The Saga of Laprima Donnaugh Options

[SubRosa]

The prima donna returns!

It sounds like Lady Donnagh is practicing to do some speechifying. She's going to be in a play? Cool! All the world is just stage, and she is now a player.

So Prima is no longer known as just a server at the local pub. The word is out that she's a high falootin' muckey muck. And now suddenly people want to bend over backward to brown-nose her. At least the boss bard is not trying to send her off to a horrific death in some dank cave crawling with draugr. She can leave that sort of thing to people like January of Detroit.

Or to Lord Haaf-Mersy! Perfect! I hope he loads up on some carbs from bread before he goes in that tomb.

[macole]

Lord Haaf-Mersey had better get his act together and get back quickly. He won't find a better barmaid in all of Skyrim, you bet cha.

I remember that quest. It can be a hard one.

[Renee]

Acadian: thanks, Yeah Barding. Huh, she's trying to be a bard. Interesting, I hadn't thought of it that way.

Lord Haaf-Mersey actually did join the Bard's College so he could get better at Intimidation (he was already good at Persuasion). There are also occasional times when Speech does matter in the game, especially for people who want to try other methods, other than just killing all the time. Because of this, LHM was desperate. He had a lot of money saved, so he spent a lot of it with Giraud to boost Speech as high as he could. As a plus for Laprima, he also did that silly opening quest, and also the Burning of King Olaf quest.

Fun fact: "I don't Dream about Anyone" is a line from The Smiths song "Headmaster's Ritual". It was also the name of the story I was writing in my 20s. That story was about a bunch of teenagers in high school though, not a medieval-based videogame. I went through a "Smiths" phase in my 20s.


SubRosa: Yes! LPD is back. I have no idea where that came from, btw. Was just walking along in the park one day and began visualizing her going to the college and joining a play.

Indeed, it was only a matter of time before someone figured who she is. That was fun to write!

Ha ha: Laprima is at her day job as I type this. She just gave a drink to the wrong person! Yikes. Glad there are no consequences for this. Think I'd better pay more attention.


macole: We didn't know each other during those early years, Vampire Hunter. Lord Haaf-Mersey was one of my earlier characters. Quite the Paladin. He did Dawnguard. Rawr! - Fortunately for Laprima she won't have to do that quest.

Phew. Lunch rush at the Skeever appears to be over. She was really working the floor today (while I make one final edit). 👩‍🦱 When Gisli (or as folks like to call her, Erikur's sister) shows up that's when we know her shift is coming to an end.

Chamany just walked into the Skeever too. And here comes Gisli. I mean Erikur's Sister.

[Renee]

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.I was a barmaid once, then I shot an arrow in a tree


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Sundas, 14th of Sun's Dusk


After spending a few days getting back to surer footing, working her job, practicing lines for the College’s upcoming play, Laprima decided to take another day for herself. This was rather easy for her to do since it was Sundas, and she didn't usually work weekends.

By now she’d been in Solitude for twenty-two days. Life was moving along. The dramatic moments with her aunt, with her man, and with the woman who’d blackmailed (then fought) her on the banks of Dragon Bridge’s river were becoming footnotes of the past. She was making friends at the Skeever, or at least building upon a series of acquaintanceships with the regular customers she’d been serving day after day.

"You look like you could use a ripe apple," Jala, one of Solitude's outdoor vendors greeted. "Or a cabbage. Or a leek!"

"Two apples of green, and two red ones," Laprima said, who wanted thirty-six gold for this purchase. Was this too much for four pieces of fruit? Surely seemed so. Though the she could easily afford this price, Laprima couldn't help but wonder if she might be getting overcharged.

"Come back when you figure out how to spend money," Jala whined.

...Overcharged, because of who she is. Seemed more and more folks about town were becoming aware of her little secret.

But Laprima couldn't complain. Because she wasn’t missing home quite as much. She was even beginning to enjoy Solitude just for its own sake, including the air which often bit coldly around. She’d shuddered the first time she’d seen snow for instance, yet eventually began looking forward to the way those flakes fell magically from the sky, then gathered like wisps of white fairy dust along the ground.

The auroras at night, always a spectacle to behold! - Being from the south (where such sky-illuminations did not occur), she found it odd that most folks here in town ignored them. As a Heartlander who’d never seen natural spectacles such as these, she couldn’t help but gaze upward, any night Northern Lights chose to flash across the sky. Maybe she’d feel different after six months or eight, but for now she was always entranced by their sudden appearance.

Still, after a few days of ordinary city living, a bit of wanderlust began to entrench within her mind.

As a teen (and a noble), she had been invited to travel to Bravil once, to Chorrol a couple times, and also to the now-established town of Wickmere, accompanying her father and an entourage of soldiers and adults on official business. Father had included daughter in an effort to teach her a few things about his trade, just in case she wanted to follow his footsteps. But daughter mostly looked forward to the travel itself.

Viewing the countryside with its varieties of trees and landscapes, always something to look forward to.

...And because of this, a bit of curiosity was beginning to emerge now that she’d been dwelling in a brand-new place.

She decided to take a day. Not just so she could have some time to herself, but also to get outside of Solitude. She wanted to return to Sirdasa. See how the huntress was doing; see whether the addict had managed to abstain from the big evils of skooma. -- There was some danger in this, of course; wild animals roaming the trees and such. But Laprima felt as though she could handle these if she needed to. Sybille Stentor had allowed the noblewoman to keep the magical blade she’d lent, and this blade had been quite effective.

Perhaps such a pursuit was also due to the fact that deep inside, Lady Donnaugh still had a bit of the rebel contained within her soul, desiring to roam free for a few hours. – Doing things she shouldn’t be doing.

As youngsters, Laprima and her favorite pal Siouxsie had filled hours upon hours engaging in small moments of deviant behavior, during and outside of school. Not necessarily crimes, but things her stuffy father and some of her classmates would disapprove of. Befouling the Lucky Lady statue which’d been erected recently in the city’s Market District with architect’s crayons, smashing rotten fruit upon city walls while no one was looking, and so on. But most of all, roaming the city far and away from adults, including all its seedier parts.

What would her aunt say, for instance, should Elisif somehow discover Laprima’s sudden trek? There was some delight while pondering this thought! – Lady Donnaugh smiled.

She walked outside the town's gate just after mid-morning. Again, wearing the same drab upper-class outfit she'd donned a few times before; colors of slate and blue. After all the purchases she'd made at Radiant Raiment, these were still her best clothes for facing Skyrim's cold.

...And again, the Weather Gods chose to make it snow, just as she was leaving Solitude. Laprima began moving at a half-jog to keep warm. It took her about an hour to get to Sirdasa's camp.

Upon arrival, Sirdasa was not here. But her campfire was going, with plenty of hours of light left in the day. So the Heartlander huddled deeper toward the fire. As long as she kept close to its flames she'd be cozy enough to sit while she waited for the woodsy woman to return. After a few minutes, she was already getting cold! So she reached into the den next to Sirdasa’s tent, retrieved a few logs and brambles. Fed the flames to make them stronger.

