dovah se faal briin

@briinfahliil

"Do you want something from me, or are you simply going to stand there and stare?" {TES RP blog for a maormer dovahkiin. Tracks the tag briinfahliil}

129 posts

faal-voduliik-deactivated201505

Relic of the Past

Aslaug struggles to keep her stance, but cannot help but to tilt her head to the side and let her confusion fully overtake her. “Mudozaan? Wo los daar Mudozaan?”

Her tone remained demanding in spite of her overwhelming confusion. As she continued to speak her tone of voice didn’t soften. “Rok lost nid wah dreh voth faal Zaag. Vir vis dovah tinvok kos ful ni frolk?”

Without even waiting for a response she straightener herself back up, furrowing her brows. She crossed her arms and glowered up at the womer as she began speaking again. “Ahrk wo los hi, fahliil, wah qahnaar fahraal wah dii laan? Zu'u los lok sonaak! Vir krilon hi kos ful duziir!”

She allows her surprise to seep into her expression at the statement; how can this woman speak dovahzul and not know of the old masters upon the mountain? They are widely known, as far as Xylia can tell, even beyond the borders of Skyrim.

Xyliatia’s brows draw together in concern. The aggression in the stranger’s tone does not go unnoticed, and if missed then her body language certainly does not mask her reaction to such news. The woman is delusional, surely; talk of ‘sky priests' and ignorance of the Greybeards. And yet, she speaks the ancient language fluently-- as confidently as she holds herself. The stranger believes her words to be true, Xylia can see that much, even beyond the woman’s rudeness. There is something rather unsettling going on here.

She grimaces suddenly, eyes narrowing a fraction in reciprocation of Aslaug’s expression. Her voice is crisp and clear, a sign of her growing irritation, and when she speaks she bares her teeth in withheld frustration. How rude. “Duziir? Zu'u los ni gein ko daar stornah geblaan goltnu!” She scoffs, “'Lok sonaak'? Zu'u lost hon nid do 'lok sonaak', ahrk orin waan zu'u lost zu'u fund fozir hi nid grik fir; hi kosov med kiir!”

She pauses to calm, trying to let the insult go in lieu of letting her temper best her senses. The Maormer shuts her eyes for a beat, then pinches the bridge of her nose. “Ugh. Vosro gonah avok. Nii los baarkei wah zey hi los... jeyk. Zu'u los Xyliati. Ahrk, to nii aal ni seik pogaas wah miinahsul hi dreh ni mindok faal Mudozaan, Zu'u los Dovahkiin. Faal laat Dovahkiin. Wo los hi? Ahrk fos los 'lok sonaak?”

#relic of the past #astrongwill

delphineoftheblades

briinfahliil started following you

delphineoftheblades

“Too bad,” Delphine said with a frown, crossing her arms. “Whether you’re interested or not, you are Dragonborn. Several of my sources have confirmed that. I’m more interested in who you are than what at this point.”

A smile spread across her face as she added, “And yes, since you asked, I do have a purpose for you. Dragons have come back into the world, and so have you, and that’s not an accident.”

“Sources...” She mutters in disbelief, now blinking away the remnants of fatigue in her vision. Blank eyes narrow on the Breton. “I-- Wh--” Loose strands of hair fall from the tie to frame her face, and she angrily brushes them behind her pointed ears. “Who the shit are you? I believe I have a right to know considering this...” Her hands flail uselessly for a second. “...Intrusion.”

“If these ‘sources’ of yours claim I am Dragonborn, then I can tell you that yes, that is what these Nords call me. If you are here to see the rumours true then there is your answer. I have no desire to reveal my name, nor to join your cult of--” She pinches the bridge of her nose, “--Oh, I don’t know. Dragon worshippers? I want no part of it. Leave me be.”

#delphineoftheblades

scalesandsecrets

briinfahliil started following you

scalesandsecrets

Nor lets out a soft chuckle at that. “I will not disagree towards such a statement, for certain. Black Marsh was and is similar to that in many respects. Though I would also have to say that I call Skyrim my home now more than anywhere else. I have sunk my roots quite deep into this land, and would be quite hard pressed to leave it for other territories at this point.” A toothy grin is offered up, followed shortly after by a slight tilt of the Argonian’s head. “Pyandonea, you say? I have… heard brief mentions of it, perhaps once or twice, but truthfully I know next to nothing about it.” It’s a sheepish chuckle that leaves the assassin’s lips at that admission. “Do not feel pressed that you have to go schooling me on it however, I would not wish to increase your feelings of homesickness any more than I would my own.”

