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!



-----


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!"

---

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.

[King Of Beasts]

Samara is [censored] awesome, lol.

Lol. Amantius is always whining about his missing diary


Damn, Alda can be mean

[Rohirrim]

I like it. And not just for the naked ladies.

[Darkness Eternal]

Nice! Collaboration of two writers is always good and I'm thrilled to see another story taking place in Cyrodiil. So, we're dealing with wet and bathed girls, blood-drinking plants and mystery? Count me in.

[SubRosa]

Thankfully that rooftop dancer was merely a thief, and not a murderer. I liked that you showed this scene from the POV of Amantius Allectus (I wonder if his parents had a girl, would they have named her Awomantius? ) Of course those of us who have played the TG questline know his name, and the importance of his diary, vampiric plants and all.

Nothing better than some hot girl on girl action! I have to confess that in my first read-through, I had the impression that they were lovers. But on my second time going through it, it looks like probably not. Too bad.

"Because I'm not a milk-drinker."
I loved this now famous Skyrim line. But I could not help but thinking that if she actually is a lesbian, she really is a milk drinker...

"Springheel Jak was a man who liked to break into the homes of rich woman and seduce them.
Not seeing a problem here myself.


nits:
Mothers laid their infants and toddlers to rest as father[s] stoked the fire.
Unless one guy is doing a lot of stoking, I suspect you wanted fathers to have been plural.

[c]onfident that the cold would deter thieves and would-be murderers.
I think one of those thieves nicked your opening 'c'.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Nov 12 2013, 11:39 PM

[mirocu]

Incredibly good job on the descriptions of the environment and what happened in the shadows, Liz! Kudos! It reminded me of a story that can be read in Deus Ex

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Ooh, chapter two! Thanks to everyone for reading so far. I'm a little stuck on Kayla's story, hence why I'm doing this one to keep the juices flowing.

Mirocu: Thank you!

SubRosa: Thanks for the heads up on the nits. I saw a few more that neither of us caught. As for their relationship, Alda is a lesbian, and Samara sees her as a friend. She doesn't know she's a lesbian, though. So she is technically a milk-drinker XD

DE: I really wanted to do a Cyrodiil-based fic, and wasn't confident enough back when it first came out to do one (and didn't know what fanfic even was at that point) but I figure, if people can carry on years of writing a fic over and over, I can just start a new one, right?"

Rohirrim: Naked babes is always a good thing. ALWAYS.

KoB: You already know Samara, lol. Alda is new for you.








----------------




The next night, Samara didn't even other showing up to the Guild meeting. Instead, she let Alda have the diary and she went for a walk. She put on thick boots and her thick dark cloak, her woolen bedclothes beneath her regular clothes. She had lifted a somewhat worn dress from the closet of a young noble girl a while ago, and it fit her alright, if not a bit loose in the hips and tight in the chest. She wandered, seemingly aimlessly around the Talos District, her hands behind her back. When someone would pass by, she'd look at their style of clothing and, if it was fancy enough, she'd bump into them, and while she apologized, reach into their pockets and swipe their money.

When she felt her pockets weigh down with coins and notes, she decided to head back. if she didn't, Alda would start cooking, and Samara didn't feel like putting river water in her stew again to dull the taste of salt. The moons were up still, and Samara looked at them for a minute longer.

"Lovely night."

She jumped to see a man dressed in rich, warm robes. She guessed his hair was a brown, and his hazel eyes held a strange light in them. She gazed into them, her mind blank.

"Uhm-"

"What's a lovely young lady like you doing out on a cold night like this?" His accent was soft and melodic, floating into Samara's ears like leaves on the wind. She murmured a non-commital response as she pulled her gaze away from his and looked around. The streets were empty, and she realized that she might be in danger. Something in her gut tugged, begging her to walk away that instant.

"I'm sorry, I need-"

"To come inside for a warm drink? I agree."

Samara pulled her arm away, and the man looked confused.

"No, I need to go. I have a friend waiting for me."

"How are you resisting?!"

