Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Tread Lightly (CLOSED Oblivion RP)

Ath pretended not to hear what the assassin said behind them. He had made up his mind on what to do already and nothing was likely to change the course of the coming events. A simple nod was given to Dust though at her words. So they would talk first and then see what was to come of that. Ath stopped though and tilted his head as what sounded like a shriek echoed.


"Hmm, well that sounds welcoming don't it!" He said in almost a cheerful manner as if this was just a midnight stroll through some woods.


Ath pulled back on the arrow just encase he needed to fire quickly and would then follow Astarill down the passageway. "Good." He mutters. So Ath would follow the way that Dak and Lorundil took, walking with the others in the group, though once more he was at the forefront like in coming into the ruins in the first place. He had his own reasons for wanting to find them quickly and what better way then to lead?


As they walked Ath would keep glancing from side to side, checking recesses encase there had been a skeleton or such that had not been killed by Dak and Lorundil. Soon enough, if they kept on there current course and not pulled off some side passage by any of the group, they would quickly come to the room that Lorundil and Dak would be in and so they could now get down to whatever business needed to be done. If the skeleton they were fighting wasn't dead, he would pull and release the arrow at the skeletons neck trying to dislodge the head. If it was destroyed then he would step forward. "Lorundil!" He called out to get the attention of his friend.


((OOC: Gah! im so sorry x.x Half asleep when I wrote it from lack of sleep, I missed that rear x.x hope this works better?))

Dust felt little comfort from the brief nod of acknowledgement Ath'vesu gave. There was something off about him - he was friendly enough, but there lingered something beneath his jovial manner, working towards his own ends. She shrugged it off, shaking her head. Of course he is - we all are.

The path slowly became more sure as the group got closer to its target. The sounds of battle greeted them - a skeleton, thrashing as a final arrow fell into its neck and it collapsed into a pile of bone. Ath'vesu called to his friend, and Dust craned her neck to see around them.

Okay, two here are Dark Brotherhood and want this Lorundil dead, and to retrieve whatever he stole. One - well, two, counting Lorundil himself - are thieves guild and want to keep what they stole and escape, naturally. Then there's Astarill and I. She bit her lip. All of us with different goals about this man.

This - can't possibly end well.

Astarill saw the assassin in front of him tense and move a hand toward the hilt of a dagger. He put his hand on the man’s shoulder and gripped it firmly as a warning. He kept his voice low when he spoke, intending his words for the assassin’s ears only.

“Don’t do anything unless I tell you, and you might survive this.”

Or he might not. Astarill didn’t care, in all honesty, as long as he got Lorundil and the item the Dark Brotherhood was after. If the assassin would not cooperate, he could still ask Dust to put him in touch with the Brotherhood, but it was good to keep one’s options numerous and open, and he didn’t want to burden Dust if it could be avoided. And he certainly couldn’t count the woman, who got here before them, as an option. She had already proven beyond a doubt to be too unreliable for that.

Astarill stayed back when he entered the room, cast a quick look around, and saw no direct way out aside from the door opening he stood in. And so he remained there, drawing his sword, ready to try to stop any who would run off without permission.

Dak hissed when an arrow that didn’t belong to her hit the skeleton and turn him back into a useless pile of bones. She spun round and noticed the newcomers. The Bosmer, the Altmer and the Breton had eventually caught up with Lorundil and herself. And they apparently had brought someone else with them - and a member of the Dark Brotherhood, no less.

The Bosmer called out for Lorundil but Dakari didn’t care. She muttered a brief prayer to Kynareth and let go of the string she was holding since the skeleton had collapsed. The arrow flew silently through the air and went through into the throat of the assassin who collapsed, dead.

“Owned!” squealed Lorundil happily before frowning. “You could have used a fish stick, you know?” he meditated before waving his hand at Ath’vesu. “Oh, you’re here too! And you brought friends with you! Isn’t that wonderful?! The master will be so pleased!”

Dak was convinced than Sithis was far lesser pleased, but she didn’t care. She took a new arrow from her quiver and notched it slowly, glaring at the Altmer and the Breton girl without blinking.

“…I hope the message is clear,” she simply said.

