The Wobbly Goblet Playground Options

[Darkness Eternal]

Vera was inspecting the different points on the arrowheads when once more something interrupted her.

Again. A knock on the door, but much more gentle this time.

Vera grabbed her knife, concealed it, and headed over quietly over to the door. It could’ve been Aravi again, here to share forgotten details of the trip. A pessimistic part of Vera whispered that she might have reconsidered her agreement and came back to alter the deal and cancel it.

As Vera came closer to the door, she knew it wasn’t Aravi. It was that same smell as before. A distinct scent she registered on that Breton woman from a few nights ago.

The huntress reached out for the door, but held her hand there. Curiosity swept through her mind in countless what-ifs. Why was she here? Was there an issue?

Abiene had precious information hidden away in her head. She had discovered secrets of Vera and Lycus, things that no man should ever find out about. Precautions had to be made and yet Lycus was unwilling to silence the possible squeaker out of some sense of honor.

She had to admit that if it wasn’t for her, Lycus’ body would’ve been cold by now. She couldn’t fault the woman for trying to save his life and unwillingly uncovering the dark secret he kept. It wasn’t the first scenario. Many people had been in their presence in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

In Skyrim one child happened to see Lycus, in his prime, wrestling against a sabre cat with his bare hands in the forests of Falkreath. The boy reported the sight to his elders, who instead of laughing it off as a boy’s foolish imagination, began to suspect that the young hermit of the region was a werewolf. Similar reportings of a young bedraggled recluse living in a cabin in the woods who held off a falling log that would crush any normal man, and heal wounds and tissues that no ordinary healer could fare to do. Sometimes the very act of saving his own life doomed him to the hunt, and just was the same with the woman for saving his life and coming across his secret.

The question remained was if he and her were exposed.

Vera wouldn’t stand there with further questions rampaging through her head. She twisted the knob, and pulled the door back.

At the door was the Breton healer.

Vera narrowed her eyes just a bit in suspicion, and opened the door wide to allow the woman in.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla reached the top the the stairs in time to see Abiene walk into a room. When she passed, she saw the familiar face of Vera, her blonde hair and fit body cleaner than when they had last seen each other.

How long ago was that? I thought the pair had left.

She'd really only told Ylenno about them to be gossipy. She knew he'd get a kick out of the giant Imperial man being tied down. She held no warm feelings for either. Least of all, Vera.

"Hello, Abiene." she said to the shorter Breton woman as she passed, and nodded at Vera, her expression neutral. She continued to walk to her room, a bit further down the hall. She opened it, and saw that Laegon hadn't bothered to make up the bed.

Neither do I. No point in getting upset.

She leaned momentarily on her door frame, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. It passed, and she took a calming breath and set her bag on her bed and began rummaging through the contents. Red splashed onto her hand, smaller droplets playing out on her golden skin as the impact. Another fell, then another. The dizzy feeling returned, and Kayla's eyes drooped. She sat on the bed and held a spare rag under it as she waited for it to pass.

[Grits]

Abiene murmured a reply to Kayla as she passed in the corridor. Then she walked to the middle of the room and turned to face Vera. She waited until the door was closed before she spoke.

Years of breaking bad news to relatives had taught her when to speak plainly and when to ease up to a subject. She knew Vera would prefer a direct approach.

Abiene kept her voice too soft to carry beyond the lycanthrope’s acute hearing. “Less than a quarter hour ago someone in the tavern attempted to read my mind as well as those of at least a few others,” she said. “I was not thinking of your situation when it started, and my thoughts throughout the event were only along the lines of ‘oh gods it hurts.’ But even though I doubt you were exposed through me, I wanted to warn you of the presence of a telepath. And… also I wanted to tell you what had happened to me in case you heard about it later. I left the tavern in some distress, and others noticed.”

She twisted her fingers together, watching Vera’s response.

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Sep 7 2013, 06:46 PM

[King Coin]

Aravi twisted to look over her shoulder. An Imperial woman was there. Sethyas’ wife, she remembered. What was her name? I’m sure someone said it before. She was drawing a blank.

