Figured I should probably have made one of these forever ago, but better late than never ig?
Anyway, I have a Bluesky now! I post just as infrequently there! It is a little more random fandom-wise. So if you're cool with that, you can follow if you would like.
I also made a side blog called a-side-of-bones which will be some other stuff like different fandom art and some fics from time to time. Maybe some cosplay too. If that interests you, go for it. I'd appreciate the engagement. If not, my feelings are not hurt lol.
If you want more cotl content and shitposting, I also have a tiktok under the user mind.blank. It's currently on hiatus because reasons.
I only have a few rules for my blog and that is:
Don't be an asshole
Respect each other, even in disagreements
Do not repost my art
Do not compare art(ie. "your character looks like/reminds me of this other character"). I find that shit mad disrespectful and I will not tolerate it
If I find something on my blog that I deem inappropriate, problematic, or mean, I will block you. No exceptions.
I DO NOT TAKE COMMISSIONS AT THIS TIME. Maybe I will in the future, but I don't now. I am very quite flattered that some enjoy my work enough to ask, but please don't.
Trust me, if I open commissions, y'all will be the first to know.
That being said, I hope y'all have a wonderful time here and I hope you enjoy!
Just had a crapload of art block kicking my ass but I thought of this little tidbit and decided to draw my favorite argonian assassin and orc weapons trader 😌
Hopefully I'll get back into the swing of things, but as of now, this is all I got
The second chapter of an Elder Scrolls: Oblivion fanfic written from the pov of my character Mongoose(and the eventual inclusion of Grom). This is how I believe it would have gone if I could role-play her more accurately.
TW: Lots of blood, decently graphic depictions of violence, mention of past abuse(these warnings carry into the whole fic, not just this chapter)
CH.2 - The Kill Needed for Acceptance
Thank goodness Bravil was far enough away from Ill Omen. Mongoose had far overestimated her ability to return. Even this close, the threat of the gates was a rock lodged in her throat. She arrived at the inn just at dusk and entered. A quaint little place, that was for certain. It was almost a shame the atmosphere would be ruined.
Mongoose ordered a glass of cheap mead as she watched Rufio converse with an elf. She wasn't sure if it was a wood elf or a high elf, but that didn't matter to her. It was when Rufio excused himself and headed up the stairs that Mongoose set down her drink to follow. The old man was too drunk to notice her as she slipped into his room and watched as he practically collapsed onto the bed, seeming asleep in an instant.
The seams on the dagger’s brand new leather handle dug into her palm as she stared down at the sleeping Rufio. The kill needed for acceptance. If this was some elaborate ruse, Mongoose had to commend the creativity. She could feel her skepticism starting to slowly chip away at her resolve, so she shook her head clear.
The dagger's blade felt like she'd cut into softened butter rather than flesh. The blood was warm against her hand and the thick, heavy scent of copper bloomed into the air and invaded her lungs. It was a pleasant feeling, something akin to the presence of an old friend. The blade slid out of the flesh just as easily as it went in, a small spurt of blood following.
Mongoose watched the blood flow out of the body beneath her before she squeezed herself next to him, laying down with her dagger pressed to her chest. All there was left to do now was wait for instructions. If this wasn't some cruel prank, the note implied that someone would know when he was dead and she'd receive new directions. Mongoose pulled the note out of her pocket and reread it just to be sure.
She wasn't sure how long it had been, her eyes were only closed for a few moments when she was once again woken by a sound by her window. Instinctively, Mongoose shot up and pointed her dagger at the intruder. Seeing the same hooded figure as before, the dagger was lowered a bit.
“A little jumpy, I see. That's no matter. I see you've gotten the job done, wonderful work~” He clapped a little, almost as if mocking her.
“I did what you asked. Now who are you and what do you want from me? What is this?” She produced the note, gesturing to the hand symbol.
“Oh it's not what I want, I'm just the messenger. But very well. As I have mentioned, my name is Lucien LaChance, I'm a member of the dark brotherhood, just as you have come to be. My role however is with the black hand. The sigil on your note.”
Mongoose dared not look down to confirm, she’d read the strange note about a hundred times, the symbol was practically burned into her memory. She didn’t quite trust this Lucien just yet, at least not enough to let him out of her sight for even a moment. Of course, he seemed to pick up on that and let out a hearty chuckle.