She nods slightly, grudgingly admitting to herself that, despite its harsher climates and bitter people, Skyrim has grown on her too. She wonders if she's going to have to stay here much longer, and if she'll ever miss the place when she leaves.

"I believe a select few history books have brief snippets of my home within them, but admittedly I'm not sure how many are extensively informed. I suppose no source is more reliable than one that has lived there though, no? I would be glad to tell you of Pyandonea." She twists her hair over her shoulder, hesitating for a second, "I suppose that it's similar to Black Marsh, in fact. In some ways, at least; there are many bogs and marshes on city outskirts that sometimes seep oil into the ocean, plants near the coasts that are capable of pulling an unwary swimmer into the water and keeping them there. It is as dangerous as it is beautiful.” Her memories consume her, the sting of saltwater on her skin and pressure of deep waters on her eyes almost tangible.

“It's... well, it’s pretty much everything Skyrim isn’t. Very warm and humid. Sometimes we get squalls from the northern mist walls so large they last for days, so strong they can knock full grown Maormer on their arse. There are sea serpents, too. More often feral than tamed nowadays though, sadly." She shoots him a grin. “And, it’s full of elves, naturally. I imagine any Nord would feel as out of place there as I did here when I first arrived. It was quite a... overwhelming change.”

#scalesandsecrets

faal-voduliik-deactivated201505

[OPEN] Relic of the Past

faal-voduliik-deactivated201505

The priestess immediately looks up at the source of the question, expecting to see another member of the Cult. However, as her eyes land on the womer standing beside her a look of utter bewilderment passes over her face. “Geh. Zuk riid, wo los hi fahliil, ahrk vir dreh hi mindok dovahzul?”

In spite of the confusion on her face, Aslaug’s tone was forceful and demanding. She straightened herself up to her full height as she spoke, but remained a few inches shorter than the mer. Were it not for her obvious bewilderment she would have been a rather imposing sight.

She was obviously used to her demeanor and appearance getting her answers straight away, and it seemed fairly clear she expected no less now.

She arches a brow and almost smiles. However, the tone the woman contains more than just simple bewilderment as her face reveals, and is far from friendly. Her body language is enough to make her want to step away "Tol los do nid hahvoth wah zuruniik." She's almost hesitant to answer at all. While she's eager to find out how the stranger knows the language, it's not something she'd risk angering the other for. If the woman knows dovahzul, who's to say she doesn't have the Thu'um as well? She's not looking for trouble, least of all a fight.

"Zu'u los Xyliati Neyaro. Wo los hi?" The Maormer's ear twitches ever so slightly, gaze flickering up the mountain where the Nordic ruins stand. She wonders if that's where the woman has come from. "... Zu'u lost fun tol nunon vorey gein ko daar hofkiin wo tinvaak dovah tinvok los faal Mudozaan. Dreh hi kroson voth niin?"

#faalvoduliik #relic of the past

delphineoftheblades

briinfahliil started following you

"Have to say, when I heard there was a new Dragonborn, I didn’t think you’d avoid the Greybeards altogether. Made you harder to track down." Delphine folded her arms at the mer, the expression on her face a mix of bemusement and frustration. "Not that I disagree. There are better places to put your powers to use than a bunch of old men shouting at the sky."

Whatever half-asleep stupor the elf is sinking into instantly dissipates upon hearing the voice, and she's on her feet in an instant. Her expression twists into a grimace as she realises her gear is on the other side of the room, directly behind the stranger. However, the woman doesn't appear to be aggressive, nor does she have the outward appearance of someone looking for a fight. Xylia's jaw clenches.

"And you would have a better use for them, I suppose?" Just like everyone else in this damned country. "I'm not interested, I'm afraid. Get lost." She's too tired to deal with fanatics right now, and is quickly losing her patience.

#delphineoftheblades #no this is great!#i'm thinking they're maybe in an inn?

faal-voduliik-deactivated201505

[OPEN] Relic of the Past

The young woman slowly made her way down the rocky side of the mountain, nearly stumbling several times. She was finding it difficult to see in the bright sun light after having been in darkness for…however long it had actually been.

That was something of a concern to her. How long had she been asleep? Where was everyone and why weren’t they there when she was awake? And now that she had left the temple, where were all the bodies? A war had been going on when the mages had sealed her away in the temple’s inner sanctum, and that felt like it could have only been a few days ago.