….Such a luxury. Perhaps one of the only true luxuries of Sirdasa Noskal’s constantly-outdoors existence, outside of skooma. The fire responded with a series of small roars, each time she added to it. She did not have to wait for her former foe much longer.

“Well, look’it who’s here!”

“Sirdasa!” Laprima grinned. “Yes. Just got here not long ago. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Decided to check up on me, eh?”

As usual, the huntress was wearing furs seemingly patched together with a series of threads, buttons, and grommets she’d scavenged from wherever she’d come across such fastenings. Her shoulders, legs, and midriff were bare. “Not to worry, missy. I been clean.” Sirdasa returned a smile of her own, stained teeth included. “Clean from the ravages of skooma! And I gots ya ta thank fer all that.”

Sirdasa placed her bow, a well-used piece which nonetheless looked well-cared for (not that Laprima knew the difference), right alongside the fire almost reverently, just like Laprima had seen deacons place religious objects next to Altars of the Eight back home. From her shoulder, Sirdasa then removed her quiver, and dropped what looked to be a sort of satchel. Inside the satchel (which had partially slipped open) were at least three downed animals. Two rabbits, and a third small critter which the noble could not identify.

“Ready f'r some chow?”

Laprima was.

After Sirdasa skinned and prepared the creatures she’d felled, and then roasted them in the fire with salts and garlic, the pair of ladies enjoyed a midday meal. Mm, such succulence. Somehow better than the salted, sometimes stored-for-days meats Lady Donnaugh usually ate, in the sense that there was a sort of freshness involved, despite the fact that this food was impromptu, and hastily-prepared far outside of any kitchen. Hmm. And wasn’t this often the truth about anyone who found themselves living off the land? Weren’t most of their meals just this: impromptu and hastily-prepared?

Sirdasa had added some leafy greens on the side which tasted minty. Laprima tried eating one of these on its own, wondering if she was about to discover a new magical effect she could use for potion-making. But no such luck! Some plants or ingredients were just this: plants or ingredients, with no additional, magical properties.

“Such a shame I perhaps cannot convince you to follow me into town,” Laprima quipped, “so you can replace the Blue Palace’s main chef!” She said this half-jokingly, which also meant she was half-serious.

“Nah. Wouldn’t last in town a day nor a night before slipping into mischief.”

“Ach, well that’s too bad. Couldn’t help but at least try to suggest such a scenario, at the very least. You do have talents, other than wielding that bow, is all.”

Sirdasa ‘the Shrew’ made no reply. Truth was (Laprima thought), the shrew was right. It almost seemed she belonged out here in the wilds. Like it’d be near-impossible to imagine her dwelling in any sort of civilized location, with her matted hair, roughened physique, and unperfumed frame.

“Well. Glad to hear you are doing well,” Laprima continued, devouring her last bite. “Certainly seems as though you’re sustaining. Subsisting. Whichever term is used.” Following Sirdasa’s example, she tossed the tin plate she’d eaten from casually into the river.

“That I am. Been wonderin’ whether or not the cravings for that foul brew might suddenly return, ya know? But whatever’s in that mixture you and Chamany stoled from the alchemist’s shop, it damn-sure works to proper-like.”

“Oh! Well glad to hear,” Laprima, truly relieved. Good. She’d gotten the answer she’d been wanting to hear. “Now. Might I be able to pay a few coins to fatten thy pocket? Um, might you accept just a few on my behalf?”

“Naw, put that money away!” Sirdasa’s brow knitted. “Serious, princess. I ain’t no kinda charity case normal-wise, I only was actin’ so due to the foul brew which had took’it over my usual, normal-day ways.”

“Alright. Well, I’d like to at least pay a few gold for the meal, then. And for your kind hospitality. I walked all the way out here, after all. You did not need to share what was probably a second meal … with me.”

Sirdasa did not answer. Only glared and rolled her eyes.

“Right, well.” Laprima sat awkwardly, unsure how to continue. Such was the awkwardness nobles (and others who were doing well with coin) sometimes found themselves burdened with, she realized, when all they were trying to do was to offer help.

A homeless person in the street might beg for your money, yet if you offered sustenance, or something it appeared he or she might actually need (medicine, or a new pair of shoes, for instance), it was almost as if they were offended. “Blessings of MYSTARA upon ye!” they’d sometimes hurl, stalking off. And now it was the wannabe giver’s turn to feel socially-graceless and bumbling.

Laprima struggled with this moment of conversational ineptitude, searching for clarity, searching for something to say which could right this sudden blunder properly. It was then that she had the thought; the thought which would change the rest of her naturally-given life.

“Alright, Sirdasa. Well how about this?”

The huntress sighed. “Stop it. Please. Plenty of animals out here in the pines, if it’ll make ya feel better about MY hospitality. Plenty’a rabbits and ‘coons and squirrels and such.”

“No. Listen, please, a moment, will you?”

Sirdasa stopped polishing her plate.

“How about .... you teach me a thing or two about your trusty weapon, there.” Laprima pointed to the ground. “Ehm, I mean your bow.”

At this suggestion the shrew was startled.

“You wish to learn how to shoot a bow?” the huntress asked, her face contorted. As though such a request was just as ludicrous as asking if somebody comfortable living in nature would like to become the palace’s head chef.

“Aye. Yes I would. Like to learn.” Laprima was grinning, the mischievous child within her seemingly up to no good. “I know it seems odd, this sudden request. But I am just picturing myself carrying that, and able to aim, and shoot. And who else better to teach these things?”

Sirdasa barked just one note of laughter. Crossed her arms.

“And for this, I can pay you some coin,” Laprima added. “Might you accept?”

The huntress smiled. “Hmm. Alright.” The irony wasn’t lost on her, of course. “Ya know, just a few days ago I grabb’d this very piece to try teachin’ ya a lesson. Wasn’t never gonna kills ya, just so you know. But was shooting at ya just wanted to show a thing or two. But a’course, I was also half-outta my mind with the skooma.”

The Woman from the Woods knelt down, cradled her weapon. “Uh, but this, I cannot just give to ya, nor let you even brandish it,” she said. “This… well it’s my lucky piece. Nobody but me, ya gather what I saying?” She seemed distracted a moment. “But I do have a second bow stored nearby. A backup, if you will. You can use that one. Heck, you can have it…”

And so the lesson began. Sirdasa fetched her ‘backup’ and gave it to Laprima. This bow was a short one (rather than a longbow; the huntress explained the difference: short meant less impact yet faster reloads…) which had been crafted from the wood of an oak tree. The type of tree the bow had been crafted from made a lot of difference. Oak was a denser material than the firs and pines which surrounded them, which meant her new shortbow was sturdy enough to maintain tension while drawing an arrow, yet flexible enough to keep the shooter’s arms from becoming quickly fatigued.

