Zaellynn "Zael" Thalindor

Also known as "Zael" or "Emissary Thalindor", he is the Second Emissary of the Thalmor, and an Admiral of the Dominion Navy.

[second-emissary]

[No-pressure tags, just putting these here so that you guys know he exists cause both of you have Thalmor-themed stuff going on in the TES rp community: @blue-dartwing , @thalmor-official .]

Name — Thalindor, Zaellynn

Gender — Male

Immediate Family — Has yet to take on a wife, nor a lover of any gender, and neither has he sired children of his own. Cousin of Kaelotar Thalindor of @alains-retinue .

Connections — Particularly close friends with the Ayleid fashion designer known as Uurenasha. Otherwise, tends to treat his relationships as little more than alliances.

Associations — The Thalmor (Second Emissary), The Aldmeri Dominion (Admiral of the Dominion Navy)

Basic Info — Roughly ~350 years old. Born in Firsthold to a noble family of pure lineage, raised and educated in the finest schools of Alinor, and a former member of the Shimmerene Mages Guild to study as a battlemage before the Mages Guild was disbanded. Particularly adept in Conjuration and Illusion. Out of public eye, his true magical focus is in the arts of flesh magic and necromancy. Notably charismatic, and a powerful commander.

Skills — One-Handed weapons (particularly swords and maces), Heavy Armor, all schools of magic (Conjuration, Illusion, Destruction, Restoration, Alteration, Mysticism, Enchanting, Alchemy), Speech.

Other — Zael has possession of a fully grown Gryphon. (See image below cut for how it looks!) He personally tamed it and uses it in combat and, occasionally, for travel. He has also modified it via flesh magics to be stronger, faster, and more durable, along with using various other magical methods to prolong its lifespan. Its name is Admanen.

"The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things." [Rainer Maria Rilke.]

OOC: This is an OC of mine! If anyone knows the artist of my header, please inform me so I might credit them. Both are so old that reverse image search isn't very helpful. Main: @rookiewarden . NSFW asks are okay if I find them funny enough (while still reserving my right to ignore asks I don't like), and he is open for ships with other characters! So long as you either keep up the "I can fix him" mentality or your OC is also a bit fucked up in the head, that is...

PFP by: @krabat-art !

I tag all my posts with him in #oc: zael thalindor! I also use the common TES RP tags of #rp blog , #tes rp , & #rp tesblr.

Appearance claim for Xirkos' Gryphon, Admanen:

[second-emissary]

Zael would be working at his nails with a file, while his feet were resting atop his office desk, crossed at the ankles. The servant boy was nowhere to be seen, though he had Varuna present, forcing him to write a report for the last mission he'd been sent on—a simple task to handle anti-Thalmor protesters in Valenwood.

He was also in a generally bad mood, considering that he'd yet to get a letter from that Dragonborn. He disliked it when people didn't listen to him, so while he could remain patient, he didn't have to be happy about it.

There was also how Syrabane was late to meet.

He finished filing his nails to a sharpened point, setting aside the tool while eyeing how they looked. "Tell me, Maormer, have you ever met a god?"

( @varuna-the-kinslayer )

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Not at all plussed about doing paperwork, so long as he's near Zael of course, Varuna just happy is writing away when he hears the other mer's question. Gazing up, pin stilled in that very moment, he looks towards the emissary a small moment as he thinks of how to answer such a thing. "I mean, my people unfortunately call that awful immortal king a god, and I've met him. Does that count?" To Varuna, that man is a fraud who somehow has entranced the masses into thinking he's an all powerful being, he even suspects that he's not even the same person and that Pyandonea is but a puppet country. But, that isn't what he was asked, so he'll keep his words to himself on that.

[god-of-warlocks]

Zael had merely hummed in acknowledgment to Varuna's response. It didn't count.

A moment later, Syrabane appeared in his Altmer form, seeming a bit fretful at his own tardiness. "Emissary Thalindor," he greeted, bowing slightly. He figured it was better to go about the respectful motions rather than risk pissing off the Admiral even further. "Apologies. What is it you needed from me?"

[second-emissary]

"Took you long enough," Zael drawled, pulling his legs off of their perch and moving to stand. His nails scraped along the top of his desk, as if testing how sharp they were, and he leaned back against it, motioning for Varuna to continue his work.

"I've a request for you now, since you failed to accommodate my first call for a favor. I want you to handle a few... particularly annoying factors. Surely you're not so useless that it should be an issue for you. Take this vial and map, go to the Thalmor camp marked down on the parchment, and add the contents of the vial to the water supply of that encampment. They've become more of a hindrance than I can allow."

He placed the items into Syrabane's hands.

( @varuna-the-kinslayer )

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Varuna has to bite at the inside of his lip when he sees those nails scrape across the desk, but he has to quickly look back to his paperwork right after, since he was wordlessly told to continue. He does... take a peek at the newcomer as they talk, his abyssal and blue eyes curious now. Did he imply this mer is a God? Interesting. And considering their talks, he's not the best at listening to orders right. It makes Varuna snicker a bit to himself, probably a bit too loudly at that.

[god-of-warlocks]

Syrabane glanced at Varuna when the taller Mer laughed, then refocused on Zael. He opened the vial and sniffed at it curiously, before flinching back.

"This... This is a sample of the Rubemor Flu. The one that's been terrorizing the smaller Bosmer communities in Valenwood. You're having me put the Red Death in the water of your own soldiers?" Syrabane looked horrified. He cured plagues, he didn't spread them.

[second-emissary]

"Yes," Zael replied smoothly. His clawlike nails began tapping slowly on the desktop. "Unless you are insinuating that you refuse? I can only be so patient for those who go back on their deals with me, Syrabane."

Zael looked different now. There was none of the tired saint of the Altmeri people now. His gaze was cold and dangerous, and his stance was equally so. He wasn't going to take "no" for an answer, it seemed.

The hostility in the room rose steadily.

( @varuna-the-kinslayer )

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Varuna can feel the tenseness in the room, even if he's sitting there on a chair with papers in his lap. He is back to writing, but he is now somewhat readying himself in case the God here tries anything to go against Zael. Sure, the altmer could fight the other himself, but why dirty his hands like that. He taps a nail against the side of his pen a few times, as if trying to signal just the very silent notion he is getting at.

[god-of-warlocks]

Syrabane straightened. He closed his fist over the vial and it disintegrated into ash, his gaze glowing golden. "I am. This deal is over. A few locations for a cult is not equal to this kind of "favor". Do your worst, Thalindor. Autak. The ancestors will never accept your rotten soul, apraxic."

In truth, he was terrified. Zael could do a lot to him that he might never recover from. His thoughts drifted briefly to Magnus, whom he'd promised to return to. He'd avoided having even one last meal with his father out of lingering anger. Some child he was.

[second-emissary]

Zael stilled at those words. He cared little for the ancestors and their approval, but the gall of Syrabane to curse his name so easily...

"Varuna," he said sweetly. "Grab Syrabane and hold him in place for me, would you? I have to teach a pathetic worm a lesson about his place in this world."

( @varuna-the-kinslayer )

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

"As you command~" Swiftly, he stands, placing the papers and pen down onto the chair as the towering man suddenly darts at Syrabane, water surrounding himself as he grabs at the god's arms, pulling them behind his back and YANKING. The water serpents then bite onto his legs to hold THEM in place as well. With his one free hand, he yanks Syr by his hair, forcing him to look at Zael. He almost wants to dare the god to try and get out of his grasp, especially considering the electric surge starting to crackle from the water about them.

[god-of-warlocks]

Syrabane did struggle, at first, his eyes beginning to glow with Aedric power. He faltered, freezing when he felt the cool metal of a spear pressed to his throat.

His entire body felt tense at even the sight of it. Even Varuna might feel an animalistic sense of dread and panic in its presence, along with a sudden surge of nihilistic depression. It was surely what Syrabane was feeling. He could practically still smell Vivec's blood and pain on the weapon, proving that it had already been tested on a living god and had nearly succeeded. Only quick action had saved its last victim. He probably wouldn't be so lucky.

Despite this, Syrabane lifted his gaze stubbornly to meet Zael's own. His jaw clenched. If he were to die, he wouldn't do it simpering like a child.

[second-emissary]

Zael allowed the spear to nick the skin of Syrabane's throat, but he didn't go for a killing blow. Not yet.

Instead, in a blur of movement, the weapon shifted and was instead embedded into the god's shoulder, just shy of his chest. Zael twisted the spear to drive the wound deeper, causing Syrabane to let out a choked scream of agony. He couldn't move due to Varuna's hold on him, as Zael had planned to avoid the wound becoming too intense and accidentally killing him.

"You're insolent. A foolish, worthless child, who only ever amounted to being an incomplete successor of what already exists. God or not, killing you now would be a mercy. One I am not willing to grant."

Zael leaned on the spear, eating a pained whimper from the god before him. He lifted a free hand to catch Syrabane's chin with a cruelly curious glint in his eyes, nails digging into the divine flesh. "Hmm... Such a pretty thing. It would be a shame for all of you to go to waste, wouldn't it? Perhaps you should repay my favor in a much more satisfying manner. Since you refuse every other option, that is."

Syrabane's eyes widened in horror, and he tried to vanish, his form flickering but ultimately staying where he was. There was too much tethering him in this moment, and the spear draining his power didn't help.

Zael glanced up at Varuna. "Would you like to assist me in this lesson, Maormer?"

