Mephala's Maiden: Black Rose Clan Options

[Black Hand]

Hey guys, this isnt a divergence from the main story I have, but rather, I have been trying out a new type of character on my X-Box, a custom class 'Geisha' after seeing the movie 'Memoirs of a Geisha' Recently, and I gotta tell ya, its a lot of fun. Something different to be sure. It inspired this. Enjoy. (I hope.)


“Who was that lady, Sera?” asked Sayuri, looking at Edryno Arethi, her current matron in House Hlaalu.

“No one, get back too your duties, Retainer.” Edrnyo replied, twirling the Black Rose in her hand, a deathly pale in her face, she had been delivered the death message and was in no mood to speak.

Sayuri, the young Bosmer girl had been adopted by House Hlaalu after her parents had been murdered by a Telvanni Mage whilst in Sadrith Mora, and one of the Merchants traveling in his own ship to trade, took pity on the little crying girl, dropping her off in Balmora, and told Nileno Dorvayn of her plight.

She remembered the tsking of Nileno, and the warmth of her palm as she rubbed her cheek affectionately. She was given clothes and a bed, and place to sleep, and she was put to work, alternately being trained in House Hlaalu’s favored skills, for three years she served mostly as a serving girls, performing menial tasks, and occasionally as a thief, or a decoy. She loved it, as it seemed to coincide naturally with her gods-given talents.

Bratheru Oran, Edryno’s lover took the rose from her hand, and threw it on the ground, smashing it underneath his leather boots. His expression showed that of rage and helplessness. Sayuri would not bring it up again for three weeks, but one day, when Edryno gave her a key to her house, and told her that she would be gone for several weeks, she finally explained, as she had never held anything back from her adopted daughter for long.

“Do you remember that Rose, Sayuri? The black one?” she asked, as Sayuri nodded her head, remembering the vivacious Altmer that had delivered it, dressed in exquisite clothing and wearing Telvanni Bug Musk.

“You’ve been chosen, and are being taken from me, under the pain of death, I cannot refuse. The Black Rose Clan is taking you, and you will serve them. I…I am leaving to speak to them, and perhaps negotiate an alternative. But seldom will they refute a selection.”

“Black Rose Clan? Matron, I don’t understand!” Sayuri said nearly on the brink of tears.

“You know of the Morag Tong? They worship the Great Daedra Mephala, the Dark Matron of Murder, Sex, and Secrets. They are a small faction within the Tong, dedicated to the second part of that. Whereas most assassins are dark, aloof, and grim in nature, a Black Rose, or a Dark Petal, also Thorns or Mephala’s Maidens, rely more on Personality and Agility. As every rose have five petals, so does the Clan. When one ‘wilts’ away as they call it, either killed, or grows to old too become pleasing to men, another must be chosen to take their place. You, because you are born under the Sign of ‘The Lover’ which gives you more agility, and the power to freeze people, will become the newest petal in the Black Rose.”

Sayuri’s eyes tried to no avail to hold back the tears of confusion and frustration. For the second time in her life, she was to lose her family. Edyrno ran her hand through the childs raven dark hair, and embraced her, attempting to comfort the shaking Bosmer.

“I know, I promise everything will be all right…”

[Black Hand]

How long had it been since he had last been here? Five years, maybe seven? It did not matter, time was on his side. Spellwright Andrethi walked in through the gate door into Sadrith Mora, and set about what he always did when he visited, looking through new tomes, picking up some new alchemical ingredients, and conversing with the retainers, mouths, and mages on old news, new news, theories and spells.

Also was his custom, was to drink a small bottle of flin to himself at Fara’s hole in the wall, before returning to Mababael, his stronghold. However, today held a strange deviance from his normal experiences in Sadrith Mora. Rather than the usual low grumbling of patrons steeped in greef, a little bosmer lass, no more than twenty years, began playing on her lute.

The notes were unlike any style he had heard, like raindrops on a guarskin drum. Echoing and preternatural, he immediately felt his mind pay complete attention to her lithe fingers moving up and down the strings.

Then like a summer wind on a spring day, her voice began lilting a tune out, weak and shy at first, she called out stronger as the song grew into its true resonance. She sang of distant mountains that called her spirit to climb them upwards to Aetherius itself. She sang of the loved ones that would miss her, but that the journey was needed. She sang of trials and tribulations, she sang of pain, she sang of triumph.

When her set had finished, the bowl at the foot of the chair was to the brim with septims. All the patrons clapped her heartily; all the while one set of red eyes watched her intently. What would have surprised her had she known him at all, was that he was smiling.

Sayuri drank the complimentary brandy, speaking with Fara about her fabricated story about being a travelling minstrel from Valenwood. Fara told her how she was so happy that she wandered into her tavern, as business was up. The locals were abuzz about the singer that had set up in town, and they wanted to know how long she would be in town for.

“Azalea of Blackleaf clan.” Fara told the wizard, as soon as the minstrel made her way to her room. She had seen a few retainers from Neloth in her place, but not one who seemed to be a Mage-Lord. Much less one who seemed to be smitten with her latest attraction.

“I see, and she is staying here for a time? I believe my visit to Sadrith Mora can be extended a few days as well.” Brithos responded. “And tell me, how often does Azalea play?”

“We negotiated for three sets a day. Once after midday, another after work’s end, and the last after moonrise. She just finished her work’s end set, so her next one will be in about four hours.”

“Splendid.” The spellwright smiled.