“And most important,” the lesson continued. “Do NOT point at someone or something, unless you gots clear intent fer usin’ it.”

“Right. Course not. Only makes sense.”

“Also, just bacause an arrow has been notched don’t not mean it should immediately be shot.” The Woman from the Woods picked up her own weapon, notched an arrow from her quiver, and faced toward a tree. “Always important to aim,” she loosed the arrow, which pierced the tree with a loud *thunk!* causing the noble to blink. “And if possible, always sneak upon the target,” the teacher said, huddling toward the ground in a particular stance: her lead foot pointed straight ahead, rear foot closer to sideways. “Put yer weight forward, while using whatever foot’s in back fer leverage.”

Sirdasa bounced, displaying the flexibility her rear leg now had. Laprima had occasionally seen this stance used by archers back in Cyrodiil. Woods Woman then placed her feet in such a way that each footfall was entirely silent, creeping slowly forward. “Get to them b’fore they know you’s even there, princess. Ya see?”

Laprima did. Her new shortbow had been strung about a week ago, Sirdasa explained to the noble. “Here. Let me show how ta notch, aim, and loose. See that tree?” she pointed to a nearby fir which had a trunk which’d been stripped of lower branches. “Try hitting that.”

So Posh Lady notched, she aimed, she got into stance. And of course, her very first shot not only missed the tree, but went spiraling off into a bank of nearby snow with barely enough force to keep it flying straight.

“A-ha ha ha ha!” laughed the teacher. Well, both of them laughed. Because of course the chances for a cultured woman’s first-time success at firing a bow would be just as pathetic as Sirdasa trying to pass off looking classy in a Radiant Raiment dress. “Here, let me get alongside ya, princess. Here.” She grabbed for an arrow, then placed her hands upon Laprima’s, showing exactly how much tension (and more importantly, how much pliability) the oaken bow could handle and offer.

The huntress’s fingers were hard and calloused. Laprima’s, on the other hand, which were delicately-manicured.

“Got ta get you some gauntlets,” Sirdasa observed. “This’ll tear up your fingers b’fore long.”

Laprima agreed. Already, she noticed glaring pink nubs upon the pads of her fingers, which stung a little.

“Anyhow, ‘tis important ta know and learn how to aim,” said the teacher. “Eye-to-hand co-ordination, is what tha soldiers up in Dour like ta call it….”

It took about an hour, and by this time it was starting to get dark. But after a few shots and a few more blunders and misses, finally, success. *Plunk* went the final-to-last arrow, straight into the tree! Causing a small cloud of dust and bark to go flying.

“Oooh, just wait until Chamany hears about this!” Laprima gloated. “Can we try some more?”

Posh Lady and Woodsy Woman gathered all the arrows which had missed the tree (pretty much all of them!) and the lesson continued. Night was falling, soon it'd be too dark to try bumbling off into the woods back to town. Time to go.

Ah, Chamany Lacroix. Laprima Donnaugh headed back into town, unknowing of Chamany’s upcoming fate.


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Dining with Chammy

Sirdasa's Bedroom

"Always important to aim..."

Teaching how to Sneak

She aims!

She shoots!

*Thunk* She scores!

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Notes: Laprima's new shortbow isn't really all that short. Gonna have to learn how to deal with meshes & textures one of these days.
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[Acadian]

LPD is enjoying a more or less normal routine, practicing her bardy lines, working at the Skeever and learning some of the pros and cons of being a recognized noble.

Wanderlust and a desire to check up on Sirdrasa make for a good excuse for an expedition into the northern woods outside Solitude.

Good to know the former skooma addict is still clean and faring well in the woods. I like how when LPD tastes something new that came from the ground, she applies her growing alchemy skill toward analyzing it for its potion/poison potential.

So, the deal is made – achery lessons. Nice description, from LPD’s perspective as Woodsy Woman teaches Posh Lady the basics of using a bow.

Is that an ominous sign at the end there or has LPD simply decided to put an arrow in her fiance’s knee?

[SubRosa]

Given the first line, now I wonder if La Prima is about to become a guard!

So Prima is going to hit the road and see the world, at least what there is around Solitude. Ah, the life of adventure!

So a hearty repast around the fire. Then some Archery practice? Cool. Time to shoot the breeze with Sid.

[Renee]

Hello. It snowed this week and then it snowed again in Maryland. Finally. ❄

@Acadian: I figure Laprima is in one of those phases of life like a lot of us explore during our college years. So she's got her day job, she's trying out barding, and now she's interested in weaponry. One thing she does not want to do is remain a posh noble, with nothing much to fill her days. In this respect, her aunt, difficult as she can be, agrees. Although... well. You'll see.

Oh yeah, she's also gotten involved in Alchemy/Wortcraft as well! 🧙‍♀️

Yes, that is an ominous sign toward the end. ☠


@SubRosa: Ha ha, well one thing I can promise is she won't become a guard! However she will ... um... actually, better just tell the story to find out.

Yah, she's going to see some more adventure in her life, that's for sure. Just you wait and see.


@Lopov: No Lopov.


So, a few months ago, Lena was talking about how she lost inspiration for gaming, right in the middle of her own fan-fiction & story. She was seeking advice. My advice was to actually just let it all go. Don't try to force yourself (especially with the actual gaming part) because this can mess up the inspiration part. Go do other things.

So for this past week, I had to use my own advice. Don't know what it was. Had days off and everything, due to the snow, but I just didn't feel all that inspired for gaming.

So because of this, this week's story is a shortie.

This post has been edited by Renee: Jan 20 2024, 04:55 PM

[Renee]

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.Chamany's Chagrin


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Sundas, 14th of Sun's Dusk, early evening


“By order of the Magistrate, stop right there!"

…."HALT! … HALT! … HALT!" …

It was past nightfall when they finally came to him. Chamany LaCroix, partial usurper of the darkness which had claimed his lover’s heart, dashingly-handsome rogue who could sweet-talk his way out of adversity, and smuggler of a vast amount of skooma; more skooma than the province of Skyrim had ever taken delivery of in one shipment, found himself not entirely surprised when the posse of guards crowded around. This occurred just as he was making his way for a pint in Solitude’s Winking Skeever.

“What.. what is all this, then?” he’d asked. “Ça ne peut pas être. Eh, I haven’t, eh, stolen the sweetrolls of nobody!” he’d tried to joke, knowing jokes were futile.

“Afraid your troubles are much grander than a stolen sweetroll,” the watch captain scoffed. “Sir Chamany LaCroix, you are hereby under arrest, as stated from this writ in my hand, which has been handed down from the Magistrate of Solitude himself, for the unlawful possession and distributing of skooma. What say you in your defense?”

The accused already knew the words he was about to emit. He’d dwelt upon this very moment within his mind many times, over the past days and weeks, especially during odd moments of skooma-quaffing when the paranoia really kicked in.

“I say not nothing as my defense,” he stated unceremoniously, already dreading the waves of doubt and anger his arrest would cause. “So, take me to the jails, then.”