“Hello,” Aravi greeted the woman. She was also interested in Salyan’s magic and had addressed her. Aravi decided to wait another time to introduce herself rather than interrupt the flow now. She scooted her stool over as much as she could to make a little room for the other woman.

[Uleni Athram]

Ylenno played his wine glass as he listened intently to Westley's tales. There was one thing that linked them together, and that was the passion in the fight. Ylenno wasn't surprised to know that the Imperial considered a spotlight in the Blood Jewel; Ylenno, himself an experienced underground pit-fighter, knew that Westley would fare well in the Arena, seeing his skill of arms firsthand below Sutch.

Ylenno hummed to himself, chuckling at Westley's monstrous strength.

"If you want action, follow me!"

Then he stood up and smashed his wine glass on the table, creating a bladed weapon and a ruckus, and swaggered over a group of six large brutes and pointed the sharpened edge at the leader, a well-muscled jock of a Redguard. He had a brawl with particular group once, and while he did marginally well for a fight against six opponents at once, in the end he got himself a jumping and a promise from the brutes to 'kiss him again later,'

They were eyeballing him and cracking their knuckles at him the moment he stepped in the Inn, making good on their earlier promise, but he pointedly ignored them since Kayla was there.

Now, she wasn't. And this time, Ylenno thought, I have backup in the form of Westley. I hope.

"Listen here, runts," Ylenno smiled at the Redguard, but didn't get to finish his sentence when a Khajiit pistoned a fist at his jaw. Ylenno saw it coming, dodged, and impaled the feline under the exposed armpit. He then kicked the leader in the groin, collapsing him in the ground, and jumped a few feet back.

"Get 'em," a Nord screeched and at once, the brutes surged at him.

[Grits]

Darnand walked down to the tavern, exchanging greetings with Kayla as he passed her on the stairs. He spotted Aravi in conversation with Salyan and Serene.

A scuffle erupted on one side of the tavern.

“Get ‘em,” someone screeched. There was a sound of breaking glass.

“Outside!” bellowed the proprietor. The brawlers surged for the door. Darnand didn’t bother to look for stragglers. The minstrels hadn’t even paused in their song.

He joined the group gathered around Salyan.

[Darkness Eternal]

“So that’s how I acquired my father’s castle and all the inheritance.” Draken finished saying to a very curious and impressed Stefania. She was intrigued, even more so than before when he first arrived at the Goblet. He was trying to keep focused in the conversation but he couldn’t help but try to fight away the suspicion that someone had cast a spell on him. He felt the effects . . . deep within his mind.

The bug musk wasn’t responsible. Though rumors said it changed the mood of the individual, he never experienced side effects of it. Something odd was at work here.

“It’s still strange that a man like yourself has never married! What woman would want to refuse marrying you?”

Draken lied about never being married. In all his centuries he’s been married with mortal women to seize a foothold in the political field or to forge lasting allegiances with influential marriage. It was a risky thing, the bonding of a vampire and a mortal. Very dangerous. The vampire could succumb to his bloodlust and kill the woman or the woman could discover his identity, creating a catastrophe.

Draken might have an occasion or two when something of that nature occurred. But past memories of passed away mortals was as vague as the memory of early childhood. He never remembered the names, let alone the faces. Most of the noblewomen he’d married with were in it for the coin and to have a name. The feeling was mutual.

He offered her a courteous smile. “I have yet to find the woman of worth. The women of my station have their heads too far to the clouds. They care about wealth and never for true love. An everlasting bond.”

Truth was, he didn’t care about it either. Not to that degree.

“A princess,” Draken said softly, eyes set on Stefania with a hint of passion. She blushed, just as she did before when he told her the meaning of her name.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll find her.”

“I have a feeling she’s closer than I realize.”

She bit her lip. She darted her eyes around the room upon realizing she had spoken to him rather than serve the many patrons.

Draken grabbed her hand. “You are free from work later this evening, yes?”

She nodded.

“Come to my quarters upstairs. I do not wish to have you burdened by your superiors. We can continue our conversation when there is less noise.”

