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6: A Shadow over Hackdirt

Moving with the sun high ahead of them was lucky, bright sunshine illuminating the difficult to follow trail and avoiding the extra tall beastfolks' long shadows obscuring the bloody trail. Keeping Blossom behind them, Quill-Weave holding the reins and gently moving along. Neither were experienced trackers, and while they trailed the gradual spots as far as they could to a deer carcass in a site off the road, they soon found themselves unsure how to continue. They were wasting daylight hours with nothing to go on.

“Tsk. Quill-Weave, what do we do?” Katia felt that familiar helplessness rise within her, but it was greatly suppressed, knowing she had Quill beside her in the same boat.

“I- I don't think we have a choice but to get to Chorrol and see if anyone knows anything there. Hopefully we can get some support as well. I only really know three people there; Dar-Ma, Seed-Neeus and Casta Scribonia” Quill-Weave watched Katia think, then nod, and the pair hurried back to the road walking at a brisk pace, or rather Quill-Weave jogging, Katia walking at normal speed and Blossom's healed leg letting her trot along at a comfortable gait.

“I don't remember you mentioning Casta before; who's she?”

“Oh, she's an author as well. We, uh... had a fling once, but other than the act of writing, we didn't really have much in common. Not to mention she had a pretty aggrandised opinion on what two women trying to love each other entails, as well as the mention of love at all except for loving herself. I overreacted and started drinking hard at the Crosier, where Dar-Ma found me and she really helped me get over her quickly. Well, after that happened though...you can probably imagine, sweet thing like her drove me crazy” Quill flushed a little and looked sheepishly up at Katia “Sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like I still have a thing for her”

“I know you still do, Quill, don't worry. Otherwise we wouldn't have come here to apologise. I can also thank her for being your muse on how I now feel about you as well. Right now though, probably best to focus”

“Hah, yeah, might be an idea”

“Though if she tries to come between us, I'm sitting on her”

They both looked at each other, and had a chuckle.

“No chance; incredible woman like you? Literally nobody can compare” Quill swerved over and slapped Katia's ass, smiling warmly.

“Okay, Quilly, for real this time. Focus” Katia couldn't help but feel a little guilty at the banter considering the danger Dar-Ma was in, but at the same time she felt it wasn't as though being in sullen silence would help things either. Regardless, it did help fill the time for them to reach Chorrol. The guards at the gates saluted, one stepping forward to address them.

“Agent Managan, and Knight-Errant Quill-Weave! We just got the missive through this morning about your promotion, ma'am. Congratulations! Chorrol welcomes you” He waved at the other guard and they proceeded to begin opening the heavy gate.

“Excuse me, but is Dar-Ma still in the town?” Quill-Weave held a brief hope, but winced as the guard shook his head before responding.

“Oh, you missed her. She left a few hours ago. She's usually back by Sundown at the latest...wait, is that Blossom?”

Katia explained what they had seen. Quill-Weave returned Blossom to the stables and had returned by the time she'd covered their trip to Chorrol.

“By the Divines! We should muster a search party! We're fortunate you're here though, I doubt any threat would be beyond you two.”

“Guardsman, do you have any idea where she could have gone or been taken to?” Quill-Weave was eager to at least begin to form a plan. The levels of uncertainty reminded her why she was a bit of a stick in the mud outside of her research travels, but this was her life now.

The guards looked at each other for a moment, before the up until then quiet guard spoke first, taking a long breath.

“There's a village, thick in the woods, called Hackdirt; bit of a sordid past with the Empire some decades back. Nobody goes there, and they're not big on strangers, but I swear people have gone missing traveling this road before. I heard a rumour that a citizen used to go there to skirt the town and would find old belongings of people who had vanished, but nothing was ever proven.

“Otherwise, the forest has caves and ruins both filled with all sorts of horrifying monsters, vampires and bandits, but Dar-Ma doesn't go out loaded with coin, and they certainly wouldn't attack a horse if they knew there was value to be had reselling her, and they wouldn't hide the body either. This is almost certainly a kidnapper trying to erase the trail”

The guard stopped to take a breath. His companion looked at him with wide eyes before clearing his throat to at least contribute in some fashion, although Katia cut in first.

“Alright, wow, that's some fine deduction for a guard; you're wasted here. Anyway, we're gonna go and start looking around. How do we find it?” Katia was already looking at the treeline in the distance to the south.

“It's just rumours though, ma'am... and I hate to admit it, but it's the only place that makes sense. They detest Imperial law, so I don't know if we'll get any cooperation” The less verbose guard added. “Go directly away from the gates here and go directly south. You'll spot an old broken fort, Fort Carmala. If you head south by south-west from there, you'll find Hackdirt”

“Alright, gather whoever you can and meet us there” Quill-Weave saluted, as did Katia after a moment of hesitation, setting off South. Neither were experienced adventurers still; two months of paid work, largely guided patrols or in the taller woman's case transporting materials were useful but forest rambling didn't feature high on Imperial Agent training.

Still, a fort did eventually stand out; at least half of one. A semi-circular wall, housing several former support pillars still standing proud despite being bereft of a second tier to the structure and a door leading to the interior. From there, Quill-Weave partook in her usual scouting methods, climbing the wall and looking around.

“Think I see a chapel. Just a short distance that way” Quill gestured, looking down to Katia, who looked in said direction, nodded and looked back up. She extended her arms slightly in front of her, palms raised and a dumb smile plastered on her face.

“Catch ya!” She chirped. Quill tutted to herself shrugged, making a lazy flop into the Khajiit's arms. Katia briefly gave her a squeeze before letting the Argonian slide down, landing on her feet without incident.

“Wonder what we can expect, or how well known our kidnapper could be there...” Katia scratched behind one of her ears, twitching it as the pair moved towards the building Quill spotted.

“Couldn't tell you; Whole thing stinks frankly, although that might just be me being pessimistic. We watch each others' backs when we get there, because the Nine Divines knows we can't trust anyone in such a remote place.”

“We'll just have to be ca-” Katia choked on her words as an arrow embedded itself into her upper sternum. It would have certainly been a more lethal impact were it not for her size, but shock and panic caused her to reel back and seek the vastly inadequate cover of the nearby trees, each ranging from almost as wide as her torso to one of her legs at most. Whoever was loosing arrows caught Katia in the arm as she fled back towards the fort, letting the projectiles fly with decent skill. The Khajiit finally cast an invisibility spell on herself.

“Fort” she managed, pained.

Quill-Weave moved to cover Katia, summoning her bow from spell but she couldn't pick a target, electing to target lower sections of trees to hopefully deter pursuit having no ammunition concerns. Arrow after arrow darting into and around the trees in as high a number as Quill could muster.

The everlasting joke of their size sprung forth in the Argonian's mind as well; a pair of giant, brightly-coloured beastfolk wandering the woods in unfamiliar locations against what was likely a set defence actively looking for anything standing out amidst the trees. They were idiots not waiting for backup or even coming here without their armour.

Blood seeped onto yellow fur and green jerkin as Katia held her chest wound with her good arm, managing to get back to the fort ruins and plucked the arrows from her arm and torso. She cast her healing spell on herself a number of times, each as she pried the arrow from her chest and arm and Quill-Weave darted in to join her.

“Okay, this really does stink.” Katia grinned weakly, trying to hide her growing panic.

“Sure does. More importantly, are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, dealt with it. I'm running out of magicka though, enough for some fire, but I'm worried I'll accidentally burn the forest down.” Katia sprung flames to her hands before dispelling them

“We really should have made time to get you to teach me that healing spell. Fuck it, though, we need to pull back and regroup with the guards.” Quill-Weave continued to scan around the broken wall for any sign of pursuit, but clearly her counterpart archer was far more deft than she was at remaining undetected.

“Alright, get moving. Go on all fours, keep low. Either head straight North, that'll be safest....hmm, or if you want me to take a crack at this asshole, make a wide berth West, I'm going to sweep towards Hackdirt again and hopefully catch them in the act.”

Katia pondered for a moment, then gave a confident smile.

“One less opponent for later. Let's do it!” Katia lowered herself, pressing her weight on her recently recovered arm, before taking a deep couple of breaths. With typical Khajiit agility, she kicked off, placing hands to ground to let her weight roll forward while her legs overtook her arms, another kick, a smooth four legged run. Quill-Weave sprinted South, bow drawn, ducking from cover to cover and kept Katia on the outskirts of her vision as the Khajiit made her way westward.

An arrow clipped a tree and narrowly missed Katia's head as she pushed herself faster, and that was it, the trajectory Quill needed. The Argonian ran up, noticing a muted coloured cloak and hood, a man or mer by his exposed fingers, arms and legs wrapped in plucked foliage to offer camouflage. The edge detail of the cloak hem was even lined with bark. Quill-Weave's approach, complete with heavy footfalls of a woman weighing in at almost a ton made him, a Bosmer male, turn his gaze to her. As gazes met and Argonian lined up to throw a kick, a glass vial met Quill's vision and with stunning speed, an arrow was loosed to shatter it, a billow of smoke the result.

“Not who I'm after” a mutter on the wind as Quill swung her arms about, trying to make contact with the assailant. By the time the pleasing breeze took the smoke away, it was obvious her foe had gone in pursuit of Katia. She snarled and dashed after her, hoping her longer strides would let her intercept; once again, the Bosmer wasn't in sight.

Katia had stumbled on the safer walls of an Ayleid ruin. Plenty of cover and overgrowth to hide in, but the Khajiit wasn't convinced it was enough though it gave her some period to gather her thoughts. She reached out with her senses, a vague and brief hope at finding some magicka on her attacker, only to be somewhat staggered by a singular point of raw magicka. It shone brightly, obscuring her ability to sense anything around it. Shutting her senses off, she sought it out; a font of magicka, glowing blue in the middle of a circular arrangement in the stones.

Katia looked at it with a studious interest, unsure what to make of it. Sadly her fascination as a mage and history of naivete were soon penalised as she felt a sharp pain in her calf, and a flow of numbness emerge from the origin to every inch of her body. She flopped stiffly to the ground adjacent to the font, facing skyward. A Bosmer came into view, face obscured by the bright sky under a dark hood and wreathed in plantlife. He pulled a peculiar blade from his belt; a broad dagger, but deeply channelled, recessed down the middle and even on the grip.

“Lucky; saves having to hunt you down. Had you pegged since you found the horse.” He spoke in a low whisper.

Katia wanted to scream, to cry, do anything; the blade gouged into her throat, expertly into the major vessels of blood, twisting and earning a satisfying spray; she could hear the wet splash on stone. She felt the blade remain embedded, and the sound of liquid pooling into a glass container. Any mystery concerning the purpose of this was lost on the Khajiit; a cold sensation flowed over her as blood poured from the wound, her heart pumping weaker and a damning fatigue began to flow over her, vision beginning to grow dark on the edges.

She was brought to focus as the Bosmer, having secured a bloody flask to his belt, choked a pained yelp; a large arrow, twice as big as any regular missile, embedded through his shoulder, the arm flopping loosely as bone and muscle became severed, before the arrow itself vanished, a trail of blood dropping to the floor as the wound gushed. The elf fled from Katia's view, and while she felt control return to her, she felt especially heavy. She tried to raise an arm, or cry out, but could only gasp loudly, her hand maybe reaching a couple of feet off the ground before weakness claimed it for the stone once more.

She heard Quill call to her, distant, muffled. Her silhouette, those little wings on her head standing out on the darkening blue skies. She repeated Katia's name, holding a hand to her neck, trying to stem the flow. It felt nice, Quill's touch again. The last twenty four hours had swept away many doubts, Katia almost felt whole and comfortable dying after the previous night, feeling love, but the concept of Quill-Weave losing another partner made her feel deeply guilty. Katia mustered what little strength remained.