(OOC: I discussed the whole “Dak kills the assassin without random Wrath of Sithis popping up” with Ethelle, and we concluded that it’s because Dakari never “embraced” Sithis and the Night Mother. You don’t like it, deal with it. :p)

Ath saw Dak release the arrow and really didn't have much time to move should it be aimed at him, luckly it was not aimed at any of them but the assassin in there group. Ath turned to look the dead man for a moment. Well that took care of that, and saved him from killing the assassin, and whats more he would now have a set of shrouded armor if he was able to take it. Attention was turned back to Dak and Lorundil.

"The master will be pleased?" He raised an eyebrow. "You stole this on his orders?" He asked Lorundil.

If that was indeed the case, that was news to him and he did not know why The Grey Fox would give such an order........unless that was just in Lorundil's mind which was entirely plausible as the altmer was mad. But still, he was a good friend of Ath's. So without little regard he would begin to walk towards the altmer. Glancing to Dak.

"I'm not going to try anything funny okay, so don't shoot."

He uttered to the woman and hopefully she would let him go to the altmer. If he was able to get to Lorundil, Ath would reach out and touch the mans shoulder gently while looking the other thief over for any wounds or hurts that may have been caused, for anything out of the ordinary on the guy. IF Dak did not let him get near he would have to content himself with searching Lorundil's state from where he was, his hand resting behind his back on the dagger that was there.

"What is your stake in this?" He suddenly asked Dak.

Dust heard only the gentle hiss of the arrow on the air and the wet thwack behind her before it had time to register that she should duck. But it wasn't aimed for her - Dakari's arrow struck neatly into the throat of the assassin behind her.

"No - !" She cursed as the assassin unceremoniously collapsed. She knelt on the cold stone , looking over the man. No, there was no healing that could help him now. Necromancy, perhaps, but not healing. She slowly pulled her hand from his throat, glaring under her bangs at the woman who gripped her bow.

"You're insane, and a traitor." Dust hissed, barely loud enough to be heard. That had been a warning for them, after all. She didn't dare raise her voice. But…

They're both of the family - she broke a Tenet, but the wraith hasn't come. How many times could she have done this before? A traitor had invaded the Brotherhood once, after all, and it could happen again. Thoughts of Antoinetta, Vicente, Ocheeva, even Lucien, dead, made her shudder. When would she do it again?

Ath'vesu asked the woman of her 'stake' in this - Dust narrowed her eyes, listening carefully. She very much wanted to know, too. She wasn't family, but she had her loyalties nonetheless.

Astarill narrowed his eyes when the woman released her arrow, then looked down at the assassin in front of him, who gargled and collapsed. He raised a single eyebrow and observed the alchemist as she checked the man’s vital signs, or lack thereof.

“It seems I lied,” he muttered under his breath, moving his gaze up from the dead assassin to the live assassin up ahead.

Like the others, he was somewhat puzzled about the exact nature of the woman’s goals. If she was indeed a member of the Dark Brotherhood as Dust suspected, he saw no reason for her to kill a brother. Unless the Dark Brotherhood wasn’t such a tight-knit ‘family’ after all, and this journal that was supposedly stolen had caused differences of opinion. Luckily, Ath saw fit to ask her precisely what in Oblivion she thought she was doing and as such saved him the trouble.

Astarill’s eyes briefly wandered to the real source of his current problems, and he scoffed quietly to himself. The other Altmer didn’t look like him at all. People were obviously idiots if they could confuse the two of them. His cheeks weren’t that gaunt, and his nose wasn’t that big. Or was it? No, no, no! It definitely wasn’t. And the other Altmer’s eyes were slanted entirely the wrong way. The jaw and forehead were all wrong, too. Utterly wrong. Completely, absolutely wrong…

Before he’d risk losing his composure, Astarill forced himself to focus on the matter at hand. He turned his sword hilt around in his hand, adjusting his grip, and awaited the woman’s answer, even though he didn’t expect much of one.

Dakari glared at the Bosmer then eventually shrugged.

“…I am here for recovering something that has been stolen,” she admitted, “and killing some traitors.”

Well, not exactly. But it was a minor detail they didn’t need to know. Dak could see the expression of the Breton woman, the incomprehension of why she was still alive despite the stupid Tenets that were used to indoctrinate each member of the “Family”. Maybe giving them this answer would keep her quiet.

“She’s with me!” smiled happily a very healthy Lorundil. “She was the first willing to play, and I wasn’t even obliged to offer her some cheese for convincing her it would be funny! But you are not allowed to kill the others, alright? If you kill everybody, my master will be very disappointed and the game will lose its interest!” he added with a pout.