She was consumed in her thoughts as she made the final jump from a rocky ledge to the ground a few feet below. “Faaz!” She cried out in pain as she hit the ground hard and stumbled, falling to her knees. A look of anger crossed her pale face as she stood up and dusted off her robes. The young woman grumbled under her breath as she shook the dirt from her skirts, not even noticing that another person was approaching.

A jarring sense of trepidation is what wakes her from her mid-day haze on the warm rocks of Lake Ilinalta's shores. Her hair is still damp from her morning swim, her face warm from the sun's rays... yet something seems out of place somehow.

"Faaz!" And there she hears it. Yet no other sound accompanies the sound of Dovahzul; no heavy wings tearing the silence apart and kicking up a dust as one of the winged beasts comes to land. Nothing. Just the sound of a body hitting the ground with a little more force than a jump. It sounds rather painful, actually.

More than a little curious, she rises and crosses the rocks with a series of jumps, landing slightly off balance on the sand on the other side. A human, of all things, is the only being in sight. Surely the word could not have come from her? She rubs her nose with the heel of her palm, standing a little awkwardly in the shallows as she wonders what she should do.

When the young woman ahead appears to be recovering from her fall, Xyliati heads up the shingle towards her, hoping she doesn't startle her. "Los hi bek?" Her tone of concern doesn't manage to quite contain the underlying eagerness to see if the woman will recognise the language and respond.

#faalvoduliik #jumping in here if you don't mind?#these two probably needed to meet sooner or later though haha

briinfahliil started following you

Kharo almost looked disappointed. He had been hoping for something interesting, something useful, even if killing Thalmor was good enough on its own. Maybe a name he could use, or something—

Instead he smiled, tucking the coins in his belt-pouch. “Drink sounds great. Y’got somethin’ in mind, or are we just gonna rob these guys of all their fancy wine?”

"Could do with a meal, really. Think there's an inn nearby." She sniffs, scrunching up her nose and ridding her sinuses of the metallic scent of blood. "Though, fancy wine sounds good about now. Sells for a fair deal, too."

Gods, she sounds like a common bandit. What happened to her soldier's moral code? She supposes stealing from the Thalmor isn't too bad, but the thought that the extensive time she'd spent in this barbaric land could be changing her is slightly disturbing.

She takes a few bottles anyway. No use in wasting perfectly good wine, after all.

scalesandsecrets

briinfahliil started following you

scalesandsecrets

"Oh, I concur most certainly. It is difficult for me to find delectables from my home, outside of the occasional bottle of Argonian ale, of course. But what I wouldn’t do for a taste some of my childhood treats once again." An almost wistful sounding sigh leaves the assassin’s lips, though it is only a moment before he gives a shake of his head and focuses his attentions back on his current company. "My apologies, I did not mean to ramble as I did. May I inquire as to where you call your home?"

She smiles as she listens, relating. She sees no use in evading the question he asks. There's an amicable nature to the man that she's seen too few times in her travels. The most decent folk are often happened upon by chance, and she's hardly concerned he'll run off running his mouth to the Thalmor. "No worries. I hail from the South. Far to the south, that is. An island called Pyandonea, though very few know of it still. It's a land so different from this one I sometimes wonder if I've entered another world altogether." Xyliati thinks of home, letting the sentimentality of it all fill her veins.

"It seems we travellers are destined to long for home, no? Being drawn to the unknown is quite bothersome when you're also prone to bouts of nostalgia." She grins.

#scalesandsecrets

Windhelm, part 2.

#briinfahliilro queue

briinfahliil started following you

Kharo shrugged, beginning to count his loot. “Yeah, yeah, weird, impressive, sacred, gross, who says it can’t be all those things? I don’t care… We’ve got our own ‘weird magic’ that noone cares about, so—”

He picketed the gold, looking back at her. “D’ya find anythin’ useful?”

The elf gives a snort of amusement while she searches, and finds a decent sized coin purse on the corpse. His eyes, now milky and bloodshot, have sunken into his hollow eyesockets and his skin is tinged a light grey. He looks like a draugr in the making. Xylia moves away from him once she's certain he's got nothing more of use to her.

"There's very little here other than gold, honestly." Gold and horribly handwritten logs of their daily movements through the hold. She'll look through them later. "Looks like a simple scouting party though. Nothing of real interest to be found." She stands and wipes off her hands on the fabric underside of her gauntlets, breathing in the biting cold air through her nose. Neyaro grins then, all bloodied teeth and wrinkles around her eyes, "But at least the world is rid of four more Thalmor, so I suppose the effort was not wasted. Fancy going for a drink?"