“Right, come with us,” said the captain. “I’ll take any stolen goods you’re carrying. After an undetermined-as-of-yet amount of time, you’ll then be free to go.”

The man who was supposedly from High Rock (although some disputed this, and said Solstheim was probably his origin), the man who’d claimed to have grown up poor (yet had somehow been able to afford getting into the Imperial City’s Aristocratic College, a true rags-to-riches story if one were to believe him), was then bound and hauled off, slammed behind bars made of iron. As stated, here he was to spend an unknown-as-of-yet amount of time, stewing his current predicament.

And who was to blame for his current misfortune? Who had ratted him out?

“Ach, peu importe,” he muttered in his original language, lying upon a cot filled with hay. Did the manner in which his arrest occurred even matter, at this point? Such a thing had become inevitable, after the number of skooma sicknesses, and even a couple casualties, during the past week or so. The drug Chamany and Laprima had imported into Skyrim had spread quickly. There were reports as far as Markath and Falkreath of users getting sick, requiring attention.

Fortunately, the cure for sickness, the very same potion Laprima stole from Angeline's Aromatics, was also spreading fast. Chances are this cure might not have become so widespread, had she not filched the clear liquid out of the alchemist's safe. Overall, it was looking as though the epidemic would be done within a matter of time.

Still, Chamany wondered how long he’d be in here. The fine for skooma possession was considered a misdemeanor: just forty gold. But was there a standard amount of time to imprison someone, for keeping and importing a much larger amount of illegals into the province? Here was surely a question he could ask whatever advocate would be assigned to his plight.

Better yet, what will Laprima do, when she learns of his incarceration? Was Jarl Elisif herself prone to begin thinking about deporting him out of her precious city? For sure, the upcoming marriage to the high jarl’s niece could no longer be considered. Correct?

These were the thoughts of Chamany LaCroix as he laid to rest, before being woken up an unknown amount of time later to speak to someone in front of his cell's bars.
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[Acadian]

Chamany arrested and locked up! Can’t say it breaks my heart. My hope is that it helps open LPD’s eyes to the loser he is and convinces her to be rid of him. He used her as an unknowing drug mule, has used her bloodline to worm his way into the palace and quite undermined her position there – leaving her compromised with the powerful court mage (and vampire). Just as his shenanigans exposed her to extortion by Woodsy Woman – only by LPD’s own merit and cunning did that turn out well instead of disastrously. How may red flags does it take? Dump him, girl!

[macole]

Who is the anonymous someone outside Chamany's cell and what will Laprima do when she finds out Chamany is in jail? Those are only two of the many questions that need answering.

[SubRosa]

Uh oh, it sounds like the law is onto the charming rogue that is Chamany.

I do love his sweetroll joke!

Don't talk to cops. Always good advice when you have been arrested. Everything you say, they will find a way to use against you.

So now he's stewing in the clink. Did someone rat him out? Or were the guards just skilled enough to trace the tainted skooma back to him? I wonder if this mystery person visiting him might have the answer.

[WellTemperedClavier]

Yes, I'm here! And SubRosa, if you're reading this, I'll be catching up on Stormcrow as well, hopefully tomorrow.

So Laprima's practicing her poetry? Chamany doesn't seem too interested. I think Laprima's already outgrown him but doesn't yet realize it.

Meh, and now he's running off to drink.

Ah, Laprima's going back to the Bard's College. Good way to further expand her horizons. Oof, but her relation to Elisif definitely adds some pressure. Like it or not, she's basically part of the Empire's PR machine.

Haven't done any acting since a few high school English classes, but it can be oddly difficult to remember a handful of lines. Getting the exact words instead of using substitutes. Weirdly, memorizing Shakespeare lines might have been a bit easier since the language is distinct enough that you can't just swap it out with more modern language.

Good of Laprima to not want to take the Emilia role when someone else needed it.

Hm, Havemercy sounds like a pseudonym. I suppose we'll see.

Thirty-six gold for apples! But I guess that's what happens when every coin is gold, like in a lot of RPGs.

Ohh, overcharged. That makes more sense, and makes for a good detail.

I like how Laprima's getting more comfortable in Solitude. The north has its charms, to be sure.

Makes sense that she's itching to see the outside world. She's grown a lot in her time here, and that's apt to make one braver.

Okay, so she's committed herself to seeing Sirdasa. Hope Sirdasa's more stable now. Nice buildup of tension in finding the camp empty.

Ah, good, she's doing better!

Yeah, I agree with them: Sirdasa's probably happier in the wilds. She doesn't have the right temperament for a place like Solitude, and I always got the impression that Solitude was a bit more formal than most cities in Skyrim.

Laprima's getting ambitious here with the bow. It's a smart move: she practices a skill, and Sirdasa gets to earn the money.

Interesting facts on bow construction! Do you do any archery? I don't, but I have some friends who do (or at least used to--not sure if they're still active).

Ouch, good detail on the blisters. Learning can hurt!

Chamany's upcoming fate? This is curious...

Oof, so it looks like what happens to just about all drug dealers has happened to Chamany. I'm not surprised, but this worries me; he seems like the kind to pin the blame on Laprima if he can.

Okay, so he lined up and took his punishment. Which seems milder than RL punishment for drug smuggling.

Wondering who he'll meet next...

[Renee]

Acadian: That is true, plenty of red-flags. 🚩 Laprima's hard-headed, and she probably won't just dump him right away. In the long run this won't matter.

I really am glad you folks are getting into the intrigue of this story. Quite some contentious opinions. One reader loves Chamany, I myself enjoy writing him up, but most of y'all dislike the guy! But this is good. Feel like like Sir Lacroix pulls some drastic opinions.


macole: Just keep reading, Vampire Hunter. All those questions shall be answered, while new ones emerge. It's like the Jandaga in a way. Jandaga is always finding himself in awkward or demanding situations, needing to find solutions. Main diff is he's got all those others surrounding him, right?


SubRosa: Sweetrolls, mmmm... 🍪

Seems it could've been one person who ratted on him, or it could've been more like a collection of skooma suckers. It's not mentioned very well in the story, but I imagine there are people who know him better than others because they had to work with him as he got his dealings arranged. People get jealous when lots of money is involved. Other folks in town (the actual users, the 'fiends' in Baltimore parlance) who rub elbows with those who deal, might've let slip his name, or his description. Someone put it together, maybe this someone lost money or got arrested on an unrelated charge and he or she wants a lesser deal, and so on.

I'll leave some mystery there! Sometimes, mystery is good.


WellTemperedClavier: Holy tamoley, good to see you. Are you writing anything? Um, I already asked you privately. Hope so.

Ah, Laprima's going back to the Bard's College. Good way to further expand her horizons. Oof, but her relation to Elisif definitely adds some pressure.

It does, indeed. Fortunately she tends to just shrug such things off, Laprima, that is.

