it to her leg. Once again his horrifying death replayed itself in her mind's eye and the look of sheer terror as the Kamal dragged him to the depths seemed to burn in her thoughts.

It was then that Niernen was approached by a Bosmer. The Dunmer looked up (though not very far, considering Wylendriel's short stature) at her and frowned. She seemed massively out of place; a tiny, timid creature, swathed in a priest's robes and exuding an aura of innocence, though Niernen couldn't help but detect the tiniest hint of veiled disapproval. The Bosmer seemed aware she was out of her element, at least.

"Who are you?" Niernen asked bluntly, a slight slur to her pronunciation. The mug of liquor was nearly empty.

"My name is Wylendriel Greensky. I'm a priestess of Kynareth." She answered candidly. The mercenary's disposition is about what the priestess had expected, so as long as she behaved professionally, there shouldn't be any turbulence. She inspected the bandaging on the dunmer woman's leg with an appraising eye, but seemed relatively pleased. Whoever fixed her up seemed to know what they were doing. She looked back up to her and asked, "Are you Niernen Venim?"

Niernen's wariness evolved into full-blown paranoia as soon as Wylendriel's question left her mouth and the Dunmer sorceress' peculiar copper-colored eyes shot wide open. How did she know? Surely, a priestess of Kynareth wasn't part of the mercenary company, so who was she? An assassin sent by the Kamal? Niernen's already unhealthy head-space was further exacerbated by the alcohol and she resisted the urge to throw the Bosmer to the other side of the room with telekinesis. She settled for another question. "Why do you want to know?" Niernen asked in a low voice.

"Because a certain commander had asked me to heal her." Wylendriel commented pointedly. Considering Niernen's defensive tone, she took it as a sign that she found the right person. With a sigh, Wy fell down to her knees to closer inspect the bandaging, and as she began unwrapping the handiwork of the dunmer's previous nurse without even waiting for an answer (while ever-wary of her patient's current... combative disposition), she continued with a faint smile. "Fortunately for you, even if you're not Niernen, I am expected by my clergy to help the infirm."

"So Ashav put you up to this," Niernen mumbled. She initially flinched at the Bosmer's touch but decided that having her leg healed by a proper Restorationist was worth the risk. Besides, the rest of the inn would tear the wood elf apart if she tried anything. Niernen tried to relax and tossed the last of the mug's contents back with a grimace. "Very well. I am indeed Niernen. Pleased to meet you, sera," she said and managed to conjure a smile, if only briefly. "Are you... with the company?"

"Yes, my lady. The company and I go back as far as... say, five minutes ago." Wylendriel mused. As she unwound the last of the dried, bloodied bandages, she caught the splint as it fell and took a close look at the ugly bruising and scarring. It looked as though it was patched up slightly with some amateur restoration magic and treated decently with medicine. The scars left behind indicated that it used to be an awful break, and Wylendriel didn't think she wanted to guess what did it, because she thought she'd probably be right. Mind off of that, she layed her hands on the wound, preparing to react appropriately to her patient, and muttered a few inaudible words of prayer as a warm light soaked into Niernen's leg. The discoloration was visibly fading and the bones beneath could be felt fusing back together.

The sensation of her bones mending made Niernen's skin crawl and she shivered, but that was swiftly followed by a wave of relief after the pain faded away. She leaned forward and took a look at her leg. "Impressive," Niernen said and whistled appreciatively. "Thank you, Wylendriel, and welcome to the company. I apologize for my reaction. It's been a very, very long week." The Dunmer woman sank back in her chair and draped her arms slackly around the coarse wood.

"So I've heard." Wylendriel murmured uncomfortably as she drew her hands back.

"What drove you to sign up? And what is a Bosmer like you doing in Skyrim?" Blissfully unaware exactly how personal and prying her questions were, Niernen eyed Wylendriel with bemusement over the edge of her mug until she realized the latter was empty. Disappointed, she put it on a table next to her.

"Oh, you know..." Wy started, choosing her words carefully. She didn't want her goals to leak out prematurely. It was still far too early in her career to illicit enough trust in her that the company would let her embark on her own adventures. She thought back, and recalled her dear old friend who had died at the hands of the Thalmor. "The Dominion was a little upset that I didn't cozy up to them in the way they'd like, so I thought the best place to escape them is where the locals don't like us mer very much. As for the company, well... I figured I'd do right by my lady and the divines to travel the world they've made."

Had Wylendriel met Niernen just after the latter had left Blacklight for the second time to see more of the world, the Dunmer would have had no problem believing the Bosmer's naive explanation. Now, scarred and embittered by her experiences, Niernen raised her eyebrows and suppressed a scoff. "I'm not sure you've come to the right place," she said, and then shrugged. "That said, we can use someone like you. After every encounter with the Kamal half of us are broken in places we never even knew could break. And then there's the fatalities." Niernen rubbed her temples and sighed, prompting a thoughtful look from Wylendriel. "Not that you can provide much spiritual solace to a soldier when he's being dragged into the Sea of Ghosts by a thrice-damned Akaviri demon..." She continued, then trailed off and her eyes glazed over, once again lost in the gutwrenching memories of the naval battle.