She smiled, thanked him, and turned around only to bump into the table. The slippery floor nearly made her fall over, but Draken was quick enough to grab her by the waist, hand firmly pressing her against his own body. Her hand held on his shoulder for support and their eyes met.

The bug musk did its work. She was charmed by his words, seduced even more by the telvanni liquid. She was leaning in, closer . . . closer . . . until he pulled back.

“Oh my, that would’ve been a terrible fall.”

“Yeah,” she said with a pout, rearranging her hair.

“Well, we must not keep the others waiting. I bet they are famished. I shall see you this evening over a cup of wine?”

“Yes,”

Draken bowed slightly, and she only smiled her charmed smile and worked her way through the thick crowd.

She was one of the finest specimens here. Young and fresh, without any visible scars. Her breasts were perfectly rounded and soft and her body just the right size. But it wasn’t that was he was craving. It was the precious red fluid running beneath her skin, rushing like a red torrent through her veins. It took him some effort from licking his dry, grey lips at the thought.

“She fancies you.” A voice said from behind. “Keep this one safe, will you, sir Draken? Women have a bad habit of being broken in your presence.”

Draken did not turn around, for he knew that voice. Soothing, dripping with honey but at times with the subtle touch of bitterness. This was Irvana’s voice.

The Imperial resumed his natural cold look, though he didn’t reply to the Imperial woman’s comment.

She walked up beside him and rocked her head. “I assume you are interested in the knowledge that you’re mind may be at risk here.”

Draken turned the noblewoman. Strange words, those. His mind would never be at risk or affected by some mortal woman, but that he did not say to Irvana.

“What is your meaning?”

Irvana brought him a cup of wine to replace the one he had drained. Her whisper was faint, far too faint for anyone to hear. “Retreat to your chambers, lord Draken. The lower-levels of this place aren’t safe for a man with the secrets of trade and business within his mind. Dark powers are at work.”

There was a sparkle in her eyes, a glow. Her expression went rigid, as opposed to her softer and subdued features. This only took a fracture of a second before it resumed its mellow appearance.

Draken’s shoulders squared. Noblemen were in danger from many things; thieves, rivals, assassins and a great many things. Secrets of wealth, private meetings and negotiations were often sought to be unraveled. But this wasn’t his worry.

As a vampire lord he has the ability to scramble the minds of ordinary people, and cloak himself from mages. But what if by chance he had accidentally allowed that illusion- that veil- to suddenly slip? His plans, his existence and his well-being were endangered. Someone might have caught his scent. That is what explained the spell-like effects, the unwanted intrusion.

“You look ill, lord Draken,” Irvana asked. “Are you feeling alright? Too much wine?”

He hasn't fed. His skin was slightly pale, but not the point of exposure.

"I believe I must retire to my chambers and seek rest. Please, accompany me,” he replied to her. "I'm not feeling to well all of the sudden."

There was a sudden ruckus. Voices grew louder, shouts sprung from all corners of the tavern and blood . . . blood was spilled. Draken turned quickly to the source, Irvana followed his motion.

A familiar looking wood elf had stabbed a heavy-muscles redguard with what looked to be like a piece of broken glass. The Nordic men all surged and lunged at the bosmer.

Draken would tarry to see the bloodshed unfold but was guided by conscious rather than pleasant scents. The entire tavern spread apart to stay clear of the brawl.

Violence, even in this small scenario, was the perfect distraction.

He headed up the stairs, rushed into the corridor, with Irvana right behind him.

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

Westley shot up off his seat as the brawl started, and attempted to rush to Ylenno's aid, but the brawl had ended just as fast as it started. He let out an exasperated sigh as the men surged out the door of the tavern. He glanced over at the door briefly and hesitantly sat back down.

Should I go after them?

He let out an irritated 'hrmph', and sat down in his chair.

This post has been edited by King Of Beasts: Sep 7 2013, 08:17 PM

[Uleni Athram]

The loud explosion of the she-orc bellowing made Ylenno cringe. That one nano-second of distraction was enough for a Nord. He smashed a large fist in Ylenno's gut, and the elf doubled over, breath taken from him.