“F....font.....magic...” Katia mumbled. Quill's head turned to and from Katia as the darkness left her only a narrow tunnel of vision. She felt motion, difficult to detect where or why as she felt her last moments draw near. Then she felt something stronger, a shock from an upper extremity, coursing through her veins and ramming into her heart and spreading through her every fibre.

Katia inhaled deeply as feeling returned and vision cleared, just in time for her clothing to explode off of her growing body. She sat up, grabbing her throat as the old spell, the cause of all dramatics of the last two months, resumed its usual effects. Her wound sealed, blood replenishing from nowhere as matter was pulled from beyond Mundus and added to her body, and she felt the roped amulet fall from her as briefly fortified magicka superseded the light damage to her reserves by the limiting jewelry. Her magicka filled twice over, sending her view skyward even while remaining seated. She looked down as Quill-Weave dived away and scrambled for distance as yellow Khajiit's hips spread wider than the platform she was sat upon.

An eighty foot Katia sighed and immediately looked for her lover below, looking amongst the carnage her growing body had caused, toppled stone conquered by flesh where time could not. Quill-Weave approached as Katia's growth slowed to a modest crawl. The budding mage cast a few low powered fire spells into the sky to cease the growth as she crept to eighty five feet tall, making sure to keep some in case more casting was needed.

“Grab my amulet, Quill. Not that it'll help me now” Katia scanned the immediate area as the Argonian did so, pocketing the thing before climbing the yellow furred thighs and likewise seeking out the would-be killer. The grievously wounded Bosmer was obvious despite his garb, staggering away and briefly leaning against a tree as he now felt the faintness Katia had just moments ago. The Khajiit furrowed her brow, and didn't even fully stand. She simply crawled a short distance and snagged him up, wrapping his body in one hand, squeezing firmly but not so far as to inflict any permanent harm. Katia studied his face, before gasping.

“You! Herskjar's lackey! Is he here too!?” she snarled.

“Too late....” The Bosmer mumbled, slightly delirious.

“What!?”

“You're too....” his head lilted to one side and he fell unconscious.

Both Katia and Quill-Weave looked at each other, horrified expressions developing.

7: Old Damage

An hour passed before four Chorrol guards appeared, easily noticing and moving to the naked Khajiit Agent and didn't seem too distracted by her state of undress; her fame was a double edged sword. Katia was glad for the reinforcements, she'd been regretting casting a healing spell on the Bosmer prisoner in her hand, making the internal excuse that she needed to burn more magicka for her 'condition'. She handed the unconscious Bosmer over to the guards, who bound him up around the ankles and arms.

Perhaps it was the relatively short distance back to Chorrol, or the lack of trusting on the ropes used on the Bosmer who may wriggle free, or maybe just good old fashioned petty revenge; ultimately, Katia happily plucked the bound elf from the guards and walked him back to the town immediately instead of sticking with the group. She reached there in great time, briefly informing the lingering guard the situation, and watched him be dragged into the prison, grinning. She then sent for a messenger to inform Tar-Meena at the Arcane University of Katia's current state, then the Khajiit returned in a few short minutes with her vast strides, satisfied of her would-be killers fate.

During her trip the guards had set up in an area in view of the little village of Hackdirt, between the ruins and the settlement proper.

“Not much movement, but odds are if this Herskjar is here, he's watching and hiding; probably waiting for his cohort to return.” Quill spent a moment staring into Katia's eyes, relief at the mission both being back on track and everyone being well. The Khajiit returned the look with a smile, then she knelt down and peered low through the trees at the town.

“Do we have a plan?” Katia offered the question, but everyone immediately looked to the superior ranked officer; Knight-Errant Quill-Weave.

“Oh, come on! Gah, fine...uh...” the Argonian fiddled with her head-fins, in deep thought for a few moments. “Okay, so we move in, stick together, ask the locals if they've seen either Dar-Ma or Herskjar. Hopefully someone'll comply, or so long as we keep an eye out, we'll see something. Failing that we might have to start asking if we can look inside the buildings. Katia, I guess you'll have to just observe; not sure if these people are going to be comfortable dealing with a giant in the town proper. It's important you keep an eye out though, so how long can you maintain your invisibility?”

“A minute at a time, and casting it will make me briefly appear, so I guess I'll need to pull back to do so. I can cast it maybe three times before I run dry though. Then again, that implies they haven't already spotted me from afar.” Katia pouted, then shook her head. “Shit, forget it. Sorry Quill, but I might as well just watch from the clearest patch of trees in plain sight. Stupid damn Bosmer....”

The guards checked their gear, and with Quill-Weave's order, they moved on the town, their giantess companion roamed in a circle from the town, seeking a decent angle.

Hackdirt on closer inspection had the full trappings of a middle-of-nowhere settlement, with broken buildings and a few skeletal remains of more homes once upon a time all centred around a single well. Only a couple of commoners moved about, and the sight of Imperial contingent sent them fleeing to their homes. A full stillness and long shadows against the late day sun brought a pall over everything, even without the backing of kidnap and attempted murder. The guards nervously looked about; occasionally spotting eyes through gaps in the wooden housing.

A door opened nearby and startled the group, hands finding sword grips as they all spun about. An Imperial, sweating and clearly worried, left his house bearing a chamber pot and an urn. He looked to be about to turn to the Imperial agents, a moment of hesitation, but instead moving around the back of his house and pausing briefly once more before leaving view.

Quill-Weave slowly moved over, gesturing for the others to wait. The Argonian turned about the house, watching the Imperial remain utterly focused on tipping out the foul contents of the pot, pouring water from the urn into it and swilling it about to rinse.

“Pardon the interruption, citizen, I was wondering if I could ask a few que-”

“Quiet! Leave town, come back here tonight just after midnight, alone, no guards or the Khajiit” He finished his task and returned to his door, never stopping and slamming it behind him. Quill-Weave returned to the guards, eye-ridges furrowed.

“We're done here. Let's go” She ordered, and began walking back the way they entered.

The group returned to the elven ruins, Katia followed somewhat afterwards, having circled back around. Quill briefed them on the short conversation.

“I don't about this, Quill. It's probably a trap.” Katia huddled down, sitting cross-legged.

“It's all we have shy of invading the village, ma'am” One of the guards offered.

“Alright; I'll meet him. Katia, you'll tail me, invisible but pull back as needed to maintain it, hopefully they'll kick things off nice and quick or say his bit even quicker. Everyone else; keep near, I'll shout if things turn sour” Everyone nodded in agreement, Quill dismissed them, each guard sitting around the ruins and keeping an eye out, but ultimately tried to relax. Katia didn't change her position, instead staring at the distant village.

She put a hand to her chest and closed her eyes for a moment, opening them with a determined expression.

“I'm gonna try something” Katia purged her magicka, the glowing show of excessive burning power drawing attention for a moment. “Someone wake me up in half an hour, best play it safe in case I start smothering the region; don't be afraid to poke me with a sword, I've got pretty thick skin”

“I won't ask what you intend to do, Katia, but please, be careful” Quill said as she climbed on the yellow legs of her lover, raising a hand, to which Katia ever-so-gently pinched between her fingers.

“I will” Katia smiled, then closed her eyes, nodding her head low, and began expanding her mind to the influences of magicka around her. Once more, the catfolk mage sought outside of herself, seeking any familiar trails. Katia immediately noticed Quill-Weave, someone she was largely now far more familiar with; she glowed brightly as a comforting point in the dark.

Katia accidentally drew a little too close, brushing against the Argonian's smaller manifestation in the beyond.

Quill-Weave felt a presence touch against her, not physically but some other senses perking up, sending a chill up her spine but also a gentle coaxing, making her facial scales flush slightly. She looked at Katia, who despite being deep in her meditation, smiled slightly, then went calm again as the presence moved away.

The Khajiit drew from within herself those aspects that weren't her, the former Empress overridden by a kind, friendly Argonian maiden. The imitation, the same intimate knowledge basis Katia had for Quill, thus Quill had for Dar-Ma. She felt her heart and mind, not a perfect copy, but it should be sufficient. With these aspects to focus upon, she felt a bit further away, seeking a type of kinship.

Katia could only liken it to seeking a distinct group of passages of a book you don't know the title to and looking around a library, if the library wasn't an actual place, but a concept, and the passages gave no clue to a location; you had to hope character names or certain details matched, or you could be looking forever. As such, finding an individual that she had no actual experience with would have been a fools errand. At least for someone new to this style of seeking beyond the physical world. Katia still couldn't just leap into random people even if she could find them, and she didn't think she would ever want to.

When she first began exploring this way it was a haphazard experience, but over the past times she had practised a fair amount since it actually rested her body just as sleep would, and she had a surprising knack for finding her way. Katia had discovered abilities before using it, and now, she could literally steal from the fabric of magicka. Aetherius' presence on Mundus allowed her to explore far and wide and potentially change much, but Tar-Meena had been extremely quick to caution her from pulling a strand too far; the ramifications could have disastrous consequences.

This day she had an decent if imperfect replica to use as a guide, as well as the remote location and the very different people within it made searching easier. Within moments, she located a shining point in the darkness, not as bright as Quill-Weave but distinct and pure. Katia approached, and gently extended herself at her, hoping to not overwhelm the young Argonian maiden.

As consciences melded, Dar-Ma looked around, confused. Her vision sharpened for a moment, everything became somewhat hypersensitive for a few seconds, before things settled down. Katia felt a distinct pain on the side of her face, an eye swollen, jaw aching.

Katia was getting Dar-Ma's senses run through her; the cold stone floor and walls, the metal bars and the lit torches beyond. By one torch, a familiar Nordic man, sitting on the floor; scarred cleft lip, blonde hair and beard, full steel armour and Dwarven axe leaning against nearby wall. Herskjar sat, either sleeping or abating boredom with his eyes closed in the empty cave.

Katia felt something interrupt her thoughts, a sharp pain in her leg. She was pulled from Dar-Ma, being dragged all the way back to the cooling night air and darkening skies.

“Welcome back, Katia.” Quill waved up to Katia as the Khajiit gathered herself.

“Dar-Ma's alive, beaten, but fine otherwise. She's being held in a cage; Herskjar's watching over her for whatever reason. I think there must be caves nearby, or maybe a mined out cellar in the town, it's hard to say, I saw cavern walls.”

“Incredible...” Quill breathed before speaking up “That's a relief, although it makes me wonder what that Bosmer was trying to pull telling us we're too late. You going back in?”

“Yeah, not like I can do anything else I suppose. See you in another half an hour” Katia punctuated her words with a few casts of magic, wasted healing spells, then settled back in.

With a way to follow from before still visible, her previous journey through the beyond still rippling.

Once again she felt Dar-Ma, and the Argonian shuddered as the presence coiled around her.

While relocating to the Argonian was easier, reintroducing herself into her was again somewhat uncomfortable. Katia couldn't dismiss the memory of her turning Dar-Ma's form into herself while in Quill-Weave's dream, and the connotations if that could happen here and now; such a consideration was pushed aside as she felt the connection stabilise, and a voice distracted further.

“What, you gonna complain you're cold, lizard?” Herskjar sneered, then gobbed phlegm on the dirt floor. “I'm not giving you anything, so stop shivering” Katia wanted to throw fire and Dar-Ma was beyond being afraid at this point.

'Help's coming, Dar-Ma' a voice rang through Dar-Ma's head.

'I've gone crazy... I'm hearing things' she thought.

'Nope. Good to actually meet you, in a sense' The voice persisted. Dar-Ma looked about and then formed her words as thoughts again.

'Likewise, I guess! I always like meeting new people, although in this way is a new experience for me, that's for sure. Who are you?' Dar-Ma felt the presence puff up, inflating in her mind, making her feel giddy, bubbly.