Yes, that is what I've heard as well. I never got involved with acting or stagecraft but I had friends in high school and college who did. My one friend Michelle from way back echoed what you said, in so many words; it can be a lot harder than it looks. Because you have to portray those words and become them. If you're interested in being any good, that is. Anyway, good to know you've confirmed Laprima's frustration.

Lord Haaf-Mersey was one of my early characters on Xbox years ago, and he actually did join the Bard's College, so he could learn to use Speech during those few instances when the game allows us to do so. He spent a lot of money, as I recall. Here he is with his wife, Motormouth Mjoll, err, Mjoll the Lioness.

Thirty-six gold for apples! But I guess that's what happens when every coin is gold, like in a lot of RPGs.

In the main table-game we used (similar to DnD but a bit more down-to-earth) in high school there were copper, silver, and gold coins. Silver was the standard.

And Now that I've noticed the price, I've seen that same price (9 coins for a single apple) in my high elf healer's game as well. 🍎 So it's not just Laprima. Eventually that price'll go down, as she picks perks in the Skills menu while leveling up. That's right, my 'toon is going to level UP this season. Hopefully several times.

Interesting facts on bow construction! Do you do any archery? I don't, but I have some friends who do (or at least used to--not sure if they're still active).

I do not! But I've read plenty of Acadian posts, which discussed archery many times in the old forums we used to post in.

Some of what I wrote is also just guessing. Oak is denser than pines & firs, it's like old-world furniture compared to Ikea, for instance. I have no idea if that makes a bow more difficult to pull (but provides more of an impact) but it seems like common sense that this is how it works.

Okay, so he lined up and took his punishment. Which seems milder than RL punishment for drug smuggling.

It always does in these games! X number of days... for murder, instead of X number of years. What kind of game would it be though if Life in Prison was the final outcome.

[Renee]

.
_________________________


.Only a Matter of Time


_________________________


Morndas, 15th of Sun's Dusk, early morn



The prisoner woke up, bleary. Took him a few moments. Rubbing his forehead a bit, he remembered where he was. In jail. Arrested, after being caught on his way to the Winking Skeever for an ordinary mug of mead. He knew he’d wind up here eventually; it was only a matter of time before those cards fell into place, n’est-ce pas le cas?

The renegade importer sighed. Glanced to his left.

Someone was on the other side of his cell.

Chamany got up, slowly stood from the cot of hay he’d been lying upon. Narrowed his eyes. Peered through the cell’s bars, only to see whoever it was striding quickly across the room.

“Oy! You there!” Chamany called.

The figure was already gone, clicking softy up some stairs. Whoever he was (for the figure definitely walked with a man’s gait), he was wearing a hood. Not that Chamany would be able to tell the difference, looking at the back of someone’s head in this semi-darkened dungeon. Chances are, the bloke was probably one of the rogues who’d been after him. Waiting for Chamany to slip up; waiting for him to be in the wrong place at the right time.

Well the good news was, Sir Lacroix was now safe from such a threat. There was no way they’d be able to get to him here. Even if they did, what could those tossers do to a man who was already behind bars, an entire garrison of bored guards waiting for any chance of mischief, any excuse to take some sort of action?!

Still, Chamany cursed his lack of foresight.

He hadn’t been able to envision these sort of outcomes months ago, while he and some cohorts were in the planning stages down in Bravil. He knew he’d gain a massive amount of wealth for sure, but hadn’t considered this would cause some folks who were in-the-know to try and wrestle this wealth away. Extortion attempts hadn’t worked; they’d tried to threaten him with blackmail, but Chamany was a stone-cold pro at such things. He’d seen worse during his years back in High Rock, and merely shrugged these messages off. Unfortunately, knowing he was a hunted man, he’d also become stuck in the town of Solitude.

“Que pouvez-vous faire?” he muttered - what can you do?

The air around him was chilly and stale. He sat back down on the cot, twiddled his thumbs. Yawned. The scent of food permeated from somewhere above. Castle Dour’s dungeon was located underground, which meant it was impossible to tell whether it was daytime, or still night.

He wondered when it’d be time for chow.

()()()()()()()()()()()

About a mile away, in more pleasant surroundings, somebody was plucking her shoulder.

“Miss?” A child’s voice. “Uh… Miss Laprima! Are you awake?”

“Hmm?” Laprima shoved herself sideways. Still half asleep, she gathered quickly out of bed like a startled cat. Where is my blade?

“Sorry to wake you, Miss Laprima! Don’t be mad!”

A young lass wearing night clothes was at her bedside, looking fretful and apologetic.

“So sorry miss! So sorry! Are you mad at me?”

“Oh. No! … No, I am not,” Laprima said as pleasantly as she could, attempting to calm herself. “You gave me quite a scare though, I must admit.” She'd seen this girl before, here and there around the Blue Palace. Assumed the girl was one of the servant’s daughters (or an orphan), for the little twerp was often zipping around, carrying this or that, clearing leftover dishware from tables and such. “Are you alright, dear? What’s your name?”

“My name’s Tricky!” the girl stated with an exuberant smile. “And I’ve been told to give you THIS.” She handed over a note. “Um. That is all! Um… see you around!”

“Wh- wait!” - Awkwardly, Laprima glanced at Tricky as the girl scrambled across the room.

“Um, one more thing,” Tricky added. “Try to get there quickly. He woke me up so I could wake you up so you could get this done before the court’s in session for the day! That is what the man told me to tell you... Right? Right. Ciao!

“Wait! Come back! Who woke you up? What man gave this to you, dear?”

But Tricky was through the door. A flash of whitened bedclothes, and the lassie was gone. So Laprima yawned, rubbed her eyes, just as her man was doing a mile away, probably at the same moment.

“Well. Chances of sleep, fallen to perhaps about null.”

Aye, it’d be hard to return back into slumber after all that commotion. What time is it, anyway?

She padded across her bedroom, barefoot. Fumbled for the 'luminosity device' which'd been placed atop a nearby barrel. This device was magical; comprised of a couple small, blue, luminous stones which Chammy paid to have installed earlier in the day. Touch your fingers on one stone, and this caused extra light to shine in the room. Touch the other, somehow the lights went away. As an extra surprise, the lights which appeared when touching the first stone were blue, as in Blue Palace. How delightful.

Daylight was not pouring yet through the windows of her bedroom; and didn’t the girl mention something about ‘getting this done’ before court was in session? So chances are, it was still nighttime. She looked to Chamany’s side of the bed. Her beau was not here, not that this was anything to fret about; half the time he’d be gone. 'Taking care of arrange-ments,' was how he usually put it.

Laprima peered at the note handed to her by Tricky…

… and nearly fell out of bed. “Nooo!” Rushed over to her wardrobe, donned herself in whatever clothes she’d just managed to grab. Shoved her feet into a pair of fur-lined boots. And ran straight out of the palace, heels clacking down the avenue past the Bard’s College, past the homes and past Solitude’s Hall of the Dead. Up the hill toward Castle Dour, while a man in a hood watched from the shadows. She had no idea where the castle’s dungeon might be located, so she spared a moment to ask one of the guards to direct her.

