Tumjuk / KrulkarApr 27, 2014Apr 27, 2014 at 07:01 AM
#1
"Will you have me now, Sithis? Am I to finally swim to your waters?"
Ask-For-Seconds felt those words, his words, churn in his mind as he groaned and sighed with a cracked, dry throat. He couldn't see through his eyes, and every vein ached with each beat of his heart as it labored to push blood through them, but by the gods it did pump. He clenched his eyes, wincing from a sudden stabbing of a headache, and cloudy visions flowed through his brain, the Hist infused from his hatching jumpstarting his memory that was otherwise completely void of such a thing at this point.
"We are not of these sands, this one needs you to help extend our hand in these new regions. He saw Ri'sari speaking to him on a beach, next to a mudcrab split in two. "You are the only one this one can trust with such a task." The vision blurred through soundless pictures, and Ri'sari was now walking away. "This one did not ask you..."
Asks-For-Seconds shuddered, laying on a hard surface. His dull claws slowly clenched with his hand, scraping against stone.
"Ah! The Cook! This one is pleased to see you once again!" the image of Ja'Kasim came with the loud, friendly voice, his arms out wide in greeting. "Come follow, Ri'sari says you have a lesson to give this one. He said you would know what that means." A haze shifted the pictures to show him looking at the face of S'har, offering him a drink. Asks-For-Seconds watched his own hands mix the drink with his own, and S'har smoothly drifting back to watch two other associates spar in a warehouse without drinking himself. Then the visions became cloudy, and all Khajiit eyes were upon him before the Argonian subconsciously found himself saying the last thing he said when the poison took him.
"Will you have me now Sithis?" He rasped out weakly on the cold stone floor. "Am I finally to swim to your waters...?" His eyes opened again. At first he could only see a murky red, his calculating mind beginning to get back to work by deducing that veins had ruptured from the ingestion of whatever toxin they had given him. It must have been strong, very strong. His dry tongue curled against the roof of his mouth as he tried, in vain, to remember the properties he experienced. The Hist, however, was not so generous with such details.
A sound came from nearby, light feet slowly approached. Asks-For-Seconds had shifted and pushed himself to sit up with a audible grunt that he was unable to control in the arduous process. He reached for his favorite cleaver he always had wrapped in leather at his side, but moving too slowly, the steps heralded a Khajiit in the bloodwashed view of the Argonian.
"Aahhh, 'Seconds! This one is pleased to see you finally awake - was starting to get worried. Here, I have just prepared some tea." It was Push'tar, one of the Company's associates involved with bookkeeping, though often, as now, filled a role of domestic hospitality. He had set a tray of kettles and cups on a nearby table, humming some tune foreign to Asks-For-Seconds. "Ja'Kasim said you had quite too much to drink under last night's moons." The Khajiit gave an honest, friendly smile. "This one did not know Argonians could get drunk. This tea should help with your next-morning sluggishness."
Ask-For-Seconds forced a smile as he sat against the wall on the floor, watching his hand clench and unclench. His parched words slowly gathered strength as Push'tar began pouring and mixing sugars. "Hehhh... A learning experience... I should not have underestimated Elseweyr's strength in rum..."
Push'tar chuckled and nodded without a word, and moved to assist the Argonian to a seat before serving him tea, which took some effort, which was politely unaddressed, due to the almost-dead weight of Ask-For-Seconds' thick girth. For some time, there was only silence between the two. Push'tar was a good host who knew that few enjoyed another's prattling while suffering a hangover, and the Argonian himself circulated in his private thoughts, trying to put together more pieces from what little he could remember. Questions burned within him. None of it made any sense as to why this had come to pass, the elaborate set-up, the poison. By the strength of it, it was clear that death was the intention, but now he wondered why Push'tar was here with tea and this story of overdrinking. Perhaps his death was to be seen as unintentional?
"Where is Ja'Kasim?" The tea helped smooth out his voice.
Push'tar gave a small smile after a sip of his tea. "This one would wager that he rests in some alley somewhere; he did not seem in terribly all together when he left you here."
"And Ri'sari?"
"Oh, he left this morning after discussing something with S'har and the bosmer and this one thinks perhaps the Dro's." Push'tar gave a small shrug. "This one was busy with cleaning and did not hear what they spoke of, but they should return soon. I was asked to prepare for another meeting, and to look after you."
To be the one to discover the Argonian was dead, no doubt...