#wewillnotbow #i love these two so much #brotp tbh

scalesandsecrets

briinfahliil started following you

scalesandsecrets

A slight dip of his head in agreement. “I must profess that I have little love for the city either, despite how often my travel and work takes me there. The majority of the Nord populace do not seem to appreciate my being there, but at least the Dunmer are much more accepting of my presence. Not to mention the Cornerclub has better drinks than Candlehearth Hall by a longshot,” he adds with a slight chuckle. Another shot dip of his head. “But yes, Kynesgrove is perfectly acceptable. Plenty of good drink and patrons that are content to leave well enough alone as long as one doesn’t cause any unnecessary trouble.”

"I'll have to drop by there on my next visit, then," She nods, smiling lightly, "No doubt the Dunmer can whip up something a bit more pleasant to the tastebuds than these Nords can... but I suppose I'm not in any position to complain." The corner of her mouth twitches in a smile as she heads for the dirt track leading down to the main road.

She runs a hand through her slick hair, still damp and cold on her skull, trying to maintain some neatness amongst the knots and tangles. Ashen water runs down the side of her face from where the coal dust has washed off, and she tries to brush out the remainder with her fingers, to no avail. She's quite certain she looks as bedraggled as she feels.

#scalesandsecrets

briinfahliil started following you

Kharo raised a brow, looking between her and the dead mer, thinking this over. “… Huh. See, now it’s creepy and gross. Y’got some weird magics, your people, yeah?”

He tossed her a grin, then followed it up with a thin journal. “Here. Maybe somethin’s in it, dunno. Don’t read Altmer.” He settled instead on a nice pile of gold and gems the mer had been carrying, a big grin on his face. “Now this, much more useful.”

She tries to look offended, "If by 'weird-magics' you mean sacred and, not to mention, impressive magics, then yes, we have."

Xyliati tries to catch the journal, hands reaching out as it slips through her bloodied fingers and bounces to the ground by her knees. She flicks through it, eyes skimming over the words. Even if Kharo could read Altmeri, she doubts he could make out the words. It looks like nonsensical scribblings-- perhaps an ink-covered spider dropped on the page and skittered across it for a while. She can make out dates and numbers, but that's about it. The journal is dropped into her bag for later reading.

The womer looks up at the mention of something useful, giving an immediate eye-roll at the sight of his findings. Of course their definitions of the word 'useful' were different. Still, no doubt the money in this camp alone could keep her warm and fed for a week or two. Maybe a little thievery isn't all that bad, considering the circumstances.

scalesandsecrets

briinfahliil started following you

scalesandsecrets

Nor can’t help but let a slight grin slip onto his features at the offer, though this is rather swiftly followed by a chuckle at the second bit. “Well, how can I refuse such a thing when you put it that way?” Another soft chuckle and Nor lightly dips his head. “And I am not adverse to going somewhere warmer. Even with as many years in Skyrim I have under my belt, you are not the only one that does not entirely enjoy the cold. This cloak is not just for show, after all.” A rather toothy grin appears on Nor’s face at that. While such a statement wasn’t entirely the truth, it wasn’t entirely a lie either. “But yes, someplace warmer and a decent bottle of something along with some intriguing conversation sounds lovely. Did you have a place in mind?”

She smiles at his taking up of her offer, bowing her head as she slings her spear across her back and tightens the buckles of her dagger sheath."As close to Windhelm as we may be, I don't think either of us would benefit from being around the locals there," Xylia frowns slightly as she stares over at the snow crested walls of the stronghold in the distance, "I've only been there once, and I had to break a man's hand in self defence within the first five minutes of entering the gates."

The elf arches a brow and turns back to the argonian, smiling, "How about Kynesgrove? I's not too far south from here."

#scalesandsecrets

scalesandsecrets

briinfahliil started following you (outside of group)

scalesandsecrets

The Argonian keeps up his slightly idle gaze on the womer as he listens to her speak, his head tilting a bit further once she finishes. “Intriguing, I must admit. Certainly something to be set away for future and further reference.” Nor shifts lightly on his feet, casting his gaze up and down her for a moment. It’s not every day he meets a mage of this variety, if one could truly call her that. And while the Argonian is usually rather indifferent to most forms of magic outside of enchanting, he has to admit his interests have been rather peaked.

"If you do not think me too forward for asking as such," he starts, keeping his gaze on her face to gauge her reaction. "I would rather like to hear more about this, Thu’um, you said?" Nor inclines his head slightly. "Assuming you wish to speak of such things, of course."

She smiles slightly, nodding. "If it interests you, then of course. It's not exactly a well-kept secret, and I doubt learning about it will do anyone any harm."

