Outside 51: It's just a weather balloon

[Ironsmith]

[Thrakeld]

The poor shop keeper looks horrified.

It's understandable.

Most people aren't close acquaintances with violence and death.

Fenris is close behind, pulling the Dwemer disk off her back and momentarily freezing with equal parts fascination and disgust at the sight of the necromanctic construct. Combining Dwemer engineering like that with necromancy struck her as brilliant as it was grotesque.

As soon as our heroes emerge one of the mounted skull-heads swivels toward them along with the one of those strange crossbow looking devices as a pneumatic hiss sounds from the machine moments before-

thackthackthackthackthackthackthackthackthack!

It opens fire with the machine that apparently uses steam pressure to launch bolts at high speed rather than mechanical tension. Each bolt carries a dose of deadly toxin that corrodes armor and poison resistance alike. And that's aside from causing numbing slow and plain old necrotic flesh. And while doing that?

It retreats.

Quickly.

Who thought it would be a good idea to create a ranged attacker who doesn't just stand his ground like an idiot when you charge him?

Fenris' eyes widen as she as she drops to one knee, pulling the disc in front of herself to block the hail of projectiles. With the other hand she makes a sweeping motion, causing twelve foot long barrier of stone to rip out of the ground between our heroes and the larger construct. The wall provides ample cover from direct fire.

Doesn't stop the smaller constructs from disengaging from the farmers and skittering toward the adventurers, though.

Two of them are headed for Fenris, two for the summoned antronach, and two for Yuvan.

[Thrakeld]

Well, they've split up more than they otherwise would have, so Yuvan considers his gambit a success. Though given the atronach's tendency to fling fire as its only means of offense, it probably won't last too long against the warded spiders.

Yuvan continues to charge forward, shrugging off the poison thanks to an enchantments on his armor.

...mostly shrugging it off. It doesn't seem to hurt him very much, but he does find himself moving more sluggishly after the first few bolts hit.

And now the spider's retreating, exaggerating the now-much-larger speed difference between the two of them.

He wasn't having any of that.

Yuvan inhales sharply and lets loose a mighty bellow:

"TIID... KLO UL!"

Time slows to a crawl around him, and he takes advantage of this to try to close the distance between them, sprinting as quickly as his newly-enfeebled legs would allow. If he's not somehow stopped, he'll then clamber onto the machine, such that he's standing on top of it, mace raised to strike, when time resumes its normal pace.

Shuttle to L1
Don't forget it. Lizzie replies smugly. She definitely was just out to save her skin (or rather Miranda's). And time passes

[Shuttle to L1]
(Day 3, Morning)

"Your majesty! The royal treasury is nearly empty!"

Since she'll still be asleep at the time, Sekhmet may or may not realize the Sean Connery-esque voice was not, in fact, one of her royal advisors, but a digitized announcer for a port of a century-old game Miranda's playing. Some kind of medieval fantasy-themed strategy game. Miranda's turned the music off, so momentary announcements like that are the only sounds she'll be getting from it... she doesn't want to miss any alerts if something unexpected happens outside.

In any case, Miranda won't be very proactive about waking Sekhmet up, at least not yet. It's only five minutes past her scheduled wakeup time, and Miranda's decided she could probably use a little extra sleep after that earlier incident.

[bc56]

Shuttle to L1
"We don't have a treasury. I can just create money..." Sekhmet mutters. She yawns awake, rubbing hair out of her eyes. "Oh, uh, right. I'm here." She pushes herself up and fumbles around for her bags, where she tries to grab a set of clothes and get changed, managing (without her glasses) instead to toss a dress across the room by mistake. "Uh, oops, sorry!" How is a massively powerful demon queen such a klutz?

[Ironsmith]

Pixie Grinder's Compound

The first door opens into the living room. It's got a pair of large sofas with thick cushions, with deep purple upholstery. The floor is polished hardwood, mahogany probably, and the walls are striped yellow and red. There's a large television mounted on the wall, currently muted; it's showing a gladiator match, in which a fox-eared and tailed man with a sledgehammer chases a human woman across an arena, until she brutally jabs him in the stomach with her wire-wrapped baseball bat and then breaks his elbow. After, it's some adverts and sponsored videos, for shuttle companies and lift operators mostly. In the middle of the room there's a copper coffee table topped with a mosaic of a sailing ship, and there's a white cabinet under the television.

The room's only occupant is a muscular beastman with the head of a goat and large polished horns capped with gold; he's naked and asleep on one of the sofas, hoofs resting on the mosaic coffee table. Gold and silver jewelery adorns his wrists, ankles, fingers and ears. His snoring is very loud, and a large war-axe rests under his left hand, whilst his right holds the television remote control.

[Pixie Grinder's Compound]

Yuvan hefts his mace and has the obvious response to the beastman. If it works on draugr, it'll work on him. Plus, this guy's passed out in front of a TV showing bloodsport. No mercy for him.

If that goes well, he'll search the corpse for any keys or notes or the like that he might need in order to access later parts of the dungeon compound.

If it doesn't... well, part of him is looking forward to having a real fight for once.

Shuttle to L1
"We don't have a treasury. I can just create money..." Sekhmet mutters. She yawns awake, rubbing hair out of her eyes. "Oh, uh, right. I'm here." She pushes herself up and fumbles around for her bags, where she tries to grab a set of clothes and get changed, managing (without her glasses) instead to toss a dress across the room by mistake. "Uh, oops, sorry!" How is a massively powerful demon queen such a klutz?

[Shuttle to L1]

Miranda stands and tries to shrug the dress off, managing instead to shrug it on somehow, momentarily channeling the same energy. Given Sekhmet's shape-shifting abilities, it might fit her pretty well. "Um... okay." She mumbles, giving a little shrug. "...This is pretty nice, actually. Where'd you get it?" She runs her hands over the dress, admiring the silky texture and silently praying it wasn't woven from the souls of the damned or something.

[bc56]

Shuttle to L1
How did that even happen? Maybe Lizzie manipulated things somehow.
Sekhmet's figure actually isn't that much for a succubus (she intentionally keeps it toned down when not in that aspect for some reason. However, the dress magically adjusts to fit Miranda anyway. It's probably the first clothing article she's worn since being possessed that fits properly and accommodates her tail. "I can just, uh, get magical clothes in my kingdom. I have a wardrobe that just makes them." She doesn't really know how it works, she inherited it from her mother. She pulls out another dress and slips it on herself.
Her taste in clothes, luckily (or unluckily, depending on your perspective) is pretty conservative. Sekhmet doesn't actually know what the fabric is made of, just that the wardrobe can replicate the textures of any fabric.