( @varuna-the-kinslayer )

[second-emissary]

Zael would be working at his nails with a file, while his feet were resting atop his office desk, crossed at the ankles. The servant boy was nowhere to be seen, though he had Varuna present, forcing him to write a report for the last mission he'd been sent on—a simple task to handle anti-Thalmor protesters in Valenwood.

He was also in a generally bad mood, considering that he'd yet to get a letter from that Dragonborn. He disliked it when people didn't listen to him, so while he could remain patient, he didn't have to be happy about it.

There was also how Syrabane was late to meet.

He finished filing his nails to a sharpened point, setting aside the tool while eyeing how they looked. "Tell me, Maormer, have you ever met a god?"

( @varuna-the-kinslayer )

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Not at all plussed about doing paperwork, so long as he's near Zael of course, Varuna just happy is writing away when he hears the other mer's question. Gazing up, pin stilled in that very moment, he looks towards the emissary a small moment as he thinks of how to answer such a thing. "I mean, my people unfortunately call that awful immortal king a god, and I've met him. Does that count?" To Varuna, that man is a fraud who somehow has entranced the masses into thinking he's an all powerful being, he even suspects that he's not even the same person and that Pyandonea is but a puppet country. But, that isn't what he was asked, so he'll keep his words to himself on that.

[god-of-warlocks]

Zael had merely hummed in acknowledgment to Varuna's response. It didn't count.

A moment later, Syrabane appeared in his Altmer form, seeming a bit fretful at his own tardiness. "Emissary Thalindor," he greeted, bowing slightly. He figured it was better to go about the respectful motions rather than risk pissing off the Admiral even further. "Apologies. What is it you needed from me?"

[second-emissary]

"Took you long enough," Zael drawled, pulling his legs off of their perch and moving to stand. His nails scraped along the top of his desk, as if testing how sharp they were, and he leaned back against it, motioning for Varuna to continue his work.

"I've a request for you now, since you failed to accommodate my first call for a favor. I want you to handle a few... particularly annoying factors. Surely you're not so useless that it should be an issue for you. Take this vial and map, go to the Thalmor camp marked down on the parchment, and add the contents of the vial to the water supply of that encampment. They've become more of a hindrance than I can allow."

He placed the items into Syrabane's hands.

( @varuna-the-kinslayer )

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Varuna has to bite at the inside of his lip when he sees those nails scrape across the desk, but he has to quickly look back to his paperwork right after, since he was wordlessly told to continue. He does... take a peek at the newcomer as they talk, his abyssal and blue eyes curious now. Did he imply this mer is a God? Interesting. And considering their talks, he's not the best at listening to orders right. It makes Varuna snicker a bit to himself, probably a bit too loudly at that.

[god-of-warlocks]

Syrabane glanced at Varuna when the taller Mer laughed, then refocused on Zael. He opened the vial and sniffed at it curiously, before flinching back.

"This... This is a sample of the Rubemor Flu. The one that's been terrorizing the smaller Bosmer communities in Valenwood. You're having me put the Red Death in the water of your own soldiers?" Syrabane looked horrified. He cured plagues, he didn't spread them.

[second-emissary]

"Yes," Zael replied smoothly. His clawlike nails began tapping slowly on the desktop. "Unless you are insinuating that you refuse? I can only be so patient for those who go back on their deals with me, Syrabane."

Zael looked different now. There was none of the tired saint of the Altmeri people now. His gaze was cold and dangerous, and his stance was equally so. He wasn't going to take "no" for an answer, it seemed.

The hostility in the room rose steadily.

( @varuna-the-kinslayer )

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Varuna can feel the tenseness in the room, even if he's sitting there on a chair with papers in his lap. He is back to writing, but he is now somewhat readying himself in case the God here tries anything to go against Zael. Sure, the altmer could fight the other himself, but why dirty his hands like that. He taps a nail against the side of his pen a few times, as if trying to signal just the very silent notion he is getting at.

[god-of-warlocks]

Syrabane straightened. He closed his fist over the vial and it disintegrated into ash, his gaze glowing golden. "I am. This deal is over. A few locations for a cult is not equal to this kind of "favor". Do your worst, Thalindor. Autak. The ancestors will never accept your rotten soul, apraxic."

In truth, he was terrified. Zael could do a lot to him that he might never recover from. His thoughts drifted briefly to Magnus, whom he'd promised to return to. He'd avoided having even one last meal with his father out of lingering anger. Some child he was.

[second-emissary]

Zael stilled at those words. He cared little for the ancestors and their approval, but the gall of Syrabane to curse his name so easily...

"Varuna," he said sweetly. "Grab Syrabane and hold him in place for me, would you? I have to teach a pathetic worm a lesson about his place in this world."

( @varuna-the-kinslayer )

[second-emissary]

Zael would be working at his nails with a file, while his feet were resting atop his office desk, crossed at the ankles. The servant boy was nowhere to be seen, though he had Varuna present, forcing him to write a report for the last mission he'd been sent on—a simple task to handle anti-Thalmor protesters in Valenwood.

He was also in a generally bad mood, considering that he'd yet to get a letter from that Dragonborn. He disliked it when people didn't listen to him, so while he could remain patient, he didn't have to be happy about it.

There was also how Syrabane was late to meet.

He finished filing his nails to a sharpened point, setting aside the tool while eyeing how they looked. "Tell me, Maormer, have you ever met a god?"

( @varuna-the-kinslayer )

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Not at all plussed about doing paperwork, so long as he's near Zael of course, Varuna just happy is writing away when he hears the other mer's question. Gazing up, pin stilled in that very moment, he looks towards the emissary a small moment as he thinks of how to answer such a thing. "I mean, my people unfortunately call that awful immortal king a god, and I've met him. Does that count?" To Varuna, that man is a fraud who somehow has entranced the masses into thinking he's an all powerful being, he even suspects that he's not even the same person and that Pyandonea is but a puppet country. But, that isn't what he was asked, so he'll keep his words to himself on that.

[god-of-warlocks]

Zael had merely hummed in acknowledgment to Varuna's response. It didn't count.

A moment later, Syrabane appeared in his Altmer form, seeming a bit fretful at his own tardiness. "Emissary Thalindor," he greeted, bowing slightly. He figured it was better to go about the respectful motions rather than risk pissing off the Admiral even further. "Apologies. What is it you needed from me?"

[second-emissary]

"Took you long enough," Zael drawled, pulling his legs off of their perch and moving to stand. His nails scraped along the top of his desk, as if testing how sharp they were, and he leaned back against it, motioning for Varuna to continue his work.

"I've a request for you now, since you failed to accommodate my first call for a favor. I want you to handle a few... particularly annoying factors. Surely you're not so useless that it should be an issue for you. Take this vial and map, go to the Thalmor camp marked down on the parchment, and add the contents of the vial to the water supply of that encampment. They've become more of a hindrance than I can allow."

He placed the items into Syrabane's hands.

( @varuna-the-kinslayer )

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Varuna has to bite at the inside of his lip when he sees those nails scrape across the desk, but he has to quickly look back to his paperwork right after, since he was wordlessly told to continue. He does... take a peek at the newcomer as they talk, his abyssal and blue eyes curious now. Did he imply this mer is a God? Interesting. And considering their talks, he's not the best at listening to orders right. It makes Varuna snicker a bit to himself, probably a bit too loudly at that.

[god-of-warlocks]

Syrabane glanced at Varuna when the taller Mer laughed, then refocused on Zael. He opened the vial and sniffed at it curiously, before flinching back.

"This... This is a sample of the Rubemor Flu. The one that's been terrorizing the smaller Bosmer communities in Valenwood. You're having me put the Red Death in the water of your own soldiers?" Syrabane looked horrified. He cured plagues, he didn't spread them.

[second-emissary]

"Yes," Zael replied smoothly. His clawlike nails began tapping slowly on the desktop. "Unless you are insinuating that you refuse? I can only be so patient for those who go back on their deals with me, Syrabane."

Zael looked different now. There was none of the tired saint of the Altmeri people now. His gaze was cold and dangerous, and his stance was equally so. He wasn't going to take "no" for an answer, it seemed.

The hostility in the room rose steadily.

( @varuna-the-kinslayer )

[second-emissary]

Zael would be working at his nails with a file, while his feet were resting atop his office desk, crossed at the ankles. The servant boy was nowhere to be seen, though he had Varuna present, forcing him to write a report for the last mission he'd been sent on—a simple task to handle anti-Thalmor protesters in Valenwood.

He was also in a generally bad mood, considering that he'd yet to get a letter from that Dragonborn. He disliked it when people didn't listen to him, so while he could remain patient, he didn't have to be happy about it.

There was also how Syrabane was late to meet.

He finished filing his nails to a sharpened point, setting aside the tool while eyeing how they looked. "Tell me, Maormer, have you ever met a god?"

( @varuna-the-kinslayer )

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Not at all plussed about doing paperwork, so long as he's near Zael of course, Varuna just happy is writing away when he hears the other mer's question. Gazing up, pin stilled in that very moment, he looks towards the emissary a small moment as he thinks of how to answer such a thing. "I mean, my people unfortunately call that awful immortal king a god, and I've met him. Does that count?" To Varuna, that man is a fraud who somehow has entranced the masses into thinking he's an all powerful being, he even suspects that he's not even the same person and that Pyandonea is but a puppet country. But, that isn't what he was asked, so he'll keep his words to himself on that.

[god-of-warlocks]

Zael had merely hummed in acknowledgment to Varuna's response. It didn't count.