'Katia Managan, Agent of the Empire! Here to serve and protect citizens from filth like Herskjar there. We're gonna rescue you and take his Northern ass in!' Dar-Ma envisioned the presence pounding fist to palm. She could help but smile from the bravado; a refreshing change of pace from the hostility.

'I've heard of you, Ms. Managan. The whole Three Giants Debacle...wow, so you're friends with Quiwea? Small world!'

There was a moment of contention between the two entities; both felt guilt for very different reasons, and there was little middle ground, making something of a rift. Katia had to somewhat push her way back in after feeling her grasp slip.

'So, Quill's meeting one of the townsfolk tonight, we're not sure what about but it's our only lead. Is there anything we can tell us about this place? Anything would be really useful.' Katia waited a moment, Dar-Ma's thoughts became somewhat opaque to both parties as she tried her hardest to remember what happened; victim and proxy searching in tandem. Katia became aware of the shock of pain in her face, then the feeling of being carried, then darkness and torchlit corridors. Finally, the Argonian began to communicate rather than re-experience things.

'I know they were looking to sacrifice me, but...who was it, Herskjar, you said? He's been stopping them from taking me somewhere, something about still needing me after talking to another stranger here who went topside. The Nord's been getting more anxious as time's gone on. Everyone else seems to be some sort of cultist. Something about Deep Ones'

'Hmm, strange for a cult to let outsiders in without them obeying everything in the agenda or keeping an eye on them. If he isn't being watched then either he's too strong for them to deal with or something else is going on'

'Sounds like you've dealt with cults before'

Katia thought better than to expose that little snippet of her life. She doubted she had much longer before being prodded awake anyway.

'Something along those lines, I guess. Dar-Ma, listen, if they try and take you somewhere, go with them but go slowly, try and buy time. We'll be there in a few hours. If you can get to the surface without risking yourself, run North west, there's an Elven ruin we've been using as a camp. I'm a bit big at the moment, you can't miss me. I'll be pulling back for now; stay safe'

'Wait, isn't Quiwea larger too? I don't know if she's going to fit down here'

'Oh, I hadn't thought of-'

All too soon, Katia was snapped back to her physical form. It was properly darkening now, Katia suspected more than half an hour had passed, but thankfully she hadn't seemed to enlarge any further.

“So? Anything?” Quill-Weave was sounding rather eager, understandably so considering the subject.

“Yeah, I had a little talk with Dar-Ma. There's a cult, something about Deep Ones, and Herskjar's not part of them but they're not exactly keeping tabs on him either. Looks like they're planning to sacrifice Dar-Ma to these Deep Ones, but the Nord's either stopping them or at least delaying it. We need to find a way down into these caves, but I certainly can't get in there, and I doubt you'll have much luck either, Quill.”

“You still have us, ma'am; we'll get her out!” One of the guardsmen nodded, smiling, confidence evident. Quill and Katia smiled at him as well as back at each other.

“You all get some rest, my 'wanderings' have given me a second wind. Besides, I doubt the rest of you can see in the dark” Katia's eyes turned bright blue, the scenery becoming clear in the dimming light. With a plan of action forming, the guards settled in for a few hours, a one successfully napping while the others just sat in silence. Katia shifted positions slightly, stretching her forty foot long legs for a moment before laying low almost lounging, observing as well as she could the distant village.

The next few hours passed by with a sense of unease despite the certainty of their actions, although a plan of attack was set in motion so minds had a chance to unfocus.

Katia kept her place by the ruins, observing the town and surroundings. Quill was going to keep things in control in Hackdirt proper, and had borrowed a bow from one of the guards along with two torches; one fashioned into a crude fire arrow as a signal for Katia if things got heated, one for its intended purpose and to light the arrow. The four guards would use whatever entrance they could find, either provided by the citizen they had talked to earlier, or they would assist Quill in forcing entry into the various homes until one was located.

For the moment Quill-Weave did as was suggested, and approached alone, keeping low and bow summoning spell ready. Katia moved nearer, overlooking the area, and flicked on her invisibility.

Despite having help seconds away, Quill-Weave felt very exposed. Nonetheless, she put on a brave face and approached the back of the citizens' house. Within moments, likely due to the poor build of the structure no doubt letting light seep through, the Imperial from before turned the corner.

“You came. Good. I don't have much time. I have to get to the Gathering before I'm missed” He whispered.

“We've found out about the cult, I guess this Gathering you're worried about. We know of the caves; how do we get to them, and where is Dar-Ma?”

“You have to believe me, I didn't know what they were planning. They want to bring back the Deep Ones. I thought I did too, but.... she's so innocent. You've got to save her! Here, take this key, it'll open any of the trapdoors down to the caves. Every house in town has one. The one in Moslin's Inn is your best bet. Nearest where she's being held. If you go now, most of the folk here will be at the Gathering” He handed her a key. “Please, you have to act quickly”

“We will. Thank you....do yourself a favour, friend. Leave the village, because I don't know if things will be safe here for very long” Quill-Weave didn't wait for a response, pulling back and meeting up with her group. Katia reappeared almost immediately as she passed by.

She handed one of the guards the key and, summoning her bow with one hand, Quill stowed the guards one over a shoulder; the tiny thing useless to her for combat but loosing the fire arrow skyward wasn't the most precise task.

“The inn, trap door, nearest way to Dar-Ma. Everyone set?” Quill-Weave waited for everyone to nod in agreement as they donned their helmets, brought shields to bear.

“Just...everyone, be careful; Herskjar's a dangerous man.” Katia frowned, feeling powerless once more.

“We'll rescue Dar-Ma, ma'am! You just keep things safe topside, and we'll deliver her”

Quill-Weave turned back to Hackdirt, the other guards in tow. Katia inhaled deeply and reflexively sparked a flame in her hands, then extinguished them, standing still and hoping as the helplessness set in. They didn't have long.

8: Second Meetings

Quill-Weave lead the way, torch in hand and beating a fair pace ahead of the quickstep of the guards. Each held a torch in their shield hand complete with sword arms tucked to their hips ready to draw steel. The small door to the tavern, sign hanging above with the name 'Moslin's Inn' swinging in the low breeze presented the target, Quill briefly paused and gave the guards a quick look over to ensure everyone was focused and prepared. The door was unlocked, potentially either by chance or practice for a tavern but none of the Imperial forces planned to look this gift horse in the mouth.

The Argonian opened the door and let the shield carrying guards enter first, before briefly looking inside to ensure nothing stood out or contradicted what she assumed from the Hackdirt citizen. With the coast clear and the guards locating the trapdoor, she busied herself by observing the town as they climbed down in turn.

She looked to the chapel, lit from within with the telltale flicker of torch and candlelight on the high window but thought better than to assume safety lingering openly in the town. The rickety buildings didn't provide much comfort either; the usual rooftop strategy for the free-running Argonian would likely collapse a building under her substantial weight, and climbing the chapel itself was also likely to draw attention to herself despite its sturdy construction.

Quill waited an uneasy few moments, opting to keep near the tavern despite the deafening silence. She patted the fire arrow attached to her belt, almost wishing to loose it to get Katia there for the company alone.

Then, a scream from the tavern, distant and blood-curdling. It was quiet enough that she doubted the presence in the chapel would hear, but she also panicked that she had to make a call with lives on the line on both sides.

Summon Katia, almost certainly draw the attention of the townspeople and the potential carnage that could cause or go it alone and attempt to keep things quiet.

Cussing in garbled hisses, Quill-Weave entered the tavern, dropping the torch she still held.

The trap door lay open, but far narrower than she was. Quill opted for the next best thing, the advantage to her size disadvantage.

She slammed her foot to the floor, the dry and crippled wood shattering, chunks flying all over the place and a nice gap offering itself for further damage. The Argonian plunged her hands into the opening and began prying boards up left and right, another pained shout from driving her faster, furious tugging at the flaking wood. The main supporting beams were strong but she was stronger; she placed her feet either side, gripped each with both hands and audibly grunted as she finally saw the connecting parts to the trap door were gone.

The whole section around the trap door was flung free, the opening going from a few feet wide to nearer six of carved rock; she dropped down into the low-lit area below, and was immediately met by the sight of two dead guardsmen. Quill squeezed her bow, wincing and looked about. The low ceiling would force her to crawl or essentially keep her back pressed it if she wanted to remain as upright as possible; she opted for the latter. All she could think of was how bad an idea this all was but the sight of the two dead guards drove her to step and look around the corner.

There, to her left, Dar-Ma. They met each others gazes just as a large blast sounded behind Quill, the sensation of heat stinging her back along with the smell of singed cloth. She turned and saw an armoured Nord emerging from behind a column and discarding a spell-scroll, bright firelight burning from her entryway, the inn above engulfed and the two other guards dead behind him.

“Ah, another giant beast-whore! You filth must be breeding” He brandished a gleaming poleaxe of dwarven construction, edge tested and discoloured from use and darted in before Quill could find a position herself to draw the string of her bow. Trying to dodge back in cramped quarters, scalded back scraping stone painfully but she was quick enough to dodge the swung blade. She cursed herself again for not taking her crude blade with her but clenched her teeth and tried maintaining distance.

The unfamiliar environment, a skilled foe and no way to call for help; Quill-Weave was at her worst. She wanted to scream, run, put as much distance between herself and this messed up town as possible. But she glanced to Dar-Ma again and her purpose was refreshed within her.

The area had been cleared out, likely on purpose to allow Herskjar the best advantage against a physically stronger foe; no errant barrels, loose rocks, anything. Quill pulled back in a lazy circle around the room, trying to get back to the guards; their ill sized weapons and shields were her best bet. Herskjar charged, swinging wide again, leaving Quill to throw her arms in the way. Some of the impact was dispersed on her forearm against the shaft of the axe, but the bottom edge dug deeply, yielding blood and a sizzling sound as heat seared the wound.

Quill shouted in pain and swung her uninjured arm wildly, slamming a fist into the Nord with considerable force. He grunted, wheezing as his armour crumpled from the blow, the rough fist shape embedding into him and sending him staggering back. He quaffed a healing potion from his belt as Quill sought distance, and before long he seemed no worse for wear. Quill clutched the wound on her arm, the bleeding minimal as the wound was harshly cauterised from the burning enchantment on the axe but the throbbing was intense; blackened scales and flesh.

“Never should've come here, lizard, but I'm glad you did! Being stuck in here just makes things easier for me. First you, then the cat.” He spun the axe in his hands in a flourish and pressed his advance, raising his axe in preparation but not taking any crude swings, trying to coax a reaction first.

Other passages were present, and Quill remembered there were other exits, although getting to them could be a problem for her though; most openings were even tighter than the current chamber. She finally drew near the guards and plucked up one of their swords and shields. Herskjar chuckled as the Argonian attempted to get a decent grip on either; the shield was completely useless, she had no experience with it and couldn't even strap the shield on but had nothing better to hold. The sword she could at least grip to a sense, but she suspected she would end up cutting her hands as her grip encompassed the handle and some of the blade in order to get any sort of stability.

Even so, she lunged, swinging with as much force as could be mustered. Herskjar met the challenge with a crooked grin, smacking the metal-shod haft of his axe against the incoming blade and the poor grip on the sword allowed it to bounce free from Quill's hand, gashing her fingers. He recoiled but used the momentum to counterspin and extend his axe, slicing against but just missing a clean cut on the Argonian's upper torso, flesh and thankfully not ribs. She cried out as her lungs felt the heat; she coughed, crawling back and finding herself by Dar-Ma's cell. Still holding the shield still, she hurled it at the Nord with enough force to send him sprawing, more out of shock than harm.