[Earl of Purple]

Abandoned Battlefield

The Valentine fires... But not at the Centurion. They don't know what they're aiming for, when it comes to identifying an 'ammo magazine', not when most of those weapons look like energy weapons the girls have absolutely no experience with. They're firing a shot from the 75mm cannon at the smaller mechs, aimed at the knee of the Panther. Despite only marginal differences from the 6-pounder cannon, the shells are different, and this solid armour piercing shell has less velocity than its 6-pounder counterparts. The girls quickly reload, replacing the spent shell with a high explosive one, though they don't fire it yet. They're too busy moving to aim, trying to move as far from their last firing position as possible, since the mechs may very well have the ability to extrapolate their position by shell trajectory or see the plume of smoke from the barrel.

Pixie Grinder's Compound

Boada looks a little disturbed when Yuvan tries searching a naked corpse, though he can find quite a few things- four gold rings from the fingers, a silver ring from the goat-man's left nipple, a diamond stud earring and two brass hoop earrings, a silver chain running from the mutant's nose to his right ear with three charms hanging from it- an ivory chess bishop, a copper medallion with a lion's face, and a tiny heart-shaped gold lock, five glass beads and a polished finger-bone from the creature's mane, two silver chain bracelets, a solid gold anklet, a pearl necklace and a few other pieces of jewellery he probably doesn't want to take. There's no keys on it, though, nor is there a note. He does find the war-axe; it's a brutal iron wedge, wickedly sharp.

Some of the jewellery is magical; the bishop charm slightly improves speed, the lock provides a bit more luck in finding things, and the lion's face medallion provides a very slight boost to any magical items it's closely attached to, but it's all very slight magics. Yuvan can probably do all three effects far better. The diamond stud earring boosts hearing if worn, and the silver nipple-ring increases pain tolerance at the cost of also increasing the sensitivity of touch, so things hurt more even if they can be more easily worked through.

[Ironsmith]

Shuttle to L1
How did that even happen? Maybe Lizzie manipulated things somehow.
Sekhmet's figure actually isn't that much for a succubus (she intentionally keeps it toned down when not in that aspect for some reason. However, the dress magically adjusts to fit Miranda anyway. It's probably the first clothing article she's worn since being possessed that fits properly and accommodates her tail. "I can just, uh, get magical clothes in my kingdom. I have a wardrobe that just makes them." She doesn't really know how it works, she inherited it from her mother. She pulls out another dress and slips it on herself.
Her taste in clothes, luckily (or unluckily, depending on your perspective) is pretty conservative. Sekhmet doesn't actually know what the fabric is made of, just that the wardrobe can replicate the textures of any fabric.

[Shuttle to L1]

Miranda smiles and gives a little shrug. Yeah, same. Sort of. Hers isn't limited to just clothes, really.

"...You know..." She begins, pulling up the appropriate files on her Hotbox. "I'm actually really liking this dress. I haven't worn one since... I think I was eighteen? Last school dance. Didn't have all that many occasions for one as an adult. None where I wouldn't prefer a blazer, at least." She pulls out her usual outfit; a white jacket and cargo pants, coupled with a black tank top, set of boots, and gloves. The fabric is made of microfibers designed to optimize durability while still being comfortable, potentially putting it on par with a magical dress. "I don't suppose I could talk you into a trade?" Miranda asks.

It's probably a little small for Sekhmet, at least as she is now. Fortunately, she has the option of resizing to fit it, if she really wants to.

Pixie Grinder's Compound

Boada looks a little disturbed when Yuvan tries searching a naked corpse, though he can find quite a few things- four gold rings from the fingers, a silver ring from the goat-man's left nipple, a diamond stud earring and two brass hoop earrings, a silver chain running from the mutant's nose to his right ear with three charms hanging from it- an ivory chess bishop, a copper medallion with a lion's face, and a tiny heart-shaped gold lock, five glass beads and a polished finger-bone from the creature's mane, two silver chain bracelets, a solid gold anklet, a pearl necklace and a few other pieces of jewellery he probably doesn't want to take. There's no keys on it, though, nor is there a note. He does find the war-axe; it's a brutal iron wedge, wickedly sharp.

Some of the jewellery is magical; the bishop charm slightly improves speed, the lock provides a bit more luck in finding things, and the lion's face medallion provides a very slight boost to any magical items it's closely attached to, but it's all very slight magics. Yuvan can probably do all three effects far better. The diamond stud earring boosts hearing if worn, and the silver nipple-ring increases pain tolerance at the cost of also increasing the sensitivity of touch, so things hurt more even if they can be more easily worked through.

[Pixie Grinder's Compound]

Yuvan will take the jewelry with him; it's light and carries a number of enchantments he's never seen before, and would very much like to learn. Mixed with the proper preparatory brews, those could all be useful; a permanent haste effect, absurd luck with finding loot, and... a ring(?) that empowers anything else he's holding?! That alone would be worth the trouble of acquiring it. The other two seem a little less obviously useful; a relic which grants super hearing might have a situational use but is likely to be distracting on a busy street. And the nipple ring's effect would be painful regardless. Still, worth learning just in case.

The non-magical jewelry will also find its way into his pocket. They'll either be converted into test subjects or easy gold, one.

He'll then turn and leave the room, beckoning Boada to follow him. He'll shut the door and place down a rune on it; just in case anyone gets the bright idea to check on the corpse. And then it's off to the second door.

[bc56]

Shuttle to L1
Sekhmet looks at the offered clothes. "Uh, I'm not comfortable in trousers, sorry. But it's okay. You can keep that one; I have plenty." She opens her bag a little wider to show that several similar dresses are folded inside. Sekhmet unfolds her glasses and puts them on. "So, uh, what's been going on since last, uh, midnight?" Probably nothing. But she feels she should ask.
Meanwhile, Lizzie is taking a good look at the makeup of the dress Miranda is now wearing. Ooh, that's clever. I always wondered how she got them to hold together so well in the mortal realm. I could alter this spellwork easily. Her tone leaves it unclear whether that's an offer or a threat.

Abandoned Battlefield
That wasn't a command, it was an observation. Almoner was saying that he hit the ammo magazine.
The shell strikes the Panther in the leg and smashes through what's left of the armor and much of the mechanisms. The mech staggers and topples over onto its back. "Nice shot!" Celebration is short lived as the Raven kicks into gear, moving forward and repositioning. It doesn't attack, but the Centurion is once again cloaked from automatic targeting.

[Rebonack]

[Thrakeld]

The warded spiders prove to be a real handful for the flame daedra. While it's busy tossing firebolts at one spider warding itself the other two are busy savaging it. These things are clearly more intelligent and more tactical than their typical brethren. Though at least that means they spend some time ripping the summoned creature apart rather than our heroes.

Yuvan is now straddling the bone-spider, which seems deeply adverse to this change of fortune.

It reacts by venting a large amount of steam.

A large amount of steam with volatilized poison mixed into it.

A cloud that isn't just toxic, but also highly corrosive. That poison resistance on the armor is likely being badly taxed by the level of poison vulnerability this awful contraction is spewing out.

Aside from its stink cloud, the machine can't do much to shake the elf off and is likely going to get clobbered in the immediate future.