He fell on his knees, griimacing. The Khajiit he stabbed gave him a powerful kick in the face and he was on his back, dazed and dizzy. Where the hell was Westley, he thought.

He quickly got up, saw the Imperial sitting and gave him an incredulous look.

"Let's go get 'em outside," he said to Westley as he picked up a nearby stool and ran after the brutes. Their leader, the Redguard who Ylenno kicked in the balls, was still on the ground, moaning and clutching his offended manhood.

When Ylenno reached the outdoors, he smashed the stool on the face of one Nord and threw it towards a man charging at him at the sides. The Khajiit he stabbed, now wheezing and his stabbed limb now useless, directed a kick on his gut.

Ylenno caught it and smashed him down with a sweep of his own.

Then he was grabbed tightly about his waist and was smashed on the ground by a suplex.

"Ow," he said.

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

Westley stood back up. He got outsid in time to see Ylenno take out the Nord and Khajiit. He watched for a moment as Ylenno was smashed into the ground by a large man. He bolted forward and had the man on flat on his face on the ground in the blink of an eye. He dug his knee into the man's back and twisted his arm behind his back. He looked over at the large Bosmer

"You alright?" He drove his elbow down onto the back of the man's head, rendering him unconscious.

[minque]

Serene

Serene smiled and nodded at the Khajiiti woman sitting next to her, also listening to the Bard.

"this is interesting, really" Serene thought, wondering where Sethyas had gone, a while ago he was right beside her and now he had left the table.

I need to learn some spells to create beauty, for a change

[Darkness Eternal]

. . .

Vera had no immediete reply to what Abiene had just said.

There was nothing but rage at first, pure and fiery. The revelation of a present telepath was unnerving. She never had to worry about mages before- people who were capable of having such power. Only the Glenmoril witches were able to discern if a person was a lycanthrope. But they were an exception, as they were directly tied to the father of manbeasts. It was their duty to cure those who sought a cure, and give power to those who craved it.

Now a telepath could randomely scan away at her mind and find all of the information within. Abiene did the right thing. She was brave enough to tell her of what happened. If she indeed wasn't thinking about her or Lycus when she was being mind-probed, then there was no great danger. The threat was still there, though.

She would've packed her things and left to another tavern, but Lycus was away on the hunt and she wouldn't reject the coin she was offered. The deal was done. She would do as she promised.

The safest bet would be to remain in the room, but not much could be done with that. She wouldn't want to be trapped in her own quarters due to a curious mind-reader. There was one way to fix this problem.

"There's a solution to this," Vera said, her hand caressing the cold edge of her dagger. "Since you didn't tell me the identity of the telepath, you're likely to be just as clueless as I am right now."

Vera held her breath for a second. "I appreciate you coming to tell me this. I don't know what you contain in that mind of yours that anyone would want to read it besides curiosity, but I see you're not lying to me. I can tell."

Sending Abiene downstairs would only conjure problems she did not want. With her being in the company of a lycanthrope, the mage or wizard could read her mind and gain access to revealed facts about her. She'd be given a lifetime of prison for the lives she's taken, and sure execution for being what she is. There was no way she was going to allow Abiene to leave this instant.

"You'll stay here until this problem gets better. I don't recommend you going out there soon after talking to me. I won't make an attempt on your life; doing so would provoke the mage to possibly read each and everyone of us here to find out who's responsible. Can't have that."

She stepped away from the door, and toward the bed. "I hope you have people investigating. I would be hell of a pity for you not to have told anyone else."

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla

The dizziness soon passed, but her nose continued to bleed. now all that remained was a throbbing migraine.

This isn't normal. She thought, taking a swig of her potion before corking it back up. She felt the injury in her head mending itself. She wiped her blood on her pants, then cleaned herself up in the washroom. She avoided her reflection.

She saw Dawnbreaker emanating a small glow from its sheath. She ignored it, and closed the door behind her as it ebbed an angry light. She saw Irvana and Drathen approaching, rushing down the corridor. She shot them a friendly smile, her face pale from the migraine she'd briefly suffered. She let them pass without comment, seeing they were in a rush.