Dak rolled her eyes.

“…I don’t kill unless I’m forced to,” she answered coldly. “Unless I’m forced to,” she repeated softly to herself.

Ath looked to Lorundil. "Where is he my friend, why did he have you steal this book?" Ath was looking straight into the altmers eyes as he spoke. The bosmer had placed hands on both the atlmers cheeks to help the crazy one focus on him, and him alone for the moment. "What were his orders?" He had to know, had to figure out why it was done.

Attention flicked to Dak and snorted. "Oh yes, because you had to kill the assassin?" he asked. Granted......he was going to kill the assassin himself but why did she kill him? They were in the same brotherhood. "As for the book, your not getting it." He had no plans to turn the journal over to her, not right now and he didn't care what happened until things started to get much clearer in this matter.

He also didn't trust her to kill them all once she got the book as well so it was also out of self preservation he would do his best to keep it out of her hands. He now turned most of his attention back to Lorundil.

Dust listened idly to Lorundil's ranting at Ath'vesu's questioning. It all sounded almost familiar, really. She narrowed her eyes for a moment, thinking. Cheese, master, fishsticks…?

… Ah. What else could it be? Dust took a few tentative steps towards Lorundil. Or rather, who? You work in strange ways, My Lord, but I suppose anything different would be even stranger. So maybe you'd do that, too…

Dust shook her head before she got caught in another loop of thought, clearing her throat to try and catch Lorundil's attention. "Your Master - is Sheogorath, yes?" She tried to appeal to his particular 'brand' of madness. "Lord of… fishsticks? He commanded you to steal the journal?" She tilted her head, trying to meet his eyes before giving a slight curtsy and speaking briefly in Daedric, Shivering Isles dialect, a simple greeting among madfolk before switching back to Tamrielic.

"I am, too. But isn't His Lordship bored by now? You really ought to go see what else he wants, now that you've stolen the book." It was a long shot, but perhaps she could convince him to simply leave, and end this without further bloodshed. She glanced back at the dull eyes of the dead assassin and shuddered. But I doubt it.

Astarill moved his gaze over all of those present while they spoke and he listened.

He looked at the Imperial woman, scrutinizing her. Her answer was as worthless as expected. There was no solid proof to refute it, but there were many reasons to doubt it. She wanted the journal, though, that much was evident. If she spoke the truth, there was no reason why they should be on opposite sides. And yet they were. She knew his situation. She must have realized she could help him and herself at the same time, but she killed his unwilling witness and indirectly threatened to kill him, too. It therefore stood to reason she had no intention to return the journal to the Dark Brotherhood. She therefore presented an obstacle in his attempt to prolong his existence.

He looked at the Bosmer and his mad friend, next. He assumed the Bosmer’s first concern was the preservation of his guild mate’s life. Following up on that reasoning, Ath stood only to gain if the Dark Brotherhood should find Astarill dead and in possession of the journal. Yet he seemed keen on getting his hands on the journal himself. Astarill realized this could mean two things: 1) his primary assumption was incorrect, or 2) the execution of the scenario was too risky to be profitable. He felt inclined to go with the second option, but he couldn’t be certain about the Wood Elf’s motives. All he could be certain of was that Lordundil had no need for the journal anymore. If this was indeed all a ridiculous game to please the Mad God, the game had already been set in motion, and the journal no longer had any value to a mad man.

“This is all very riveting,” Astarill eventually spoke up derisively in an attempt to focus on the key issue, “So where is the journal?”

He looked at the Imperial woman.

“You don’t have it.”

It was a statement, not a question. He glanced at Lorundil briefly.

“He hid it.”

Again, a statement.

“Three of us want it, and that makes this situation interesting in every negative aspect of the word.”

He had presented the problem, and rather like the chairman of a council meeting, now seemed to expect the other council members to throw their proposed solutions into the discussion.

Lorundil looked a bit confused at Ath’vesu’s questions and smiled at the Bosmer in a somewhat patronizing way before squealing happily at Dust’s words.

“Yes, yes he did! He spoke to me from his palace of lettuces and yarn! He said it would be funny. And it is, it is!” the Altmer giggled, before frowning stubbornly at the second part of her sentence. “No no no!” he protested. “It is not done yet! The fun just began! Fish sticks,” he whimpered, “fish sticks!”