Fenris, meanwhile, has decided that she really doesn't like these spiders. They have a nasty habit of fighting defensively when you're focused on one while the other two harry you. She lobs her disc at one of them, but the awful little thing nimbly leaps away while the other two stab at her from behind. Growing quite fed up with this, Fenris clenches both fists and sprays a chaotic jumble of ghostly emerald green cobwebs all over her surroundings. The spiders, unlike their living counterparts, have little affinity to the web spell and find their movements drastically impeded. This gives Fenris enough time to recall her disc, slicing through one of the machines before clobbering a second, smashing it into aetherialness.

"I've finding these constructs to be deeply vexing," Fenris admits.

[Ironsmith]

Shuttle to L1
Sekhmet looks at the offered clothes. "Uh, I'm not comfortable in trousers, sorry. But it's okay. You can keep that one; I have plenty." She opens her bag a little wider to show that several similar dresses are folded inside. Sekhmet unfolds her glasses and puts them on. "So, uh, what's been going on since last, uh, midnight?" Probably nothing. But she feels she should ask.
Meanwhile, Lizzie is taking a good look at the makeup of the dress Miranda is now wearing. Ooh, that's clever. I always wondered how she got them to hold together so well in the mortal realm. I could alter this spellwork easily. Her tone leaves it unclear whether that's an offer or a threat.

[Shuttle to L1]

"Not much. Just more boring soace travel. You know, world's worst commute." Miranda smiles and peels the dress back off, preparing to go to bed herself. "...It really is a nice dress, you know. I like it as it is and there's no need to mess with it." She says emphatically, glancing off to her side in a way that makes it clear she's talking to Lizzie.

"...Well, in any case, I should get some sleep." She starts moving back toward her pod. "I'll see you in seven hours and change." She plants an affectionate peck on Sekhmet's cheek as she goes by, not seeming to realize it until she's standing in her pod, a mortified expression crossing her face. "...Lizzie, I swear by all that is holy, if you had anything to do with that..." She grumbles.

[Thrakeld]

The warded spiders prove to be a real handful for the flame daedra. While it's busy tossing firebolts at one spider warding itself the other two are busy savaging it. These things are clearly more intelligent and more tactical than their typical brethren. Though at least that means they spend some time ripping the summoned creature apart rather than our heroes.

Yuvan is now straddling the bone-spider, which seems deeply adverse to this change of fortune.

It reacts by venting a large amount of steam.

A large amount of steam with volatilized poison mixed into it.

A cloud that isn't just toxic, but also highly corrosive. That poison resistance on the armor is likely being badly taxed by the level of poison vulnerability this awful contraction is spewing out.

Aside from its stink cloud, the machine can't do much to shake the elf off and is likely going to get clobbered in the immediate future.

Fenris, meanwhile, has decided that she really doesn't like these spiders. They have a nasty habit of fighting defensively when you're focused on one while the other two harry you. She lobs her disc at one of them, but the awful little thing nimbly leaps away while the other two stab at her from behind. Growing quite fed up with this, Fenris clenches both fists and sprays a chaotic jumble of ghostly emerald green cobwebs all over her surroundings. The spiders, unlike their living counterparts, have little affinity to the web spell and find their movements drastically impeded. This gives Fenris enough time to recall her disc, slicing through one of the machines before clobbering a second, smashing it into aetherialness.

"I've finding these constructs to be deeply vexing," Fenris admits.

[Thrakeld]

"Likewise." Yuvan coughs, bringing his mace down on the giga-spider's body. He's reasonably sure he can break it with only a swing or two, but he'll keep going until he's sure it can't go anywhere. Despite the poison filling his lungs, he'll methodically beat against the machine's armored plating.

Thwam! Thud-thwam!
Thwam! Thud-thwam!

If this goes on for more than about thirty seconds or so, he's going to start realizing just how badly the poison is affecting him... normally, his enchantments protect him from nearly all of it, but they didn't seem to still be working. His swings are slowing down and losing some of their steam, too... still quite formidable, but back down to the level of a mere mortal. With one more horrible, hacking cough, he'll jump off the machine, whether it's destroyed or not.

[Rebonack]

[Thrakeld]

The first strike shatters one of its skulls.

The second shatters the vat of poison on its back.

The upside to this is that it isn't venting that toxic cloud after a few more seconds. The downside is that this results in concentrated poison spraying everywhere.

It takes a concerted beating to bring the machine down, its bones are resilient and its plating tough, but fall it does. By the time it topples under Yuvan, beaten and broken, Fenris is finishing off the last of the smaller spiders. It takes some tricks on her part, lobbing her disc into enemies, snagging them with telekinesis to hold them briefly immobile, then yanking the disc back to herself to cleave through them on the return trip. By all accounts, it would appear as though the spiders have adapted their defenses and strategy to better fight the heroes, an observation Fenris finds deeply foreboding.

As the battle winds down Fenris begins approaching the wrecked necrotic construct, shimmering healing magic on her hand.

"Are you badly hurt? I should be able to purge that toxin easily enough. I have ample experience with restor-"

There then comes a very loud magical clang, the unmistakable sound of a corpse being raised.

But it isn't one of the farmers standing back to his feet.

Oh no.

Tendrils of dark magic are rapidly gathering the shattered and bent components of the construct and reassembling it.

"There will certainly be none of that," Fenris scolds as she takes a deep breath and-!

"Shul... AG DIIL!"

A blastwave of golden light explodes from her, washing harmlessly over Yuvan before colliding with the construct. The Dwemer alloy components are wholly unarmed, but the undead bones are blasted to sanctified ashes.

It doesn't look like the construct is recovering from that.

The villagers, meanwhile, appear to have had the sense to hide from the monsters rather than run up and try to engage them in fisticuffs. "Are they did?" one asks.

[bc56]

Shuttle to L1
Sekhmet also looks mortified at this development. "Uh..." Lizzie, on the other hand, finds it hilarious. You just kissed her! Aw hahaha! No wonder you want me out of your head, so you can be alone with her! I've got bad news for you, she's straight, married, and as loose in her affections as an iron maiden! Hahahahaha!

[Ironsmith]

[Thrakeld]

The first strike shatters one of its skulls.

The second shatters the vat of poison on its back.

The upside to this is that it isn't venting that toxic cloud after a few more seconds. The downside is that this results in concentrated poison spraying everywhere.

It takes a concerted beating to bring the machine down, its bones are resilient and its plating tough, but fall it does. By the time it topples under Yuvan, beaten and broken, Fenris is finishing off the last of the smaller spiders. It takes some tricks on her part, lobbing her disc into enemies, snagging them with telekinesis to hold them briefly immobile, then yanking the disc back to herself to cleave through them on the return trip. By all accounts, it would appear as though the spiders have adapted their defenses and strategy to better fight the heroes, an observation Fenris finds deeply foreboding.

As the battle winds down Fenris begins approaching the wrecked necrotic construct, shimmering healing magic on her hand.

"Are you badly hurt? I should be able to purge that toxin easily enough. I have ample experience with restor-"

There then comes a very loud magical clang, the unmistakable sound of a corpse being raised.