“Aye. Sir Chamany Lacroix, down that flight of…”

She didn’t bother to listen to the rest -- they already know his name? -- Instead she stumbled, as she literally jogged the steps downward. Her foot slipped, she nearly lost her balance. She then found herself in a large, circular room made of slippery stone. Stone... probably igneous, probably polished basalt; a distracted thought surfacing from her studious architecture days. There were sconces of fire along the walls, but the place was rather dark. But of course it would be; she was now in an actual dungeon.

“Chamany!” she shrieked, almost hoping there’d not be an answer, hoping that none of this was true.

“Oi, Laprima. I am here.” Even from somewhere across the room, her man sounded resigned. Defeated. Embarrassed.

She guessed a few of the alcoves (there were several of them to walk into) before she found a set of stairs which led downward. Ah, here's where all the cells are. After a few more guesses, she found the correct one. The pair then commenced stringent conversation from across the set of bars which had been slammed and locked several hours earlier. What to do about this awful situation, and what could be done? Apparently not much, not until her man received a visit from one of Solitude’s legal advocates, at least.





And now the questions began. Would the guards come after Laprima as well? Was she therefore under suspicion for the virtual piles of skooma she’d brought into the province? But I did not know of my involvement! her mind protested. If she had known, surely she wouldn’t have committed herself to such a felony.

“Oh dregs-forth!” She slapped a hand upon each side of her face, across from her incarcerated man.

"What is it?"

“Should it be that now I shall get sent back to Cyrodiil?” she worried.

She’d wanted none of this. Her original plan for the day was to get up early, hours before her shift at the tavern began. She’d grab her new shortbow, along with the twenty-odd arrows given to her by Sirdasa. She'd then get a few shots into the training dummies located around Castle Dour’s exterior plaza. She imagined herself, proudly congratulated by one of the early-morning sentries, after loosing one of those arrows straight into the dummy.

Thunk! it’d go.

“Nice shot there!” the guards would say.

– And they wouldn’t know who she was, wouldn’t know that Jarl Elisif’s niece was up here practicing her marksmanship, merely because she'd discovered this newfound activity to be a challenge, but also satisfying. Laprima would make sure to disguise her aristocratic face with a hood, shrouding from recognition. She'd discharge all twenty of the arrows given to her by the shrew, fingers protected this time by a pair of gloves. Most of them would miss, but surely she'd manage to shoot a few of them into the poor dummy. ... *Thunk!* ... *Thonk!!* ...She’d then head to the Skeever, make fifty or sixty coins, and end the day over her usual bowl of soup and bread, listening to Lisette wail, or strum her lute to whatever evening crowd sauntered in.

“Do not, eh, concern yourself with me,” Chamany tried to soothe. “I am fine. Better than fine. Perhaps it is for the best that I find myself in here.”

An odd detail: he was still wearing ordinary clothes. Weren't they supposed to store those away, forcing arrestees into rags?

He did not tell her about the hooded person who’d briefly made visit outside his cage, not at this moment, anyway. Such things, he decided, Laprima did not need to know. For one thing, they did not seem to be stalking her. They hadn't sent their silly extortion notes to her, droit?

Laprima: "You seem much more complacent than I, at least."

"Ah, well if I am in here, I cannot find to make myself into more trouble, eh?" was Chamany's answer. "Besides, there are things, that I cannot, eh, with to tell to explain, Laprima. Better you not know these things."

This explanation may have worked in the past, but now she was done with his excuses. "WHAT things?" she demanded, pounding the bars. "Why cannot you ever tell me what's occurring in your miniscule world, Cham?" Her voice was carrying, echoing all over the chamber. Thing is, there are others in here. Others who could hear every word she was saying.

And this caused him to finally take pause. "Alright, shhh mon cher!" he whispered. "We must keep the voice down. And now as you are angry, I shall try now explain."

His fiancé crossed her arms.

"Guess I should say to you that yes, there are men. They come around and after me. They place me notes. They want my coin. And I must protect... I cannot just give in to the men. Tu sais, Laprima?"

She nodded. "Aye. Continue, please." Her voice was lower.

He then expanded on several things he'd mentioned before, things about his side of the business; where he disappeared to on occasion, and so on. When Laprima suggested she could give them her money, all of it if need be, Chamany sneered, a rare moment when he finally lost his temper. Such a thing would not be not be in her favor; they didn't know about her side of things, he promised. It was better that she not place herself into unnecessary jeopardy, lest she too wind up locked in Castle Dour.

"Maybe it is that you are right," she admitted after some more discourse. Maybe it was time to wash her hands of all of this. ...This dark, lowlife, criminal element she'd become involved with. She had actual positive things going for her, after all: her work, the upcoming play, and her brand-new toy which fired arrows through the air. Archery seemed as though it could become a great stress-relief, actually.

"Now it is I shall say to you that you go," Chamany said. "Go! Do not fret for me, Laprima. The palace court, it will soon open."

Before long court would be in session. Lady Elisif would be informed of his arrest, probably in a grand way with some crier taking the floor, announcing to the jarl, the steward, and all the others that Sir Chamany was now in jail. The outcome of that scene, it would not be pretty. Their upcoming marriage, it could not ever happen. Not here in Solitude, anyway. Laprima and Cham both knew this instinctively. There wasn't ever any discussion on the topic, though.

"Probably best if you just... try to make your day like it's nothing," he suggested lamely, breaking eye-contact. Unsure what else to say. "And may-be, it is nothing. May-be the advocate shall find me a way out of here..." he said, mostly to himself. "But not today. In fact, it is for..."

"...the best that you stay locked in here. Yes. This you have mentioned several times, dear."

Hmm.

By the time their fretful conversation ended, it seemed hours had passed. Hard to tell. Laprima eventually left Castle Dour, dreading her return to the palace. The sky was (of course) pouring rain as she walked the avenue.

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

Laprima's room now has a working Light Switch!

*Click*

Tricky

Behind Bars
.

[Acadian]

Ironic that Chamany claims to want to protect Laprima from harm, yet placing both her person and her reputation in harm is the logical and foreseeable result of his actions. Not to mention the awkward position it seems that Lady Elisef will be in. Despite her clouded judgement, I do find myself admiring Laprima for her loyalty.

Tricky - neat character and concept. In Summerset back in the Second Era, Buffy found herself performing with a stage company called House of Reveries. They all had names like that; the troop’s leader was named Alchemy for instance. Names of some of the other members included Adagio, Candlelight, Clever, Firebird, Quill and Tableau. Buffy was given the name Feather.

[SubRosa]

So Chamany is stewing in the slam. He seems to have expected this to happen eventually. I wonder if he has any plans on getting out?

I am going to guess that mysterious note-sender is the same hooded figure that Chamany saw from his cell.

I am afraid your note was so small that I could not read it, even when I magnified it. But I get that the gist of it is that Chamany is in prison.