“…so he’s really mad,” muttered Dakari with a pang of relief for her own sanity before looking at the Bosmer without blinking anymore, “as you are if you think you are the one who will decides of who will get the journal at the end. Why would you?” she asked with a blank voice. “Because you are calling yourself his so-called friend? You led three members of the Dark Brotherhood to him, bringing two of them directly with you. There is nothing to boast about.” The hollow ghost of an empty smile raised one corner of her mouth. “Traitors, yes…you’re more a murderer than I have ever been.”

She looked at the other Altmer when he summarized the whole situation in a few sentences and examined his face again. It was bit unsettling, but she nodded slowly.

“…it seems we have reached a deadlock,” Dak admitted. “I would rather look for a peaceful solution. My quiver is almost empty and though there is a possibility I could kill at least one or two of you, I would die as well if we had to fight. And it would be…annoying.”

She looked around thoughtfully then tilted her head at the man. He reminded her of a hawk for some reasons. While Lorundil reminded her of some goofy turkey. So alike, yet so different...

“All I ask for is being able to look at the journal content. You can burn it afterward or use it for wiping your asses, I will not care.”

(OOC: BTW, you're totally free to make Lorundil react and act the way you want. Maybe I should have written it sooner, but he's not "my" NPC, ya know? )

Ath snorts softly to Dak's words. "You must not have any friends if you think i'm just a so-called friend lass." He shook his head then groaned as the master was none other then the mad god.........great. Well maybe there own guild master would not be to angry at Lorundil for working on a daedric lords orders? Yeah one can hope. Ath looked back to the dead brotherhood agent, then to Dust then back to the agent then back to Dust.

One could see the wheels turning in the mind of the thief. "The best solution would be to just return the book to the brotherhood, this isn't a sanctioned guild theft by the guild master for us....but will the mad god let us?." He muttered his question out loud. On high profile things, this would have to have been sanctioned due to the nature of the group. Like steeling from the mage collage would be, or the imperial guard. Ath sighed softly shaking his head and rubbed his eyes. He also just thought about leaving this entire thing, he didn't want to get wrapped up in the daedric lords affairs........but he couldn't leave Lorundil alone in this.

"See something just doesn't sit right with that statement." He muttered softly to himself to Daks words of just giving the journal back after reading it.

Ath went quiet then to let the others speak while he stood near Lorundil. He reached up rubbing his chin while he went back to studying the corpse's armor, making plans in his head of different outcomes. The words of fighting, and killing did not escape him but hopefully it would not come to that for he did not feel like getting hurt or possibly killed over this thing right now. And on the other opposite end of the spectrum, he was curious just what was in that journal, what could it tell him? What could it do?

(OOC: I had a proposal, folks!

So, we know Lorundil hid the journal. Where, exactly? Well, he stole it for his master, so naturally he'd want to return it to his Master, which is thankfully easier than it sounds since Sheogorath is INSIDE all of us. So, perhaps he sent it on an express trip to his stomach, to Sheogorath?

This would mean our little adventure would need to continue on, going to the Shivering Isles in order to hunt down the book. Dust could transport everyone there (at the risk of their sanity, of course) or they could find another way to enter. Would anybody be up for this? It could be a lot of fun, but it could also be terrible and will almost certainly be a lot more to write in future. So, what do you all think? Or does anyone else have any fun ideas to contribute? )

I like this idea xD]

(OOC: It's an interesting idea - a nice turn of the ents, and a pleasant change from Vilverin. This I like. )

(OOC: Alright, with pleasure! Lemme know if I should change anything!)

Dust narrowed her eyes as Astarill summarized the situation quite nicely. Interesting. And so he was mad, but not willing to return the journal - wherever it was.

Who's journal is it, anyway? Someone I know? She thought on this briefly before being drawn out again by the assassin speaking.

"Before we can do any of that anyway, we need to find the damn thing." Dust turned to Lorundil, switching again to Daedric. Could you tell me where you hi - put the journal for our Lord?

Lorundil giggled and replied in Tamrielic. "It's already at his house!"

Dust blinked. "His - palace? You delivered it to his palace?"

"Oh, yes!" Lorundil shrieked happily, doing a little clap and speaking in a rather singsong way. "Sent it straight to him! You know as well as me, don't you? You serve our Lord, too. He's inside all of us! So where better to send the book to him, eh? And I washed it down with a couple of fishsticks, yes! He can use them as bookmarks!"

The information flooded over her - Dust stood stiffly, absorbing for a moment before deadpanning.