“You don’t trust me still? My, how uncouth~ But not to worry dear argonian~ Just follow these instructions and all will be revealed. Head to Cheydenhal. In town, just by the chapel is an abandoned house, here’s the key. Head inside and down to the basement. There is a secret door where you will be asked a question. You’re to respond ‘Sanguine, my brother’. You will gain entrance to the sanctuary. Once inside, speak with Ocheeva.”
Mongoose stilled, lowering the dagger ever so slightly to take the key offered to her. “... Cheydinhal? That’s at least a day’s ride from here.”
“Ah but it would be worth the trouble, no? And really what is the harm in connecting with fellow blackened hearts~?”
There wasn’t really much Mongoose could respond with. She had to admit, it was a nice thought if any of this was true. She just had to be sure she wasn’t walking into a trap.
“I mean, an abandoned house with a secret basement door? Could this sound more like a trap if you tried?”
“What good is a trap if I tell you about it and where it is? If you’re worried about making the journey, then you can stop at the imperial city for a night or two. Either way, I highly encourage you to make your way to your new brothers and sisters. They are so very eager to meet you~”
“Is that right.” Mongoose droned, finally stowing her freshly bloodied blade into its sheath.
“But of course! It’s always exciting to have a new family member~ We must now take our leave of each other, you and I, for there is much work to be done. I’ll be following your progress. Ocheeva will brief you on the rest. Welcome to the family~”
With that, Lucien seemed to vanish into thin air, leaving Mongoose alone in a warm yet oddly chilling quarters. She looked down at her most recent victim still laying somewhat undisturbed in the bed. The covers and mattress were now properly soaked through with blood, and the once fresh and almost pleasant smell of copper now smelt stale and sat heavy in her lungs. Unbothered, she sits on the edge, Rufio’s limp hand falling to meet her tail.
Mongoose ran her hands over her face, her fingers gentle over her massive facial scarring. She inhaled as deep as her lungs would allow, and exhaled through gritted teeth. This had to be a trick, right? There’s no way she was in with the Dark Brotherhood, the notorious group of contracted assassins and cutthroats. Lucien mentioned this… Night Mother taking a particular interest in her, but what does that even mean? Mongoose shook her head. Whatever it means, she’ll find out in about a day or so.
Mongoose laid her head down back onto the pillow, moving Rufio’s hand with vague difficulty as rigor mortis had settled in at that point. As she stared up at the ceiling, her mind raced about what was to come should she accept this place in the Dark Brotherhood. Mongoose had never been part of a family before, what was she even supposed to expect? Sibling rivalry turned bloody? Manipulation and abuse of status? Was the potential of another Bastion LeBlanc happening again even worth the risk of knowing for sure?
There was one thing Lucien was right about, and that’s that her curiosity would outweigh her caution and point her in his direction. If anything, she was curious to know the hierarchy and inner workings of such a notorious group to begin with. She was curious as to whether or not the members would surprise her with solidarity rather than hostility. She was curious about this ‘Ocheeva’ person. It sounded like an argonian name. It made her wonder if an argonian could be in such a group, could they really be so accepting?
The sunlight bleeding in through the window startled her from her thoughts. She looked over and saw the new morning light beaming into the room, the ray briefly interrupted by a stray deer grazing just outside the windowsill. Mongoose watched the deer until the flash of light hit her eye again, causing her to finally sit up in the bed. With a strained groan, she stood and stretched, looking around the room for fresh un-bloodied clothing. Settling on a well-worn tunic and a pair of tan breeches, she stopped by the innkeeper to buy a sweetroll before she left.
The sun was warm against her scales, and she did very little to hide the comforted smile that she found creeping across her face. Feeling the warmth of the sun was something she wasn’t sure she would ever get to appreciate. But now that she had it, she would do everything in her power to keep it.
LoopMongoose placed the saddle onto her borrowed horse with practiced poise, making sure it wasn’t tight to restrict breathing nor too loose to allow her to slip. She made sure the horse was fed and comfortable before she climbed up to mount. She stole a glance in the direction of Bravil, giving almost a vengeful glare before she spurred the horse in the opposite direction. The imperial city seemed like a decent halfway point to Cheydinhal. She’d never gotten the chance to truly explore it the way she wished, and figured what was the harm in remedying that? At least for a day or two as suggested by her pop-in ghoul.
The ride was long and littered with odd winged creatures that Mongoose could only imagine spread out from the oblivion gates. Between the creatures, wolves trying to kill her horse, and her getting lost multiple times thanks to her having never travelled on her own and therefore not knowing how to read a map to save her life, the ride was an ordeal that itself took a couple days to complete. Though the torchlights lining the stone bridge leading to the imperial city gates was nothing short of a massive relief. Finally she was here and could sleep in a bed once again.