But it isn't one of the farmers standing back to his feet.

Oh no.

Tendrils of dark magic are rapidly gathering the shattered and bent components of the construct and reassembling it.

"There will certainly be none of that," Fenris scolds as she takes a deep breath and-!

"Shul... AG DIIL!"

A blastwave of golden light explodes from her, washing harmlessly over Yuvan before colliding with the construct. The Dwemer alloy components are wholly unarmed, but the undead bones are blasted to sanctified ashes.

It doesn't look like the construct is recovering from that.

The villagers, meanwhile, appear to have had the sense to hide from the monsters rather than run up and try to engage them in fisticuffs. "Are they did?" one asks.

[Thrakeld]

"No need." Yuvan raises a hand, a glowing golden light emnating from it, casting healing spells until he's recovered. The first goes off without a hitch. The second, however...

You don't have enough magicka

...That's impossible. His armor enchantments should be giving it to him for free.

And just as he's thinking that, his helmet will crumble, the chitinous plates coming loose from the corroded leather that used to hold it all together. His armor, gauntlets, and boots will promptly follow suit, leaving him sitting there in his loincloth. At least his mace, being a daedric artifact, won't be affected. Although it looks like his jewelry still was, his Ring of Conjuring is a smouldering lump of silver, and his Philosopher's Pendant...

Sheogorath's taint, that's going to be hard to replace.

The altmer stands and scowls. This spiteful machine had cost him dearly. "Yaaaaaargh!" He bellows, inadvisably kicking out some of the dwemer remains with his bare feet. Stupid construct!

Yuvan sighs deeply and produces a fresh outfit from his inventory; a set of fine clothes, made by his wife, which he would wear on special occasions when armor was not appropriate, accompanied by a set of fine leather boots made by his sister-in-law. He's not going to let himself be caught out in the nude for long.

Shuttle to L1
Sekhmet also looks mortified at this development. "Uh..." Lizzie, on the other hand, finds it hilarious. You just kissed her! Aw hahaha! No wonder you want me out of your head, so you can be alone with her! I've got bad news for you, she's straight, married, and as loose in her affections as an iron maiden! Hahahahaha!

[Shuttle to L1]

"So am I. Except we'll replace 'married' with 'young enough to be her great-granddaughter, probably'." Miranda frowns. "And the women of my family typically greet and part with each other that way." Which would make this on the rough level of "accidentally calling the teacher 'mom'" in terms of embarrassment; much more familiar than is situationally appropriate, but not at all romantic.

...Probably. Lizzie had been knocking things around in her head. It wouldn't be surprising if she's been expanding on Miranda's libido.

Still. Hopefully saying this out loud would help perform a little damage control and save Sekhmet herself a little embarrassment.

[bc56]

Shuttle to L1
Something Miranda says there is even funnier to Lizzie, but she doesn't explain. "Uh, okay? Good night." Sekhmet responds. "Wait, you, uh, left your, uh, thing on." Sekhmet gestures at the TV, which is still displaying Miranda's game.

[Rebonack]

[Thrakeld]

Kicking Dwemer scrap with one's bare foot sounds like an excellent way to acquire a broken toe.

Fenris gives a little gasp as Yuvan's equipment begins to disintegrate for lack of a better description.

"That had to be intentional," she guesses, moving toward one of the puddles of toxin that's slowly evaporating into a noxious red cloud. She maintains a respectful distance, stowing her disc and drawing a pair of unadorned silver rings from her pack. Then, with telekinesis so as to avoid getting too close, she quickly dips both rings into the puddle.

One of them begins hissing and sparking violently.

The other reacts in a decidedly less dramatic fashion.

"As I suspected," Fenris says, discarding both objects. "This poison is designed to react with the bound magic of enchanted objects to fuel its own corrosive reaction. This compound was created specifically to cripple adventurers."

Their audience of several farmers doesn't appear to grasp the gravity of this situation. "Can you two still stop these machine spiders?"

"Yes," Fenris replies confidently. "Though it may require some preparation."

Then?

She briefly clenches a fist, the avaricious threads of Gondar's Greed slithering between her fingers. A quick cast later and every single salvageable component from the spiders is whisked into her pack.

"I believe we should be off. The trek to the entrance will apparently take some time and evening is already steadily approaching. When we make camp I can see about fashioning a suit of Dwemer alloy mail for you. That should offer more protection from blades and bolts than your dapper outfit."

[Ironsmith]

Shuttle to L1
Something Miranda says there is even funnier to Lizzie, but she doesn't explain. "Uh, okay? Good night." Sekhmet responds. "Wait, you, uh, left your, uh, thing on." Sekhmet gestures at the TV, which is still displaying Miranda's game.

[Shuttle to L1]

"Hm? Oh, right. Feel free to mess around with that if you want; I won about ten minutes ago." Miranda smiles. The game's mostly automated, so at this point she's just watching the well-constructed virtual kingdom she's made run itself. Lots of priests and paladins running around. "If you don't, you don't need to worry about saving or anything. The TV's all yours."

And with that, she'll close her pod up for the night, not interfering again until the midday shift if Lizzie doesn't mess with her.

[Thrakeld]

Kicking Dwemer scrap with one's bare foot sounds like an excellent way to acquire a broken toe.

Fenris gives a little gasp as Yuvan's equipment begins to disintegrate for lack of a better description.

"That had to be intentional," she guesses, moving toward one of the puddles of toxin that's slowly evaporating into a noxious red cloud. She maintains a respectful distance, stowing her disc and drawing a pair of unadorned silver rings from her pack. Then, with telekinesis so as to avoid getting too close, she quickly dips both rings into the puddle.

One of them begins hissing and sparking violently.

The other reacts in a decidedly less dramatic fashion.

"As I suspected," Fenris says, discarding both objects. "This poison is designed to react with the bound magic of enchanted objects to fuel its own corrosive reaction. This compound was created specifically to cripple adventurers."

Their audience of several farmers doesn't appear to grasp the gravity of this situation. "Can you two still stop these machine spiders?"

"Yes," Fenris replies confidently. "Though it may require some preparation."

Then?

She briefly clenches a fist, the avaricious threads of Gondar's Greed slithering between her fingers. A quick cast later and every single salvageable component from the spiders is whisked into her pack.

"I believe we should be off. The trek to the entrance will apparently take some time and evening is already steadily approaching. When we make camp I can see about fashioning a suit of Dwemer alloy mail for you. That should offer more protection from blades and bolts than your dapper outfit."

[Thrakeld]

That does sound marginally better than tearing up some of Taarie's clothing. She worked so hard on this outfit, Yuvan didn't want to ruin it with unnecessary roughness.

Yuvan tosses the ruined jewelry aside and kneels next to the rapidly-dissipating pool of toxin, dipping a finger in and getting a quick taste. As a trained alchemist, he's hoping to glean a little more information about this poison's contents, considering it potentially useful for future encounters. With as much as this villain relies on dwemer constructs, which are themselves at least partially enchanted, he can see it being useful in this situation, specifically... even if it costs him feeling in his tongue and fingertips or something like that.