A moment later, Syrabane appeared in his Altmer form, seeming a bit fretful at his own tardiness. "Emissary Thalindor," he greeted, bowing slightly. He figured it was better to go about the respectful motions rather than risk pissing off the Admiral even further. "Apologies. What is it you needed from me?"

[second-emissary]

"Took you long enough," Zael drawled, pulling his legs off of their perch and moving to stand. His nails scraped along the top of his desk, as if testing how sharp they were, and he leaned back against it, motioning for Varuna to continue his work.

"I've a request for you now, since you failed to accommodate my first call for a favor. I want you to handle a few... particularly annoying factors. Surely you're not so useless that it should be an issue for you. Take this vial and map, go to the Thalmor camp marked down on the parchment, and add the contents of the vial to the water supply of that encampment. They've become more of a hindrance than I can allow."

He placed the items into Syrabane's hands.

( @varuna-the-kinslayer )

[second-emissary]

Zael would be working at his nails with a file, while his feet were resting atop his office desk, crossed at the ankles. The servant boy was nowhere to be seen, though he had Varuna present, forcing him to write a report for the last mission he'd been sent on—a simple task to handle anti-Thalmor protesters in Valenwood.

He was also in a generally bad mood, considering that he'd yet to get a letter from that Dragonborn. He disliked it when people didn't listen to him, so while he could remain patient, he didn't have to be happy about it.

There was also how Syrabane was late to meet.

He finished filing his nails to a sharpened point, setting aside the tool while eyeing how they looked. "Tell me, Maormer, have you ever met a god?"

( @varuna-the-kinslayer )

[constantlydistractedwriter]

When Freya next felt that she was alone, she had only been granted mere moments of peace and silence before she might notice someone nearby, cloaked mostly in shadow as if said shadow clung to him as a cloak would to an assassin. The only detail she might be able to make out besides his tall frame, wrapped in finely crafted heavy armor that she could barely make out the colors and carved patterns of, were the piercing, golden eyes that seemed to have the slightest glow to them.

"What a quaint little inn," the stranger remarked. "You are Freya." It wasn't a question. "I hear you're having a bit of trouble with a dragon?"

— @second-emissary

She backed away a pace, instinctively putting distance between herself and this stranger. Narrowing her own eyes, a cold pale blue on his, she hitched her chin up in acknowledgment.  

“Aye, and that is the case, yes.”  

It wasn’t exactly a secret; she wasn’t the only loud dragonborn in their group.  

Tilting her head this and way, she raked her eyes over him, scanning his armor (or what little of it she could see), and looking for any visible crests or insignias.

A bit frustrated she couldn't make out any. Who are you?

"Why? Are you offering to help?" she asked, bluntly.

[second-emissary]

Zael stepped into the light, a bit closer to Freya, allowing for his armor to be more visible. The intricate, feather-like etchings in the metal could only belong to the Dominion, and worst of all, it was cast in black and gold. The colors of the Thalmor.

He was also very, very large, even for an elf. One might wonder how he even made it through the doors of the inn without hitting his head on something. Considering that and the deadly way he held himself, it was hard to take comfort in the fact that he appeared unarmed.

"Of course I am. Alduin and his lackeys gaining power over all of Tamriel once more would really get in the way, you know." He bowed his head, hand over his chest. "My name is Zaellynn Thalindor. Some know me as an Admiral, others know me as an Emissary. I'd assume one of your... Particular persuasion would know me as an enemy."

[constantlydistractedwriter]

She’d give him credit where it was due; his introduction would be one she wouldn’t be forgetting for a while.  

But to say her reaction was hostile would have been the understatement of the Era.  

Freya pulled her great sword free and at the ready in an instant, as she coldly commanded everyone in the Inn to -- “Leave. Get out.”  

And everyone did just that, including the Inn keeper.   The door closed loudly behind them.  

Fluidly, she took another pace back, her sword pulled up and close to her chest – the sharpen tip pointed straight at him. “You are the fucking enemy,” she snarled, her gaze cold and merciless.  

“What trick is this, you foul wretch?”  

Privately, in the back of her mind – Freya sent a small apology to her family.  For despite what others thought or how they viewed her, she was still an experienced solider.  

One that saw this Mer was more than her match.   He might be the one to send her Sovngarde.  

[second-emissary]

Zael seemed unfazed by her weapon. It was probably little more than a toothpick in his perspective.

"Not a trick, dragonborn. And, perhaps, not an enemy. Not for much longer." He turned his back on her and picked up a goblet of mead, sniffing at the honey-infused liquid curiously. "You know, something that the Nords and the Altmer have in common is their love for sweet alcoholic beverages. I must say, once you get past the unrefined taste of it, mead is not so terrible. Would you like some? I've already paid, in case you're worried about theft."

He was facing away from her, and still unarmed. If there were any moment where such an influential leader of the Thalmor was in a vulnerable state, where she could take the advantage he so willingly gave her...

[constantlydistractedwriter]

Freya’s upper lip curled further, and her eyes dilated in her outrage until only a thin sliver of pale blue could be seen – incensed at the nerve of this revolting creature. 

Properly baited, and blatantly ignoring the sensible voice screaming at the back of her mind, she shouted --  

“FUS 

RO 

DAH!”  

[second-emissary]

When the dust from the Shout settled, the sight before Freya was likely a jarring one.

Zael leaned back against the bar, watching her with an amused glint in his eye as he drank from his goblet before setting it aside. All around him, things had been displaced. Barstools thrown, some broken from the impact, cups and plates scattered, food fallen to the ground and wasted. But the Emissary? Perfectly untouched.

"Such a shame," he mused. "I wasn't able to save your goblet in time. Have you gotten it out of your system? Can we have a civilized discussion amongst each other as adults and soldiers in solidarity? I know who you are, Freya. Elenwen owns the northern Thalmor. My men weren't the ones to slaughter your family so mercilessly. My soldiers are not monsters."

[constantlydistractedwriter]

"All you Thalmor tell are lies,” she said dully, her sword falling slightly and nearly from her hands. They didn’t tremble but it was a concentrated effort on her part, her will alone that stopped her from quivering like a newborn fawn.  

But she couldn’t hide the way her face paled, nor the way her pupils shrank to pinpricks, her eyes wide and staring at him, uncomprehending.  

No – this shouldn’t be possible ... 

A dark, primordial fear nearly overtook her, gooseflesh rippling along her skin, the fine hairs along the back of her neck now standing on end. Forcing her tense shoulders down from around her ears, she swallowed roughly.  

This – this is why Alessia asked for help from the Gods.   If the Ayleids had been half as strong...  

"What ..." she couldn't believe this, couldn't stop the words but -- "...are you offering?"

Talos, forgive me. Mother -- Father... ... forgive me.

[second-emissary]

Zael hummed softly, his thumb tracing the lip of his goblet in thought.

"I'm offering you my help, Freya. I don't intend to be your enemy. I'm trying to bring the Dominion back to what it was meant to be, and the dragons causing chaos is only going to distract from that. The Thalmor are little more than enforcers, they shouldn't be in charge of the entire Dominion, much less all of Tamriel. They've proven to be zealots and terrorists when outside of my guidance, and I am only one of three officials allowed to claim authority over them."

He lifted his gaze again to meet Freya's. He looked genuine, at least, in the way that he watched her from under his long lashes, the way that his ears drooped slightly that might remind Freya of how Teldryn looked when he was apologetic. Perhaps even in the way that he hadn't even gotten angry at her trying to Shout him into Oblivion.

Of course, it probably didn't help that he was so beautiful that it was genuinely disarming.

"For better or for worse, I want what's best for Tamriel. Not what's best for the maniacs attempting to ascend to godhood and massacre anyone who disagrees with them; for Tamriel. The Dominion is powerful, but that does not have to mean dangerous. It could be an independent ally of Cyrodiil, of Morrowind and Argonia, of Hammerfell, and of your Skyrim and High Rock when the Empire inevitably collapses. It could help people rebuild, instead of take over and do more harm. However, it can do neither with the threat of a new empire back underneath the tyranny of Alduin. That reign is best left in the past, no?"

[constantlydistractedwriter]

Frowning darkly at him, she listened, her sword now held loosely in one hand at her side. He did, indeed, sound genuine, his words being the lure and his feigned regret the hook that reeled her in – more so than whatever beauty he possessed.  

Oh – she would acknowledge it if asked, maybe not fully immune but then, Freya didn’t fall prey to pretty faces. If that had been the case, more than half of Skyrim would have had her on her – well.  

She could be rather gullible at times.   Trusting. Friendly. 

It was only the fact she knew him to be a Thalmor that she kept her guard up, her reticence the only thing keeping her from offering him her hand.  She should talk to someone about this, seek council.  

But there was also the fact – he might not let her leave unless she agreed.  She wasn't a complete fool.

And she wanted to go home to her boys.  

“Is there a price for your aid?” Best to get to the point and talk logistics.  

"And if not, how do you plan to help?"

[second-emissary]

Zael tilted his head, a curious, birdlike gesture. "Price? Why would I make you pay for something I volunteered to do?" He shook his head as he pushed off the bar. "No, no. That would be nonsense. And I plan to help in any way you need from me. My spies, my resources, my soldiers, all at your disposal. I'm not useless myself in a fight, either."

"Besides..." He continued, placing a fingertip on her blade to gently nudge it the rest of the way down so it was no longer pointed at him, "There is a heavy chance that Alduin will employ powerful mages. His old empire greatly valued magic; after all, his Priests were all powerful sorcerers. I'm easily one of the greatest sorcerers of this Era, if not beyond. I do not say such things lightly, as I spent my entire life honing my skills, and I've lived at least five of your own lifetimes.

