At My Feet-an Oblivion Fanfic Options

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Hey y'all, I've been working on this for a few months, and just finished it. KoB and I have been roleplaying a it, and I developed a character I really, really liked, and want to flesh her out more. i'll still be doing Kayla's story, but alternating between the two. I hope y'all enjoy it!



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The night was chilly in the Imperial City. Breath puffed into excited clouds as the residents of the city walked quickly towards their homes. Stores closed for the night, the locks clicking shut as the shop owners turned and pocketed their keys.

The night grew darker as the sun set, finally slipping over the horizon in a sigh of relief as it crawled to warm other parts of Nirn. Mothers laid their infants and toddlers to rest as father stoked the fire. Beggers crawled into alleys and abandoned houses in the Waterfront. Guards downed warming potions as they continued their shift into the night, onfident that the cold would deter thieves and would-be murderers.

Above their heads as Masser and Secunda rose slowly, a lithe form leapt from rooftop to rooftop. Crouching when a guard turned their head or scanned the roofs, the figure ducked and dove until it came to its destination. It braced itself for the jump, and fell nearly soundlessly onto the white-stoned balcony. A faint glow of a candle illuminated the room inside two-story building in the Temple District.

The man inside was hunched over a bunch of papers, parchment rolled and tossed aside in messy piles. He glanced up when a breeze hit him, and he saw his balcony door had blown open. He sighed wearily as he stood up, old bones popping as he made his way to the door. He latched it shut, but not before a pile of papers had gotten blown onto the ground. He meticulously picked them up, a loud crack in his back making him groan. When he stood up, he placed the papers on his desk and sat down.

He groaned when the candle went out. He looked wearily at the door, and stood up again to latch it back. The cold breeze from the outside had chilled him to the bone, and he set a chair in front of the balony door and went downstairs. His dog wagged her tail when she heard his footsteps approach, and nuzzled his hand when he leaned down to pet her. She followed him to the kitchen, and her bushy tail continued to wag as he poured himself a cup of wine. Using a simple spell, he warmed the wine until steam rose off of it. He walked back upstairs, hissing when the hot liquid spilled onto his hand.

He sat back down in his chair and stoked the fire, adding more wood. He sat down at his desk and scooted closer, picking up the warmed wine. He took a long drink and let out a sound of satisfaction before searching for his quill. One he found it under a pile of papers, he began to search for his diary. He searched under the desk, the chairs, even his bed. He frowned as he searched drawers, on top of cabinets, teetering precariously on a wobbly chair threatening to break under his weight. His wife, a woman of his age with brown hair and silver streaks, caught him.

"Amantius!" she scolded, helping him down from the chair. "What in the name of the Nine are you doing?!"

"My diary is gone!"

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The black figure flitted between shadows, dodging swaying guards and smelly drunks. Once it reached the Waterfront, it looked around beforerunning to a small shack near the water. It disappeared inside the house, and the night was quiet.

Shivering, the form lit fire in its hands and lit the logs in the fireplace. They crackled, and soon became a roaring fire. Within minutes, the shack was nearly stuffy with heat, and the figure shed its black clothing. A short, thick cape was hung by the door, and a mask was stuff in a drawer. Bright hazel eyes inspected the book in one hand as the other golden one unlaced boots. She set the book down and continued to shed her garments, the illusion magick on the clothing replacing the lithe, thin form for a muscular, curvaceous one.

Her instincts perked a half second before the door blew open, a young woman seething in the doorway. She fixed her eyes on the nude redhead before her.

"Samara! I'm going to kill you!"

"Closed the damned door, it's freezing!"

"Good!" The raven-haired girl shut the door anyways, in spite of her anger. "Maybe you'll freeze to death and stop messing up my progress!" She lunged at Samara, catching her thick red hair at the base of her skull before she could run off.

"Ow! Alda! Too rough! TOO ROUGH!" Samara squeaked. The larger Nord girl easily tossed a shorter, lighter Samara onto the bed they shared. She pinned her to the scratchy sheets, rage in her eyes.

"Ow! You're as heavy as a horse! What have you been eating?!"

"Fetchers like you for breakfast!"

"How are you doing that? We share grocer-OW!" Samara bucked her hips and tried to knock her roommate off of her once she pinched the sensitive mound of her breast.