Releasing her horse to the stables outside the gates, Mongoose hesitantly made her way forward. She gave a cautious side-eye to the guards stationed outside the gate, half testing to see if they would allow an unattended argonian to pass. To her surprise, they said nothing and allowed her entrance without uttering a word. Just a curt nod from one of them as she passed. She didn’t bother reciprocating as she pushed through the large wooden doors.
The first chapter of an Elder Scrolls: Oblivion fanfic written from the pov of my character Mongoose(and the eventual inclusion of Grom). This is how I believe it would have gone if I could role-play her more accurately(I'm aware that I'm a mid writer, but I hope y'all can enjoy it anyhow!).
TW: Lots of blood, decently graphic depictions of violence, mention of past abuse(these warnings carry into the whole fic, not just this chapter)
CH.1 - The Freedom in Question
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Prison was expected of course, but the breaking out part wasn’t exactly supposed to be in the cards for her. Mongoose stepped out into the afternoon sun a free argonian for the first time in her life. The emperor was dead and he’d asked her to deliver his amulet to some forgotten son. She could barely keep track of the tasks she was given even as her feet moved through the tall grasses still wet with the morning dew that dampened her thin-soled hide shoes.
The journey to Weynon Priory was a blur in itself, and the voice of Jauffre was drowned by her own racing thoughts. Even the journey through Kvatch was what Mongoose had deemed as dull and unmemorable. So much so that after the rescue of Martin, she decided to split. Whatever this oblivion thing was, she was sure there was someone more qualified to handle it. A greater warrior or a more clever spellcaster. But as long as she wasn’t able to enjoy her freedom, was she even truly free?
Mongoose looked at the horizon from the top of the snowy mountain she’d already forgotten the name of and mounted the borrowed paint horse. She could go anywhere. The entirety of Cyrodiil was hers to explore, and that thought alone was overwhelming.
“One step at a time, I suppose. How about a hot meal and a proper bed to start with?”
Mongoose stroked the horse’s mane before spurring it into a trot back down the frigid mountain, the cold wind biting her skin as she rode.
A small inn a couple hours away was the perfect respite. The small cottage was warm and inviting, the mushroom stew was fresh and wonderfully hot. Mongoose savored every bite, and looked to others like she hadn’t eaten in days. Which wouldn’t have been entirely false. The bed wasn’t great, but it definitely beat stone or wooden floors any day. It was soft and she even had a blanket. A luxury for her, as her slaver Bastion LeBlanc had ever so rarely provided her with one.
The actual sleep, however, was not as peaceful as Mongoose would have preferred. A stirring from her window was enough to jolt her from her sleep and have her reaching for her brand new sword.
“Easy, dear child! I mean you no harm!” The shadowed figure raised its hands in surrender. “I only wish to speak with you if you'll allow me.”
Mongoose’s grip on her sword handle tightened, and her good eye narrowed. Her voice sounded more hoarse than usual within the otherwise silent inn.
“You’re not here on behalf of Bastion, are you? I’m not going back, not alive anyway.”
“On behalf of who? No, dear child, I come to you of my own will. And a request.”
“I already told Jauffre and Martin to shove it. Someone else can deal with those oblivion gates.”
“Ah, those have been quite a pain, haven’t they? But no, I’m not here for that either. ”
The shadowed figure reached into its robes and produced a folded paper held between his index and middle fingers.
“I’ve come to offer you a job of sorts. A newly freed soul such as yours is surely low on gold, yes?”
Mongoose’s expression hardened, and she raised her sword to strike. “How would you-”
The shadowed figure laughed. “I know many things, child. The Night Mother watches us all! And for reasons unknown to me, she has a particular interest in you.”
The figure extended the paper in a silent offering. Mongoose looked at the paper, then back to the stranger. Her sword lowering as she takes the paper without breaking eye contact.
“Night Mother, huh? Sounds an awful lot like a cult.”
“Ha! I suppose so, but be assured it’s no such thing~ If anything, we’re a family. You would be working alongside brothers and sisters alike.”
“You’re not exactly selling the whole ‘not a cult’ angle. How can I even trust this if you haven’t even told me who the hell you are?”
“Of course, where are my manners~? My name is Lucien LaChance, Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood.”