So LaPrima knows what is going on, at least somewhat. Will she get herself involved in this little crime war I wonder?

[Renee]

@Paladin: Ironic that Chamany claims to want to protect Laprima from harm, yet placing both her person and her reputation in harm is the logical and foreseeable result of his actions.

True. Basically all he wanted when they were down in Cyrodiil was to get rich, but beyond that, and beyond making sure to get the goods up to Skyrim, he did not consider the consequences. Didn't think that he'd get thrown in jail, that his actions would put his very own girlfriend into risk, and so on.

I was going to do a chapter on his past, ya know, his upbringing and so on. In this past we find out that he did not come from money. And so I think (in his mind) he was expecting that once he gave her all this money, and also is now in the Upper Class due to his share of the funds, that she would be impressed by this.

Truth is (concerning a chapter on him) I already won't have time to delve into it. Because there's already too many ideas clamoring around for future chapters until May of 2024. But if ppl want, I can do a partial chapter if it's requested.

Nice, that sounds neat about the names in Buffy's troupe. Tricky's got a sister named Risky. 💇


@Florens: Ah, it's Laprima. The P is lower-case. That'd be like if I called your main character StormCrow, right?

MM hmm, I noticed that about the note, oops! A lot of work goes into Laprima's story, twice as much as Joan's. With Joanie all I'm doing is following the quests of Morrowind, focusing on the Main Quest most of all. I get into my character's thoughts, adding stuff from her point of view, do some random gaming to satisfy my gaming addiction for the day, and it's done.

With Laprima I'm writing & editing the story (double or triple drafts) but also writing the quests behind the story. Most of the dialog actually takes place, and it's all backed up with quests. On top of this the Creation Kit is a BEE-ATCH to work with. It's like wrestling a snake, sometimes. Any new idea I've got for Oblivion or Fallout for instance, (such as Cho entering Springvale School and going nuts on the raiders), I already know how to implement those ideas. If I don't, it doesn't take long before I find a way.

Well with the Creation Kit, ANY new idea I've got, it's a 90% surefire guarantee there'll be some sort of problem. An example: At the end of Sirdasa's dialog there was a script which was supposed to teleport Cham into the prison cell. So of course my 'toon gets there, finds the correct cell (I marked it by putting a beehive outside his bars) and guess what? No Chamany! Where the heck is he? This meant I had to go all the way back to Sirdasa's lines, walk Laprima from the huntress camp into Solitude, and so on. I had to do this at least 3x. Turns out it was my fault. I forgot to change his AI! Doh.

Another example was Sirdasa. I tried to make her into a trainer, so that she would actually train my gal to get better with Marksman, and maybe also Sneak. Followed a tutorial on YouTube (that in itself took a couple hours) and guess what ? Sirdasa's got absolutely no dialog for training. Which is especially annoying because making a trainer for Oblivion is so gosh-darn easy. Literally make an AI package, and then toggle Offers Services on, and set them to be a trainer. Make sure they've got a Class appropriate for the job (such as MarksmanTrainer) Boom it's done.

So the note being illegible... that's a minor thing. I saw that note, thought to myself, "should I go back and fix that?" but by that point I've put 10 or 12 hours into the story, it's already posted. Got other things to do today, and so on.

Sorry, I probably overexplained.

So Chamany is stewing in the slam. He seems to have expected this to happen eventually. I wonder if he has any plans on getting out?

Absolutely not. He's content where he is for now.

The mysterious note-sender could've been the same guy, or maybe not. There's definitely more than one of them.

So LaPrima knows what is going on, at least somewhat. Will she get herself involved in this little crime war I wonder?

Heh!

[Renee]

.
______________________________

.The Onslaught of Whiterun

______________________________

There is no adequate way to describe the trepidation she felt, as she traipsed her way through falling rain towards the Blue Palace. Her man imprisoned, fears of being forcibly removed from Solitude, only to return to her father, who’d then disown his very own daughter, due to her getting involved in yet another set of mishaps, this time far away from home. Importing skooma into the northern province? She’d be on her own, surely.

As it turned out, none of these fears were to come to fruition. Let us peruse...



Morndas, 15th of Sun's Dusk, mid-morning


It was the commotion from above which first caught her attention.

Laprima entered the palace, and then halted her steps. Shouting. Someone at the top of the stairs was shouting.

At first, she mistook this belligerence, thinking their discourse was being waged about her. – They’d learned of Chamany’s fate; Chamany Lacroix had been locked away for an immense set of crimes, and was soon to be tried and fated. Lady Donnaugh assumed they were arguing about this set of circumstances as they pertained to her: some of them wishing to see her gone (they’d somehow discovered she was involved), while others were arguing her innocence. After pausing a minute or so, listening to conversation droning downwards from the court, the Heartlander realized they were discussing something else entirely.

“No!” Elisif’s voice from above, strained and haughty. “I deign to agree on that matter…”

“We know a small contingent of Stormcloaks are already camped outside our city walls,” boomed a male voice with a Colovian accent, which Laprima did not recognize. “Especially as Whiterun has definitely been sacked. The battle for Whiterun is through, milady. The Sons and Daughters of Skyrim shall be heading here full-force within due time. Jarl Balgruuf has surely been dethroned, his family and court possibly imprisoned…. Or worse.”

Laprima’s skin prickled at this bit of news, a rash of goosebumps upon her arms, the zing of adrenaline coursed her veins. She took a cautious step forward, her left boot upon the lowermost stair.

“We cannot accept an increase of population here in Solitude,” spoke another voice from above. “As our soldiers shall need to arrange themselves properly to block the town’s gates…. With all due respect Elisif, you have no say in the matter.”

“But I CAN enforce these very terms,” Elisif countered. “I am Solitude’s jarl, for Julianos’ sake! And Dragon Bridge is just down the road. Should only take a day, less than a day, to guide them all behind safe walls. I wish to offer Commander Maro the choice to evacuate the entire village. This way, they are safe from the additional troops which shall inevitably invade their unwalled locale.”

“Nay. General Tullius shall place the decisive vote. We are at war, which means Tullius is now at the helm. You have no say.”

Laprima bristled. Recalled a moment of opinion she’d recently heard, spoken aloud by a Solitude guard: Lady Elisif is merely a puppet. A figurehead. Everyone knows it’s General Tullius who’s really in chahhg of Solitude.

“Tullius is at the helm of the military side of things,” Elisif snarled. “I still have rule over the administration of Solitude’s peoples, and the well-being of Haafingar’s ordinary citizens. Says so right in the charter drawn up by my late husband, along with the rest of Skyrim’s jarls…”

By now Laprima had emerged at the top of the stairs, standing bashfully to one side. Someone had set a table into the center of the court, and upon this table was a map of Skyrim.

Despite the ruckus, Elisif was still sitting upon her throne, which was a sign of confidence, a sign that she was refusing to lose composure. Before her was a group of three of Solitude’s soldiers, one of whom had metallic armor which was decorated in such a way (with crests and such) that he seemed to be the one appointed to deliver Tullius’s message.