Quill-Weave was outmatched; she took a moment to look at Dar-Ma again, then the door of her cell. She pulled a quick plan to mind as Herskjar pulled himself from the floor, and unshouldered the bow she still had on her and the fire arrow. Quill pushed them through the bars.

“Get to the surface, there's trap doors up all over. Light the arrow and send it skyward. I'll hold this bastard as long as I can”

Quill watched as Herskjar finished righting himself, approaching. Quill-Weave grabbed the cell door and roared, digging her feet down and ripping the barricade clean off the hinges.

Dar-Ma was initially reluctant but decided against distracting Quill by lingering. Quill-Weave took a swing at Herskjar with the heavy door, forcing him to hop back, re-evaluating his approach. The smaller Argonian pulled a small handful of arrows from one of the dead guards and fled down a corridor as Quill brought the crude metal bar construct to bear.

“Alright, snowblood, let's fucking do this!” Quill grimaced and held the door to its full length, not planning to swing to hit but instead to poke and harass, buy time. Just like old times as an author in Anvil; never fight to win, but to flee and survive.

Dar-Ma was glad to be moving again, she dashed down the nearest corridor and hoped Quill was right. She turned a few corners, only to run into a room with two peculiar looking folk. Both were human but their eyes were bulbous, heads broad and fat; they eyed her with cold, fish-like stares as crude cudgels were brought to bear.

“You!....Die!” one snarled.

They moved sluggishly but with purpose, bestial rather than showing any discipline. Dar-Ma was no soldier, but she was swift. The young Argonian dived, tucking and rolling to the side as the two swung wildly. Dar-Ma ran a greater distance, and readjusted the small bundle of six arrows in her hand. Three shafts in her muzzle, fire arrow included, three expertly nestled between her fingers.

She drew an arrow to nock, perched between index and middle with the ring finger for grip and loosed, the arrow setting straight into the eye of one of the bizarre folk. With the same efficiency and a flick of the wrist, a second arrow was aligned and loosed, although the rapid draw only left this one with a shoulder wound. It still slowed him; he snarled and drooled as he clutched the arrow, pulling it free with another pained grunt

She was wasting time that Quill didn't have, and saw the opening. She let fly her third arrow, into the neck and flooring the brute, and placed the bow over her shoulder. She had time to take stock of the area, and spotted a ladder up to a hatch. Dar-Ma climbed, pressing against the wooden boards but found it was locked, though the wood bowed and creaked at the force.

Climbing back down she picked up one of the metal shod cudgels, and wrapping an arm around the ladder rungs, she began hammering the boards. It was slow going, but without the time to search for a key, she felt this was the quickest way. Eventually, she saw light through the weakening wood, the nearby blaze of the inn.

With the opening available, Dar-Ma focused on cracking the sections around it. Widening the hole piece by piece, fitting her fingers through and pulling the boards free. She pulled herself up, wincing as the sharp edges jabbed her, causing gashes but no matter, she was free.

It was a house, empty from what she could tell. No windows although plenty of light from the blazing inn peering through the ill fitting wood. She eyed the exit, and as with the trapdoor, Dar-Ma took the iron mace to it with focus to the worn and tired hinges. Able to throw her weight at the task, and the wear of everyday use on the hinges, the door gave in far less time. Dar-Ma dived outside, pulled the fire arrow from her mouth, and stopped.

Before her, a yellow furred ankle not far below Dar-Ma's eye-level, stood Katia Managan, staring down a mob of Hackdirt's citizens, an incensed mob unsure how to approach the enormous Khajiit.

“KATIA! Quill needs help!” the Argonian screamed upward, the catfolk looked down at her. “She's beneath the inn! Herskjar's fighting her!”

“Oh no” Katia mouthed, and looked at the raging fire that was consuming the building. She briefly considered stomping the ground to gain access elsewhere but she realised that could make matters worse, so she instead needed a different plan. Her gaze danced around the surrounding area, and she settled on a boulder wedged into the ground by the Inn itself. She narrowed her gaze upon it, and lifted it via her thoughts.

“Everyone get back!!” She bellowed, and proceeded to smash the boulder through the building to topple it. Katia then swept her foot at the remnants as one would try and kick out a camp fire, cinders and burning wood flinging into the surrounding woods. She knew the risks of sparking a forest fire, but this wasn't a time for rational sense-making.

A few more passes, and she saw the opening in the floor, a tiny finger-hole sized gap. Katia knelt down and reached for it.

Beneath the ground, the ceiling shook and small rocks fell onto the tired, bloody Argonian and her opponent. Quill-Weave; An eye pinched shut from blood seeping into it, several scorched cuts to all over her body. Herskjar; scratched and bloody as well, but his potion supplies had only recently ended and he was weathering the frantic smacks of a metal door better than the burn of a weapon of war.

Both looked to the side as a person sized finger with pink pads and clawed tip, reached into the crevice, wrapped around the nearby stone and tore a chunk away, exposing some of the night sky. More fingers entered, digging progressively wider and wider gouges in the stone ceiling.

Herskjar scowled and dropped his axe. He knew he was beaten, even as his Argonian opponent fell, weary and badly injured. He himself knelt down and calmly placed his hands across the back of his head as the ember-lit stare of the giantess above ground glowered within.

“You're so fucking under arrest, you piece of shit” She grumbled, picking him up in her left fist and scooping Quill-Weave in the other, the Argonian having to take up a good portion of her forearm though her rump was nestled in her palm. Katia squeezed the Nord maliciously, earning a pathetic cry of pain as his shoulders snapped from the pressure.

“Katty...stop” Quill mumbled up to her. They looked in each others eyes, Katia looking a bit weepy but smiling that she was still alive.

Quill leaned up, looking at the Nord with as much fury as her fatigued mind could gather.

“Four charges of murder...one attempted.....kidnap....assault...and whatever fucking else you've done. Herskjar the Unkind, you'll hang for this!” Quill growled, wounds forcing her to take low, pained breaths, but it was worth it. She settled back onto Katia's arm and felt the warmth of her body, wishing to just sleep.

Katia extended the arm holding Herskjar long and low to collect Dar-Ma, allowing her to run up her arm to her shoulder, although Dar-Ma briefly stared at the captive Nord for a moment before dashing up the uneven surface with a similar style to Quill's freerunning. The Khajiit then busied herself stomping out the flames she could see to the continued goading and idle threats of the citizens, flattening a few trees and pummelling them until only scorch marks remained.

When all things seemed to have calmed down, and having had enough of Hackdirt; a sentiment shared by her passengers, allied or not, she headed back North to Chorrol, light forming in the eastern horizon.

9: Bitter Pill.

Eyes-In-Stars tugged at his new and freshly crafted garments; a quilted shirt and woven leather belt on stiff trousers. It was expertly tailored to his exact dimensions, made of the finest silks in colours that allegedly complimented his dark blue and purple hints by way of subdued yellow and vibrant green. He felt a fool but the Altmer proprietor of Divine Elegance insisted it was both dashing and flattering to his thin physique. He walked with a slightly uneven step, unused to full boots as he made his way through the market district

He at least appreciated the properly sewn tail strap on the trousers, usually an afterthought or a modification made by dagger and some quick seam reinforcement. His missing arm had no sleeve but instead a gold hemmed black half-cape, something Eyes-In-Stars admitted he hadn't thought of; he rather liked it. It drooped down to his hip and he wondered if he could make a crude one to cover his potion bag for his normal outfit.

It had already been a week since the invitation, but he was still making his final preperations as the sky grew dark. He entered the Black Horse Courier, a weakened but improving Khajiiti fellow behind the counter, the subdued symptoms of the Collywobbles present but the recovery was obvious.

“Welcome, Eyes-In-Stars! Hassiri was wondering when his hero would grace this one's business!” He spoke in a manner that told volumes to his joy at having such energy, despite the somewhat haggard tone; a man certain of death and given life anew.

Eyes-In-Stars smiled and walked over offering his hand to shake, it was taken with a joyful firmness as the Khajiit smiled warmly in return.

“So! My brother Urjabhi asked if you would grace us with an interview. Hassiri can only hope this is the case?”

“I dare say, my good friend, I have a prior meeting today; I'm to visit the fine Emperor himself, Martin Septim. Could I be a bother and ask for a rain-check on the interview; I'm sure you'll have questions about meeting the new ruler himself!” He offered a short bow, as an apology. The Khajiit nodded and shrugged.

“It would certainly garner more interest, sir. The Good Emperor has been rather quiet so an outsider giving their statement would be a welcome special edition of the Black Horse Courier!” He coughed slightly, a slight wince but he took a sip of water and seemed contented.

“So, if not for the interview, what can Khajiit do for you?”

Eyes-In-Stars reached into a beltpouch and produced a small phial, opaque of glass and tied in thin strips of tree bark along most of its length, about the dimensions of his thumb. He placed it cautiously on the table.

“I have a friend who is currently staying in Chorrol; a fine young Argonian lady, name of Quill-Weave”

“Oh, the author turned hero! A favour for you and a delivery for her, Hassiri's guessing?”

“Correct, my friend. I wish for it to be delivered by tonight, along with this note” He slipped a piece of folded and wax-sealed paper onto the table beside the tiny vessel.

“Ordinarily we wouldn't dabble in out of hours work and non news related deliveries, especially for....hm...unusual cargo on such a tight time-frame.” The Khajiit leaned closer, whispering. “For you though, for this ones life, I shall have it sent immediately”

“You're a fine man, Hassiri and you have my eternal gratitude” He shook the Khajiit's hand again. “Well, I'd best be off, I'm not sure how 'fashionably late' the new Emperor likes people, but I'm one of those luddites who insists on being as close to time as possible”

“This one looks forward to seeing you tomorrow then, Eyes-In-Stars. Enjoy this evening and have a good night” The Khajiit took a small box from beneath the counter, and began packing them with shredded paper as Eyes-In-Stars turned to leave. The old Argonian made a fairly direct route to the palace, a small gathering of equally well dressed delegates from the various towns and cities formed the bulk of the crowd, although he was grateful to see his colleagues in fighting the plague; Ogier and Claudette.

Eyes-In-Stars made his way to the pair, enjoying the more familiar company who were equally dressed in new and extravagant clothing. The sense of revelry felt at odds with the surrounding area, gravestones present and many below the looming White-Gold Tower.

“Ah, there you are, Eiss. Looking rather dapper, if you don't mind me saying so!” Claudette smiled and the three exchanged handshakes. Eyes-In-Stars couldn't help but feel he'd be doing the motion a lot, and missed his other arm dearly for spreading the workload. He still managed a warm smile back though.

“Feel a bit of a buffoon, but who am I to turn down a direct invitation from the Emperor? Frankly I'll be glad to be done with tonight and get back to my travels; I haven't spent this long in a city outside of Black-Marsh in many years”

“Well, I for one will be glad to go back to the monotony of selling and bartering rather than having the city itself relying on me. We've had a few heroes appear since, and including the Three Giants Debacles' two and including you, sir” Ogier patted Eyes-In-Stars on the shoulder. “Still, being an alchemist who knocked elbows with the new Emperor is bound to drive up sales, hm?”

“Heh, well Ogier, heroics are all well and good but only to those who can weather the storm it inevitably draws. The fine pair of Katia Managan and Quill-Weave have had their struggles as I understand it, but a little stability would go far in letting them find their place. As you say though, the standard pace of things will help in these uncertain times.”

“Truer words never spoken, friend” Claudette nodded, but any further conversation was ended as an Imperial guard wearing ceremonial armour stepped from the White Gold Tower's grand doors.

“On behalf of Emperor Martin Septim, we welcome you here today in unity and celebration to the grand recovery across Cyrodiil. Please, enter.”