"I'm a seasoned military tactician, well-versed in several kinds of combat, including aerial as I possess a gryphon in my arsenal as well. And, as you can see, I know how to ward off the Thu'um. If you're fighting dragons, that is a valuable thing to have." He stepped back, giving her space. "I'll allow you to have time to consider, if you need it. But of all people, a Hero should know better than to squander a valuable opportunity. All I want is to heal the damage that the Thalmor have done to Tamriel. If I must start with you to do so, I shall."

[constantlydistractedwriter]

Freya tilted her head right back at him, giving him an intense, squinty-eyed stare.  There was always a price with the Thalmor - nothing was ever free. Someone always paid.

No, she wasn’t sure if she believed him, not fully, but there were tall-tell signs of her wavering – such as her allowing him to touch her sword!

Admittedly, her fingers had twitched around the hilt, her wrist making a less than subtle twist – but she hadn’t done anything else. Instead, she allowed the tip of her blade to lower and point to the ground.  

This one had a lot of audacity and in anyone else, she would have admired it.  Right now, she found it rather annoying.  

Fucking Thalmor.  

“It will not be just me, who decides,” she informed him silkily, her eyes keen on his face, hunting for deceit. “You seem so well-informed, you then know there are more of us. My word alone will not guarantee your acceptance.”  

And a final test - she slowly raised her sword - and sheathed it behind her back. A test that could see her dead but -- weeell, hopefully the Arkays were in.

"I'll convey your words to my kin," err -- was kin the right term for her to use?

Eh, sure. They were all dragonborn, all connected to Akatosh.

"Should I send you a letter," she asked with secret glee only she understood, "or meet you here?"

Please pick letter.

[second-emissary]

"Hmm. A letter should be fine. Normally, any missive from an enemy country would be confiscated, but I can pull a few strings. Send it to my office in Alinor's Embassy. Though, you could always deliver your response to me directly. The Isles are a beautiful place; it would be a shame to not visit them at least once, and I would ensure you safe travel." He shrugged lightly. "It is up to you. In the meantime, I shall take my leave. No sense in staying where I am not welcome, after all."

Zael placed his hand on the entrance to the inn, before turning a bit to look over his shoulder at Freya. "Just between us... Your partner aims to become a leader for a political power. When considering whether to take this offer of mine, consider that our brief partnership could open the path to many a fruitful alliance. I cannot take down the Thalmor and their ego alone, after all, and there are few territories in Tamriel with a military so useful as Morrowind.

"I would prefer having friends for when I must inevitably deal with what the Thalmor have become," Zael admitted, his voice low as if it was a painful thing to say. Of course, the Altmer were his people. Surely it was difficult to have to consider causing such an upheaval as another overthrown government. "I would be honored to have Morrowind and you as an ally then. After all, I know your loathing for the Thalmor very well. These words could get me executed for even thinking them, but you deserve to know my full stake in the matter."

[constantlydistractedwriter]

When Freya next felt that she was alone, she had only been granted mere moments of peace and silence before she might notice someone nearby, cloaked mostly in shadow as if said shadow clung to him as a cloak would to an assassin. The only detail she might be able to make out besides his tall frame, wrapped in finely crafted heavy armor that she could barely make out the colors and carved patterns of, were the piercing, golden eyes that seemed to have the slightest glow to them.

"What a quaint little inn," the stranger remarked. "You are Freya." It wasn't a question. "I hear you're having a bit of trouble with a dragon?"

— @second-emissary

She backed away a pace, instinctively putting distance between herself and this stranger. Narrowing her own eyes, a cold pale blue on his, she hitched her chin up in acknowledgment.  

“Aye, and that is the case, yes.”  

It wasn’t exactly a secret; she wasn’t the only loud dragonborn in their group.  

Tilting her head this and way, she raked her eyes over him, scanning his armor (or what little of it she could see), and looking for any visible crests or insignias.

A bit frustrated she couldn't make out any. Who are you?

"Why? Are you offering to help?" she asked, bluntly.

[second-emissary]

Zael stepped into the light, a bit closer to Freya, allowing for his armor to be more visible. The intricate, feather-like etchings in the metal could only belong to the Dominion, and worst of all, it was cast in black and gold. The colors of the Thalmor.

He was also very, very large, even for an elf. One might wonder how he even made it through the doors of the inn without hitting his head on something. Considering that and the deadly way he held himself, it was hard to take comfort in the fact that he appeared unarmed.

"Of course I am. Alduin and his lackeys gaining power over all of Tamriel once more would really get in the way, you know." He bowed his head, hand over his chest. "My name is Zaellynn Thalindor. Some know me as an Admiral, others know me as an Emissary. I'd assume one of your... Particular persuasion would know me as an enemy."

[constantlydistractedwriter]

She’d give him credit where it was due; his introduction would be one she wouldn’t be forgetting for a while.  

But to say her reaction was hostile would have been the understatement of the Era.  

Freya pulled her great sword free and at the ready in an instant, as she coldly commanded everyone in the Inn to -- “Leave. Get out.”  

And everyone did just that, including the Inn keeper.   The door closed loudly behind them.  

Fluidly, she took another pace back, her sword pulled up and close to her chest – the sharpen tip pointed straight at him. “You are the fucking enemy,” she snarled, her gaze cold and merciless.  

“What trick is this, you foul wretch?”  

Privately, in the back of her mind – Freya sent a small apology to her family.  For despite what others thought or how they viewed her, she was still an experienced solider.  

One that saw this Mer was more than her match.   He might be the one to send her Sovngarde.  

[second-emissary]

Zael seemed unfazed by her weapon. It was probably little more than a toothpick in his perspective.

"Not a trick, dragonborn. And, perhaps, not an enemy. Not for much longer." He turned his back on her and picked up a goblet of mead, sniffing at the honey-infused liquid curiously. "You know, something that the Nords and the Altmer have in common is their love for sweet alcoholic beverages. I must say, once you get past the unrefined taste of it, mead is not so terrible. Would you like some? I've already paid, in case you're worried about theft."

He was facing away from her, and still unarmed. If there were any moment where such an influential leader of the Thalmor was in a vulnerable state, where she could take the advantage he so willingly gave her...

[constantlydistractedwriter]

Freya’s upper lip curled further, and her eyes dilated in her outrage until only a thin sliver of pale blue could be seen – incensed at the nerve of this revolting creature. 

Properly baited, and blatantly ignoring the sensible voice screaming at the back of her mind, she shouted --  

“FUS 

RO 

DAH!”  

[second-emissary]

When the dust from the Shout settled, the sight before Freya was likely a jarring one.

Zael leaned back against the bar, watching her with an amused glint in his eye as he drank from his goblet before setting it aside. All around him, things had been displaced. Barstools thrown, some broken from the impact, cups and plates scattered, food fallen to the ground and wasted. But the Emissary? Perfectly untouched.

"Such a shame," he mused. "I wasn't able to save your goblet in time. Have you gotten it out of your system? Can we have a civilized discussion amongst each other as adults and soldiers in solidarity? I know who you are, Freya. Elenwen owns the northern Thalmor. My men weren't the ones to slaughter your family so mercilessly. My soldiers are not monsters."

[constantlydistractedwriter]

"All you Thalmor tell are lies,” she said dully, her sword falling slightly and nearly from her hands. They didn’t tremble but it was a concentrated effort on her part, her will alone that stopped her from quivering like a newborn fawn.  

But she couldn’t hide the way her face paled, nor the way her pupils shrank to pinpricks, her eyes wide and staring at him, uncomprehending.  

No – this shouldn’t be possible ... 

A dark, primordial fear nearly overtook her, gooseflesh rippling along her skin, the fine hairs along the back of her neck now standing on end. Forcing her tense shoulders down from around her ears, she swallowed roughly.  

This – this is why Alessia asked for help from the Gods.   If the Ayleids had been half as strong...  

"What ..." she couldn't believe this, couldn't stop the words but -- "...are you offering?"

Talos, forgive me. Mother -- Father... ... forgive me.

[second-emissary]

Zael hummed softly, his thumb tracing the lip of his goblet in thought.

"I'm offering you my help, Freya. I don't intend to be your enemy. I'm trying to bring the Dominion back to what it was meant to be, and the dragons causing chaos is only going to distract from that. The Thalmor are little more than enforcers, they shouldn't be in charge of the entire Dominion, much less all of Tamriel. They've proven to be zealots and terrorists when outside of my guidance, and I am only one of three officials allowed to claim authority over them."

He lifted his gaze again to meet Freya's. He looked genuine, at least, in the way that he watched her from under his long lashes, the way that his ears drooped slightly that might remind Freya of how Teldryn looked when he was apologetic. Perhaps even in the way that he hadn't even gotten angry at her trying to Shout him into Oblivion.

Of course, it probably didn't help that he was so beautiful that it was genuinely disarming.

"For better or for worse, I want what's best for Tamriel. Not what's best for the maniacs attempting to ascend to godhood and massacre anyone who disagrees with them; for Tamriel. The Dominion is powerful, but that does not have to mean dangerous. It could be an independent ally of Cyrodiil, of Morrowind and Argonia, of Hammerfell, and of your Skyrim and High Rock when the Empire inevitably collapses. It could help people rebuild, instead of take over and do more harm. However, it can do neither with the threat of a new empire back underneath the tyranny of Alduin. That reign is best left in the past, no?"