A cool breeze makes her shiver, reminding her of the fact her hair is still rather damp from her swim and she's probably catching something vile by being out in the cold like this. She hasn't even eaten anything today either. A warm meal and a drink sounds like heaven at the moment; even if she has to settle for the acidic swill the Nords serve as alcohol in their inns. "Would you mind if we went somewhere warmer to talk? I'm afraid I'm not quite used to the cold weather of this place,"

She almost turns to collect the rest of her gear, but smiles a little and arches a brow; quite possibly the closest she can get to looking sheepish without feeling her pride has been damaged, "Your drinks are on me, as well. It's the least I can do for almost accidentally killing you."

#scalesandsecrets #such a late reply oh my god #i'm so sorry!

briinfahliil started following you

Kharo could only stare as the Maormer’s magic seeped into the Thalmor officer, sapping the mer of his strength and killing him— well, it sounded painful, and that was good in his book. But the magic set him on edge. He looked at her uneasily, then went over to the dead mer and prodded him.

"… Huh. Good work, sneak-elf. Creepy. But not bad." He looked up at her, then bent down and began rifling through the dead Thalmor’s pockets. "Now lessee what y’ve got on ya… Somethin’ useful, hopefully. Or pricey."

She grimaces at the sight of froth forming at the back of the Altmer's gaping mouth, watching it rise like sea-foam in the back of his throat. She pushes his chin upwards to hide the sight, then rolls backwards on her heels to stand, "It's snake magic. Viper poison, this particular type-- thickens the blood and closes off their arteries. Not the most impressive spell, but thank you." Xyliati grins, pale face plastered with spots of drying blood.

There should be a few items of worth to her superiors around the camp-- missives and dossiers, with any luck. She doubts there's anything drastically important to the war effort though. The Thalmor aren't stupid enough to let a small group of agents carry around something that important, but she roots around for something that looks interesting anyway. "Let me know if you see anything... official-looking, okay?"

#wewillnotbow #kharo

briinfahliil started following you

Kharo laughed as he heard the scream cut suddenly short, then barreled his way towards the lightning-throwing Altmer. As the mer threw out another bolt of magicka, the Wood Orc dodged to the side, before coming in with a vicious swing towards the mer’s side. The Thalmor, to his credit, was just as fast as his opponent, and managed to draw a blade just in time to parry. The blow did, however, throw him terribly off balance. That was when Kharo unleashed a flurry of blows around the mer’s head and shoulders, some of which were parried, some of which…

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Were she not preoccupied with the remaining Thalmor she would have watched the spectacle with morbid fascination. The sound of cut-short screams and gurgles of bubbling blood swelling in the Altmer's throat is enough though. From the sounds of it his end was not as painless as her own victim's.

A stray lightning bolt catches her hair, singing it into a puff of foul smelling smoke that makes her eyes sting. Her muscles coil all lithe and fluid beneath her translucent skin and she springs from her perch atop the corpse's stomach like a viper, jaw agape as if to bite. Her nails dig into the justiciar's cheeks, ripping skin and bringing forth ribbons of crimson blood that spill down his golden face. Blank eyes survey the mess briefly, crackles of forming magicka making her hair stand on end. She leaps backwards as he brings his hand forth, rippling and blindingly bright with lightning. He hisses out something unintelligible, but she doesn't bother listening.

#wewillnotbow #kharo #cut for length #gore tw #blood tw

briinfahliil started following you

There were four Thalmor camped below. Two for Kharo, two for the Maormer… If he allowed her that much, of course. Spotting movement on the other side of the camp, he grinned, then let out a savage roar and leaped in from above. The elven officers barely had time to react as seven feet of Wood Orc crashed into one of the Altmer and cut a bloody cleft through the mer’s body. Kharo swung his greatsword around and bared his teeth at the others, having to dodge a bolt of lightning for his trouble.

His sudden attack makes her laugh, a sound that escapes her in more of a sigh. No signal is needed, apparently.

She makes use of the distraction with a quick push forward, digging her toes into the ground and sending the closest Thalmor flailing to the ground as she crashes into him. The Maormer lands on his back, digging her knee into the small of his back with a crunch of bone. His scream is muffled by the grass, body falling limp. Her presence is suddenly noticed at the sound, the elves now fully aware of the ambush.

She reaches forward and cracks her mark's neck with a twist of her hands, rolling from the corpse to the side as a stray fire ball catches her hair. Two down already, but she puts that down to the element of surprise they had both wielded.

#kharo #gore tw

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