The collected officials filtered their way in, and once Ogier and Claudette had gone in as well, Eyes-In-Stars felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Would you mind stopping for a quick search?” A familiar barbed tone. Briarbird.

“Oh, gotten over your fear of contact? That's reassuring; I'm sure your mother's very proud.” He grinned as two soldiers firmly patted him down along.

“Just a precaution, I'm sure you understand, lizard.” He moved in front of him. Eyes-In-Stars felt his shirt get pulled free from his belt, and he barely held back a frown as a small waterskin was taken from his chest.

“I certainly hope this isn't contraband of some description. I'd hate to have to have you thrown in jail on such a special night.” He opened the stopper, and sniffed the contents.

“Just a small shot of theilul, Sir Briarbird. I daresay I find Imperial liquors aren't quite at the potency of Argonian rum.” Eyes-In-Stars was jolted as Briarbird grabbed the Argonian by the collar, a bare toothed scowl on his now nearer face. The soldiers at the door looked at their superior with a worried look. The Altmer sniffed the skin again and sipped a tiny amount, spitting it out and to the side after a moment of contemplation.

“I'll keep hold of this all the same. Hurry up and get inside before I do something we'll both regret.”

Not needing to be told twice, Eyes-In-Stars entered the building, following the trail of guards lining the route to a large dining hall which were in fact the council chambers, albeit with the vast stone circular table draped in fine cloths.

Such a large 'table' with seats to spare and in the middle of the gathering was Martin Septim himself; a rather more world-weary looking Imperial man, one who had spent time in service to others rather than raised within palace walls. Eyes-In-Stars quite liked him for that, and he couldn't help but stop and stare for a moment.

“Ah, there you are. Now that we're all gathered...” The Emperor smiled to Eyes-In-Stars and nodded to a chair near him. As the Argonian sat, Martin remained standing.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the great strength and endurance of the Empire. The invasion of Mehrunes Dagon was cut thankfully short in thanks to two individuals who further protect our lives, true. It is but a shame that their rescue came at such a cost, but we shall not dwell on this. Moreover, it has been the spirit of every citizen; workers and volunteers and anyone willing to assist in these darkened times that have prevented ongoing suffering.

“It is by this spirit, the common decency to each and every one of us that makes our Empire the shining jewel of Tamriel; a solidarity unshaken, evermore. I thank you, the Counts and Countesses, for keeping the people safe and ensuring that their livelihoods were unbowed despite such a threat.”

A collective applause sounded from all parties; Eyes-In-Stars elected to pat his chest to a dull thumping rhythm. Once the clapping slowed, Martin carried on.

“On this particular meeting, though; we are within the company of those who have saved untold lives right here in the Empire's capital. Claudette Perrick and Ogier Georick, a pair of our own fine citizens and merchants. Dare I say more instrumental as the bearer of the cure; Eyes-In-Stars, a citizen of Black-Marsh arriving in our time of need. Glory to them all”

Another round of applause from the gathered nobility. The three alchemists exchanged glances; Ogier and Claudette blushing slightly, Eyes-In-Stars looked pensive.

“I will of course reward such an effort, despite their insistence on not receiving payment for their labours. I would speak to you each in private at meals end, and please bring to mind your deepest wishes and I shall do everything within my own power to grant you such a boon. For now, though; let us eat and enjoy ourselves, safe in the knowledge that the citizens beyond these walls sleep soundly once more”

Martin finally sat down as a number of servants entered, each bearing a tray of various cuisines from all over the empire. They rather conveniently placed regional favourites by the Counts and Countesses of their corresponding region, and a decidedly Black-Marsh themed platter of fish based fare near Eyes-In-Stars. The Argonian stared at the servant with the fish-based platter for a few moments, before finally giving a simple nod and began looking over the offerings, picking a few with a fork and setting about eating his fill.

Idle chat came and went between the nobility; a chance to catch up in light of recent months worth of recovering from the Three Giants Debacle. Eyes-In-Stars largely ignored it, although one topic piqued his interest.

“I had the honour of meeting the two newest Imperial agents, actually; Ms. Managan and Knight-Errant Quill-Weave came to Chorrol and had a bit of an incident concerning a nearby town in the forest” Arriana Valga was speaking to another Count, although Eyes-In-Stars drew her attention before anyone else could respond.

“Fascinating, m'lady. How are the pair? I had the great pleasure of meeting with the fine Knight-Errant while she was on patrols by Leyawiin” Arriana turned to the Argonian and smiled, nodding as a short greeting since this was their first conversation; Eyes-In-Stars wasn't used to such manners from anyone of so high a societal perch.

“Well, Ms. Managan seemed in fair spirits, although the Knight-Errant had sustained some rather serious wounds. Ms. Managan had healed many of them, although understandably they have elected to recuperate a while in my castle as guests. We have lost a few men saving another of our citizens, the maiden Dar-Ma. I have the unenviable task of holding a funerary procession in their honour in dealing with a rather horrific cult and laying down their lives for the good people”

“Ah, I'm relieved Katia and Quill-Weave are alive at least, as well as the innocent one. My condolences to the fine folk of Chorrol, they have lost four heroes. You have good, honourable fellows under your banner, Countess Valga, and I can only express a personal show of thanks for hosting the pair and offering such assistance; it means a great deal to me.”

“I would do anything for the citizens of Chorrol, Sir Eyes-In-Stars. Do you wish for me to pass on any messages on your behalf? Perhaps you could join my escort on my return to the city; a safer passage so you can meet the good Agents. I would greatly enjoy entertaining a fine, upstanding gentleman such as yourself if you wish for a place to stay.”

“A most generous offer, but I dare say I don't belong in such finery or finer company for any great length of time. I have spent a while in Cyrodiil; I fear I must pass on before I outstay my welcome.”

Eyes-In-Stars let the conversation flow to the other, 'finer' folk. Ogier and Claudette would talk a while concerning their improved businesses and exchanging alchemical knowledge at a later date. The Argonian though continued to look serious, coughing into his sleeve on occasion. He had eaten all he wished to, and sipped the rather weak, if fair tasting wine.

As the meal drew to a close, Martin stood, only to be intercepted by Briarbird, seemingly emerging from nowhere and whispering to the Emperor. A small back and forth proceeded, before Martin seemed to lose his patience.

“I won't let your paranoia outweigh the gratitude owed to these people, Briarbird. I suggest you take your leave before I think of something far less meaningful and far more arduous to busy yourself with.”

The Altmer bit his tongue and bowed, leaving the room. He glanced back at Eyes-In-Stars for the barest moments before vanishing from view.

“I apologise for Briarbird's behavior; he's a spectacular agent, but I dare say he's a bit over-enthusiastic about his duties at times. Now, as I was about to say; I feel it is time to bring this gathering to an end, but first. Claudette; if you would follow me. I hope you have had time to think on your boon.”

“I have, your Imperial Majesty”

“Come then, let us speak”

Claudette stood and offered a small bow to the gathered group, before heading out of the room and down a corridor they hadn't traversed on the way in. The low volume of the ongoing talks were pierced after a few minutes.

Eyes-In-Stars coughed hard and heavy, grabbing a napkin from the table and masking his face. Ogier looked understandably concerned, offering a hand on the Argonian's shoulder.

“I'm...fine!....Forgive me, I think it may be a fishbone stuck somewhere....” he inhaled deeply and quaffed more wine.

“If you're sure, friend. Though, if you want, I could give you a bed to stay in my place, if only so I can keep an eye on you. I confess I lack much experience with Argonian's, but even I can see you're a bit off colour....an odd pallor beneath your facial scales”

Eyes-In-Stars didn't have time to respond before Martin returned with Claudette in tow. She looked contented, a deep but subtle smile on her lips. The Emperor handed a sealed slip of paper to a ceremonially dressed soldier, then moved back to the table.

“Eyes-In-Stars, if you would?” Martin smiled and beckoned.

“I need a little time to think, your Imperial Majesty. If it pleases, perhaps Ogier can go first?”

“As you wish, friend. Ogier, are you prepared?” Martin watched the Breton nod, although as he stood he whispered to Claudette, Eyes-In-Stars' name mentioned. The female alchemist sat next to the Argonian and looked him in the eye, although he avoided her gaze, withholding the worst of another cough.

A pall had fallen over the gathering. Most were engaging in small, hushed conversations while Eyes-In-Stars routinely coughed and struggled for breath. Ogier returned, Martin placed another sealed document in the hands of a palace guard, and Martin looked to Eyes-In-Stars again.

“Are you prepared, friend? We can arrange another meeting if you're unwell.”

“No, I would feel awful wasting your time, your Majesty. I shall endure.” Eyes-In-Stars stood wheezing slightly. He followed Martin out of the chamber, left down the corridor to a small room, the Emperor closing the door behind him. It was well furnished and decorated, a large and impressive desk of well varnished wood with an identical document as Martin was returning with lay upon it. Bookcases and ornaments lay in exact locations elsewhere.

Martin moved behind the desk, sitting and dipping a quill in a bottle of ink.

“Eyes-In-Stars, your efforts in curing the plague....the numbers I had seen afflicted, now still walking the streets thanks to your cure. The efforts of Ogier and Claudette will never be understated, but you, my friend?” He smiled warmly, Eyes-In-Stars looked sullen.

“Simply name your desire; property, coin...if you wish for land closer to home, I have contacts in Black-Marsh who could arrange something on my behalf.”

“Your Majesty...” Eyes-In-Stars turned his back on Martin, coughing loudly, interrupting his words. There was a wetness to the wheezing sounds now, a degree of expectorant that the Argonian caught in his still clutched handkerchief.

“You're clearly unwell. I shall call for a physician forthwith, wait here.” Martin stood, moving back around the desk and approaching the door.

“Wait...it's....it's fine....Your Majesty. I am old and my days, I fear, are numbered. I would ask nothing material of you.”

“There must be something I can do.” Martin approached the Argonian, resting a friendly hand on the old man's shoulder.

“There is, but it will not make sense to say. We must....commune.” Eyes-In-Stars said, clearer, determined. He turned, his hand snatching Martin's neck, claws embedding lightly and drawing blood. A sticky, sap-like substance coated the Argonian's fingers, small traces of it on his muzzle still.

Martin gasped and tried to call for help, but he suddenly felt oddly at ease. He was still able to talk, in a hushed and quiet tone even as he felt an inwardly buried fear.

“An assassin? What...what are you doing? Why?” He said as the Argonian lead him back to the desk, pushing him against it but not forcefully; he allowed the Emperor to sit on top.

“Do you believe in destiny, Martin Septim? Fate? A sense that we are never quite in charge of our own lives?”

“I do”

Eyes-In-Stars smiled warmly, reassuringly.

“Good, because in my many years, I have seen the fates pull cruel turns on good people. Sadly, this is one of those moments, and whether or not you believe me, I apologise for all of this. I swear on my children, and their children that if there were any other way, I would use it. You have a purpose unfulfilled. Things aren't as they should be, but fear not. I am here to guide you to what should. You will live today, and tomorrow, and many more days ahead but a toll will be exacted at a time you have no choosing of”

Martin felt the sticky substance moving of its own accord. It was flowing into him, making his thoughts swim and his vision blur.

“Join me in the Hist, Dragonborn, bloodline of Akatosh. I will show you your destiny. Look into my Eyes and embrace In the Stars.”

Back in the council hall, after a decidedly longer time than Ogier or Claudette took, Martin returned looking distant and perplexed. He had no note on him, nothing to hand to the palace guard, just a cloth that he dabbed at his neck with. He walked to his seat at the table, and with shaky hand poured a goblet of wine, drinking it in silence.

“Are you alright, your Imperial Majesty?” A guard said, getting near. Martin raised his hand.

“I....shall retire for tonight. Forgive the sudden stop to this evening, but I grow tired.” With the palace guards escorting the gathered group out, one invited fellow had already left.