[constantlydistractedwriter]

Frowning darkly at him, she listened, her sword now held loosely in one hand at her side. He did, indeed, sound genuine, his words being the lure and his feigned regret the hook that reeled her in – more so than whatever beauty he possessed.  

Oh – she would acknowledge it if asked, maybe not fully immune but then, Freya didn’t fall prey to pretty faces. If that had been the case, more than half of Skyrim would have had her on her – well.  

She could be rather gullible at times.   Trusting. Friendly. 

It was only the fact she knew him to be a Thalmor that she kept her guard up, her reticence the only thing keeping her from offering him her hand.  She should talk to someone about this, seek council.  

But there was also the fact – he might not let her leave unless she agreed.  She wasn't a complete fool.

And she wanted to go home to her boys.  

“Is there a price for your aid?” Best to get to the point and talk logistics.  

"And if not, how do you plan to help?"

[second-emissary]

Zael tilted his head, a curious, birdlike gesture. "Price? Why would I make you pay for something I volunteered to do?" He shook his head as he pushed off the bar. "No, no. That would be nonsense. And I plan to help in any way you need from me. My spies, my resources, my soldiers, all at your disposal. I'm not useless myself in a fight, either."

"Besides..." He continued, placing a fingertip on her blade to gently nudge it the rest of the way down so it was no longer pointed at him, "There is a heavy chance that Alduin will employ powerful mages. His old empire greatly valued magic; after all, his Priests were all powerful sorcerers. I'm easily one of the greatest sorcerers of this Era, if not beyond. I do not say such things lightly, as I spent my entire life honing my skills, and I've lived at least five of your own lifetimes.

"I'm a seasoned military tactician, well-versed in several kinds of combat, including aerial as I possess a gryphon in my arsenal as well. And, as you can see, I know how to ward off the Thu'um. If you're fighting dragons, that is a valuable thing to have." He stepped back, giving her space. "I'll allow you to have time to consider, if you need it. But of all people, a Hero should know better than to squander a valuable opportunity. All I want is to heal the damage that the Thalmor have done to Tamriel. If I must start with you to do so, I shall."

[constantlydistractedwriter]

When Freya next felt that she was alone, she had only been granted mere moments of peace and silence before she might notice someone nearby, cloaked mostly in shadow as if said shadow clung to him as a cloak would to an assassin. The only detail she might be able to make out besides his tall frame, wrapped in finely crafted heavy armor that she could barely make out the colors and carved patterns of, were the piercing, golden eyes that seemed to have the slightest glow to them.

"What a quaint little inn," the stranger remarked. "You are Freya." It wasn't a question. "I hear you're having a bit of trouble with a dragon?"

— @second-emissary

She backed away a pace, instinctively putting distance between herself and this stranger. Narrowing her own eyes, a cold pale blue on his, she hitched her chin up in acknowledgment.  

“Aye, and that is the case, yes.”  

It wasn’t exactly a secret; she wasn’t the only loud dragonborn in their group.  

Tilting her head this and way, she raked her eyes over him, scanning his armor (or what little of it she could see), and looking for any visible crests or insignias.

A bit frustrated she couldn't make out any. Who are you?

"Why? Are you offering to help?" she asked, bluntly.

[second-emissary]

Zael stepped into the light, a bit closer to Freya, allowing for his armor to be more visible. The intricate, feather-like etchings in the metal could only belong to the Dominion, and worst of all, it was cast in black and gold. The colors of the Thalmor.

He was also very, very large, even for an elf. One might wonder how he even made it through the doors of the inn without hitting his head on something. Considering that and the deadly way he held himself, it was hard to take comfort in the fact that he appeared unarmed.

"Of course I am. Alduin and his lackeys gaining power over all of Tamriel once more would really get in the way, you know." He bowed his head, hand over his chest. "My name is Zaellynn Thalindor. Some know me as an Admiral, others know me as an Emissary. I'd assume one of your... Particular persuasion would know me as an enemy."

[constantlydistractedwriter]

She’d give him credit where it was due; his introduction would be one she wouldn’t be forgetting for a while.  

But to say her reaction was hostile would have been the understatement of the Era.  

Freya pulled her great sword free and at the ready in an instant, as she coldly commanded everyone in the Inn to -- “Leave. Get out.”  

And everyone did just that, including the Inn keeper.   The door closed loudly behind them.  

Fluidly, she took another pace back, her sword pulled up and close to her chest – the sharpen tip pointed straight at him. “You are the fucking enemy,” she snarled, her gaze cold and merciless.  

“What trick is this, you foul wretch?”  

Privately, in the back of her mind – Freya sent a small apology to her family.  For despite what others thought or how they viewed her, she was still an experienced solider.  

One that saw this Mer was more than her match.   He might be the one to send her Sovngarde.  

[second-emissary]

Zael seemed unfazed by her weapon. It was probably little more than a toothpick in his perspective.

"Not a trick, dragonborn. And, perhaps, not an enemy. Not for much longer." He turned his back on her and picked up a goblet of mead, sniffing at the honey-infused liquid curiously. "You know, something that the Nords and the Altmer have in common is their love for sweet alcoholic beverages. I must say, once you get past the unrefined taste of it, mead is not so terrible. Would you like some? I've already paid, in case you're worried about theft."

He was facing away from her, and still unarmed. If there were any moment where such an influential leader of the Thalmor was in a vulnerable state, where she could take the advantage he so willingly gave her...

[constantlydistractedwriter]

Freya’s upper lip curled further, and her eyes dilated in her outrage until only a thin sliver of pale blue could be seen – incensed at the nerve of this revolting creature. 

Properly baited, and blatantly ignoring the sensible voice screaming at the back of her mind, she shouted --  

“FUS 

RO 

DAH!”  

[second-emissary]

When the dust from the Shout settled, the sight before Freya was likely a jarring one.

Zael leaned back against the bar, watching her with an amused glint in his eye as he drank from his goblet before setting it aside. All around him, things had been displaced. Barstools thrown, some broken from the impact, cups and plates scattered, food fallen to the ground and wasted. But the Emissary? Perfectly untouched.

"Such a shame," he mused. "I wasn't able to save your goblet in time. Have you gotten it out of your system? Can we have a civilized discussion amongst each other as adults and soldiers in solidarity? I know who you are, Freya. Elenwen owns the northern Thalmor. My men weren't the ones to slaughter your family so mercilessly. My soldiers are not monsters."

[constantlydistractedwriter]

"All you Thalmor tell are lies,” she said dully, her sword falling slightly and nearly from her hands. They didn’t tremble but it was a concentrated effort on her part, her will alone that stopped her from quivering like a newborn fawn.  

But she couldn’t hide the way her face paled, nor the way her pupils shrank to pinpricks, her eyes wide and staring at him, uncomprehending.  

No – this shouldn’t be possible ... 

A dark, primordial fear nearly overtook her, gooseflesh rippling along her skin, the fine hairs along the back of her neck now standing on end. Forcing her tense shoulders down from around her ears, she swallowed roughly.  

This – this is why Alessia asked for help from the Gods.   If the Ayleids had been half as strong...  

"What ..." she couldn't believe this, couldn't stop the words but -- "...are you offering?"

Talos, forgive me. Mother -- Father... ... forgive me.

[second-emissary]

Zael hummed softly, his thumb tracing the lip of his goblet in thought.

"I'm offering you my help, Freya. I don't intend to be your enemy. I'm trying to bring the Dominion back to what it was meant to be, and the dragons causing chaos is only going to distract from that. The Thalmor are little more than enforcers, they shouldn't be in charge of the entire Dominion, much less all of Tamriel. They've proven to be zealots and terrorists when outside of my guidance, and I am only one of three officials allowed to claim authority over them."

He lifted his gaze again to meet Freya's. He looked genuine, at least, in the way that he watched her from under his long lashes, the way that his ears drooped slightly that might remind Freya of how Teldryn looked when he was apologetic. Perhaps even in the way that he hadn't even gotten angry at her trying to Shout him into Oblivion.

Of course, it probably didn't help that he was so beautiful that it was genuinely disarming.

"For better or for worse, I want what's best for Tamriel. Not what's best for the maniacs attempting to ascend to godhood and massacre anyone who disagrees with them; for Tamriel. The Dominion is powerful, but that does not have to mean dangerous. It could be an independent ally of Cyrodiil, of Morrowind and Argonia, of Hammerfell, and of your Skyrim and High Rock when the Empire inevitably collapses. It could help people rebuild, instead of take over and do more harm. However, it can do neither with the threat of a new empire back underneath the tyranny of Alduin. That reign is best left in the past, no?"

[constantlydistractedwriter]

When Freya next felt that she was alone, she had only been granted mere moments of peace and silence before she might notice someone nearby, cloaked mostly in shadow as if said shadow clung to him as a cloak would to an assassin. The only detail she might be able to make out besides his tall frame, wrapped in finely crafted heavy armor that she could barely make out the colors and carved patterns of, were the piercing, golden eyes that seemed to have the slightest glow to them.

"What a quaint little inn," the stranger remarked. "You are Freya." It wasn't a question. "I hear you're having a bit of trouble with a dragon?"

— @second-emissary

She backed away a pace, instinctively putting distance between herself and this stranger. Narrowing her own eyes, a cold pale blue on his, she hitched her chin up in acknowledgment.  

“Aye, and that is the case, yes.”  

It wasn’t exactly a secret; she wasn’t the only loud dragonborn in their group.  