"GET OFF ME, YOU COW!"

"YOU TOOK MY STEAL, YOU WHORE!"

"WELL YOU'RE SLOW!"

"AM NOT!"

"ARE TOO!" Samara wriggled an arm free and yanked hard on Alda's hair, then shrieked when milky white fingers tickled her ribs. She flailed and screamed with laughter, trying to knock her assailant off. Alda's blue eyes gleamed with playfully malicious intent.

"You're going to wet yourself!" she cackled.

"WE SHARE THE SAME BED, STUPID!"

"YOU can sleep in it, I can afford to go to the Bloated-AUGH!" She fell off the bed onto the cold stone floor, and Samara panted, trying to catch her breath. She reached down and handed Alda the diary.

"Here. I don't even want it. You can take it."

"Fine!" Alda snatched the worn diary away. "Dunno what that old man wants with this, anyways. Its just a bunch of plants."

"It's actually really interesting. He's made a plant that feeds off of blood."

Alda rolled her eyes as she rolled off the floor. "Bookworm."

"What? It's fascinating!"

"See, I can't take you seriously."

"You can sod off, then."

"Oooh, Imperial cursing!" Alda's thick northern accent rolled the 'r' in 'Imperial' almost like a purr. Samara felt her face flush as she looked in the cupboards after pulling thick woolen pants and shirt over her head.

"What do you want to eat?" She looked at the pot over the fire. "Stew again?"

"I can cook, if you'd let me."

"You put too much salt in your food." Samara pulled out a few small potatoes and two carrots. She tossed Alda the potatoes. Alda brandished a silver dagger and began peeling them.

"No, leave the peeling on, I like it!"

"Well, I don't!" Alda kept peeling. Samara huffed and grabbed the bucket by the door.

"I'll be right back. I'll get some water."

"Snatch some salt, we're almost out!" Alda called after her. Samara ignored her and walked to the edge of the water. Her breath came out in white puffs in the night air, the moons reflecting off the water. She dipped the bucket in the water, careful to not get any dirt in it. She walked back and losed the door behind her, sighing in relief. She saw that Alda had changed out of her dark leather armor and into a light dressing gown.

"How can you dress so light?" Samara asked, a tinge of incredulity in her voice. "Help me out."

Alda grabbed the bucket while Samara pulled the strainer off the wall, held up by twine. "Because I'm not a milk-drinker." She said as she poured the bucket on the strainer and into the cauldron. The cloth caught bits of dirt and a small piece of wood. Alda shook it clean outside the door as Samara began cooking.

"I like milk." Samara said lightly. Alda ignored her.

After about an hour, the food was ready. Samara spooned two bowlfuls and handed one to Alda, who was perched on the bed, feet tucked underneath her. Samara handed her the salt.

"So, if you're giving me the book, what are you gonna about getting into the Thieves Guild?" Alda took a bite of the stew, then added more salt.

Samara shrugged. "I dunno. I don't really want to be in it, actually."

"What? But it's every thief's dream!"

"I wanna be like Springheel Jak. He wasn't in the Thieves Guild, and he did really good."

"Sammy," Alda's voice carried a bit of condescending sympathy. "Springheel Jak was a man who liked to break into the homes of rich woman and seduce them. That's what he was noteable for. Not for thieving."

"But he wasn't with the Thieves Guild. And he was a thief! There are stories of him leaping across buildings-"

"Ravaging noblewomen."

"-Scaling down the Palace!"

"To ravage the Empress."

"Gross. But he DID steal. So what if he had fun while he did it?" Samara set her empty bowl down after draining it of broth. Alda shrugged and set hers down inside of it and got beneath the covers. Samara put a few more logs onto the fire and crawled into bed with Alda. The smaller women turned onto her side and allowed her friend to slip her hands beneath her woolen shirt and warm her hands on her stomach.

"Sammy?" Alda murmured.

"Hmm?"

"You know I love you, right? Even though I'm mean to you, and you irritate me?"

"I love you too."

There was a pause. Alda pulled Samara closer and sighed.