She must like grouchy cowards. She thought dully. She frowned. Great, now I'm in a bad mood. She went downstairs to see the table empty, her wine there and Ylenno's drink untouched. She sighed. They must want some time to catch up.

Still holding the potion, she gulped her wine down quickly.

"Did you see that wood elf stab that cat?!" She heard someone shriek excitedly.

No...

"Yeah, then he grabbed at barstool and-"

She stood up, not needing to hear anymore. She walked outside, a calm expression on her face when she saw Westley using the takedown maneuver she'd shown him. Four men laid on the ground. Four very large men.

Impressive. But two more were still there, and they had an evil look in their eyes as they marched up towards the grounded Ylenno. She dropped the bottle , letting it land on the soft grass with a dull thud, They easily outweighed her, much like the man she'd taken down earlier, but were much, much more muscular.

Oh hells.

She drove herself forward and smashed the nose of one with her elbow, making him reel back. The other tackled her to the ground and knocked the breath from her. He raised his fist, and she saw it coming. He hesitated when he realized she was a woman, his fist coiled high in the air before he threw out his inhibitions and landed a punch square in her jaw.

First came the force, then the pain. In between the first and second punch, she lit fire in her pinned down hand and allowed it to be released onto his thigh, scorching herself in the process. Her cry of pain was silenced as his second punch landed, knocking her out cold. The man felt the searing pain and realized his pants were in fire. He shrieked like a girl and ran to the small pond nearby and dove in, dousing the fire.

[Grits]

Abiene

“You'll stay here until this problem gets better. I don't recommend you going out there soon after talking to me. I won't make an attempt on your life; doing so would provoke the mage to possibly read each and everyone of us here to find out who's responsible. Can't have that.”

Abiene had to smile. Vera’s candor was not at all comforting, but it was refreshing. She knew exactly where she stood with the werewolf. She nodded in silent agreement.

“I hope you have people investigating. I would be hell of a pity for you not to have told anyone else.”

“My friend Darnand has returned to the tavern,” Abiene said. “He and Irvana remain alert for a repeat of the experience. We both doubt that they will try him again, though. Or me for that matter. Our departure may have raised questions in the minds of others, making the task more difficult to complete without detection. It’s possible that their goal was simply to expose those who would notice the intrusion, or to cause us to leave. Who knows? But I agree it’s prudent for me to remain here for a time. Some others saw me in the corridor outside your chamber.”

Abiene glanced around the room. Vera had weapons arranged about the place. No doubt checking them in the way of every warrior Abiene had known.

“I wonder if Hethilion would bring us a meal,” Abiene said. “I never did get one downstairs. I’m sure I have a bottle of wine in my room. Shall I fetch it? We could share that drink, if not the roast of mutton.”

Abiene was surprised to find herself at ease in Vera’s presence despite the danger. I suppose it’s the knowledge that she could best so many foes.

[Darkness Eternal]

The good news outweighted the bad ones. There were bait investigating the telepath, so everything was not loss. Additionally she was going to be a few coin purses heavier by the time she leaves the tavern.

"Good. He'll be the bait," Vera said, and with a hint of bitterness, she said. "Mages go too far with their spells at times. Sometimes what they believe is their luckiest day becomes their last."

She collected the arrows and bolts set upon the bed, placing them away in their quivers. She sheathed away her daggers and put them away on the side of the bed near the cupboard.

She was afraid she had no option but to remain in the room for a short while.

Abiene was thirsty, or hungry. Maybe both. She broached the subject of food, perhaps as a reminder to Vera that she owed her something. Vera didn't forget about the mutton.

Outside she could hear shouts and grunts. She didn't need to walk to the window to know it was a brawl going on. She's seen enough of these that it was entirely natural.

"Stay," Vera said calmly. It wasn't permissive, but almost rather like a command. "Help yourself to some drink in the cupboard to the left. There's unopened bottles in there."