Tilting her head this and way, she raked her eyes over him, scanning his armor (or what little of it she could see), and looking for any visible crests or insignias.

A bit frustrated she couldn't make out any. Who are you?

"Why? Are you offering to help?" she asked, bluntly.

[second-emissary]

Zael stepped into the light, a bit closer to Freya, allowing for his armor to be more visible. The intricate, feather-like etchings in the metal could only belong to the Dominion, and worst of all, it was cast in black and gold. The colors of the Thalmor.

He was also very, very large, even for an elf. One might wonder how he even made it through the doors of the inn without hitting his head on something. Considering that and the deadly way he held himself, it was hard to take comfort in the fact that he appeared unarmed.

"Of course I am. Alduin and his lackeys gaining power over all of Tamriel once more would really get in the way, you know." He bowed his head, hand over his chest. "My name is Zaellynn Thalindor. Some know me as an Admiral, others know me as an Emissary. I'd assume one of your... Particular persuasion would know me as an enemy."

[constantlydistractedwriter]

She’d give him credit where it was due; his introduction would be one she wouldn’t be forgetting for a while.  

But to say her reaction was hostile would have been the understatement of the Era.  

Freya pulled her great sword free and at the ready in an instant, as she coldly commanded everyone in the Inn to -- “Leave. Get out.”  

And everyone did just that, including the Inn keeper.   The door closed loudly behind them.  

Fluidly, she took another pace back, her sword pulled up and close to her chest – the sharpen tip pointed straight at him. “You are the fucking enemy,” she snarled, her gaze cold and merciless.  

“What trick is this, you foul wretch?”  

Privately, in the back of her mind – Freya sent a small apology to her family.  For despite what others thought or how they viewed her, she was still an experienced solider.  

One that saw this Mer was more than her match.   He might be the one to send her Sovngarde.  

[second-emissary]

Zael seemed unfazed by her weapon. It was probably little more than a toothpick in his perspective.

"Not a trick, dragonborn. And, perhaps, not an enemy. Not for much longer." He turned his back on her and picked up a goblet of mead, sniffing at the honey-infused liquid curiously. "You know, something that the Nords and the Altmer have in common is their love for sweet alcoholic beverages. I must say, once you get past the unrefined taste of it, mead is not so terrible. Would you like some? I've already paid, in case you're worried about theft."

He was facing away from her, and still unarmed. If there were any moment where such an influential leader of the Thalmor was in a vulnerable state, where she could take the advantage he so willingly gave her...

[constantlydistractedwriter]

Freya’s upper lip curled further, and her eyes dilated in her outrage until only a thin sliver of pale blue could be seen – incensed at the nerve of this revolting creature. 

Properly baited, and blatantly ignoring the sensible voice screaming at the back of her mind, she shouted --  

“FUS 

RO 

DAH!”  

[second-emissary]

When the dust from the Shout settled, the sight before Freya was likely a jarring one.

Zael leaned back against the bar, watching her with an amused glint in his eye as he drank from his goblet before setting it aside. All around him, things had been displaced. Barstools thrown, some broken from the impact, cups and plates scattered, food fallen to the ground and wasted. But the Emissary? Perfectly untouched.

"Such a shame," he mused. "I wasn't able to save your goblet in time. Have you gotten it out of your system? Can we have a civilized discussion amongst each other as adults and soldiers in solidarity? I know who you are, Freya. Elenwen owns the northern Thalmor. My men weren't the ones to slaughter your family so mercilessly. My soldiers are not monsters."

[constantlydistractedwriter]

When Freya next felt that she was alone, she had only been granted mere moments of peace and silence before she might notice someone nearby, cloaked mostly in shadow as if said shadow clung to him as a cloak would to an assassin. The only detail she might be able to make out besides his tall frame, wrapped in finely crafted heavy armor that she could barely make out the colors and carved patterns of, were the piercing, golden eyes that seemed to have the slightest glow to them.

"What a quaint little inn," the stranger remarked. "You are Freya." It wasn't a question. "I hear you're having a bit of trouble with a dragon?"

— @second-emissary

She backed away a pace, instinctively putting distance between herself and this stranger. Narrowing her own eyes, a cold pale blue on his, she hitched her chin up in acknowledgment.  

“Aye, and that is the case, yes.”  

It wasn’t exactly a secret; she wasn’t the only loud dragonborn in their group.  

Tilting her head this and way, she raked her eyes over him, scanning his armor (or what little of it she could see), and looking for any visible crests or insignias.

A bit frustrated she couldn't make out any. Who are you?

"Why? Are you offering to help?" she asked, bluntly.

[second-emissary]

Zael stepped into the light, a bit closer to Freya, allowing for his armor to be more visible. The intricate, feather-like etchings in the metal could only belong to the Dominion, and worst of all, it was cast in black and gold. The colors of the Thalmor.

He was also very, very large, even for an elf. One might wonder how he even made it through the doors of the inn without hitting his head on something. Considering that and the deadly way he held himself, it was hard to take comfort in the fact that he appeared unarmed.

"Of course I am. Alduin and his lackeys gaining power over all of Tamriel once more would really get in the way, you know." He bowed his head, hand over his chest. "My name is Zaellynn Thalindor. Some know me as an Admiral, others know me as an Emissary. I'd assume one of your... Particular persuasion would know me as an enemy."

[constantlydistractedwriter]

She’d give him credit where it was due; his introduction would be one she wouldn’t be forgetting for a while.  

But to say her reaction was hostile would have been the understatement of the Era.  

Freya pulled her great sword free and at the ready in an instant, as she coldly commanded everyone in the Inn to -- “Leave. Get out.”  

And everyone did just that, including the Inn keeper.   The door closed loudly behind them.  

Fluidly, she took another pace back, her sword pulled up and close to her chest – the sharpen tip pointed straight at him. “You are the fucking enemy,” she snarled, her gaze cold and merciless.  

“What trick is this, you foul wretch?”  

Privately, in the back of her mind – Freya sent a small apology to her family.  For despite what others thought or how they viewed her, she was still an experienced solider.  

One that saw this Mer was more than her match.   He might be the one to send her Sovngarde.  

[second-emissary]

Zael seemed unfazed by her weapon. It was probably little more than a toothpick in his perspective.

"Not a trick, dragonborn. And, perhaps, not an enemy. Not for much longer." He turned his back on her and picked up a goblet of mead, sniffing at the honey-infused liquid curiously. "You know, something that the Nords and the Altmer have in common is their love for sweet alcoholic beverages. I must say, once you get past the unrefined taste of it, mead is not so terrible. Would you like some? I've already paid, in case you're worried about theft."

He was facing away from her, and still unarmed. If there were any moment where such an influential leader of the Thalmor was in a vulnerable state, where she could take the advantage he so willingly gave her...

[constantlydistractedwriter]

When Freya next felt that she was alone, she had only been granted mere moments of peace and silence before she might notice someone nearby, cloaked mostly in shadow as if said shadow clung to him as a cloak would to an assassin. The only detail she might be able to make out besides his tall frame, wrapped in finely crafted heavy armor that she could barely make out the colors and carved patterns of, were the piercing, golden eyes that seemed to have the slightest glow to them.

"What a quaint little inn," the stranger remarked. "You are Freya." It wasn't a question. "I hear you're having a bit of trouble with a dragon?"

— @second-emissary

She backed away a pace, instinctively putting distance between herself and this stranger. Narrowing her own eyes, a cold pale blue on his, she hitched her chin up in acknowledgment.  

“Aye, and that is the case, yes.”  

It wasn’t exactly a secret; she wasn’t the only loud dragonborn in their group.  

Tilting her head this and way, she raked her eyes over him, scanning his armor (or what little of it she could see), and looking for any visible crests or insignias.

A bit frustrated she couldn't make out any. Who are you?

"Why? Are you offering to help?" she asked, bluntly.

[second-emissary]

Zael stepped into the light, a bit closer to Freya, allowing for his armor to be more visible. The intricate, feather-like etchings in the metal could only belong to the Dominion, and worst of all, it was cast in black and gold. The colors of the Thalmor.

He was also very, very large, even for an elf. One might wonder how he even made it through the doors of the inn without hitting his head on something. Considering that and the deadly way he held himself, it was hard to take comfort in the fact that he appeared unarmed.

"Of course I am. Alduin and his lackeys gaining power over all of Tamriel once more would really get in the way, you know." He bowed his head, hand over his chest. "My name is Zaellynn Thalindor. Some know me as an Admiral, others know me as an Emissary. I'd assume one of your... Particular persuasion would know me as an enemy."

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Having finally returned to Alinor, he goes to a guard this time and tells them he's returned from a mission Zael sent him on and needs to report in. As he follows the guard, Varuna seems far too giddy for a man holding what he has over his shoulders. Eventually, once arriving at Zael's office and knocking once more, alerting him that 'Varuna has returned'- the excitable maormer hybrid doesn't even bother waiting. He just walks right on in. "I'm baaack~" @second-emissary

[second-emissary]

Zael is standing beside his wall-length window, watching the sun set over the distant shoreline as he drinks from a wineglass.

"I assume you either have what I asked of you, or that you have come back to be killed where you stand?"

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Suddenly he flops the three bags onto the floor and beams, one of the bags however seems.. blood stained. "I got TWO nobles and ONE court mage!~"

[second-emissary]

"Already dead," Zael remarked with a note of disappointment in his tone. "I do believe I commanded otherwise."