Laprima stood still a moment, and then paced right to the middle of the floor beside the soldiers, obvious and waiting for the hammer to fall. This was the moment when conversation would shift. Laprima, glad you have joined us, her aunt would say in that peculiar sort of way, which indicated niece was about to take a dressing-down like none ever seen before. Furlongs of trouble, that's how much trouble she was in. Wish to make any comment about the ongoings of your soon-to-wed fiancé, while I am smack in the middle of dealing with the onslaught of Whiterun?

… And really, the signs had all been there, right from the start. When she’d first walked into town, during her very first moments inside Solitude’s gate, what had occurred? Well she’d witnessed an execution, that is what. The execution of a man named Roggvir, beheaded just a minute or two after she’d strode into the plaza. Which was a sign! - A sign that her experience here in Skyrim was ultimately doomed, just as she was getting situated into town.

… But Elisif said nothing on the matter of Chamany. “Welcome to the court, niece,” she smiled. “As you can see, things are a bit constrained. Trying to … come to some sort of solution.”

“You have no say in the matter,” the soldier with the crests on his armor repeated. “Tullius has the final decision…”

“...Regarding the military itself,” Elisif reiterated. “And I shall ignore any attempts to stomp my decision down. I am sending a representative of this court on the morrow. Regardless if Tullius approves, or not.”

“You shall do no such thing!”

“All I need is someone willing to head to Dragon Bridge,” she ignored the soldiers.

.......I’ll go.

“Bearclaw!” Elisif glanced left, toward the court’s official housecarl. “On the morrow, it shall be you who shall represent this court.”

........“I shall go….”

“Ah, but Lady Elisif, tomorrow it is Tirdas,” Bolgeir Bearclaw began to protest. “And, ehm, as you know, on the day of Tirdas I am always roted of payment and the necessary kneadings of palace guards, disciplinary measures, and such…and…”

...........“I will go.”

“Bolgeir, how dare you!!!” Lady Elisif, her voice carrying and echoing all through the chambers… “How dare you disobey! This is a direct order from your leader!”

.............“I shall go.”

”WHAT?"

All their voices, all clustered together in unison, as Lady Donnaugh stepped into their circle.

“I shall go,” she offered quietly. "To Dragon Bridge, that is. I shall be the one, if you shall have me put forth this delicate message."

A moment of pure, intense silence followed. The sort of silence which is so absolute, it seems there’s deafening noise within such silence. Even the devices which droned soothing music from places unseen throughout the palace paused their magical song.

“I am speaking out of turn, I know this,” Elisif’s niece said bashfully. “But I am also blood. A direct relative of Solitude’s jarl, possibly High Queen someday.” Laprima breathed in. Breathed out. “And I wish to be involved. I have witnessed some royal dealings down in Cyrodiil during my youth; I know how such things are to commence…”

Also, I have already been halfway upon the road to Dragon Bridge, I know how to get there, she almost said, referring to her secret journeys out of town. But at the last moment, she decided not to add this statement.

And NOW would be the moment of truth. NOW would be the juncture when the court’s scribe, writing the words (shorthand-style) which occurred each and every day the Blue Palace court was in session into a large stiff-bound ledger, would record the moment when Jarl Elisif was to reprimand her younger relative, far beyond shame and embarrassment, right in front of the entire roomful of observers.

“Hmm. You wish to represent this court, and defy these nitwits before me? You wish, basically, to take upon the role of ambassador? So be it,” Elisif said decisively, snapping her fingers. “So it shall be done. Opheillia, draw up the contract,” she ordered the court’s scribe with a gesture. “On the morrow, it shall be my niece, Laprima Anne Donnaugh, who shall make the journey to Dragon Bridge.”

“Ooh, General Tullius shall surely not approve…” the soldier with the important armor-crests began.

“FUDDLES TO TULLIUS!” the jarl screamed in a high-pitched voice, making most of the court jump and wince. “Tullius has no say in how I run MY city, Rolfgear! The journey to Dragon Bridge takes less than a day. The road is well-soldiered, and well-guarded from riff-raff. On top of this, I shall assign a guard or two to assist Laprima from Solitude to Dragon Bridge. My decision has been made, even if it is in contrast to the wishes of Castle Dour. This is final. That is all!”

“But, heeh….”

Laprima, now flabbergasted. All that concern, and all that worry, all for naught. It was as though now She was the betty netch, unexpectedly-deflated, fallen right to the ground so its gas could leak into the atmosphere. She breathed a sigh of relief as her auntie stepped off. “We’ll have words with Tullius,” they promised, stomping down the palace’s entry staircase.

Lady Elisif moved decisively off her throne, and toward her chambers, while the rest of the court adjourned. Chances are, Solitude’s jarl needed a break; sovereign leaders of enormous populaces are mere people, too. She rushed to her chambers, probably so she could re-powder her face, re-perfume her clothing, and simply take a few breaths in privacy.

Laprima Donnaugh also breathed her own set of sighs, before feeling a hand fall upon her shoulder.

“Pure luck, that these unfortunate affairs with should Whiterun occur, just as you're striding into court,” Falk Firebeard, Solitude’s red-bearded thane muttered in her ear.

“Huh, but why?” Laprima feigned.

“We all know about Chamany,” Firebeard cheekly-winked. “Were it not for that episode, you’d be embroiled within Wrath of Elisif for sure!”

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

Falk delivers the harsh news
.

[SubRosa]

Oh my, it looks like Chamany and his escapades have taken a back seat to current events, and what current events they are! Whiterun sacked? The peasants are revolting! Laprima (got it right that time, I keep thinking of it like "La" in Spanish, where it means "The". So "La Prima" would mean "The First") might have bigger things to worry about than being sent back to Cyrodiil.

It certainly sounds like quite the row they are having over strategy and whether to evacuate the civilians from Dragon Bridge to Solitude. On one hand it is admirable to want to shield them from harm. On the other adding to the population at the beginning of a siege will only strain logistics even more.

A further wrinkle is that if Tullius does not defend Dragon Bridge, then there will not be a battle there. Ergo, its civilians would theoretically not be in danger. I say theoretically because I don't know how bloodthirsty the Stormcloaks are in your tale. Are they the type to go on a looting and killing spree in a captured town? Or not? If #1, then yes, they need to go to Solitude. If #2, they are probably safer in Dragon Bridge rather than moving to a city that is likely going to be the location of a major battle. It is complicated.

And Laprima pulls a Frodo at the Council of Elrond. She will go to Mordor and cast the ring into the mountain of fire. Though she knows not the way.

“FUDDLES TO TULLIUS!”
I loved this!

I also loved her comparison of herself to a netch, deflated of gas.




A nit:
Everyone knows it’s General Tullius who’s really in chahhg of Solitude
You had a minor misspelling of charge.

[macole]

A bold move on Laprima’s part. Gets her out of Solitude for awhile and IF all goes well scores some points with Lady Elisif and her court.