"I know." There was a hint of something in her voice, but Samara didn't catch it. The two thieves drifted off to sleep, with one dreaming of becoming the Gray Fox and the other of scaling the Palace.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Sorry for the delay, y'all!! I sat on this chapter for two weeks, then completely changed it last night, lol.






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"Well, this was a good idea." Samara said to Blanche, whom of which was behind her. Blanche sighed.

"I told you I should worry." Blanche said with another sigh. Samara rolled her eyes and lightly shook her head.

"This is simple and easy. Just let me grab a few stones, and then we head out. No one gets hurt, no one dies."

"Then my pay will be for nothing." Rumbled the Orc, named Shakh, in disappointment. "You didn't hire me to sit back and not do anything. It wouldn't feel right taking your money. Let me go in and kill them so they won't kill us first."

"Nonsense. I can use my magick against them." Blanche whispered. The bandits in question were milling about the previously abandoned ruin, sleeping on worn, weathered mats or leaning against the white walls, conversing. In total, there were eight of them, wearing mismatched armor. Some wore furs, some studded leathers, and one had steel armor. Blanche peered out from behind the wall they were hiding, most likely meant as a latrine, judging from the stench emanating fro the buckets and stools.

"Use your what?" Samara said, waving a glowing blue stone in front of Blanche's face. The blonde Breton sputtered uncharacteristically.

"How did you-"

"I'm THAT good." Samara boasted, a grin on her face. The Orc wheezed a laugh. "That was good, for a thief."

"Hey!"

"Shhh!" Blanche shushed. One of the bandits perked up, pushing himself off the ground and putting a hand on his steel sword.

"Did you hear something?" He asked softly. The rest looked startled, but shook their heads, murmuring no's as they peered into the darkness.

Samara waved another stone in her hand, grinning. Blanche frowned and shoved the other woman lightly, making the orc wheeze another laugh. Samara stuck out her tongue and turned around, shaking her rear at Blanche. Shakh wheezed louder, and Blanche's frown deepened before slapping Samara's rear lightly. Samara grinned and leaned close to the two.

"That's two out of the four that are up there. I wonder why they left them there and didn't sell them?"

"The trek to the city is long," Blanche murmured softly. "And merchants often won't buy from the dirty or those who are obviously bandits. Especially not those who reside in Skingrad. They assume the stones are stolen." She frowned at Samara. "I want to see how you're getting them without them noticing."

"I as well," Shakh declared quietly. Samara cracked her knuckles and disappeared momentarily. The orc looked around, then pointed up towards the wall.

"There."

Samara inched along the wall quickly, her back against the ledge several yards above the heads of the bandits.

"How is she doing that?" Blanche breathed. "There can't be enough footing!"

"Thieves." Shakh said quietly, no audible contempt in his voice. He breathed in sharply when Samara leapt from the thin ledge to the square pillar holding the welkynd stone. She shoved the stone into the small bag she had, hiding its glow, then backtracking across the ledge, gripping holes in the wall to keep herself from falling. She lightly balanced on the ledge of the wall where they were hiding, and dropped, rolling forward, and springing up onto her toes.

"You're like a godsdamned spider!" Shakh said, patting Samara on the back, sending the young woman forward and into Blanche. Blanche was suddenly very aware of the shampoo Samara used as she steadied the younger woman. Her face flushed a little as she looked up at Samara, who grinned down at her.

"You see me?" She said before stretching her arms. She saw Blanche nod, then turn around, her voice a little unsteady.

"There's one more, then we can-"

"INTRUDERS!"

Blanche and Samara whirled to see a man and a woman, dressed in a similar fashion as the others, drawing their weapons. Shakh had already, with alarming speed, unsheathed his greatsword and was running towards the larger group of bandits. Samara disappeared, leaving Blanche alone with two bandits and their very sharp swords.

One smirked, the grime on his tanned, leathery cheek giving his blue eyes an insidious glint as he raised his sword. He dropped his sword when a bolt of lightening hit him, causing him to fall over and seize up. The other bandit, a Redguard woman with an unsure look, raised her sword at Blanche.

An arrow planted itself into her stomach and she stopped, dropping her sword. Blood spurted from the wound and she fell backwards like a tree with a thump. Blanche looked wildly around and saw Samara give her a little wave from a darkened corner, above the chaos. Blanche was glad that at least her redheaded friend was not an alien to tight situations.