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

"Well, when one is a court mage it's hard to keep them ali-" At that, one of the bags starts to ABSOLUTELY writhe, scratching at the bag they're stuffed in. Varuna cocks his head and yanks the maormer out of the bag from his leg, the half drowned mer now dangling from high up by his ankles. The clothing and adornments on this one's body showcases the clear factory of nobility, thankfully. "...Well, looks like ONE didn't drown after all. Does this count then?"

[second-emissary]

"Your mission is salvaged by chance, not intention. Kill that one now, but your disobedience has been noted."

He finished off his wine and set the glass aside. A servant who had formerly been so still he'd seemed like little more than a part of the wallpaper rushed over and collected the dish. Zael's gaze tracked the boy's movements before he returned to sitting behind his desk.

"I'm not Elenwen. I am not Rulindil. My Thalmor are expected to follow my orders to the letter, or to follow them better than their expectations demanded. Any sort of failure is not acceptable." He held Varuna's gaze coldly. "You're new here, so I'll allow it to slide just this once."

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

"Suppose I got a bit too excited at the prospect of killing my own kind that I forgot that little part about keeping them alive." He looks embarrassed to say the least, dropping the maormer on the floor before pressing his heeled shoe HARD down on their back. The next moment, those water serpents are back and are biting at the mer's throat like hungry piranhas, making them choke on their own blood in their final moments. "Oh! Did get a small maormer relic from the mage however~" He dances over the corpse and to Zael, handing him the object. "I think it enhances either storm magic or lightning magic in general. Maybe both, I didn't get a moment to check it thoroughly."

[second-emissary]

"That explains the overcast and the occasional torrents. At least those clouds are small enough as to not block the horizon."

He takes the object and casts a ward over it to disperse its effects, then sets it aside neatly. "How would you like to be paid for your service?"

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Hearing those words makes his ears point straight up, and his blood starts to rush all through him once more. Ohhh payment... and the word 'how'... "...If I answer that truthfully you may not like it, depending how you view me~"

[second-emissary]

Zael adjusted a stack of papers lying on his desk, unfazed.

"I cater to my soldiers' needs. Some merely need extra money, so I add a bit more to their pay. Some have no home, or at least none that they feel safe returning to, so I provide lodging. Some wish for extra food, nice clothing, invites to exclusive events, including brothels who typically only service the elite. If you crave something beyond, I cannot provide."

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

"And what would one have to do to be allowed to be a bit... greedier?" The look Varuna gives him is a bit strange, both a returned metered look, yet his eyes are betraying him. He tries to slightly mimic the man's calmness yet cannot fully do so, at least- it would likely be glaringly obvious to Zael most likely. "I can imagine it's much more than... what you asked of me already."

[second-emissary]

"I do not engage in fraternization. Least of all to non-Altmer."

Clearly, he knew damn well what Varuna was getting at. His words were blunt and final, though the way he'd watched the servant so deliberately told otherwise. So, clearly there was a chance, but it wouldn't be easy. Unless he was genuine about the non-Altmer bit.

"Choose an option available and we will see how your privileges are affected based on your behavior from there, hmm?"

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

"You know, I was thinking on a way to fix a part of that. It involves a ring and a spell to make myself appear more... altmer-y? Y'know, to fit in. Less eyes on me, maybe make it easier to do specific kinda of missions. Could also have a secondary use. But- if you insist." He hums silently to himself, glancing to that servant a moment with a curious stare. One so pointed it could almost cut into you like glass. He returns his gaze back towards Zael, a smile now on his lips. "I guess I DO need somewhere to sleep. Everything else I can find a way to acquire myself. Oh, and is there a uniform?"

He WILL play the long game if he must.

[second-emissary]

"There is, but it will take about two weeks for your own to be tailored and sent to you. Your... Considerable height must be accounted for, and my Thalmor always receive varying kinds of uniforms suited for several climates. Just in case. Are there any enchantments you prefer?"

Zael was jotting down notes on a new slip of paperwork as he spoke.

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

"Just any that would aid with dealing with fire or various fiery things, like magic mostly. My one weakness, sadly. Not that I hate the heat, but..." He gestures to his physical self, silently trying to say 'my fishiness' without insulting himself out loud.

[second-emissary]

"Noted. My guards will handle the bodies."

He handed over what he was writing off on. It was a deed to a modest estate near the embassy. Most likely Zael's own property, until now. One might wonder how many houses and buildings he might own, considering how important he was.

He fell silent afterward, a dismissal of sorts, his full attention back on his paperwork while the servant stood dutifully nearby.

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Having finally returned to Alinor, he goes to a guard this time and tells them he's returned from a mission Zael sent him on and needs to report in. As he follows the guard, Varuna seems far too giddy for a man holding what he has over his shoulders. Eventually, once arriving at Zael's office and knocking once more, alerting him that 'Varuna has returned'- the excitable maormer hybrid doesn't even bother waiting. He just walks right on in. "I'm baaack~" @second-emissary

[second-emissary]

Zael is standing beside his wall-length window, watching the sun set over the distant shoreline as he drinks from a wineglass.

"I assume you either have what I asked of you, or that you have come back to be killed where you stand?"

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Suddenly he flops the three bags onto the floor and beams, one of the bags however seems.. blood stained. "I got TWO nobles and ONE court mage!~"

[second-emissary]

"Already dead," Zael remarked with a note of disappointment in his tone. "I do believe I commanded otherwise."

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

"Well, when one is a court mage it's hard to keep them ali-" At that, one of the bags starts to ABSOLUTELY writhe, scratching at the bag they're stuffed in. Varuna cocks his head and yanks the maormer out of the bag from his leg, the half drowned mer now dangling from high up by his ankles. The clothing and adornments on this one's body showcases the clear factory of nobility, thankfully. "...Well, looks like ONE didn't drown after all. Does this count then?"

[second-emissary]

"Your mission is salvaged by chance, not intention. Kill that one now, but your disobedience has been noted."

He finished off his wine and set the glass aside. A servant who had formerly been so still he'd seemed like little more than a part of the wallpaper rushed over and collected the dish. Zael's gaze tracked the boy's movements before he returned to sitting behind his desk.

"I'm not Elenwen. I am not Rulindil. My Thalmor are expected to follow my orders to the letter, or to follow them better than their expectations demanded. Any sort of failure is not acceptable." He held Varuna's gaze coldly. "You're new here, so I'll allow it to slide just this once."

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

"Suppose I got a bit too excited at the prospect of killing my own kind that I forgot that little part about keeping them alive." He looks embarrassed to say the least, dropping the maormer on the floor before pressing his heeled shoe HARD down on their back. The next moment, those water serpents are back and are biting at the mer's throat like hungry piranhas, making them choke on their own blood in their final moments. "Oh! Did get a small maormer relic from the mage however~" He dances over the corpse and to Zael, handing him the object. "I think it enhances either storm magic or lightning magic in general. Maybe both, I didn't get a moment to check it thoroughly."

[second-emissary]

"That explains the overcast and the occasional torrents. At least those clouds are small enough as to not block the horizon."

He takes the object and casts a ward over it to disperse its effects, then sets it aside neatly. "How would you like to be paid for your service?"

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Hearing those words makes his ears point straight up, and his blood starts to rush all through him once more. Ohhh payment... and the word 'how'... "...If I answer that truthfully you may not like it, depending how you view me~"

[second-emissary]

Zael adjusted a stack of papers lying on his desk, unfazed.

"I cater to my soldiers' needs. Some merely need extra money, so I add a bit more to their pay. Some have no home, or at least none that they feel safe returning to, so I provide lodging. Some wish for extra food, nice clothing, invites to exclusive events, including brothels who typically only service the elite. If you crave something beyond, I cannot provide."

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

"And what would one have to do to be allowed to be a bit... greedier?" The look Varuna gives him is a bit strange, both a returned metered look, yet his eyes are betraying him. He tries to slightly mimic the man's calmness yet cannot fully do so, at least- it would likely be glaringly obvious to Zael most likely. "I can imagine it's much more than... what you asked of me already."

[second-emissary]

"I do not engage in fraternization. Least of all to non-Altmer."

Clearly, he knew damn well what Varuna was getting at. His words were blunt and final, though the way he'd watched the servant so deliberately told otherwise. So, clearly there was a chance, but it wouldn't be easy. Unless he was genuine about the non-Altmer bit.

"Choose an option available and we will see how your privileges are affected based on your behavior from there, hmm?"

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

"You know, I was thinking on a way to fix a part of that. It involves a ring and a spell to make myself appear more... altmer-y? Y'know, to fit in. Less eyes on me, maybe make it easier to do specific kinda of missions. Could also have a secondary use. But- if you insist." He hums silently to himself, glancing to that servant a moment with a curious stare. One so pointed it could almost cut into you like glass. He returns his gaze back towards Zael, a smile now on his lips. "I guess I DO need somewhere to sleep. Everything else I can find a way to acquire myself. Oh, and is there a uniform?"

He WILL play the long game if he must.

[second-emissary]

"There is, but it will take about two weeks for your own to be tailored and sent to you. Your... Considerable height must be accounted for, and my Thalmor always receive varying kinds of uniforms suited for several climates. Just in case. Are there any enchantments you prefer?"

Zael was jotting down notes on a new slip of paperwork as he spoke.

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Having finally returned to Alinor, he goes to a guard this time and tells them he's returned from a mission Zael sent him on and needs to report in. As he follows the guard, Varuna seems far too giddy for a man holding what he has over his shoulders. Eventually, once arriving at Zael's office and knocking once more, alerting him that 'Varuna has returned'- the excitable maormer hybrid doesn't even bother waiting. He just walks right on in. "I'm baaack~" @second-emissary

[second-emissary]

Zael is standing beside his wall-length window, watching the sun set over the distant shoreline as he drinks from a wineglass.