She walked over to the door, unlocked it and opened it to glance outside. She saw no sign of Hethilion at first, but after a few passing minutes she saw the high elf head upstairs with a broom in his hand. Vera set a foot out to catch his attention.

"Hethilion," called out Vera. "Hethilion!"

He turned, and hurried over to her. "Hmm, yes?"

"I want two pieces of roasted mutton chop in a single plate," she said. "And a Cattleman."

The look on his face was expected. He might've been wondering why doesn't she get it herself? But his job was to do, not ask, so she didn't bother elaborating. She recovered a few pieces of coin and handed it to him. He thanked her.

As he turned to leave, there was one man who rushed out of his room in the hallway and out into the corridor. He spotted Hethilion and Vera.

"There are men fighting outside!"

"Yes," Hethilion said matter-of-factly. "We had them take their personal issues outside."

He turned to Vera. "This is an emergency! People can get hurt!"

Come back when its a catastrophe.

She thought before closing the door shut.

[Colonel Mustard]

It didn't take long for Aravi to be joined by two others; an Imperial woman who Salyan had not yet learned the name of, and Darnand, who seemed interested in listening.

"I'm somewhat familiar with spellcasting myself, but this I never seen before. Could you teach me to do this please?"

"If I had a good deal of time, then theoretically I could," Salyan said. "The problem with casting a spell through audiomancy is that it's much harder to learn how to cast it than with a regular spell. You not only need to be able to channel the magical energy correctly, but also use the correct pitch for the spell and the right tones to control it."

She looked at this new arrival curiously.

"Are you able to sing, or play an instrument, madam, er...?"

She realised she hadn't the faintest idea what the woman's name was.

[Grits]

Darnand

Audiomancy? Salyan paused in her explanation. Darnand hoped that the women would stay on the topic of Salyan's impressive skills once they had finished their introductions.

This post has been edited by Grits: Sep 8 2013, 01:01 PM

[Grits]

Abiene

“Mages go too far with their spells at times,” Vera said. “Sometimes what they believe is their luckiest day becomes their last.”

“Too true,” said Abiene. “My own discoveries are often made under circumstances that have slipped a bit beyond my control. I expect many mages enter the Dreamsleeve wearing a look of complete surprise and demanding that someone take down their notations.”

Vera called for a meal. A commotion arose outside as she spoke to Hethilion.

“There are men fighting outside!” a man cried from the hallway. “This is an emergency! People can get hurt!”

Vera closed the door on him.

“A well-timed brawl often prevents a killing,” Abiene remarked. Hethilion and Kayla knew where to find her if someone needed a healer. No doubt there were others in the tavern who could lend a hand as well and perhaps earn a few coins in the process. Abiene did not demand payment when she rendered emergency services. It was a point of discussion whenever she and Darnand reviewed her finances. Growing up wealthy had not taught her how to manage her income.

Vera had offered her a drink but did not seem inclined to join her. Abiene recalled Vera’s manners at the bar the first time she had seen her. Inhaling her meal as if she felt starved. She does not concern herself with the usual customs. That did not bother Abiene. She simply adjusted her own manner to suit Vera’s.

“Are you leaving soon?” Abiene asked, nodding at Vera’s rearranged equipment. She helped herself to a bottle of mead and sat down in an empty chair. “I don’t suppose the hunters have returned yet or we would have heard an uproar. I planned to return to Chorrol in the morning, but I doubt this night will produce much rest. Perhaps they’ll camp and return tomorrow.”

Abiene had a number of questions bubbling in her mind, but all seemed too personal to ask. Vera seemed to merely be tolerating her presence. Abiene did not want to risk their tenuous relationship with what might feel like an interrogation.

[Grits]

Tooth-in-the-Grass

The last of the empty barrels rolled into place under Riad’s watchful eye. Porters filed back out of the cellar, taking their payments from the Redguard as they passed. Tooth locked the cellar door and passed the keys back to Riad. The two stood together for a moment in the trampled grass of the Goblet’s lawn, watching a brawl in the near-darkness.

