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]

The journey was a short one, within the sun’s descent she and the wizard were within the stronghold cleverly hidden within the volcanic rock of Molag Amur, within sight of the coast. Telvanni rarely cared for anything outside their own strongholds. It was equally strange that this ambitious spellwright would even consider taking an outsider to his home.

The Telvanni ranking lords were not well known for carrying on their roles through family, rather they seemed to prefer simply recruiting powerful apprentices to carry on their work. But as telvanni lived for ages, perhaps the families of the past were simply forgotten, and the image of the solitary wizard obsessed with power, was all that remained. Though there were rumors, and whispers, that these wizards, usually to self-absorbed to look up from whatever tome they were reading, would occasionally find a person interesting enough to take a respite and focus their energies for a short time on them.

If these rumors were true, then it was certainly the case for Brithos’ interest in the girl he called Azalea. As he welcomed her into the Velothi style home, telling the Breton Spellsword retainer to show her to her room, and set her up with all the accommodations she required.

The night moved slowly into Sayuri’s set, with the room that Brithos usually used for teaching his retainers in a few levels of power below his, set up for Azalea. Raised upon the dais, sitting in a comfortable chair, obviously built in a hlaalu district, Brithos and his half a dozen retainers sat and listened for two hours as she played in her unique style, and playing Brithos affections with coy glances.

The set ended with the retainers applauding enthusiastically, rising as he did. He then ordered a feast to be drawn up, and bade Azalea to follow him to a trophy room of sorts. As they waited for the food to be served he went over a multitude of objects from enchanted katanas, to rare scrolls, to unique tomes.

Then he lifted a book that Sayuri immediately recognized, its aged red leather stifling a gasp from her. Brithos looked over at her and smiled. “Yes, it is beautiful, is it not? This is a one of a kind, a book of Akaviri poetry, that I alone know the translation too. Its verses are strange, but well worth the time spent on it. I confess it means much to me. So much so, that I even hunted down and killed two would-be thieves once. Telvanni justice, my dear. But you have nothing to fear from me.” He set the book down.

Dinner was announced as ready, and Brithos gestured that they leave the room. The entire meal Sayuri held back her dark thoughts of the knowledge that she had seen what her parents had died for, a bloody book! Pages and ink, wrapped in a dead cow’s skin!

As the evening wore on, the retainers retired one by one, until it was only Brithos and Azalea seated at the table, first came the conversation, then came the drinks. Then came the words. Then came his hands on hers. Then came his confessions of loneliness.

Sayuri leaned over and kissed him softly, her head moved back slightly, lips slightly parted. Brithos looked at her. The dark eyes, the dark hair, then enticing smells and sounds of a woman’s body. He leaned in and he kissed her back.

There was a small trail of clothes leading to Brithos’ bed, and in the dark torchlight two figures moved around under the sheets passionately like a snake captured in a sack desperate to escape.

Brithos fell onto his back while Azlaea straddled him, she looked down on him with a look of gloating triumph, that could have been mistaken for desire.

“Ask me what my sign is Brithos.” She said with a musky undertone. Brithos already in a gleeful mood played along.

“Azalea, what is your sign?”

“The Lover.”

“How very, very fitting.”

“According to the firmament, what can a lover do?”

“Excuse me?” Brithos asked getting lost from the game.

“What can a Lover do?”

“Freeze others with a kiss, they say…Azalea, what are you…” he stopped as she leaned in and kissed him softly.

“My name is Sayuri, daughter of Dombadil and Aranwen. The bosmer you killed for your poetry you rat-loving son of a (censored)” she said brandishing her dagger, and going to work on the paralyzed from of Brithos.