She turned around as she heard a gasp from behind her to see the bandit woman she had shot gripping the shaft of the arrow. She made a pained sound as she tried to pull the arrow out. Blanche fell to her knees and grabbed the woman's wrist.

"Stop. You'll bleed to death faster than I can heal you. What's your name?"

"Suleen," The woman said weakly. Her breathing was labored, and Blanche saw that the arrow had gone right through her hide armor.

"Okay, Suleen, I'm gonna need you to slow your breathing a bit and stay calm."

"There's an arrow in my gut!" the woman cried out. Blanche put a hand over the woman's forehead and slid is across, a calming spell in her hand.

"Shhh. I've got this. You're not the first battle wound I've dealt with. What are you doing with bandits, Suleen?"

"My son-" She whimpered in pain, gripping Blanche's wrist tightly. "Is very sick. He's at the Temple, and they're saying I can't afford the treatment he needs to get better."

"That doesn't sound right. Tell me about his illness." Blanche gripped the shaft of the arrow and conjured a pair of heavy-duty scissors and began cutting away at the armor.

"He's three. Very smart, but has a cancerous sickness. If I could just get part of the cut of one job here-don't pull it out!" Her voice rose several octaves when she realized Blanche was gripping the arrow.

"I'm not. Keep talking. I'm going to get this armor off of you, alright?"

"Okay." Suleen gulped, sweat on her body. "His name is Malen." Swords clanked in the background, and cries of pain rang out. Blanche turned Suleen on her side, making the Redguard woman groan in pain. She kept talking as her armor was pulled off.

"He flirts with any pretty woman, and really loves blondes."

Blanche smiled a little, despite the sight she was seeing. The arrow hadn't traveled all the way through Suleen's body. A quick ,gentle twist of the shaft told Blanche that the arrowhead had loosened, the binding most likely coming off from the wetness of Suleen's blood. The chaos quieted, and suddenly Shakh was next to Blanche.

"What are you doing? That's a bandit! She's the enemy!"

Samara appeared next to Shakh, peering down at Suleen. "She's still alive? Are you gonna try to save her?"

"We should kill her." The orc said plainly. Suleen's breathing quickened as she began to panic.

"No, please! I'm all my son has left! He needs me!"

Shakh put his hand on a dagger on his belt, but Samara grabbed his arm.

"No. Don't take a parent away from their child." she said, the shadows hiding her expression. Had the orc or breton seen it, they would've seen the pain. She took a breath and knelt next to Blanche.

"What do you need me to do?"

Blanche's heart swelled a little as she saw the resolve on Samara's face. Blanche took a deep breath and bit her lower lip for a second.

"The arrowhead came loose in her body. I'll need to get it out if we're to save her. What I need you to do is grab some potions, some rags, and a piece of leather or wood, something for her to bite on. Shakh, you'll need to hold her down."

Both Samara and Shakh obliged as Blanche comforted Suleen. She gently stroked the redguard woman's hair, holding a light above them.

"I'm going to tell you exactly what I'm going to do, and exactly what is going to happen, alright? The arrowhead is stuck in your body, but the good news is judging by the blood loss, it hasn't struck an artery. That means you're in no real danger because I'm here. Now, this is what's going to happen now."

Samara handed her a bunch of rags and a small piece of firewood as thick as her thumb and as long as her forearm. Blanche handed it back. "Strip off the bark first." She turned back to Suleen. "It's going to hurt, but I'm right here with you, okay? I'm going to pull the shaft out, and then I'm going to pull out the arrowhead and heal whatever damage it caused. " She grabbed the newly naked wood and put it in Suleen's mouth. "Shakh is going to hold you down, and keep you from thrashing. I'm an excellent healer. Are you ready? When I get to three, I'll pull out the arrow, and begin to pull the arrowhead out. Ready?"

Suleen whimpered, tears running down her face. Sobs wracked her body, and Samara hald her right hand as Shakh gripped her ankles.

"One..."

Suleen closed her eyes.

"Two..."

Samara held her breath and braced herself.

"Three!"

Suleen screamed in pain as the arrow was pulled out, the striped wood nearly breaking with the force of her jaw.