#azzan

[th3skullqu33n93]

Random Oblivion screenshots 24

[mukuuji]

pet owners in Anvil

and here is Sparky

[rakimaiirisa]

personal replacer for Azzan

Azzan - Standalone Voiced Male Follower

Azzan is an original fully voiced follower with nearly 1000 lines of dialogue, adaptable to your playstyle!

[phillmatic365]

NEW EPISODE out now The HeatHolderz x @king_shampz of Dead Wrong Records talkin Dawn of The Dead, Being The Sound of Philadelphia and The next Wave of Dead Wrong Records #dawnofthedead available on all streaming services ______________________🔥🔥🎙🔥🔥_______________ #TissueInTheTapePodcast #HomeoftheEmcee🎙🔥#KingShampz #wavegod #TSOP #Azzan #Dreadwrongrecords ##IlladelphRepresent #Philly #215 #HipHop365 #EverythingisHipHop #HipHop #HeatHolderPodcastNetwork🔥 #RespectHeatHolderz 🔥 (at West Philadelphia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CKEhL8sgMp4/?igshid=ee0jam5fr5rd

[druidx]

Broken Promises Masterpost

As mentioned in this whine, I haven't seen many TESFics about Modryn Oreyn (there aren't too many about most of the "minor" characters at all TBH, but that's another project for another day). He's such an interesting character to me: Bold, proud, ferocious. Intimidating until he likes you. He has a lot of unexplored depth, I feel. I also like that he's one of the few mentors in the game that doesn't die, or otherwise become inaccessible, at the end of their quest arc. Such that I feel he makes an excellent surrogate parental figure to the disaster-case of a Hero (and yes, I may be projecting slightly, apologies). So, in the vein of "this character needs more love; I'd better write it myself" I went ahead and did so.

Prompts: X, X, X. Each of these gave me ideas and helped direct the story, so thanks to their authors. I forgot to copy the links down at first, so I'm still missing the one about magical healing :(

Notes: I remembered halfway through that Dunmer don't worship the Nine, which is why Modryn switches at some point to thanking Azura. This is really bad consistency on my part, and I'm very sorry I forgot to do my research before hand. On a similar point, I have take extreme creative liberties with Morrowind's slave bracers - in game they drain magicka only. Hopefully the scheme Armand and Azzan employ doesn’t seem too out of character for them (please let me know if you disagree! Constructive criticism is how we grow).

Premise: Set some when after one has "finished" the game and the HoK/CC runs every main guild in Cyrodiil, Modryn Oreyn has been kidnapped by the remnants of the Blackwood Company. A ransom note is sent to the HoK/CC, and they set out to rescue their friend and Second-in-Command. All does not go smoothly.

Warnings: Torture, slavery mentions, grief, self-hate, moderate swearing (cannon curses; no f-bombs), disassociation, general fantasy violence, magical bindings, general injuries.

Post List: (This fic did get way out of hand. I was aiming for ~5k. It's 14,700. I cannot write short to save a life apparently) Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Coda

[goodetimesxillvibes]

[druidx]

Broken Promises (Pt7)

Context: Modryn Oryen (or 'Fighter's Guild dad', as I think of him) needs more love. For more context, see my whine about this fic.

Warnings: Torture, slavery mentions, grief, self-hate, moderate swearing (cannon curses; no f-bombs), disassociation, general fantasy violence, magical bindings

Notes: I took extreme liberties with the way Morrowind slave bracers work. Please don’t yell at me.

(Gods this got huge; I’ll make a masterpost for all parts when they're up)

We tracked back through the complex of tunnels and caves, coming into the chamber with the crevasse. The fighting had slowed considerably by the time we arrived, only Bhos and Tabelle holding out on a raised ledge. We paused by the head of the bridge, scanning the scene. There were more bodies than I expected – evidently the Breton woman had more forces than I'd assumed. And there she was, being held at the edge of the cave, an orc standing over her. He turned and a wash of relief passed over me, nearly taking my legs out. Burz. I'd been certain the Breton was lying about leaving him dead in a ditch, but it was nice to see the evidence of his continued existence with my own eyes. I pulled out the potion Methredhel had given me and downed it. I was going to need everything I could now, I thought. "Assassin, you're a mage, correct? Would you mind doing the honours," I said, gesturing at Tabelle and Bhos. "Of course, reverend Listener," she murmured. She stepped forward, white light shooting from her hand to strike the Dunmer archer. Tabelle fell, paralyzed as frost tinged her dark hair white. No longer pinned down by Tabelle's fire, the fighters were able to take Bhos down with ease. "Thank you," I said, passing the assassin and approaching Burz and the Breton. "Boss!" Burz cried out as we approached. He straightened, looking over at Methredhel, his voice dropping to an angry growl. "What's the Guildmaster still doing here? This wasn't the plan." "We hit a problem," the thief said, her response cool. "Have you searched her?" I asked Bruz, inclining my chin at the Breton woman. "Aye, boss." "Did you find a key of any kind?"