Asks-For-Seconds smiled, and bowed his head. "Thank you, Push'tar, you are most kind." He then slowly rose from his chair, and stretched about with a loud yawn, scratching his belly, and looked about the otherwise quiet hall. He began pacing about and wandering in the room, warming up his legs while he drained tea into his maw. "Well, since I'm awake, I should prepare something for their pleasure at this meeting. What did the grocer bring to the larder this morning? Unless I've been sleeping for days, we should have received the Loredas shipment today, yes?" He chuckled fatly.
Push'tar looked to his teacup with a calm, but pleasant grin and a mirthful purr. "Yes, you will be happy to know that only the morning was missed. Let this one think... many eggs this morning, as well as honey and saltrice, hmmm.. flour! Yes, flour, and for herbs this one believes he had che--" Push'tar's words were suddenly interrupted, the Khajiit's nose diving into his teacup, instantly shattering the fine clay vessel as the poor bookkeeper's arms slacked off the sides of the table, his shoulders slumped, a thick cleaver wedged deeply in to the back of his head, which now displayed prominently like a woodsman's axe in a stump.
Asks-For-Seconds refastened the loosened leather thongs that recently kept his favorite kitchen tool in place, and looked upon the poor Khajiit with a thoughtful stare. "I think you have just prepared for this meeting quite nicely, Push'tar...Thank you again." The Argonian bowed his head, and muttered quietly. "May you find the River of the Void peacefully..." He then set down his emptied tea cup on the tray, and left, letting the cleaver remain behind to greet the others upon their aforementioned return.
The two poor bouncers of the safehouse made for less poignant messages than the cleaver, their chests somehow rended open by what seemed to have been some magical assault, and their hearts were removed and missing by more gruesome, mundane means. They were the last to see Asks-For-Seconds for some time, though his works to come made it clear he had not vanished for good.
==============================================================================
Inianil Aedire looked from her quill to the small statuette on her desk, an homage to Auri-el, and the sunlight from her office's window slowly creeping towards it for the briefest of moments before returning to her writing. It had been a peculiar week for her station in Auridon. As if infiltration from the Veiled Heritance and Maomer coastal raids weren't enough to consider in collaboration with the Dominions present forces, recently her office had received a report from her subordinants that Khajiit civilians were turning up dead around Vuhlkel Guard over the last week. This in itself was hardly a matter worth the aging officer's time, but the fact that no one had been reporting these murders, was.
She flicked her sunburst gold eyes to the statuette again. The light had begun to shine upon it, and Inianil looked to the closed door before her from her desk. She looked back at the statue, and when the light had just began to illuminate beyond the statuette, her lips pursed. The door opened.
"My Lady Justicar," the young male altmer in gold and ochre armor said in announcement, tightly saluting in perfect Thalmor fashion. "I have a report on-"
"You have nothing for this office until you can explain to me the importance of punctuality, Errant...!" Inianil's voice was sharp, crisp, and drastically authoritative. Though her face remained emotionless, she had little trouble in conveying her displeasure.
The Thalmor Errant's eyes briefly looked upon the statuette of Auri-el on the desk, and the light that had moved just inches beyond it, and bowed his head in submission. "My Lady Justicar, my utmost regrets. Of course." He straightened himself and held his arms in salute. "We of the Thalmor, the Crystalline Hand, must always display ourselves as representation of the height of true and infallible Aldmeri essence, blessed by Auri-el, and in this allow all to know the pinnacle of civil order, for all to be able to look up and see Altmer rule as perfect as the Crystal Tower itself."
Inianil set her quill down, and pressed her hands together at their fingertips. "You must be reminded that this is especially so on this island, Errant. Khajiit and Bosmer and all manner of flotsam are washing onto the shores to be welcomed by the Summerset, and we must always stand in reminder to what host they have latched onto. Do not be late again."
"Yes, Lady Justicar."
"Now, your report."
"It is in regards to the warehouse fire reported in Vuhlkel Guard, Justicar. We have discovered from the Guardsmen that something unexpected was found in the remains."
Inianil remained silent, and gave but the slightest gesture with her brow to signal the Errant to go on.
"Skooma bottles, Lady Justicar. Crates of them, hidden under a trap door that was destroyed in the fire. ...It's an unsual brand, not in our records. Our mages are looking into it. It appears something rather upscale."
Inianil let out a small sigh, looking at the one of the two banners of her order flanking the door. "Well, we can't have that now can we? I suppose at least they were respectful enough to bring their best to Auridon." There was, of course, nothing joyful in her tone. She gave a curt nod. "This is exactly the reason of why we must maintain our image, Errant. Increase our presence in Vulkhel Guard, and have our investigators look into finding a relation between the fire and these Khajiit murders. Dismissed."
The Errant gave another salute and left, closing the door behind him. Inianil took a deep breath, and looked to the statuette, touching the finely carved work of art with delicate fingers. "Oh Ayrenn.., don't let this be your first mistake as Queen."