"I assume you either have what I asked of you, or that you have come back to be killed where you stand?"

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Suddenly he flops the three bags onto the floor and beams, one of the bags however seems.. blood stained. "I got TWO nobles and ONE court mage!~"

[second-emissary]

"Already dead," Zael remarked with a note of disappointment in his tone. "I do believe I commanded otherwise."

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

"Well, when one is a court mage it's hard to keep them ali-" At that, one of the bags starts to ABSOLUTELY writhe, scratching at the bag they're stuffed in. Varuna cocks his head and yanks the maormer out of the bag from his leg, the half drowned mer now dangling from high up by his ankles. The clothing and adornments on this one's body showcases the clear factory of nobility, thankfully. "...Well, looks like ONE didn't drown after all. Does this count then?"

[second-emissary]

"Your mission is salvaged by chance, not intention. Kill that one now, but your disobedience has been noted."

He finished off his wine and set the glass aside. A servant who had formerly been so still he'd seemed like little more than a part of the wallpaper rushed over and collected the dish. Zael's gaze tracked the boy's movements before he returned to sitting behind his desk.

"I'm not Elenwen. I am not Rulindil. My Thalmor are expected to follow my orders to the letter, or to follow them better than their expectations demanded. Any sort of failure is not acceptable." He held Varuna's gaze coldly. "You're new here, so I'll allow it to slide just this once."

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

"Suppose I got a bit too excited at the prospect of killing my own kind that I forgot that little part about keeping them alive." He looks embarrassed to say the least, dropping the maormer on the floor before pressing his heeled shoe HARD down on their back. The next moment, those water serpents are back and are biting at the mer's throat like hungry piranhas, making them choke on their own blood in their final moments. "Oh! Did get a small maormer relic from the mage however~" He dances over the corpse and to Zael, handing him the object. "I think it enhances either storm magic or lightning magic in general. Maybe both, I didn't get a moment to check it thoroughly."

[second-emissary]

"That explains the overcast and the occasional torrents. At least those clouds are small enough as to not block the horizon."

He takes the object and casts a ward over it to disperse its effects, then sets it aside neatly. "How would you like to be paid for your service?"

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Hearing those words makes his ears point straight up, and his blood starts to rush all through him once more. Ohhh payment... and the word 'how'... "...If I answer that truthfully you may not like it, depending how you view me~"

[second-emissary]

Zael adjusted a stack of papers lying on his desk, unfazed.

"I cater to my soldiers' needs. Some merely need extra money, so I add a bit more to their pay. Some have no home, or at least none that they feel safe returning to, so I provide lodging. Some wish for extra food, nice clothing, invites to exclusive events, including brothels who typically only service the elite. If you crave something beyond, I cannot provide."

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

"And what would one have to do to be allowed to be a bit... greedier?" The look Varuna gives him is a bit strange, both a returned metered look, yet his eyes are betraying him. He tries to slightly mimic the man's calmness yet cannot fully do so, at least- it would likely be glaringly obvious to Zael most likely. "I can imagine it's much more than... what you asked of me already."

[second-emissary]

"I do not engage in fraternization. Least of all to non-Altmer."

Clearly, he knew damn well what Varuna was getting at. His words were blunt and final, though the way he'd watched the servant so deliberately told otherwise. So, clearly there was a chance, but it wouldn't be easy. Unless he was genuine about the non-Altmer bit.

"Choose an option available and we will see how your privileges are affected based on your behavior from there, hmm?"

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Having finally returned to Alinor, he goes to a guard this time and tells them he's returned from a mission Zael sent him on and needs to report in. As he follows the guard, Varuna seems far too giddy for a man holding what he has over his shoulders. Eventually, once arriving at Zael's office and knocking once more, alerting him that 'Varuna has returned'- the excitable maormer hybrid doesn't even bother waiting. He just walks right on in. "I'm baaack~" @second-emissary

[second-emissary]

Zael is standing beside his wall-length window, watching the sun set over the distant shoreline as he drinks from a wineglass.

"I assume you either have what I asked of you, or that you have come back to be killed where you stand?"

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Suddenly he flops the three bags onto the floor and beams, one of the bags however seems.. blood stained. "I got TWO nobles and ONE court mage!~"

[second-emissary]

"Already dead," Zael remarked with a note of disappointment in his tone. "I do believe I commanded otherwise."

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

"Well, when one is a court mage it's hard to keep them ali-" At that, one of the bags starts to ABSOLUTELY writhe, scratching at the bag they're stuffed in. Varuna cocks his head and yanks the maormer out of the bag from his leg, the half drowned mer now dangling from high up by his ankles. The clothing and adornments on this one's body showcases the clear factory of nobility, thankfully. "...Well, looks like ONE didn't drown after all. Does this count then?"

[second-emissary]

"Your mission is salvaged by chance, not intention. Kill that one now, but your disobedience has been noted."

He finished off his wine and set the glass aside. A servant who had formerly been so still he'd seemed like little more than a part of the wallpaper rushed over and collected the dish. Zael's gaze tracked the boy's movements before he returned to sitting behind his desk.

"I'm not Elenwen. I am not Rulindil. My Thalmor are expected to follow my orders to the letter, or to follow them better than their expectations demanded. Any sort of failure is not acceptable." He held Varuna's gaze coldly. "You're new here, so I'll allow it to slide just this once."

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

"Suppose I got a bit too excited at the prospect of killing my own kind that I forgot that little part about keeping them alive." He looks embarrassed to say the least, dropping the maormer on the floor before pressing his heeled shoe HARD down on their back. The next moment, those water serpents are back and are biting at the mer's throat like hungry piranhas, making them choke on their own blood in their final moments. "Oh! Did get a small maormer relic from the mage however~" He dances over the corpse and to Zael, handing him the object. "I think it enhances either storm magic or lightning magic in general. Maybe both, I didn't get a moment to check it thoroughly."

[second-emissary]

"That explains the overcast and the occasional torrents. At least those clouds are small enough as to not block the horizon."

He takes the object and casts a ward over it to disperse its effects, then sets it aside neatly. "How would you like to be paid for your service?"

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Hearing those words makes his ears point straight up, and his blood starts to rush all through him once more. Ohhh payment... and the word 'how'... "...If I answer that truthfully you may not like it, depending how you view me~"

[second-emissary]

Zael adjusted a stack of papers lying on his desk, unfazed.

"I cater to my soldiers' needs. Some merely need extra money, so I add a bit more to their pay. Some have no home, or at least none that they feel safe returning to, so I provide lodging. Some wish for extra food, nice clothing, invites to exclusive events, including brothels who typically only service the elite. If you crave something beyond, I cannot provide."

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Having finally returned to Alinor, he goes to a guard this time and tells them he's returned from a mission Zael sent him on and needs to report in. As he follows the guard, Varuna seems far too giddy for a man holding what he has over his shoulders. Eventually, once arriving at Zael's office and knocking once more, alerting him that 'Varuna has returned'- the excitable maormer hybrid doesn't even bother waiting. He just walks right on in. "I'm baaack~" @second-emissary

[second-emissary]

Zael is standing beside his wall-length window, watching the sun set over the distant shoreline as he drinks from a wineglass.

"I assume you either have what I asked of you, or that you have come back to be killed where you stand?"

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

Suddenly he flops the three bags onto the floor and beams, one of the bags however seems.. blood stained. "I got TWO nobles and ONE court mage!~"

[second-emissary]

"Already dead," Zael remarked with a note of disappointment in his tone. "I do believe I commanded otherwise."

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

"Well, when one is a court mage it's hard to keep them ali-" At that, one of the bags starts to ABSOLUTELY writhe, scratching at the bag they're stuffed in. Varuna cocks his head and yanks the maormer out of the bag from his leg, the half drowned mer now dangling from high up by his ankles. The clothing and adornments on this one's body showcases the clear factory of nobility, thankfully. "...Well, looks like ONE didn't drown after all. Does this count then?"

[second-emissary]

"Your mission is salvaged by chance, not intention. Kill that one now, but your disobedience has been noted."

He finished off his wine and set the glass aside. A servant who had formerly been so still he'd seemed like little more than a part of the wallpaper rushed over and collected the dish. Zael's gaze tracked the boy's movements before he returned to sitting behind his desk.

"I'm not Elenwen. I am not Rulindil. My Thalmor are expected to follow my orders to the letter, or to follow them better than their expectations demanded. Any sort of failure is not acceptable." He held Varuna's gaze coldly. "You're new here, so I'll allow it to slide just this once."

[varuna-the-kinslayer]

"Suppose I got a bit too excited at the prospect of killing my own kind that I forgot that little part about keeping them alive." He looks embarrassed to say the least, dropping the maormer on the floor before pressing his heeled shoe HARD down on their back. The next moment, those water serpents are back and are biting at the mer's throat like hungry piranhas, making them choke on their own blood in their final moments. "Oh! Did get a small maormer relic from the mage however~" He dances over the corpse and to Zael, handing him the object. "I think it enhances either storm magic or lightning magic in general. Maybe both, I didn't get a moment to check it thoroughly."

[second-emissary]

"That explains the overcast and the occasional torrents. At least those clouds are small enough as to not block the horizon."

He takes the object and casts a ward over it to disperse its effects, then sets it aside neatly. "How would you like to be paid for your service?"