"I pulled my arm away and said no, as is my right as a woman. Get away from me, you freak!" Samara shrieked when he grabbed the front of her shirt, the sound muffled by his hand on her mouth. The man let out a loud bellow of pain when she kneed his groin, then fell backwards as she elbowed him in the nose. She left him sprawled on the ground and bolted, using the shadows to her advantage. She didn't stop running until she reahed her house in the Waterfront, slamming the door and locking it with shaky hands.

She curled up on the bed, her breathing not slowing for a while. She looked around the small shack, looking for possible weapons in case he followed her. Oh gods, what if he saw her again and called the guards on her? She didn't even steal from him, she was just looking at the moons...

The door rattled, and her heart nearly thudded out of her chest. She heard an angry voice on the other side.

"Samara! Open up! I don't have my key with me!"

Samara sighed in relief and stood up. She rolled her shoulders around and unlocked the door, letting an irritated Alda in.

"What in Oblivion makes you think it's okay to-what's wrong?!"

Samara's eyes had been slowly filling up with tears, but when Alda asked the question, the dam broke. Alda staggered a bit at the force that the smaller woman hugged her, her face surprised.

"Shhh, it's okay, I'm sorry! I'm not really mad at you, you know that." She soothingly stroked Samara's hair. Samara laughed weakly, the sound mingling with her sobbing and coming out as a snort. Alda made a face but kept it hidden.

"It's not that. I was in the Talos District, picking pockets, and this man came up to me. I didn't even pick his pocket, and he tried to yank me inside his house. I think he was gonna rape me!"

"Nobody wants to rape you, Samara. They'd kick you out five seconds after you started making demands on how to make things good for you." Alda half-heartedly joked, a look of pure worry on her face. She took Samara's face in her hands and cupped her chin gently, making her look into her eyes.

"Stay inside for the next few nights. I got the job at the Guild, so don't worry about anything for a few days, okay?" A thought struck her. "How'd you get away?"

"I kneed him in the groin as hard as I could, then elbowed him."

Alda laughed loudly and hugged Samara tightly. "That's my girl. That's my girl."

---

Samara let Alda cook, which always put the raven-haired Nord in a good mood. She chattered excitedly about the Guild, and how she was setting about trying to fence some stolen goods. When she produced a bottle of wine, Samara squealed in delight.

"Oh my gods, where did you get this?!" Samara cradled the vintage bottle of Surilie Brother's in her hands gently. "We can't drink this!"

"Samara, we're not rich folk. We don't keep bottles of wine around for fun, we drink them." She made a show of pulling the cork off, with some effort, and pouring it into a wooden cup and handing it to Samara. A smile spread on the redhead's face as she took a sip. Her eyes rolled back into her head in salacious pleasure when the wine touched her tongue.

"Ohhh...oh my gods, this is so good. Where'd you find this?!"

"Earl of Imbel's house. I guess I must have been there after you were in the district."

Samara shrugged and downed the rest of the wine. She held her cup out, and Alda laughed.

"Greedy, I haven't even had any!"

"That's because you're slow." She made a sound of protest when Alda poured herself a glass instead of Samara. Alda smiled at the redhead over the wooden cup, and Samara smiled back, grabbing the bottle for herself.

"So, you're not mad about me stealing the diary yesterday?" Samara drank half of her wine and set it aside. The drink spread a delicious warmth from her belly and settled there. She crossed her legs on the bed and rested her elbows on her knees, and rested her chin in her hands, looking at the other woman.

"Not at all. I probably would've messed it up. You're lucky you're small and quick."

"I guess. What did you tell them?"

"Who, the Guild? I told them I stole it from another thief. Methredhel was pissed!" Alda laughed, and Samara joined her. The warmth had spread to her limbs quickly, and made her notice things she usually didn't. The firelight made Alda's creamy skin glow with warmth, and danced in her eyes. Alda smiled behind her cup.

"You're staring at me."

"Sorry. You're pretty in the firelight. You're pretty always. I'm jealous."

Alda frowned. "Of what?"

"Your skin is so pretty, and you're so tall!"

"My feet are huge, and so is my nose. I have man-hands." Alda laughed.

"You do not! Your long fingers look like a lute player's fingers." Samara grabbed Alda's hand and held her own hand palm-to palm. "Look at how short and chubby my fingers are."