When he's done with that, he'll stand and follow Fenris, keeping his chin up high as they leave the village. He might have lost most of his dignity in this encounter, but it's never too early to start earning it back.

[Rebonack]

[Thrakeld]

The bitter tang of river betty liver and the sickly sweet floral taste of deathbell are unmistakable. Yuvan can probably taste the abrasive grit of deer antler, as well. But there's something else in there. Something completely unfamiliar. A caustic, chemical flavor. No doubt the reagent meant to react so violently with enchantments. There's definitely some powdered soul gem in there. A spot of Dwemer oil, as well. And something else. But the final component remains illusive.

From here on out the trek is largely uneventful until the time comes to set up camp, which Fenris will begin doing with practiced easy. A fire and a lean-to with a fur sleeping bag under it. She also uses one of her exotic alteration spells to conjure up some forging equipment and begins working on the suit of armor for Yuvan. She'll be busy there for some time, rhythmically pounding away at the metal, her eyes reflecting strangely in the firelight.

"I should warn you ahead of time," she says conversationally whilst working at the anvil, "That I'm a werewolf. I survived a mauling as a child. However, you needn't worry yourself too much. I have excellent self-restraint and have largely avoided eating anyone unintentionally."

Largely.

Not completely.

There have been... accidents before. Which Fenris isn't proud of. Those nobles and their guard out in the wilderness. They stumbled upon her while she was tending to some bandits and she just... her blood was hot and they attacked her first! It wasn't her fault. She can't be held accountable for that. What sort of fool charges a werewolf that hasn't even seen them yet with a dagger ?

"In the event that I do transform I didn't want to startle you," she explains as she busies herself adding some padding to the inside of the armor before offering it to Yuvan. "Ah, there we are. Forged and tempered. It will be a bit heavier than that chiten armor you were wearing but I do believe it should offer sufficient protection. If you like I can conjure an enchanting table, but that might not be wise considering the nature of our foe. If we enchant this armor it's likely to be dissolved in short order."

[bc56]

Shuttle to L1
Sekhmet just stares at the game. It doesn't make any sense to her. "Uh, no thanks."
While Miranda sleeps, Sekhmet will go about business as usual (she turns the TV off pretty quickly so she has peace and quiet).
Lizzie, however, has other plans. Miranda and Sekhmet are becoming friends; she's going to make some tweaks to Miranda's emotional state in an attempt to make them more than just friends. She can't hope to successfully alter Sekhmet's emotions, but she's got easy access to Miranda.

[Ironsmith]

[Thrakeld]

Yuvan's idea of setting up camp is far more basic than Fenris's; he'll simply spray down a small area with a gout of flame (exhausting himself alarmingly quickly), leaving a glass-like veneer on the ground which sort of radiates heat. That will cool for the next hour or so, and should be fit for sleeping on then... although not especially comfortable. He won't be so much sleeping as slipping in and out of consciousness while he waits for time to pass.

While Fenris tends her forge, Yuvan will be taking inventory of what rings and amulets he still has left. He's been quite successful at selling his wares since he arrived, and has only a handful of rings left in that jewelry box he carries; a Ring of Mending and Rending (he's made dozens, of course there's surplus), a Ring of Alteration, a Ring of Burglary, a Ring of Armor Adaption, and... he smiles and strokes a plain gold band in the back; The Bond of Matrimony. Not particularly useful to him here, but too valuable to leave off his person.

His amulets aren't any better. He has a silver pendant of waterbreathing (likely the most useless item he's ever made), and a prayer necklace; he'll close the box before Fenris gets to see which of the Nine it belongs to.

For now, he'll take back the Mending/Rending ring and slip it on, grateful to have access to Destruction and Restoration magic again. He'll then go through a similar process with his medicine chest.

Fortify Destruction? No, he'd deliberately made those toxic, and without poison resistance from his armor, they'd kill him as stone dead as anyone else who tried to drink them.

Smithing? Hm... useful. He'll pass that off to Fenris when she goes to temper his equipment; her skills are likely already formidable, but he simply will not accept any less than the absolute best when it comes tk protective gear.

He's got a few dozen variants of traditional poisons, all of which will be useless here; they're fighting automatons and undead, in all likelihood.

And one vial of paralytic poison. Still pointless, but a notable deviation from the collection of liquids that kill things dead.

Yuvan closes the medicinal chest just in time to hear Fenris caution him about her furry problem. "Is that a fact? I thought I smelled wet dog." He comments idly, his attention turning toward seeing what new potions he can make; he won't have the absurd alchemical insight his Philosopher's Pendant afforded him before, but he might still be able to put together something useful. He knows many other ways he could have put that, but those were all predicated on the notion that he wanted to avoid offending her; in his mind, she's a tagalong, not a true companion. Someone he'll see in just this one expedition and never meet again. He doesn't need to worry about building a lasting relationship with her.

"Rest assured that if the need arises, I am still more than capable of defending myself." He adds, swirling around a vial of poison for emphasis. "You would not be the first werewolf I've had the pleasure of meeting, and I very much doubt you will be the last. I am well aware of the associated risk."

His eyes flick up at Fenris as he switches tack. "You're a Gray-Mane, are you not?" He asks abruptly, grinding some snowberries into a powder with a mortar and pestle in his hands. "Stormcloak sympathizers, with close ties to the Companions. I've often wondered how those two positions are reconciled."

[Shuttle to L1]

Whether Lizzie successfully changes Miranda's perception of Sekhmet depends entirely on what tack she takes. Now would be the time to go about it either way, as her brain is at its most malleable while she's asleep, but some thoughts will be more readily accepted than others. Lizzie might recall that attempting to insert herself into Miranda's more... adult-oriented dreams resulted in them being swept out as nonsense; trying to do the same thing with Sekhmet will likely produce similar results. But maybe she's found some other way to leave an impression...

[Rebonack]

[Thrakeld]

Fenris wrinkles her nose at the potion, but downs it none the less. She doesn't typically rely on alchemical reagents to improve her smithing, though she DOES have some enchanted equipment to help in that regard.

All kept in deep storage, of course.

There's no reason to keep such things on her person.

Since she isn't a classless hobo, her smithing gear is of course a smith's outfit. The apron is always nice to prevent sparks from leaping down one's trousers.

When Yuvan tests the equipment he'll find it flawlessly crafted and well fitted to his frame. Because of course Fenris has an eye for proportions. She needs them for her craft to be successful.

"Likely the only one quite like myself you'll meet, however," Fenris replies as she begins working on a second suit of armor for herself. Her own gear is, of course, heavily enchanted. She doesn't want her armor sloughing off in the middle of combat, so she'll need a mundane suit to fall back on. "In this form I can employ a wide array of alteration and restoration magic. However, I've found myself quite incapable of casting the sun spells typically used to destroy undead. While a werewolf I can employ ONLY sun spells with such searing intensity that they can char even living and constructs. I tend to be, ah, slightly more indiscriminate as a beast so it would be wise to keep your distance as much as possible. Granted, I try to avoid using that form unless I have no other choice. Apparently I 'amuse and impress' the daedric prince Hercine, much to my chagrin."