"You ate it."

"I hope my Master enjoys it as much as I did!" He giggled and sat on the stone floor, crossing his legs. "It will have gone through me to him! Else I'd have shat it out already and ooh, that would have been unpleasant. But no! He has received it from my stomach and now he'll name me High Lord of Fishsticks!" He gave a quiet sigh at that and seemed to drift off into his own thoughts, perhaps upon whatever a lord of fishsticks would dream of.

There is nothing, thought Dust, like devouring a good book. She stifled a half-hearted laugh at the absurdity of the situation before dragging a hand down her face, glancing at the others to see their reactions.

"This - complicates things."

Astarill narrowed his eyes and drew his eyebrows down into a mild frown of puzzlement when the Imperial woman informed them she only wanted to read the journal’s contents. He didn’t speak, but his expression seemed to speak for him. Is that all?

He looked briefly at Ath when the Bosmer expressed his skepticism as well. Why would the woman go through all this trouble, going as far as having them taken in by the City Guard for questioning, if all she wanted was to read it before handing it over? It seemed too easy, and Astarill distrusted easy.

Fortunately for him, things were about to turn much, much worse. He hadn’t really listened while Dust spoke to the mad man, too busy deciding that he would assume for a moment that what the Imperial woman said was true, forming possible outcomes for their next course of action. Yet he couldn’t help but hear Dust’s conclusion, despite wishing he could un-hear it.

He… ate… it… ?

Astarill stared at the alchemist -blankly at first, then furiously- as his face gradually twisted into a snarl, which he then directed at Lorundil. He clenched his hand tightly around the hilt of his sword, then made his way to the other Altmer with large, angry strides. He grabbed the mad man by the collar and dragged him up, out of his cross-legged seat.

“How would you like to eat steel instead, you mad twit?!”

“I don’t know,” the other Altmer squeaked, “Do you have any coriander on you?”

Astarill’s nostrils flared for a moment, before he released his hold on the man. “No,” he growled, and turned away, resting his glare on a wall while he attempted to gather his thoughts.

“Then I would not like to!” Lorundil announced, settling back comfortably into his previous sitting position. He shook his head and smiled faintly, muttering, “No coriander… tsk.” He looked up at his friend the Bosmer, “Would you believe that? No coriander for the High Lord of Fishsticks.”

Dak tilted her head at the Bosmer. “…I haven’t anymore,” she answered sternly, “a little man made them pay the price of his own greed with their life.” Her face twitched as the memories surfaced; an indecipherable expression glanced across her features, fleetingly, then was gone.

The conversation between Lorundil and the Breton woman made Dak feel exhausted but she reached for her knife when the hawk let fly at the turkey. She couldn’t let Lorundil being hurt. Yet. Thank to the Nine, the fight never happened and Dak arched an eyebrow at the goofy Altmer.

“…you could have told that earlier," she muttered.
“You didn’t ask,” tweeted Lorundil while stoping to look at the Bosmer for turning his head in her direction. “You played the game well! I hate cheaters! They’re always the lazy ones who end with all the fish sticks! But not this time! This time all the fish sticks are belong to me! Do you have coriander?”

“…no, just twenty bottles of shein at home. I’m going to need them,” concluded Dakari with a sigh.

Ath was about to step in to pry Astarill's hands from Lorundil but before he could Astarill let go which was a good thing. Sighing softly he shook his head and looked to Lorundil a good bit before he spoke to the altmer.

"I don't know my friend, I don't know but very bad they don't." he muttered playing along with Lorundil.

Ath looked to Dust then to the altmer and then to the others as he heard what they had to say about the mad god and what Lorundil did with the journal. His eyes widened slightly and he looked at his friend.

"You ate it...........for the mad god you ate the journal?" he asked. Lorundil would nod his head enthusiastically.

"Yes yes and tasty it was!" the altmer giggled.

Ath groaned and rubbed his eyes once more. Great, just great so the journal was now with the mad god. What where they to do then? The journal was in the realm of the deadric lord and he for one really did not want to go there. Eyes turned to the others.

"Thoughts on our new situation? Ideas on what to do?" He asked then glanced to Dusk. "I may join you in those drinks for this." he grumbles.

With that said Ath just crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall looking to the floor. He wasn't sure just what to really do right now with this information, not to mention they would have to explain this to the gray fox should he find out.....and he always seemed to find out about things like this.