Alda's fingers intertwined with Samara's, grasping them firmly. "They're perfect."

Samara smiled and patted Alda's hand. "Thanks. You're too nice." She let go of Alda's hand and grabbed her cup and drained the rest of the wine. Alda sighed and grabbed the bottle and began drinking straight from it.

"Hey!" Samara tried to yank the bottle away from her. "Greedy!"

"You've had TWO glasses, and it takes more than just one bottle of expensive wine to make a Nord warm!" She held the smaller woman away by the forehead while she drank the bottle's contents. Samara huffed and tossed her cup at Alda, hitting the side of her temple.

"OW!"

"That's what you get! I'm sorry!" Samara yelped when Alda grabbed her by the arm and flung her onto the bed. She blinked in half-confusion when she hit the bed.

"Whoa, I'm dizzy. Stop for a moment." Alda let her go, and Samara lay on the bed, catching her breath. "That wine works fast."

"You're a lightweight."

"I'm a Breton."

"That's still up for debate, honey."

"It's what I'm going with for now." Samara sat up, her brow furrowed.

"You ever gonna look? You're old enough now." Alda sat next to her. "You could go ask for the records, steal the money they ask for, no problem."

Samara leaned her head on Alda's shoulder. "I don't know. Do they give reasons for adoptions? Like 'Abandoned,' or 'Deceased parents' or something?"

"I don't know. You could ask?"

Samara sighed and glanced over at the fire. "I might. But what if they just didn't want me?"

"Then they're missing out. You're great." Alda smiled down at her, but Samara was looking at the dirtied floor of their shack. She absently bit her lip, frowning.

"What time is it?" She asked Alda. Alda made an uncertain "Uhhh..." and opened the door, looking at the moons.

"A bit past midnight. Why?"

Samara shivered when the breeze hit her. Alda promptly shut the door.

"I'm going to find out who gave me up. " She put on her thick cape. Alda put a hand on her arm gently.

"I'm coming with you, love."

[King Of Beasts]

"Sorry. You're pretty in the firelight. You're pretty always. I'm jealous."

Alda frowned. "Of what?"

"Your skin is so pretty, and you're so tall!"

"My feet are huge, and so is my nose. I have man-hands." Alda laughed.

I'm tempted to make a joke on how pretty women deny being pretty when thy are called pretty, but I like being in one piece so I won't say anything

The man let out a loud bellow of pain when she kneed his groin, then fell backwards as she elbowed him in the nose. She left him sprawled on the ground and bolted, using the shadows to her advantage. She didn't stop running until she reahed her house in the Waterfront, slamming the door and locking it with shaky hands.

Ouch, lol

I see she had a bit of a scary encounter, glad she got away safe

"Nobody wants to rape you, Samara. They'd kick you out five seconds after you started making demands on how to make things good for you."

[Darkness Eternal]

This was a great and humorous chapter. That blow to the groin was painful, but the creep deserved every bit of it. Maybe I'm wrong but I do see some love brewing here. It will be interesting to see their relationship grow and Samara's reaction to the revelation.

[SubRosa]

Such a nice night to picking pockets! But Mr. Brown Hair looks like definite trouble. He's putting the whammy on her! I bet he's a vampire. I wonder how Samara is resisting? I expect all will be revealed in the future.

Methredhel was pissed!
Hah! She always is when you get the diary.

I loved the antics between Samara and Alda. It reveals a strong friendship. Plus there are tantalizing hints of possible future romance.

And a nice little look into Samara's past, with the revelation that she is an orphan. Perhaps one of her mystery parents has something to do with her ability to resist the vampire's charms?


nits:
The next night, Samara didn't even {b}other showing up to the Guild meeting.
Looks like some thief nicked your "b".


[b]if she didn't, Alda would start cooking, [/b]
Since this is the beginning of a new sentence, 'If' ought to be capitalized.


She guessed his hair was {a} brown, and his hazel eyes held a strange light in them.
I am thinking that 'a' is a leftover from a previous edit?


She didn't stop running until she rea{c}hed her house in the Waterfront,
You were missing a 'c' in reached.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

@ Everyone: Yes, there was a romance brewing, buuuuut...