There are exactly none of the daedra that Fenris is particularly fond of.

"I've had some correspondence with one Reman Crex on my condition and neither of us have found any other precedent for a werewolf employing magic. He offered to examine me in detail while I was in Cyrodil which I, ah, politely declined."

She's read his entire set of treatises on werewolves and she's well acquainted with the scholar's methods.

Then comes the talk of family, at which Fenris stiffens slightly.

"Yes. I'm the youngest daughter of Eorlund Gray-Mane. Something of the prodigal child of the family given my propensity to studying the mysteries of Aetherius rather than finding better ways to crack skulls with axes. My family is deeply devoted to Talos, which is where the sympathies to the Stormcloaks largely arise from. My family's link to the Sky Forge is ancient and whatever gods the Companions themselves do or don't follow is largely immaterial. I..."

Fenris pauses to sigh, setting aside the boots she's working on for the moment.

"I've been to Cyrodil. The land is still broken by the destruction the Great War wrought. My people in Skyrim, most of them don't understand how close to the precipice the Empire came. The war largely didn't touch my homeland, so most of my people didn't see the destruction with their own eyes. It was a distant thing, someone else's problem. So while I don't approve of the banning of Talos worship I understand why the concession was made to the Thalmor."

She clenches her fist in quiet fury.

"One of the first things I stumbled upon returning to home was a shrine to Talos near Lake Illinalta. Half a dozen worshipers slaughtered and a single dead Thalmor agent. It's all just so... senseless."

Fenris declines to speak of what was done to her brother. She isn't sure if she would be able to without losing her temper. And Fenris losing her temper is a dangerous thing.

[Earl of Purple]

Pixie Grinder's Compound

Not a ring, the medallion is a small disc, like a bracelet charm. And the range isn't great, either; it doesn't affect all the items Yuvan wears, if he finds a way to wear it, just those it's connected to. Tie it to his weapon, boost the weapon; wear it on a necklace, boost the necklace- and perhaps the breastplate, if he's not wearing a gambeson. On a charm bracelet- or as a set of charms on a chain from ear to nose- it boosts the other charms. The haste effect isn't big, and doesn't reach supernatural levels; he could use it to win a footrace, but not travel a mile in a minute. He might be able to duplicate their effects, or perhaps he won't. Not all magical items were created.

Boada spends the time Yuvan's feeling up the corpse for jewellery opening the cabinet under the television and removing a stack of DVDs and a multipack of batteries.

The next door is the archway to the kitchen/dining room. There's nobody in here, quite a few cupboards and drawers, an oven, a metal fridge, and a table with six chairs about it, all set for a meal. The furniture is retro style; the fridge is acid green, the cabinets a lurid shade of yellow, the floor is covered in purple vinyl and the ceiling is painted with black and white swirls. There's a bottle of wine on the table, and several well-stocked spice racks are on the counters near the oven. There's also an electric kettle next to a jar of coffee, a box of teabags, a variety of brightly-coloured mugs, and a jar of sugar. Boada goes immediately to the sugar and starts eating straight from the jar, grabbing a teaspoon to help.

Abandoned Battlefield

Setting themselves up on a ramp of rubble, the girls in the Valentine crank their cannon up as far as it can go and fire a high-explosive shell at the Raven's missile launcher. They're hoping the explosion of their shell will detonate at least one of the missiles and cause a chain reaction. It's unlikely to work, as the missiles are probably not armed yet.

Regardless of success or failure, once more the Valentine moves, rolling forwards over the rubble ramp and quickly turning to hide behind a building before speeding up to cross a road. The commander tries to keep her eye on the Raven and the Centurion to make sure they don't start targeting her and her friends. Meanwhile, the gunner and loader work on rearming the cannon, loading an armour-piercing anti-tank shell.

[Deathkeeper]

[An Improbable Adventure]

C'mon, there aren't any skeletons attacking you at the moment G'nichi! Everything is fine.

The door, as it happens, has no key hole.

If G'nichi pushes on it the door will swing right open.

Unlike this room, wherein everything is fine, the next room contains another inert disco ball and a bunch of raving skeletons.

FIVE of them this time around.

The disco ball's pedestal is atop a small platform with a wooden ramp leading up to it. Considering how high it is off the ground sneaking up there might be tough. If only they had a tiny lizard person adept to climbing on their side...

An Improbable Adventure

Unfortunately they don't have any of those. They do however have a very large lizard person in a flannel and a magic hat.
At the first thought that he might have to dance at the skeletons his body leaps into action, throwing him across the room onto the dance(?) floor with a mighty POWER SLIDE!
Followed by about a minute and a half of aggressive lizard-person-mildly-possessed-by-dance-based-hat dancing.

[Rebonack]

[An Improbable Adventure]

The cosmos is cruel like that, sometimes.

Sometimes when you really need a tiny lizard person adept at climbing you just don't have one.

BUT!

It turns out that busting sick moves is enough to distract the raving wraiths. Only problem is, disco music isn't playing. This is LOUD and POUNDING techno music! As such G'nichi's disco moves aren't very effective.

At some point Fenris stows the book she was paging through (The Fall of Meridia by one Auninthiel) and gives a quick, "Oh dear he kept going!" before hurrying into the next room! Fenris doesn't usually adventure with others. She's more of the loner type, most of the time. Which means she has some bad habits she really needs to pay more attention to.

Such as getting absorbed in interesting books while her companion is busy fighting monsters.

Whoops!

Fenris hurries into the next chamber and begins climbing the ramp up to the inert disco ball while G'nichi has the wraiths distracted.

[Deathkeeper]

An Improbable Adventure

See G'nichi doesn't know a single thing about dancing to rave music because from his extremely limited experience of having seen the opening to a movie where a rave takes places, all he really knows is that it involves jumping a lot or something?
Anyway.
There's limits to how many styles of dance you get from a magic hat. So for now G'nichi goes for a SWEET and also TIME CONSUMING elaborate spin move which hopefully Fenris can use to get stuff done because wow he has no idea what he's doing.

[Rebonack]

[An Improbable Adventure]

The disco ball is activated and the music switches from techno to FUNK!

This means the wraiths are sorely out-classed. They can't HOPE to compete with G'nichi and promptly collapse into pools of ectoplasm as a result of their crushing shame.

Another door opens for our heroes to the fourth and final section of the temple.

"I must admit," Fenris says as she eyes the disco ball beaming sparkling lights all over the room. "That this is, perhaps, the strangest quest I've ever partaken in. And I did an errand for the Prince of Madness once."

It's pretty hard to top the Wobbajack.

But Fenris feels like this very possibly tops the Wobbajack.