Eyes-In-Stars was already clear of the palace grounds and was making his way to the Market district, guided by torches and street lamps in the dark.

He looked over his shoulders repeatedly, teeth slightly bared as he made his way as his old legs would allow. His rapid travels dipped and dived into alleyways and double backing at times until he made his way into The Merchants Inn. He closed the door hastily, only slowing at the last moment so as to not slam the door, and made his way upstairs, ignoring the folk within the main floor.

He produced a key to a room, unlocked and entered, locking behind him in seconds, heading to his waiting supplies and travel wear. He passed the slight corner of the room with equal speed.

A long, curved blade then embedded itself through his chest, piercing a lung and nicking his heart.

Eyes-In-Stars mouth opened silently, stumbling back as he was forced against the innroom door by Briarbird, who stared into the Argonian's eyes with raw hate.

“I've already had poison experts sent to the Emperor to purge whatever filth you've afflicted him with, lizard. You think yourself clever, and I admit you were a better challenge than most scum, but the game is over” He slid his blade out, the Argonian slumped to the floor.

“Good to....see you again.....Sir Briarbird. No need to worry about the Emperor; he'll be...fine. What I gave him has run its course...” blood seeped from Eyes-In-Stars' mouth and chest, his head slumped down and he watched his gaudy outfit stain red.

“You know” Briarbird shrugged “my only regret is that I'll have to handle your vile corpse to get out of here, but I must savour this.”

“Fair point.....can I have my theilul back now? I rather...fancy a drink.”

Briarbird smiled, and produced the worn, tired miniature waterskin, throwing it mostly at rather than to, Eyes-In-Stars, before turning and looking through the old Argonian's belongings, tossing the Argonian's things here and there.

“Many thanks....cheers.” The Argonian oddly bit into the skin, sharp teeth piercing it and he sucked the contents. He then began licking and nibbling the outside, peeling off strips off. Briarbird finally looked at what he was doing.

“You've managed to find another way to disgust me, pondscum. I shall ensure that I file in my report you died acting like a senile, pathetic savage.”

“Still think you know...everything. That's always been the problem...with you Altmer. You spend so long learning....yet sometimes miss the forest for the trees all the same.”

“Oh, do go on” The Altmer stopped digging through Eyes-In-Stars' things and focused on him fully.

“How much do you know about....Hist Sap? Actually, you know what....I'll cut to the chase” He finished peeling the skinm chewing and swallowing as he discarded the ripped and peeled waterskin.

“It dries fairly well, turns almost...leathery and mixed with sugar and....alcohol, one can coax it back....to life.”

Briarbird's smug satisfaction started declining, instead looking confused.

“So you're going off your mind on a hallucination? Fine, if you seek comfort in your bizarre and foolish make-believe ways, then go ahead. You could begin regenerating from those wounds through some ritual I don't know, but it won't matter; you've lost so much blood by this point, your wounds could seal and you would still be too weak to fight me off before I sever your head. Make these last words count.”

“You know, what...knife ear shit head? Actions, not words....ponder your folly as we die...together” Eyes-In-Stars managed a smile as his body writhed, he heaved and the half-cloak over his missing arm moved. With a final gasp of life, he hissed and looked to reach for Briarbird with his stump.

“What the-” he was interrupted as Eyes-In-Stars' missing arm sprouted a long, gnarled looking tree branch that slammed the Altmer into the wall, pinning him as further branches sprouted from the Argonian's body, surrounding the door and digging in to the stonework with its roots. The old man's eyes were lifeless, but the branches continued to creep about the room, each pulsing slightly with a dull orange glow.

Briarbird grunted, several ribs broken and shoulder dislocated, coughing his own blood and realised several thorny sections of the branch had stabbed into him. He sucked air through his teeth and found he had some ability to move, and his sword arm was fine. His blade was no axe, but he began chopping at the moving wood, making slow progress.

He became vaguely aware of the creeping plantlife moving along the walls. Suddenly, and more jarringly, the smell of burning wood. The Altmer looked at one of the torches lighting the room, the branches hovering over it, singeing, catching alight. The fresh wood took to the flame with unnatural fondness. The flame spread from the errant, reaching vine and flowed to Eyes-In-Stars' body, and then traveled along the large limb pinning himself.

“No...no NO NO NO!!!!”

The inn emptied as flames consumed the building. Another tragedy, more lives lost. People could be thankful only two lost theirs this night; an Imperial Agent, and a travelling potion peddler.

Elsewhere, on the outskirts of the Imperial city where the glow of the burning inn could barely be seen, a lone horseman braved the night, carefully packaged box in tow and bound for Chorrol.

10: Hope Springs Eternal

There was an unbalanced feel to Chorrol in the days since the incident at Hackdirt. The loss of four guardsmen, their families mourning and leaving much of the town rather sullen. Before this, though, Seed-Neeus and Dar-Ma had an emotional reunion the moment Katia's head came into view over the town walls. It wasn't much longer after this that Tar-Meena, full of rage and worry, arrived and helped Katia shrink down. Thankfully after a full debrief, the ageing Argonian mage apologised for some unkind initial words and congratulated them on their success, costly as it was.

That said, Katia and Quill-Weave earned their bounty that day. Herskjar the Unkind's days of banditry and murder were at an end, and while they were members of the Imperial Legion, being somewhat free agents meant they earned themselves a tidy sum; a sum they would keep aside for their retirement once Katia had finished her term in the Legion.

The money though was very much secondary to the relief that it was all over. Seed-Neeus went about arranging for Quill-Weave and Katia to have a small celebratory function at Castle Chorrol, while The Oak and Crosier was booked out for the families and closest friends of the lost guardsmen, again by the merchants pocket in thanks to their sacrifice. Priests from the local chapel were holding a wake in their honour ahead of Countess Arriana Valga's return for the full funerary arrangements.

Seed-Neeus at least realised that Quill-Weave needed some recovery time, as Dar-Ma did, after the harrowing experience. This also allowed the merchant to pull a few strings and have some more exotic fare brought in and delivered to the castle, so it suited everyone. Laythe Wavrick, the Countess' steward, happily gave permission for the Great Hall to host the small affair, which consisted of Quill, Katia, Dar-Ma, Seed-Neeus, Tar-Meena and Laythe himself serving as host, as well as ensuring things didn't go too out of hand.

Dar-Ma was looking almost fully recovered, while Quill-Weave still seemed a bit worse for wear. Healing spells were one thing, but there seemed to be some lingering damage on her body, which both her and Katia sadly realised they would have to take things easy for a while. That said, on the nights leading to the gathering were spent in gentle cuddles, kisses and light scale on fur antics were a fair compromise, and Katia made a reasonable bed for the ailing Argonian.

This lead to the gathering night in question.

The table was cluttered with ornamental tableware and fixings, the food was all manner of fine and decadent things, and in vast supply considering the size of two of the guests. Katia and Quill-Weave arrived together from the private quarters in the castle, with Dar-Ma and Seed-Neeus helping the castle staff arrange things.

The two giantess' were clad in freshly laundered and repaired clothing, lacking the time to have anything setting appropriate tailor made. The two conventionally sized Argonian's though were clad in finer dresses; This wasn't a huge revelation for Seed-Neeus, she always dressed for professionalism. Dar-Ma always had that a more casual maiden look to her instead of the current look of smooth, patterned and bright linens with a plunging neckline revealing her finer chest scales and ample hist-sacs forming a cleavage bordering on scandalous.

“Wow, she cleans up real good.” Katia mused, jealousy evident. Quill-Weave was unashamed to wrap an arm around the Khajiit's thigh and squeezing despite the number of people wandering the Great Hall who might be watching.

“Relax, Katty. I couldn't use her chest as a comfortable pillow, not to mention I'm pretty taken with a lot more meat on my girls now.” Quill dragged her hand from Katia's thigh up and gave her thick, muscled rump a firm squeeze. The Khajiit smiled down at the adoring gaze of her lover and continued to curse her slow recovery. Soon, she thought to herself, there wouldn't be a bed in existence that would survive what they planned to do to each other.

The table was set with a number of borrowed benches from the chapel, on one side. The robust construction and spread load clearly set for the giantess couple, while conventional and finer seats were positioned on the opposite side. The tall pair moved and sat, Quill-Weave first earning a solid clack of wood on stone as her weight settled the benches. Katia was far more cautious as she lowered her broad hips down. Weighing twice and a half as much as Quill-Weave, she winced as the wood creaked, but held. It wasn't a great deal better than the stone floor alone, but it was still an improvement.

The table, designed to seat twelve individuals, was lacking any extra surface space. Food and drink lay spread far and wide with exception to typical table settings for the three normally sized folk.

“Please, tuck in. This is largely for you two anyway. It's hardly a full thanks for saving my Dar-Ma, but enjoy yourselves” Seed-Neeus gestured to Quill and Katia, who gladly picked at the offerings of meat and vegetables. Wine jugs on offer were plentiful, and despite several of her personal demons having been defeated in recent days, Katia steered well clear, lapping at a water pail.

With everything settled, Dar-Ma and Seed-Neeus joined in, Laythe humbly only took a small portion of food for himself, knowing that he was imposing on the gathering. Even so, having the relative stranger in the room did make what could have been a more intimate conversation a bit more stiff.

“So, this Herskjar” Dar-Ma began “What's going to happen to him?”

“Oh, he's going to hang, but I understand the guards are trying to work out what he was doing in Hackdirt. We're not getting very far with them though, although we're beginning to suspect Mythic Dawn involvement. It's the sort of ritual nonsense they did taking Katia's blood that helped us draw that conclusion” Quill said. Katia couldn't help but feel her neck for a second, her peculiar growth based restoration left no scars but plenty of bad memories. More to the pile, thought and sighed.

“Yes, the Bosmer has been rather silent. Herskjar is noisier but not exactly what you would call compliant.” Laythe had largely been the liaison for the resting giantess' and the guards proper, owing to them still being off duty.

“Ugh, I'd rather just forget about them for the moment.” Katia grumbled, ripping into a whole, large chicken with her teeth as one would a single thigh.

“Can't say I blame you. Dar-Ma told me of her experiences, but being struck unconscious compared to having your neck gouged?” Seed-Neeus' expression looked sympathetically pained. “That you got back up and carried on....not everyone could do that.”

“That's really nice of you to say, but I've been brought pretty low before in other ways and had to climb back out of some pretty dark patches. That and I have people depending on me, I refuse to let them down any more. Besides, Quill was the one who saved me, which makes me feel even worse that it took me so long to save her from Herskjar” Katia smiled despite the obvious discomfort she felt at the feeling of being so close to death.

The Khajiit was briefly lost in thought. She had overcome alcoholism, despair, doubt, a shocking recovery from a general fear of sex that Quill had largely always supported her through, even further deepening her infatuation with her lover. In retrospect the nearness to dying really was one of the most horrifying things she had faced, and yet she had indeed pushed it aside and carried on.

She felt a sense of pride in herself that couldn't have existed until recently, and perked up from the reflection. Katia was learning to like this newer Katia; she had gumption, determination! She'd never had that before her actions in the Kvatch mage guild and it was growing vastly stronger each day since the Three Giants Debacle.

“Y'know what? This is just the first of a whole bunch of things me and Quill will do, for all of you and everyone out there. We'll be heroes because of who we are and not because of what happened to us two months ago. Screw the Three Giants Debacle!” Katia pumped a fist, barely resisting the urge to thump the table.

Quill-Weave couldn't help but laugh heartily at the enthusiasm on display. Dar-Ma looked with surprise at the outburst, having never seen her former lover so relaxed, so filled with joy. Dar-Ma looked down and then seemed a little sad.