---






Samara leaned against the wall of the Imperial prison cell, letting out an irritated sigh. Alda chuckled from the cell across from her.

"Well this seems familiar. What did they cite you with again?"

"Being drunk and disorderly, attempted theft, trespassing, and sexual assault."

Alda laughed loudly, earning an angry grunt from the Dunmer across from her.

"Shutup, snowback! You too, Breton trash!"

"Ooh, testy!" Alda said in a teasing voice.

"I think he likes us." Samara laughed.

"Disgusting! You two are going to die in here!"

"For being drunk in public? Hardly." Samara could hear the eye-roll in Ada's voice. Why did you get charged with sexual assault?"

"I tripped and landed face-first into a guard's groin. My forehead is gonna have a bruise."

That earned another cackle from Alda. The door shut up the stairs and down the hall, making the Dunmer cackle mockingly.

"You hear that? The guards are coming! For you!" He laughed mockingly again. Alda sighed audibly.

"They're probably coming to let us go. It's been about ten hours."

"It's been two." Samara pressed her face against the bars, her head almost able to fit through. She struggled to see who was coming down the steps as the torchlight lit up the stone hallway.

"My sons...they're dead?"

Much of what the conversation was about was lost on Samara as she noted the group. Three individuals hovered around another, wearing steel armor with strange etchings on them. Their faces were hard and chiseled, searching the cells for possible danger. The fourth individual was addressed as "sire" by the female. They stopped at her cell.

"Stand back, prisoner." The redguard siad, earning a quiet cackle from the Dunmer across from her. Samara obliged.

"What's this prisoner doing here?" The female asked. "This cell is supposed to be empty."

"Usual mix-up with the watch, I-I-"

"Doesn't matter. Stand back, by that window. We won't hesitate to kill you." The Imperial guard opened Alda's cell. She heard murmurs from the man dressed in rich, royal clothes. She heard Alda's loud voice say "I'm not on good terms with the gods."

She heard stones shifting, and she shook the bars.

"Alda? Alda, what's going on? Alda, answer me!"

"Shutup!" The female guard snapped. "Better not close this one. It can't be opened from the other side." Then silence. She heard Alda's voice, oddly hushed.

"Sammy, that was the Emperor. something's wrong. Really wrong. I...have to go. I have to see."

"Alda, no! Don't leave me here by myself!"

There was nothing but silence. Samara shook the bars again and yelled Alda's name.

"Oh SHUTUP, she's gone, you s'wit!" the Dunmer hollered. Samara sat by the bars, stunned. The moonlight streamed through the bars, and a chilling breeze wafted through. Samara shivered and sat by the bars until they released her three days later.

---

Nirn had erupted into chaos. The Emperor and his sons were dead, found assasinated by unknown assailants. Kvatch had burned to the ground, and gates were opening. The roads were no longer safe to travel, as daedra killed travelers who couldn't defend themselves properly.

Samara kept her life going as best as she could, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. She raided the coffers of the Imperial City's most elite, earning the ire of both the Thieves Guild and honest folk alike.

Alda never showed back up. Samara left her door unlocked each night, hoping to see her friend burst in, furious about something. The salt was left untouched in her cupboard.

Under a stack of books on her dresser, rolled-up parchment with a ribbon around it sat, neglected. In a random fit of honesty, Samara had paid for her adoption records, but without Alda there to look with her, she didn't see the point in finding out. At first, she would sit with it in her hand for a few minutes, curiousity and nerves gnawing at her stomach. Eventually, she stopped picking it up, and forgot about it.

On a whim, she slipped into the Earl of Imbel's house one night, easily picking the lock and shutting the door behind her before anyone saw. The downstairs looked empty, the huge foyer making her shake her head.

"Rich folk." she muttered under her breath as she silently crept up the stairs. She felt odd, like someone was watching her in the empty house as she filled her pockets with coins, jewels, and other trinkets she could fit. She lifted a silver necklace with a large emerald amulet on it. Circling the gem were two dragons, one silver, the other ebony. Their tails intertwined, and their eyes were rubies. On the back were some Nordic runes. Samara stuck it in her pocket and quickly left.