The Wobbajack was certainly random.

But this is downright silly.

Aside from the vanquished skeletons there's a shelf filled with various disco shoes of a wide variety of platform heights. Several of them appear to have been designed for the degrade feet of a half dragon. Why those are here is anyone's guess. Very likely it is because of how improbable discovering such a thing is.

[Deathkeeper]

An Improbable Adventure

Okay, G'nich can take hats but he draws a line with shoes. He has never worn shoes besides foot-wraps and he's not about to start now!
"I've had stranger, but those were also horrifically traumatic, so I'll take it." G'nichi says with a shrug, continuing on.
Being trapped in a real, deadly version of an internet game which is both real and also not is actually harder to explain than ghosts powered by dancing.

[Ironsmith]

[Thrakeld]

Fenris wrinkles her nose at the potion, but downs it none the less. She doesn't typically rely on alchemical reagents to improve her smithing, though she DOES have some enchanted equipment to help in that regard.

All kept in deep storage, of course.

There's no reason to keep such things on her person.

Since she isn't a classless hobo, her smithing gear is of course a smith's outfit. The apron is always nice to prevent sparks from leaping down one's trousers.

When Yuvan tests the equipment he'll find it flawlessly crafted and well fitted to his frame. Because of course Fenris has an eye for proportions. She needs them for her craft to be successful.

"Likely the only one quite like myself you'll meet, however," Fenris replies as she begins working on a second suit of armor for herself. Her own gear is, of course, heavily enchanted. She doesn't want her armor sloughing off in the middle of combat, so she'll need a mundane suit to fall back on. "In this form I can employ a wide array of alteration and restoration magic. However, I've found myself quite incapable of casting the sun spells typically used to destroy undead. While a werewolf I can employ ONLY sun spells with such searing intensity that they can char even living and constructs. I tend to be, ah, slightly more indiscriminate as a beast so it would be wise to keep your distance as much as possible. Granted, I try to avoid using that form unless I have no other choice. Apparently I 'amuse and impress' the daedric prince Hercine, much to my chagrin."

There are exactly none of the daedra that Fenris is particularly fond of.

"I've had some correspondence with one Reman Crex on my condition and neither of us have found any other precedent for a werewolf employing magic. He offered to examine me in detail while I was in Cyrodil which I, ah, politely declined."

She's read his entire set of treatises on werewolves and she's well acquainted with the scholar's methods.

Then comes the talk of family, at which Fenris stiffens slightly.

"Yes. I'm the youngest daughter of Eorlund Gray-Mane. Something of the prodigal child of the family given my propensity to studying the mysteries of Aetherius rather than finding better ways to crack skulls with axes. My family is deeply devoted to Talos, which is where the sympathies to the Stormcloaks largely arise from. My family's link to the Sky Forge is ancient and whatever gods the Companions themselves do or don't follow is largely immaterial. I..."

Fenris pauses to sigh, setting aside the boots she's working on for the moment.

"I've been to Cyrodil. The land is still broken by the destruction the Great War wrought. My people in Skyrim, most of them don't understand how close to the precipice the Empire came. The war largely didn't touch my homeland, so most of my people didn't see the destruction with their own eyes. It was a distant thing, someone else's problem. So while I don't approve of the banning of Talos worship I understand why the concession was made to the Thalmor."

She clenches her fist in quiet fury.

"One of the first things I stumbled upon returning to home was a shrine to Talos near Lake Illinalta. Half a dozen worshipers slaughtered and a single dead Thalmor agent. It's all just so... senseless."

Fenris declines to speak of what was done to her brother. She isn't sure if she would be able to without losing her temper. And Fenris losing her temper is a dangerous thing.

[Thrakeld]

"Senseless, indeed." Yuvan agrees. "Six on one. Even with the six shoddily armed and untrained, those are long odds for anyone who isn't Dragonborn. The remains speak to a talented young battle-mage, who had his life wasted fighting with farmers over a statue in the countryside." The altmer scowls. "And I'm sure you saw his orders. Elenwen has abandoned these mer. Aldmeri lives, treated as... as disposable pawns. And to what end? To persecute those who do not share our beliefs? To undermine an enemy we have already soundly routed, which is crumbling in its twilight years? Bah! Tiber Septim's empire is less a threat to us than we are to ourselves. These operations are a waste of precious Aldmeri lives." He has, by this point, finished donning most of the armor Fenris provided, and he punctuates his rant by sliding on the dwarven gauntlets with a metallic shunk. "The Thalmor's business in Skyrim has concluded, and there is much work to be done in restoring the Dominion to its former glory. Leave the Men to themselves."

Pixie Grinder's Compound

Not a ring, the medallion is a small disc, like a bracelet charm. And the range isn't great, either; it doesn't affect all the items Yuvan wears, if he finds a way to wear it, just those it's connected to. Tie it to his weapon, boost the weapon; wear it on a necklace, boost the necklace- and perhaps the breastplate, if he's not wearing a gambeson. On a charm bracelet- or as a set of charms on a chain from ear to nose- it boosts the other charms. The haste effect isn't big, and doesn't reach supernatural levels; he could use it to win a footrace, but not travel a mile in a minute. He might be able to duplicate their effects, or perhaps he won't. Not all magical items were created.

Boada spends the time Yuvan's feeling up the corpse for jewellery opening the cabinet under the television and removing a stack of DVDs and a multipack of batteries.

The next door is the archway to the kitchen/dining room. There's nobody in here, quite a few cupboards and drawers, an oven, a metal fridge, and a table with six chairs about it, all set for a meal. The furniture is retro style; the fridge is acid green, the cabinets a lurid shade of yellow, the floor is covered in purple vinyl and the ceiling is painted with black and white swirls. There's a bottle of wine on the table, and several well-stocked spice racks are on the counters near the oven. There's also an electric kettle next to a jar of coffee, a box of teabags, a variety of brightly-coloured mugs, and a jar of sugar. Boada goes immediately to the sugar and starts eating straight from the jar, grabbing a teaspoon to help.

[Pixie Grinder's Compound]

She's just... eating straight sugar? By the spoonful? Huh. Must be a sprite thing.

Yuvan will ignore her and instead start pocketing various jars and shakers full of spice. They could make for useful alchemical ingredients. When he's done with that, if Boada hasn't eaten all of the sugar, he'll put a hand over the top of the jar to stop her and pocket that, too. Then, if there don't appear to be any enemies or pixie captives here, he'll move on to the next room.

[Rebonack]

[An Improbable Adventure]

Fenris isn't terribly fond of traumatic adventures.

Learning that her brother had been tortured for months was pretty traumatic. She was glad that she was able to free him, at least.

Dancing undead definitely aren't traumatic, though.

The next door opens up into a wider dance floor, the tiles flashing with multi-colors while disco balls rotate at the ceiling. Standing at the back of the room is the necrodancer, wearing an ostentatious outfit of glittering fabric festooned with finger bones. His afro is immaculate. His mustache huge. His sideburns bushy. He's wearing an absolutely absurd-sized pendant made of some sort of golden meta. It's ring-shaped, with a glowing mass of pure white light in the center. G'nichi will be able to feel the sheer mojo radiating from it even at this distance.