Ask-For-Seconds felt those words, his words, churn in his mind as he groaned and sighed with a cracked, dry throat. He couldn't see through his eyes, and every vein ached with each beat of his heart as it labored to push blood through them, but by the gods it did pump. He clenched his eyes, wincing from a sudden stabbing of a headache, and cloudy visions flowed through his brain, the Hist infused from his hatching jumpstarting his memory that was otherwise completely void of such a thing at this point.
"We are not of these sands, this one needs you to help extend our hand in these new regions. He saw Ri'sari speaking to him on a beach, next to a mudcrab split in two. "You are the only one this one can trust with such a task." The vision blurred through soundless pictures, and Ri'sari was now walking away. "This one did not ask you..."
Asks-For-Seconds shuddered, laying on a hard surface. His dull claws slowly clenched with his hand, scraping against stone.
"Ah! The Cook! This one is pleased to see you once again!" the image of Ja'Kasim came with the loud, friendly voice, his arms out wide in greeting. "Come follow, Ri'sari says you have a lesson to give this one. He said you would know what that means." A haze shifted the pictures to show him looking at the face of S'har, offering him a drink. Asks-For-Seconds watched his own hands mix the drink with his own, and S'har smoothly drifting back to watch two other associates spar in a warehouse without drinking himself. Then the visions became cloudy, and all Khajiit eyes were upon him before the Argonian subconsciously found himself saying the last thing he said when the poison took him.
"Will you have me now Sithis?" He rasped out weakly on the cold stone floor. "Am I finally to swim to your waters...?" His eyes opened again. At first he could only see a murky red, his calculating mind beginning to get back to work by deducing that veins had ruptured from the ingestion of whatever toxin they had given him. It must have been strong, very strong. His dry tongue curled against the roof of his mouth as he tried, in vain, to remember the properties he experienced. The Hist, however, was not so generous with such details.
A sound came from nearby, light feet slowly approached. Asks-For-Seconds had shifted and pushed himself to sit up with a audible grunt that he was unable to control in the arduous process. He reached for his favorite cleaver he always had wrapped in leather at his side, but moving too slowly, the steps heralded a Khajiit in the bloodwashed view of the Argonian.
"Aahhh, 'Seconds! This one is pleased to see you finally awake - was starting to get worried. Here, I have just prepared some tea." It was Push'tar, one of the Company's associates involved with bookkeeping, though often, as now, filled a role of domestic hospitality. He had set a tray of kettles and cups on a nearby table, humming some tune foreign to Asks-For-Seconds. "Ja'Kasim said you had quite too much to drink under last night's moons." The Khajiit gave an honest, friendly smile. "This one did not know Argonians could get drunk. This tea should help with your next-morning sluggishness."
Ask-For-Seconds forced a smile as he sat against the wall on the floor, watching his hand clench and unclench. His parched words slowly gathered strength as Push'tar began pouring and mixing sugars. "Hehhh... A learning experience... I should not have underestimated Elseweyr's strength in rum..."
Push'tar chuckled and nodded without a word, and moved to assist the Argonian to a seat before serving him tea, which took some effort, which was politely unaddressed, due to the almost-dead weight of Ask-For-Seconds' thick girth. For some time, there was only silence between the two. Push'tar was a good host who knew that few enjoyed another's prattling while suffering a hangover, and the Argonian himself circulated in his private thoughts, trying to put together more pieces from what little he could remember. Questions burned within him. None of it made any sense as to why this had come to pass, the elaborate set-up, the poison. By the strength of it, it was clear that death was the intention, but now he wondered why Push'tar was here with tea and this story of overdrinking. Perhaps his death was to be seen as unintentional?
"Where is Ja'Kasim?" The tea helped smooth out his voice.
Push'tar gave a small smile after a sip of his tea. "This one would wager that he rests in some alley somewhere; he did not seem in terribly all together when he left you here."
"And Ri'sari?"
"Oh, he left this morning after discussing something with S'har and the bosmer and this one thinks perhaps the Dro's." Push'tar gave a small shrug. "This one was busy with cleaning and did not hear what they spoke of, but they should return soon. I was asked to prepare for another meeting, and to look after you."
To be the one to discover the Argonian was dead, no doubt...
Asks-For-Seconds smiled, and bowed his head. "Thank you, Push'tar, you are most kind." He then slowly rose from his chair, and stretched about with a loud yawn, scratching his belly, and looked about the otherwise quiet hall. He began pacing about and wandering in the room, warming up his legs while he drained tea into his maw. "Well, since I'm awake, I should prepare something for their pleasure at this meeting. What did the grocer bring to the larder this morning? Unless I've been sleeping for days, we should have received the Loredas shipment today, yes?" He chuckled fatly.