She slipped through the city easily and into her house, pulling her cape off and hanging it up. She opened her top drawer and began piling her loot in under the false bottom. She looked up momentarily to see faded parchment under books. She shut the drawer and pulled the now-creased paper from under the books and sat on her bed. After a moment of staring, she pulled the ribbon and let it fall to the floor and unfolded it.

"Samara Sage Imbel,

DOB: Second Seed, 13, 3E 412"

"Imbel?" Samara nearly dropped the paper. She was the daughter of an earl?! She gulped and kept reading.

"Brought in by father, Jakben Imbel, on day of birth. Looked distraught. Whereabouts of mother unknown. No visitation rights."

Samara dropped the paper onto the ground. She was the daughter of an earl. And she was right. They didn't want her. She let the paper fall to the ground, leaving it open. She shed the rest of her clothes except her undergarments and slid under the covers.

---

Samara felt a breeze on her face and woke up to find her door shutting silently, and a dark figure in her room. She kept her breathing even as she watched it begin rifling through her drawers. She gripped the knife under her pillow tightly.

"Waterfront District is exempt from thievery." She said, making the figure jump. She sat up and held out her dagger.

"Get out."

"You have something of mine. Where is it?"

"I have a lot of something of everyone's. You'll have to be more specific."

A strong hand gripped her throat, and she struggled for air. The blade was twisted from her hand, and she felt a bone snap.

"An amulet. Emerald. Two dragons. One ebony, the other white gold. Nordic runes on the back. I know you have it."

Samara let out a piercing scream of pain when he released her throat. "In the drawer!" She sobbed.

"Which drawer?" The figure demanded.

"Top!"

"You're LYING!"

"False bottom!" She wailed. The figure ripped open the drawer and threw her clothes on the floor. Samara sobbed and cradled her broken wrist. The figure tore the false bottom out and held up the amulet. A hand was on her throat again.

"I ought to slit your throat here and now. Don't you ever come to my house again, you hear me?"

Samara gasped. "You won't let your own daughter into your house, Jakben?"

The figure froze, its grip slack. He stepped back.

"I have my birth certificate." Samara said in a raspy voice, but the figure was gone.

[Colonel Mustard]

Wow, there was a lot of ground covered in that one chapter.

I loved the banter between Alda and Samara at the beginning of this part, and it came as quite a surprise that Alda might be off being the Imperial Champampion.

The scene at the end with Jakben was brilliantly tense, and now that we know who her father is I can take a guess as to why Samara was able to resist the vampire's powers. The only question remaining now is if that amulet was important or not.

*Steeples fingers and leans forward*

I vill await ze answer...

[Elisabeth Hollow]

I was actually gonna cut the last part, but you already commented lol

[Colonel Mustard]

I was actually gonna cut the last part, but you already commented lol

Er, do you want me to remove that part, then?

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Nah, you're fine. Vive la France.

[Colonel Mustard]

Sacré bleu!!

[mirocu]

Merde!

[SubRosa]

"I tripped and landed face-first into a guard's groin. My forehead is gonna have a bruise."
Doh! Poor guard! I am sure that is not exactly the way he had hoped that would happen.

"I'm not on good terms with the gods."
Somehow I think Sanguine might disagree...

So Samara is the daughter of a vampire. That explains some things. I also noted that she was born under the sign of The Shadow. How appropriate for a thief!

I wonder what that amulet was? Obviously it was more than just a shiny trinket, as Jakben was not interested in any of the other things that Samara stole.

Oh, and because everyone else is: C'est la vie.

[ghastley]

Interesting parallel with Agronak gro-Malog - presumably vampire father, normal mother again. So you'll need to be consistent about whether vampirism can be inherited.

I'm a little surprised that she's not using her starter healing spell to fix that painful wrist!

(I shall refrain from using French - after all, noblesse oblige!)

This post has been edited by ghastley: Nov 19 2013, 09:49 PM

[King Of Beasts]

-looks at the French language-

WHAT IS THIS...THIS FOREIGN TOUNGUE?!


So is Alda dead or is she gonna be the future champion of Cyrodiil? Quite interesting...