“Sure thing, Katty. Just give me a little longer to get over these burn wounds and we'll go right out and hunt another Daedric Lord, eh?” She took a pitcher of wine and knocked it back, only to discover theilul within. She had to stop, swallow and cough.

“Wow, proper stuff. Nice one, Seed-Neeus” Quill winked at the mature Argonian.

“Only the best for Dar-Ma's saviours....on that note. I dare to ask, but I want an answer.” Seed-Neeus clasped her fingers together, elbows on the table. She went to ask a question that Dar-Ma interjected into.

“I guess this still means it's still over between us?” She said, slightly tight throated. Laythe, already feeling a third wheel, felt the urge to leave although instead focused on his food as the discussion went into affairs beyond even his station.

“Dar-Ma....” Quill knocked back a little more courage from the jug. “You're a special woman, one I'll never forget. I was a complete bitch to you, and you deserve better than a indecisive, stiff asshole like me.”

“You're not, Quill! We both made mistakes, but....” Dar-Ma's eyes went wet, and Quill-Weave had seen this all play out before. She stood, and walked away.

“I need some air.” Quill grunted and stormed out. Seed-Neeus watched as Quill left, and put a hand on Dar-Ma's shoulder. The young Argonian maiden drummed her clawtips on the table, and went to stand.

“Dar-Ma....can we talk? Privately?” Katia said, her gaze firm but slightly sad.

“Uh....sure.”

The two walked upstairs, away from the remaining two seated folk at the table, who silently picked at the still plentiful food.

Upstairs, and squeezing through a few doorways to the private quarters she and Quill had been using, Katia waited for Dar-Ma to enter before closing the door, crawling then sitting on the carpet by a low stoked fireplace.

“Dar-Ma. Listen to me. No matter what happens here today, I can tell you right here and now you'll always have a part in Quill's heart. She's dreamed about your last meeting, several times I think. It tears her apart each time. You saved her from a number of doubts, and I know you're a really special person, and not just to her.”

Katia fiddled with her fingers, trying to figure out how to phrase what needed to be said against what she wanted to say. Dar-Ma took a seat facing Katia, dabbing her eyes on a sleeve.

“She's just not really good at saying these things, but I'm afraid I'll have to be the selfish one here; just as you helped her, Quill saved me from a really dark place. Shit, places, even” Katia gave a fairly deep insight into her life, before and after her original rebirth as Katia Managan. She detailed her every failure, stupid move and failing.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Dar-Ma finally responded.

“Without Quill-Weave supporting me, despite having broken up with you, I don't think I would still be here. The simple belief I could deliver a letter, recover a book....Quill means everything to me now, and without her, I'll be lost again. A failure, a drunken whore no good to anyone.”

“You know, it's fine....I understand. I guess I never really saw Quill as she is now. You obviously give her a type of joy I don't think I could. You're happy together, and that's what matters. That laugh when you said about being heroes.” Despite her wet eyes, Dar-Ma smiled. “I couldn't do that.”

“No! You absolutely could. I know you...Quill told me so much about you, it's changed the way I think about her. One day you'll find that person and I know, and I swear, hand on heart, you're going to inspire them to do tremendous, amazing things!” She couldn't resist plucking the tiny Argonian from the chair and bringing her into an embrace.

“I don't know if I'll ever be able to explain to you how” Katia voice was on the verge on cracking “but you're the reason we have this bond. I owe you everything, and if you EVER need anything from me, ask it, and I'll move the earth to do it.”

They shared a few moments, before Katia lowered Dar-Ma to the ground.

“Hah, I guess I'll have to concede defeat...you're a good person, Katia Managan. You tread on yourself a lot with a lot of weight, but you're still standing. I'd consider it a deep honour to call you a friend. For now though...c'mon, let's get back to dinner.” The pair moved back to the door.

Outside Castle Chorrol, and minutes before...

Quill-Weave was pacing about the castle gate. She thought she was beyond this sort of self-doubt, the dramatics, but Dar-Ma was too close to Quill's heart. It was something she hoped wouldn't either come up or she would have come up with a solution on demand. It was ultimately fruitless.

The sound of an approaching horse drew her attention, a thankful distraction. A dark horse seating an Imperial man clutching a sturdy satchel. He drew near and had a bemused grin at handing his cargo, a rope and wax sealed box, to someone above him rather than below.

“Fair evening, Ms. Quill-Weave. A delivery courtesy of a friend. I'll say no more.” He politely waited for her to take the box, waved to her and moved back off into the night.

Quill-Weave moved to a torch, and plucked the ropes away with her claws, opening the box. Within, shreds of paper, a tiny bottle bound in thin strips of bark, and a sealed scroll. Quill sat on the floor, pulling the sealed paper from the box and closing the lid to protect the bottle.

She gently broke the seal and read the page.

“Greetings, Quill-Weave.

“I hope this letter finds you well, and moreso I hope you within the embrace of a certain Khajiit or Argonian. Either way, I wish you happiness. These joyous moments can be fraught with painful steps, and yours is a stride longer than most.

“I have sent this because I fear I am not long for this world. I would ask forgiveness ahead of time for what I plan to do, but if I have performed my duties, please rest assured nothing will change for now and so I can only ask forgiveness for what you may be subjected to.

“This bottle contains the potential final steps of my plans. If you do not trust me, and if you're as smart as you seem you likely don't, then discard the bottle and think nothing of it, and you can at least hold a small spot in your mind for an old fool of an Argonian worth a toast; I have lived long enough and have no regrets.

“If you believe in fate though, and believe that I am a force of good in a troubled world, then I ask that you drink. Understand that it will exact a toll upon you, as all turns of fate are often do. This is all the more important a reason as to why you have found your 'captain' to your ample 'ship'-like self, no? You will rely on this stability to endure this test, should you undertake it. Know that by undertaking this, you will enact a change I feel is crucial.

“May the root guide you, and with luck, based on your choice, I will see you again.

Eyes-In-Stars.”

Quill-Weave stared at the page and read through it a few times. She thought of Eyes-In-Stars as fairly instrumental in what she had become, despite their brief time together. She wouldn't say father figure, that would be cliché, but certainly a more worldly-wise fellow that had helped her in her struggles at a critical time.

She opened the box, took the bottle, and tugged the small cork out with her teeth. She smelled hist sap, along with something she couldn't discern.

“You're a weird old coot, Eiss.... but I need to see you again. To Oblivion to what comes from this.” Quill-Weave poured the phial into her mouth. She waited for the same conditions as last time, passing out and dreaming of distorted memories, only none emerged. Just the same ache in her stomach, the nerves of dealing with Dar-Ma.

As if sent by the Divines themselves, Dar-Ma emerged from the castle doors. She spotted Quill-Weave and dashed to her.

“Oh, thank goodness. Quill, I'm sorry. I had a very interesting talk with Katia. Do you know how much you mean to her? It's not the healthiest state of mind, and I hope you know what you're getting into, but I'll be damned if I want to see her come to harm because of our broken relationship.”

“I know....she's got a lot of problems, but compared to how she was? I mean she's still a crybaby. She's still dense at times, but damn if she isn't trying. It's admirable, it's what made me give her a chance, just a small thing like delivering letters. That she keeps crashing down and standing up again. Suddenly she's capable of all sorts of amazing feats and I have to admit, I'm curious to see how far she'll go with someone to support her all the way. I love her more because of how much she has changed, without me even wishing her to.”

“Heh, bit of a far cry from you, I guess?” Dar-Ma put a hand on Quill's shoulder “You were so sure of your place in things, you wouldn't change for anything. Then suddenly you're a giant, working for the Imperial Legion and know magic. If I didn't know better, I'd say you're still hatching.”

Quill thought of Eyes-In-Stars, who told her much the same. Her heart fluttered as she realised she knew all these amazing people with a deeper understanding of Quill as a person instead of her own studies for her books; it was a kindness she didn't realise she needed in her life. The ache in her stomach faded; a break in a cloudy heart and a bright sun on a foggy mind. Quill-Weave's dry humour seeped back into form.

“See, that's why we can't work. You're too good a person. I need damage, I guess. I need forceful poking and shoving and, no offence, but I don't see you shoving me any time soon.” Quill suddenly smiled wickedly. She stood, and lifted Dar-Ma off the ground, pulling her into a deep hug while spinning her around, earning a slightly panicked giggle from the tiny Argonian maiden. Words no longer felt appropriate, the squeeze of tiny arms around Quill's neck were enough in response to the gesture.

“I'll never forget you.” Dar-Ma whispered as Quill stopped spinning around.

“Shut up, Darmy...you're not getting rid of me that easily. You're still dear to me, but like I said, I think we work better as friends. My dearest friend at that.” Quill dabbed her tongue on Dar-Ma's cheek and let her gently down.

“So, next time you visit, we're totally going to teach Katia freerunning. I won't be completely happy until I get one over on her, and Akatosh knows I can't compete in many ways besides.”

“That's fair. Should be easier than teaching you; seem to remember you still smack your muzzle with your bust performing a backwards table roll.” Quill snickered, wiggling her tongue in a mocking way. She collecting the delivered box and started back towards the castle doors. Dar-Ma gave an exaggerated huff.

“Oh, you didn't just say that! Get your enormous ass back here! You still can't hit the broad side of a barn with an arrow, so it's no wonder you've gone for someone with a butt literally as big as a house!” She ran after the fellow Argonian, slapping her thigh. “It is one impressive butt though. You've still got amazing taste.” They laughed together, a heavy weight left behind after so long.

The gathering managed to resume with fair success, small talk and more for a solid hour with the air cleared and tensions eased. Quill managed to get through three full jugs of theilul and several bottles of wine besides, leaving her swaying in an uncharacteristic fashion despite her usual resistance as a heavy drinking Argonian. As midnight rolled around, the mother and daughter guests wished everyone farewell and left, Laythe also knew the remaining couple could find their way back to the guest quarters.

Quill was stumbled as she stood. Her hands landed heavily on the table, knocking off a few plates which shattered in the otherwise calm atmosphere.

“Damn, Quilly. I think someone needs a nice, comfortable sleep on in the Katia suite.” the Khajiit stood, sweeping the Argonian off of her feet and into a bridal carry. Quill responded by resting her head on Katia's breast, sighing contendedly.

“Y-yeah, that shounds reeeaaall nice...” Quill murmered, before beginning to snore loudly. Katia barely held a giggle, trying her utmost not to disturb her lovers sleep, and cautiously headed upstairs to their guest quarters. Getting through the door was interesting, although the joys of Khajiit agility allowed her to slink through while keeping Quill settled.

The bedframe was bare, the actual bedding proper placed on the floor, along with several spare blankets and mattresses from storage. It was possibly the most comfortable bed Katia had ever slept on post growth, and while Quill didn't get the direct benefits, she seemed to rather enjoy the furred, firm body option.

Katia however opted to let Quill rest off, and instead she settled on the hard stone floor nearby. She was well familiar with sleeping rough by now, it made little difference to her, and this was still far more comfortable owing to the warmth. She threw a few logs into the dimming fire and watched Quill-Weave while she waited for her own fatigue to let her sleep.

Eventually, she saw Quill-Weave frown, moving and shivering as discomfort visited the Argonian even as she continued to sleep. Katia closed her eyes, and reached out into the beyond once more, seeking Quill's dreaming mind.

The closeness and familiarity made it easy to locate her; she approached the warm glow that Quill was represented by, and felt around her, trying to see if anything was amiss.

Unlike the ability to enter a dream aspect as she had before, Katia had no frame of reference at all, and she likewise was afraid to possess Quill-Weave directly in case whatever was disturbing her afflicted herself and made the situation worse.