Push'tar looked to his teacup with a calm, but pleasant grin and a mirthful purr. "Yes, you will be happy to know that only the morning was missed. Let this one think... many eggs this morning, as well as honey and saltrice, hmmm.. flour! Yes, flour, and for herbs this one believes he had che--" Push'tar's words were suddenly interrupted, the Khajiit's nose diving into his teacup, instantly shattering the fine clay vessel as the poor bookkeeper's arms slacked off the sides of the table, his shoulders slumped, a thick cleaver wedged deeply in to the back of his head, which now displayed prominently like a woodsman's axe in a stump.
Asks-For-Seconds refastened the loosened leather thongs that recently kept his favorite kitchen tool in place, and looked upon the poor Khajiit with a thoughtful stare. "I think you have just prepared for this meeting quite nicely, Push'tar...Thank you again." The Argonian bowed his head, and muttered quietly. "May you find the River of the Void peacefully..." He then set down his emptied tea cup on the tray, and left, letting the cleaver remain behind to greet the others upon their aforementioned return.
The two poor bouncers of the safehouse made for less poignant messages than the cleaver, their chests somehow rended open by what seemed to have been some magical assault, and their hearts were removed and missing by more gruesome, mundane means. They were the last to see Asks-For-Seconds for some time, though his works to come made it clear he had not vanished for good.
==============================================================================
Inianil Aedire looked from her quill to the small statuette on her desk, an homage to Auri-el, and the sunlight from her office's window slowly creeping towards it for the briefest of moments before returning to her writing. It had been a peculiar week for her station in Auridon. As if infiltration from the Veiled Heritance and Maomer coastal raids weren't enough to consider in collaboration with the Dominions present forces, recently her office had received a report from her subordinants that Khajiit civilians were turning up dead around Vuhlkel Guard over the last week. This in itself was hardly a matter worth the aging officer's time, but the fact that no one had been reporting these murders, was.
She flicked her sunburst gold eyes to the statuette again. The light had begun to shine upon it, and Inianil looked to the closed door before her from her desk. She looked back at the statue, and when the light had just began to illuminate beyond the statuette, her lips pursed. The door opened.
"My Lady Justicar," the young male altmer in gold and ochre armor said in announcement, tightly saluting in perfect Thalmor fashion. "I have a report on-"
"You have nothing for this office until you can explain to me the importance of punctuality, Errant...!" Inianil's voice was sharp, crisp, and drastically authoritative. Though her face remained emotionless, she had little trouble in conveying her displeasure.
The Thalmor Errant's eyes briefly looked upon the statuette of Auri-el on the desk, and the light that had moved just inches beyond it, and bowed his head in submission. "My Lady Justicar, my utmost regrets. Of course." He straightened himself and held his arms in salute. "We of the Thalmor, the Crystalline Hand, must always display ourselves as representation of the height of true and infallible Aldmeri essence, blessed by Auri-el, and in this allow all to know the pinnacle of civil order, for all to be able to look up and see Altmer rule as perfect as the Crystal Tower itself."
Inianil set her quill down, and pressed her hands together at their fingertips. "You must be reminded that this is especially so on this island, Errant. Khajiit and Bosmer and all manner of flotsam are washing onto the shores to be welcomed by the Summerset, and we must always stand in reminder to what host they have latched onto. Do not be late again."
"Yes, Lady Justicar."
"Now, your report."
"It is in regards to the warehouse fire reported in Vuhlkel Guard, Justicar. We have discovered from the Guardsmen that something unexpected was found in the remains."
Inianil remained silent, and gave but the slightest gesture with her brow to signal the Errant to go on.
"Skooma bottles, Lady Justicar. Crates of them, hidden under a trap door that was destroyed in the fire. ...It's an unsual brand, not in our records. Our mages are looking into it. It appears something rather upscale."
Inianil let out a small sigh, looking at the one of the two banners of her order flanking the door. "Well, we can't have that now can we? I suppose at least they were respectful enough to bring their best to Auridon." There was, of course, nothing joyful in her tone. She gave a curt nod. "This is exactly the reason of why we must maintain our image, Errant. Increase our presence in Vulkhel Guard, and have our investigators look into finding a relation between the fire and these Khajiit murders. Dismissed."
The Errant gave another salute and left, closing the door behind him. Inianil took a deep breath, and looked to the statuette, touching the finely carved work of art with delicate fingers. "Oh Ayrenn.., don't let this be your first mistake as Queen."
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