While lost in her trance, Wy measured her up. Though she had no experience with the akaviri herself, the look on Niernen's face - that haunted look - it was enough to further cement the terrible stories she has heard thus far. She firmly pressed one of the dunmer's hands in her own in hopes of helping her snap out of her spacey condition while providing some form of comfort in the process. She didn't really know that much about the supposed "living gods" of Morrowind, but there was a universal language Wy knew she would understand. "I might not be a miracle worker," she admitted, "but I've never met anyone who was. All I can do is my best. That's all we can expect from anyone."

The priestess turned her head, facing no one in particular, and was now appearing lost in her own thoughts herself and continued. "If I were there, I may have not been able to help those men and women... but what I could do is use their loss to strengthen my resolve, and maybe I could find comfort in their passing. Whether it's Aetherius, Sovngarde... or returning to nature and the Earth Bones - they're at peace now. If your ancestors are watching, just do whatever you think they'd be proud of."

She stood up and pulled over an unused chair next to Niernen, even as packed the tavern was, since the person who used to be sitting in it was now standing atop the table and bellowing his lungs out. She gave the rest of the tavern a once-over: it was full of mostly drunken revelry; some were sobbing, but they were held by either loved ones or even complete strangers. Regardless, they weren't alone. There was a grand scheme in all of mortality that the temple had taught her to appreciate, and finally, she looked back at Niernen with a smile. "The world's not all bad... but even these drunken louts need a hero. The fact that you've stepped up to the challenge says more about your character than you might realize."

It took a while for Niernen to respond. She was a little taken aback when Wylendriel took her hand and sat down next to her, but she decided to let the situation play out as it happened. The words of the Bosmer priestess reminded her of similar sentiments previously expressed by Leif and Do'Karth -- that she was somehow noble or heroic for her actions so far. It still felt wrong to think of herself that way. Could her stand against the Kamal wash away the blood of all those dead Argonians that stained her hands?

"Oh, my ancestors would be furious with me, I'm sure," she said eventually, averting the topic of her own heroism. "Risking life and limb for these outlanders? My own brother is very upset with me and he's alive and here in Dawnstar right now. Archmaster Bolvyn Venim, Reclamations rest his soul, would be even less understanding. And the Nerevarine has declared me a traitor to my own people."

Wylendriel hummed to herself in a way that sounded of intrigue, but mostly is was just a self-reflection of her own awkward trip. Her ignorance of dunmeri culture was beginning to show. She finally sighed and opted to resign herself to humility. An itch inside of her felt inflamed in doing so.

"I won't pretend I understand your culture," Wy said, "and perhaps I don't know as much as I should, given my station... but there's a scale larger than the politics on Nirn. In the grand scheme, we're all flesh and blood. If you believe you're trying to do the right thing..."

Wy closed her eyes for a moment and withdrew her hands, as though lost in memories, but quickly recomposed herself and exhaled sharply.

"Running away from home was one of the hardest things I've ever done." She blurted out. "It's also one of the best things I've ever done. The Thalmor were awful to my people. It's natural to doubt yourself, Niernen, but don't second guess what you know is moral."

Niernen's esteem of the Bosmeri priestess rose when she mentioned her own escape from home again. Perhaps the two of them weren't so different after all. Leaving home to prove her worth had been the hardest thing Niernen had ever done too, and now they were both in a situation in which they firmly disagreed with the rulers of their ancestral homelands.

"You're right," she said, though conflict was etched on her face. "I don't want to doubt myself. It's... hard not to, though, when my brother so strongly feels the opposite. I have always respected his opinion. He's older and more experienced," she continued, initially with deference, "and I'm sure he thinks he's wiser -- b'vek, what am I saying? He's a fetcher. Or at least he's being one right now." Niernen laughed mirthlessly and buried her face in her hands. Wy just smiled, resting her chin in her hand.

"Sorry, sera," her voice came through her fingers, muffled. "These Nord drinks loosen my tongue too much. I don't mean to bore you."

"Don't be sorry," Wy chirped, "you're hardly boring. We're quite alike, I think. I come from a family of spinners. They're... highly respected in Valenwood for their insight and wisdom - priests of Y'ffre. My faith in Kynareth in addition to the Storyteller was, ah... unpopular."

The priestess pulled out the long, skinny feather she in her braid. It looked as though it had come from an argonian. As she gently stroked the vane of the plume she spoke softly as though in thought. "The thing about wisdom is that it comes from living, and no two lives are the same. So you can't let another direct your life, even if they're supposedly wiser. Learn from them, but... nothing more."

Wy stuck the feather back into her hair, and looked warmly back at Niernen. "That was actually my first lesson in wisdom. I think it was my family's way of letting me know I was accepted."

"Hm." Niernen leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms out, wincing at the pain that flared up in her ribcage and wrist. "You may be some use to me as a priestess after all," she added, smiled, and yawned. "I think it's time for me to try going to sleep again. See you around, Wylendriel." And with that, the Dunmer woman got to her feet and excused herself to her room, hoping her slumber would be deep and dreamless.

"Sleep well."

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Note: the Argonian Pakseech (Elder) killed is Tzinasha.

@Gcold