“The Dark Brotherhood, huh? So you want me to become an assassin?”
“You’re familiar, good~”
“Who isn’t?”
“ I have asked myself the same thing. Well if your curiosity drives you in my direction, this note will tell you everything you need to know. You’ll need this, think of it as a reminder of sorts that we’re around and welcoming.” The stranger reached into his robes again and offered Mongoose a dagger. “You have a darkness in your heart that could be unburdened. May the Night Mother watch over you.”
In a blink, he was gone. Mongoose looked around to make sure, her eye eventually landing on the note and the dagger in her hand. She didn’t remember taking the dagger from him, but there it was. A little heavy for a dagger, and it had swirling etchings in the blade that reminded her of vines. If nothing else, it was pretty. The note sported a small symbol of a hand in ink. Ominous.
More confident that he was gone and her room was hers again, Mongoose gently set aside her sword and sat on the edge of her bed. Her eye darted between the dagger and the note, unsure of whether or not she should read it or shred it. The more she stewed it over, the more curious she became. Curse that stranger for playing into her curiosity. It’s as if he knew her personality better than she did.
The note itself had a distinct scent to it. Coppery and sweet like blood, but there was the unmistakable scent of mildew. Wherever this paper came from, it was likely from a cave or somewhere else underground. The thought of going somewhere so similar to the dungeon she lived in or a prison cell didn’t exactly fill her with joy. Despite her thoughts on the matter, she opened the note anyway.
“Greetings, fellow murderer.
In order to join our beloved family, you first must prove that you have what it takes. Take the knife given to you and travel to the Inn of Ill Omen north of the city of Bravil. There, you will find a weak man by the name of Rufio. Killing him should be no trouble. Once he’s dead, you will receive directions to progress under the Night Mother’s sacred darkness. If he is not killed, then we will not speak again.”
Mongoose must have reread the note a hundred times. It wasn’t even necessarily a question of ethics or morality for her, it was more so just a question of why her? Mongoose wasn’t exactly a big believer in gods, but she was even less sure of what she had done to have supposedly grabbed the attention of one. She gently folded the note back over, looking closer at the hand sigil.
“Bravil…” Mongoose echoed.
It was only a small place north of Bravil, but just the name alone was enough to send chills down her spine. This inn would be only a stone’s throw from her place of servitude. The irony would have been amusing if the thought of being anywhere near the city didn’t feel like a lead paperweight in her stomach. Mongoose’s grip tightened on the dagger as if reminding her of its presence.
If she did this, she might be accepted into a family.
The skepticism rose in her throat and came out a halfhearted chuckle. Family was a strong word, and she would believe it when she saw it. Such a thing had been denied to her since she was a mere infant. She’d been sold to Bastion LeBlanc before she could even speak, and he’d made it beyond clear to her that love was conditional and family was something to be exploited to weaklings who believed in such a thing.
Still, Mongoose couldn’t shake the ever-so small shred of hope buried deep within her heart. That damned persistent hope of hers. The timid potential in hiding that she may find someone, anyone to connect with. If Rufio was supposedly an easy target, what would be the harm in seeing where this went? If this ‘family’ wasn’t what Mongoose needed or wanted, well, she could hardly be surprised.
Mongoose lay back down on the bed, note and dagger in hand as she stared at the ceiling. As her eyes began to grow heavy again, a single thought crossed her mind.
I have some slightly more wholesome interactions between Mongoose and her fellow assassins
Ocheeva, Mongoose, and Teinaava were the closest, and Mongoose truly saw them as siblings
Get absolutely cherished, idiot
Though of course there was this guy
Mongoose had the rockiest relationship with M'raaj-Dar. Nine times outta ten they're at each other's throats, but at the same time, Mongoose does respect him
Mongoose is also pretty protective of her chosen siblings
So I was just progressing the dark brotherhood storyline and... Imma just say that that purification quest hurt ME
CW: BLOOD
"A fool I was to think for even a moment that I could have such kinship." - Mongoose, probably
She's currently drowning her feelings fighting in the imperial city arena. I'm definitely not putting off the main quest to play out the progression of her story where she starts out as a vagrant-turned-assassin and then has a slow burn story of becoming a hero of Cyrodiil, whaaaaat? Noooo
She got an awesome horse out of it tho so there's that ig lol 🤷🏻♀️ She'll have a good ending, I prombis \ (•◡•) /
Don't worry, she loves her new horse, she's not that big of an ass.