“Not a bad day,” Tooth remarked. There would be a fair amount of debris to drag out of the fish pond, but between the cleanup crew and the scavengers that always scoured festival grounds the Goblet had largely been returned to its usual condition. A good rain would wash away the piss and vomit, and Lowren would help him replace the sod they had removed in making the mud and cooking pits.

“Three barrels of my new Wobbly Stout got handed out with the free swill,” Riad said. He sounded as if he was mourning a brother.

Tooth gripped his shoulder in silent commiseration, careful not to pierce skin with his claws.

One of the brawlers let out a girlish shriek and ran to the fish pond. His pants were on fire.

Riad and Tooth exchanged a look, Riad’s smug and Tooth’s regretful. They had missed their opportunity to place wagers, and that Altmer woman would have just won Tooth some coin. The Redguard never bet on magic.

Tooth glanced along the Black Road, visible now only as a dotted line of torches. The Legion was out in force as was the county militia. Most of the locals had gone home before dark, but there were enough travelers and vendors making their way back to the city to make tempting targets for brigands.

And worse, thought Tooth. Their inn drew an array of guests, and not all of them were entirely mortal.

Riad crossed his arms over his chest, letting out a long sigh. No doubt he was still grieving over the unappreciated stout.

A few of the brawlers were still able to move. Tooth stood with Riad and continued to view the entertainment.

[Darkness Eternal]

“My own discoveries are often made under circumstances that have slipped a bit beyond my control. I expect many mages enter the Dreamsleeve wearing a look of complete surprise and demanding that someone take down their notations.”

Vera made a sound that was nearly a chuckle. “We learn through mistakes. We fall down, and we pick ourselves up. We adapt to the circumstances, through trial and error. If one wakes up in the afterlife, it meant they didn’t make the cut."

She hoped she would at least discover who this telepath was, and her reasons for reading minds. Survival depended on finding out as much about the enemy as she could. That was one way to make sure she could go on unharmed.

“A well-timed brawl often prevents a killing.” Abiene said after Vera closed the door shut.

Not always, though.

“Aye, often, but not always,” Vera remarked as she walked over to the window once more to peek outside. “There’s always a man who wants to spill more blood than he should.”

She set her elbow above the window as she casually watched the people below. “I was at a tavern once in Bruma many years ago. Five men were too deep in their cups. Knowing the nords, I was anticipating a brawl to take place.” She scoffed at the memory. “The men got into a fight with each other. A friendly competition.”

She scanned the area below her. “There was one fellow who didn’t get the point. A wretch, that one. He pulls out a shortsword and drives it through the other man’s heart out of spite for a harmless jest the other made about his sister."

She shrugged. “Some people are just born with a knack for violence.”

And there were still others who tried to change how the world worked. Every time she came across one or another. She had done business with the worst of people, and it never seemed to matter either way who was running for leadership, whether some count or ambassador in a town or some reigning crime-lord in the slums of Bravil. Lesser lives went on in the social undergrowth, a dark quest for daily survival, and the stronger of them floated to the top and was misused and drained dry for advantage of others. She just took her cut and satisfied herself with living by her own code, because she was a practical woman and knew what she could and could not change about the world around her. Tamriel was a perilous place and one had to learn to adapt or die.

“We thrive off of it, you know. Without violence, you wouldn’t make as much coin as you would be now. Less people to heal.” She turned around and sat on the chair right next to a round table. “Most organizations and factions out there, and the men and women who work under the banner wouldn’t have a way to make decent coin either.”

“Are you leaving soon? I don’t suppose the hunters have returned yet or we would have heard an uproar. I planned to return to Chorrol in the morning, but I doubt this night will produce much rest. Perhaps they’ll camp and return tomorrow.”

“Lycus won’t come back empty-handed. With all those hunters out there I doubt they’ll return without spoils. They’ll camp out there if need be.” She rocked her head at Abiene. “I’m not leaving tonight. I make a habit of keeping my tools in check and organized. I never know when someone requires my services."

She didn’t mention anything about Aravi. Her private jobs are just that, private. She wouldn’t be surprised if Abiene was somehow involved, her and the mages. She was connected to Aravi the last time she remembered.