Surrounding the necrodancer as six dance-wraiths.

"So!" he bellows at our heroes. "You think you can match my moxie? You'll be humbled before me and I'll pull out your spirits to be my backup dancers! Minions! LET'S FUNK!"

Oh no.

He's dancing and so are his wraiths! They're all really well coordinated!


[Thrakeld]

He's a Thalmor agent.

That white hot pinprick of rage in Fenris' brain briefly flares, but she schools herself.

Breath.

This man is not an enemy.

She has no personal quarrel with him. In fact, they have common cause in ending the threat at the ruins. What's more, he disapproves of the persecution of Talos worshipers. For his own reasons, of course. He has little interest in the lives of Men. Only the Mer that have been slain as a result of the troubles in the Empire.

"I saw his orders, yes. He was certain finding the shrine would bring him personal glory, I suspect. In my travels I found myself ambushed more than once at Talos shrines in the wilderness by Thalmor agents. It never went well for them," Fenris admits. She turns her attention back to the armor she's working on for herself. "The Thalmor abducted my brother, you know. We didn't have any kin who had joined the Stormcloaks at that point. But they tortured him none the less. Trying to get him to admit to being one of Jarl Ulfric's spies in the city. I believe they were interested only in hanging a sword over the head of my clan. I ...slaughtered... every Mer in that fortress. And in the end both of my brothers joined the ranks of the Stormcloaks. I'm not even sure if they're still alive. I killed all those people, but my brothers still might have been devoured by the sword none the less. This whole conflict is madness."

That...

Felt good.

A weight off her shoulders, admitting that.

[bc56]

Shuttle to L1
This time, Lizzie will be subtle. Miranda will dream about Sekhmet, but not in an overtly curtain-y way. But Sekhmet's good qualities will be exemplified, especially the ones that Miranda has already expressed interest in, especially where that overlaps with Miranda's idea of an ideal partner. Miranda apparently wants Sekhmet in her head, and Lizzie will try to corrupt that into something less pure of heart.

Abandoned Battlefield
The shell explodes against the Raven's armor. The missiles, however, don't. Almoner directs his Griffin into another jump, stomping down to the damaged side of the Centurion and firing another salvo of missiles at its torso. This apparently proves too much for the weakened mech, which topples over and lies motionless. On the other side of the enemy line, the Panther pushes itself up onto its feet again and fires a beam of blue light from its gun arm, aimed at the Valentine. The attack will miss, but pass close enough that anyone still outside the tank will feel the intense heat generated by the energy weapon. It follows this up with a rain of long-range missiles, not especially powerful or accurate, but there are a lot of them.

[Ironsmith]

[Thrakeld]

He's a Thalmor agent.

That white hot pinprick of rage in Fenris' brain briefly flares, but she schools herself.

Breath.

This man is not an enemy.

She has no personal quarrel with him. In fact, they have common cause in ending the threat at the ruins. What's more, he disapproves of the persecution of Talos worshipers. For his own reasons, of course. He has little interest in the lives of Men. Only the Mer that have been slain as a result of the troubles in the Empire.

"I saw his orders, yes. He was certain finding the shrine would bring him personal glory, I suspect. In my travels I found myself ambushed more than once at Talos shrines in the wilderness by Thalmor agents. It never went well for them," Fenris admits. She turns her attention back to the armor she's working on for herself. "The Thalmor abducted my brother, you know. We didn't have any kin who had joined the Stormcloaks at that point. But they tortured him none the less. Trying to get him to admit to being one of Jarl Ulfric's spies in the city. I believe they were interested only in hanging a sword over the head of my clan. I ...slaughtered... every Mer in that fortress. And in the end both of my brothers joined the ranks of the Stormcloaks. I'm not even sure if they're still alive. I killed all those people, but my brothers still might have been devoured by the sword none the less. This whole conflict is madness."

That...

Felt good.

A weight off her shoulders, admitting that.

[Thrakeld]

Followed by a literal weight on her shoulder. About as much as a dwarven gauntlet plus the occupying limb of its new altmer owner. "...This is war. It's tragic by nature." He says, offering bitterly honest words in lieu of comfort. "...You may be gratified to know that the Avulstein and Thorald Grey-Mane of my Nirn never got the chance to join with the Stormcloaks. Ulfric had been deposed by that time. When that did not prove to be enough to convince the guard to release Thorald, I went in and saw to it myself. Anyone foolish enough to stand in the way was summarily rewarded for their obstinance." In practical terms, this meant he did the exact same thing; broke into Northwatch and slaughtered the garrison to release the Nord they had imprisoned there. "...The things they did to that man. Disgraceful." His fingers curl to give Fenris's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I could understand if he were truly a conspirator before then. If he held some information that was vital to the defense of the Dominion or its interests. The needs of the many, I'm sure even you Nords understand. But to visit such things on an innocent..." He shakes his head. "...All the more reason to withdraw from Skyrim."

Shuttle to L1
This time, Lizzie will be subtle. Miranda will dream about Sekhmet, but not in an overtly curtain-y way. But Sekhmet's good qualities will be exemplified, especially the ones that Miranda has already expressed interest in, especially where that overlaps with Miranda's idea of an ideal partner. Miranda apparently wants Sekhmet in her head, and Lizzie will try to corrupt that into something less pure of heart.

[Shuttle to L1]

With the curtain component removed, Lizzie will find that Miranda's view of Sekhmet skews a little more... familial. Her intent may be to present Sekhmet as an ideal partner for Miranda, but many of those traits amount to "potential family member I can trust". The distinction between husband material and honorary cousin pretty much starts and ends at reproduction.

As such, when Lizzie points out what a kind, loving soul Sekhmet is, Miranda's inclined to agree... she's quite a bit like the mother she never had. Not that she didn't have a mother, just not one like Sekhmet. It's a very different sort of psychological itch, but perhaps still one Lizzie can use?

[Rebonack]

[Thrakeld]

He killed his own people.

Over the mistreatment of one?

Or perhaps many.

Who knows how many innocents had been tortured to death at Northwatch?

"That seems uncharacteristically charitable of you," Fenris admits, flashing a ghost of a smile.

Not the sort of typical charity, mind. The kind where you give away a gold coin and get rewarded by the Divines for your generosity.

"It was my brother that saw me return to Skyrim. I received a letter from my mother regarding the situation and her suspicions. In spite of the closed boarder and the bad blood between myself and my father, I still came home. I very nearly didn't. I wonder if Fenris Gray-Mane is still in Cyrodil, in your echo of Nirn."

She gives the Mer an inquisitive look. "What lead you to turn on the Thalmor in Skyrim? Was it this wasting of lives you were witnessing? Or... maybe something more personal? That they saw you at Helgan but did nothing to see you freed?"