Suddenly, there was a second entity, pulled from far away. It was faint, distant and lacked presence for a moment, but it grew stronger as Katia tried to identify it. Whatever it was, it was resisting her ability to feel it. Eventually, she tried something she hadn't actually thought of before; manifesting herself.

Giving form to new, alien senses shocked Katia deeply; trying to see when you lack eyes or an entity to look through was harder than she thought. Despite any reservations she still held, she tried again, and again, each attempt drawing more insight into what to expect. Finally she created eyes and could hear an ambience; flowing water filling both.

They were by a vast expanse of water, she couldn't see the opposite bank. It flowed nothing like a sea or ocean though, yet the trees all around and muddy grass beneath and behind her reminded her of a swamp. A truly vast tree awaited where the water flowed, a vast shadow in the distance, it seemed to glow slightly with an orange hue. There at the waterside stood Quill-Weave; looking across the flow, at another Argonian. An old man, Katia supposed by his worn scales, standing on a tiny islet. He was dark blue of colour, deep red and purple highlights, his right arm missing and clad in grey robes. Katia realised that everyone was more conventionally sized here, including her own presence was eye-level with Quill.

“I was wondering if you'd poke your nose in; welcome!” The male Argonian spoke in a smooth, even tone despite the usual racial rasp. Quill-Weave turned and looked at Katia, or whatever imitation she appeared as; the Khajiit couldn't tell.

“Katia? Is that you?”

“It's her, I'm not sure if she can talk though; we're communicating through the root, and by bond thanks to that phial, and she's something of an uninvited guest, but I extend a claw of greeting all the same, mighty Khajiit” He offered a bow. “I have heard much of your exploits, but more than anything, it is an honour to meet one who consumes so much of Quill-Weave's heart.”

Katia tried to respond, but as the old Argonian had noted, her imperfect form here left her an observer, and nothing more.

“So....hm, how to go about this...” He tapped his chin in thought “Firstly, I offer my deepest thanks for trusting me, despite my rather ominous note. I promise that whatever comes, if what comes to pass is as I anticipate, I dare say many lives will be saved in the grand scheme of things.”

“Damn it, Eiss! No riddles, just tell me what's going on?” Quill stepped up to the edge of the water, visibly frustrated with fists clenching.

Eiss, to his credit, nodded although he hesitated for a moment.

“Very well, I can tell you much, but not the goal. Too much rides on unknowns remaining such.” He stepped onto the water, but rather than sinking, his bare feet sank maybe half an inch into the endlessly wide river, unhindered by the rapid flow.

“I have passed from Tamriel. I was slain by one of your fellow Agents of the Empire. This was expected though.”

“No...” Quill gasped, voice cracking as she clutched her muzzle, sorrow spreading on her expression. Eiss smiled in response, shaking his head.

“Do not mourn for me, child. I have lived a long and storied life. I have had twenty children, three spouses and....damn, I dread to think how many short term loves. I have seen the highest mountains of Skyrim and secrets hidden in the seas long thought forgotten. I did not deserve such a rich life. And yet....I must ask a selfish request all the same.” He took another step.

“So...what is this all about?” Quill controlled her breathing, inhaling deeply even as she seemed on the edge of breaking.

“I have put into motion something that requires my bond with the Root. As such, while my body may die, I cannot let my soul return home to be cleansed and given to another. It is a deeply selfish request to disobey this most vital aspect of our kind, but that is why this isn't an easy request. You've already shown much trust in me by consuming the ritual sap. Dare I ask one more boon?” He stepped again, only this time he struggled. The water rippled and his foot sank down to the shin. He winced and looked down into the depths.

“Name it, Eyes-In-Stars. I owe you so much more than-”

“I appreciate the sentiment, child, but this is no small request. Listen carefully; I am asking to be reborn.”

Quill-Weave stepped back, wide eyed and mouth open in shocked realisation. Eyes-In-Stars didn't wait for her to collect herself, his face lost all softness and grew deathly serious.

“It is nothing as base as impregnation, I would never sully you for that purpose and the phial contained nothing from me; just concentrated sap and a sliver of hist-root. You, my dear, belong to Katia and the opposite holds true. I would have ended my life myself if I would dare force this upon you.

“No, this rebirth is of the soul alone. There is a rite half completed, the phial reconnected you to the root, and the letter was there to make you think of me, bonding my soul to you temporarily. It is a secret thing, a lost art of repurposing used usually for deeply stained souls to be forced to live in penance for their crimes against the Saxhleel. To be reborn not of love or lust, but of great cleansing and retribution of purpose, a chance to make amends. I will be your child, a parentage of the Root and yourself alone, but with my soul to carry on my work.”

“What is this fucking work!? This plan?? Tell me!” Quill snapped back at last, fist clenched teeth bared.

“I cannot say, child; to tell you would invite ruin to the plan, you would be able to intervene and throw things into disarray. It IS for the benefit of every man, mer, Khajiit and Saxhleel. I swear on everything I hold dear, this is so. Quill-Weave, the choice is yours.” He stepped again, only to sink into the water proper, getting dragged downstream but he didn't resist. Quill-Weave looked about, back at Katia, who couldn't even respond if she wanted to, unable to even structure what was going on with her tenuous grasp in Quill's mind.

Quill-Weave then took a deep breath, and dived into the river. The experienced sea-swimming Argonian pounded through the water, tail writhing for extra propulsion, and grabbed the aged man, dragging him across to where Katia remained, unable to act.

As they reached the riverbank, and both came ashore, Eyes-In-Stars gasped as his missing arm sprouted anew in a twist of exposed muscle, then skin and scales sprouting in layers. A limb with fresh, unspoiled scales compared to his old and worn counterpart. His world battered body refreshed, maturation running in reverse.

“Thank you....you have no idea what this means to me, and I hope raising me will give me the chance to repay you everything you deserve. But allow me to offer some immediate form of reward though.” He stood with ease, fresh and young as he must have now been in his twenties at most. He stepped towards Katia, and pressed his hand into her being.

Katia felt something deep within draw from her, a small aspect, gently taken as one would prune an overgrown plant. A small wisp of Katia's soul bonded with Eyes-In-Stars, and his green eyes turned a bright, lucid yellow.

“It seems only fair if I am to be your child as well, Katia Managan. Incompatible as our races are in the blood, the soul is always flexible and willing. I welcome your surging spirit, your power and flaws just as Quill-Weave has. I look forward to knowing you deeply, it does much to quell my regrets in not knowing you as I am. You are clearly a woman of great purpose and kindess.” He smiled, the scale tones gaining a paler tinge, a bright palette. He turned back to Quill-Weave as he began to shrink, a reversal of adolescence.

“I feel I am going to be in the safest of hands. You'll be great parents! Both of you!” He said, energetic and excitable as he couldn't be older than ten, smothered in his grey robes. He approached Quill-Weave and wrapped his arms around her waist. His scales changed again, Quill's red tones overpowering many others with only the barest telltale lines of blue and purple remaining.

“It will take time for me to recall everything, but when the time comes, I will thank you again, and a thousand times more. Many years to come yet, so please, enjoy motherhood; it was a fascinating adventure for me in my time as a female.” He said, a delightful squeaky voice as his form shrank down to infancy. His form then began to break apart, vanishing into the same wisp-like consistancy as Katia's form, drawn into Quill-Weave's lower abdomen.

Then, as things drew to a close; both awoke in in unison, daylight in the window in Castle Chorrol's guest room. They looked at each other, then down at Quill-Weave's marginally distended belly, then back at one another.

“The fuck...?” Both said to each other.

Epilogue.

In the blistering midday sun, the city of Kvatch struggled to carry on the rebuilding work assigned to each citizen and hire. One man, though, had found great purpose in hard work. A tan and white furred Khajiiti male, bare chested with simple sack trousers and sandals, was moving bricks by a barrow from a delivery near the entrance to several houses. People of all races watched from shaded areas as the Khajiit moved with intense drive and even managed to smile to the occasional onlooker he passed near.

Ra'adiir felt pride for the first time since his childhood. People called him by name with respect and kindness. They did not bully or belittle him, or threaten him if he made mistakes. He was making peoples lives better, and his heart fluttered still from an encounter the previous night. A pretty Khajiiti woman with a long mane gave him a wink, called him handsome. No-one had said that to him before!

He finished delivering a fresh pile of bricks for his side of town hours ahead of schedule. Ra'adiir moved into the shade, panting heavily; his body ached, but he felt better than he ever had.

The city guard captain, Gaius Atrus, approached. He was a broad man, thick of greying beard and stern of gaze.

“Ra'adiir, good to see you're sticking to your labours. Most criminals just ignore it and wait it out.” He didn't smile, but he looked less severe than normal.

“Ra'adiir has spent too long being bullied into poor places and poorer choices. This one feels like the people actually like Ra'adiir here!” The Khajiit smiled in earnest as one of the children helping the workers, passing out cups from a community barrel, handed him a full flagon and returned to his rounds. He lapped at it before pouring the refreshing liquid half down his throat and letting it spill down him, the coolness soaking his fur.

“Hmph, well, glad to hear it. Keep it up, I might have words with the Imperial contractors overseeing the project; they're always happy to take on hard workers. Once you've served your term, that is.” The captain nodded and carried on his rounds. Ra'adiir leaned against a wall, a cool breeze wafting against his wetted fur and enjoying the brief sensation as he gazed skyward.

“Water's all well and good” Another voice, slightly slurred, nearby. Ra'adiir flinched as the unexpected man was beside him; hooded, dressed darkly. The stranger offered a wineskin.

“Care for something a bit stronger?”

“This one shouldn't....Ra'adiir is trying to make a better man of himself. I don't want to let anyone down.”

“That's respectable.” The stranger sat down next to him. The Khajiit couldn't quite make out his face, although he swore he saw red hair on dark skin.

“If Ra'adiir can make his own way in life, maybe Ra'adiir can look his parents in their eyes again. This one thought he could be a hero, but....”

“Heroes come from all walks at weird and strange times. Strange times have gone by, giant Khajiit's and Argonian's and Daedric princes meddling. More are due to come, and y'know what friend? I think you've got a hint of destiny about ya.” The stranger's mouth could be seen; his skin was very dark in both the shade from above and his hood, his slightly pointed teeth gleamed in a smile.

“You think so?” Ra'adiir's ears wiggled slightly as the stranger held out the wineskin again.

“Sure, let me tell you a little something about destiny. It's a long topic, have a drink and let's relax a spell.” The stranger smiled wider as Ra'adiir took the skin.

Ra'adiir suddenly awoke in a strange field, alone. His head throbbed; He looked out at a late evening, a statue of a woman before him; she was robed, holding a pointed staff in one hand and fierce of face. The Khajiit suddenly felt something in one of his hands; a crystal of deep, dark colouration.

A Dunmer in black robes approached him, long hair whipping about in the wind.

“You have brought the offering as required, friend. Go now, and speak to Lord Vaermina. She has a task for you.”

Ra'adiir groaned and held his head. He hated Cyrodiil.

Meanwhile, far to the west;

A trio of robed figures wandered through a forest. They passed a town, keeping a safe distance, burnt structures both old and fresh, ground torn open to a cave system below. This unusual settlement wasn't the three figures' target. Indeed, they wandered towards a set of Alyeid ruins, noticing a bloody handprint on the pristine stone.

The leading figure crouched by the print, and lifted a large container, covered in dried blood. Within swirled fresher fare, unnaturally well kept. He turned, and raised the container, the other two figures knelt in reverence.

“Behold, the blood of she who consumed of Mehrunes Dagon! Behold, she who shall be his bride! The time of Merrunz, of The Ja'Khajiit shall be, now female for Mehrunes Dagon's purposes! Their union will usher in the great change! We have work to do, brethren of the Mythic Dawn! We shall rise again!”

The End