At this, the Breton laughed. "Oh that's just precious," she said, smiling wickedly despite her bloodied and bruised face. "You finally figured out you can't leave here?" She spat blood. "We'll rot here together, you and I. I got rid of the key." I could feel the horror taking over my expression before it morphed to anger. "Boss, what's she talking about?" Burz asked. "Where is it!" I yelled, flying forward. Burz caught me easily with one arm, dragging me backwards and away. "Burz, let go. That's an order!" I yelled as I struggled. The Breton just laughed again, as two of our brother fighters stepped up to take Burz's place guarding her. "Boss. You gotta calm down," the big orc said, keeping his voice low as he dragged me back further. "We didn't find any key. Tell me what we're looking for so we can search for it. What's it the key to, anyhow?" "If I may, Sir?" The assassin stepped up to my other side. "The key we seek is to the slave band here. Our reverend Listener will not be able to leave this cave system with the band still attached, and it cannot be removed via conventional means." Burz looked over my head at the Breton assassin. "You know what it looks like?" he asked. "Yes," she said, "though I fear it will not be easy to find. We are looking for a small key, no bigger than this." She held up her pinkie finger for consideration. "I bet she threw it in the crevasse," I said then, bitterness colouring my words. "The bitch said she got rid of it, right? If you were in her boots and wanted to keep someone you despised in some stinking cave for the rest of their life, how better than to lose the key to their escape in an unfathomably deep hole?" My companions stared at me for a long moment as they weighed my words. "That makes an unfortunate amount of sense..." Methredhel said. Burz lowered his arm, and I turned back to the Breton woman. "We may as well put her to the sword," I said, loud enough to carry. "If she doesn't know where the key is, then she's of no use to us. The stain of the Blackwood company needs to be wiped out forever." "May I do the honours, Master?" Burz asked. I looked up at him. He bristled with anger, a deep-seated fury that seeped from every pore. "I can only imagine what she has done to you and Oryen, so you would be within your rights to say no. But I wish to claim her life in the name of our brothers murdered by her kind in Forsaken Mine." I glanced at our brothers on either side of the forsaken woman. They seemed to tense at the memory of that news spreading like wildfire through our ranks. I stepped away from him. "The honour is all yours gro-Khash," I said. Our brothers took a prudent step away, as Burz advanced on the Breton, unsheathing his mace. The Breton looked wildly between me and him. "Surely you're not going to allow this?" she said, alarmed. "I'm bound, on my knees. This is murder! What happened to your precious Fighter's Guild honour?" "Should I remind you," I asked coldly, "that until my comrades arrived, you had me bound and prone, giving no appearance of remorse for what you did to me or mine? Don't confuse us with the Knights of the Nine. Fighter's Guild honour demands a life for a life. Unless you can give me a compelling reason to spare yours, then I see no reason not to continue." The Breton's eyes flicked desperately around the room, finding no quarter in anyone's expression. "The key!" she said. "I threw the key into the crevasse." "Not compelling enough," I said. Burz stood over the woman, his mace held high. "I can show you how to get down there! I remember where I threw it!" "Hold!" I called. Burz looked across to me, and I shook my head. "She might be of use yet," I said and turned away. The potion was wearing off and the flush of anger had passed, leaving me exhausted. "Castellan," I said, waving at the Battlehorn Castle Captain, "work with gro-Khash to find out what she knows and recover the key." Castellan Athon clapped his fist to his chest. "Of course, Champion," he said and strode past me. "'Redhel," I said, wavering on my feet. "Can you help them? I know your eyesight is pretty good, even without augmentation, and I seem to recall you like shiny things..." The thief turned from where she'd faced away from the imminent death, quirking a smile. "I do like shiny things, yes. Prefer it when they're worth something. But for you, I will help them." "Thank you," I said, head drooping. "I'll send you an invoice later," she said, laughing when I rolled my eyes. "And what about you, reverend Listener?" the assassin asked. "I am going to sit down over there and possibly pass out for a few minutes," I said, staggering my way over to what seemed like a comfortable spot against the wall.

~*~*~

I woke to what sounded like a rumble of thunder, the floor shivering under me. I gained my feet, far more sluggish than I'd like, and hobbled over to where the Dark Brotherhood mage crouched, close to the chasm's maw. "What happened?" I asked. She was scanning the depths of the crevasse. "There was a rockfall close to the end," she said, pointing. Panic spiked through me, but the assassin hadn't finished, "I don't believe any of your people have been trapped or injured. I saw Methredhel dodging stones, but the fighters were at the other end." The assassin looked at me. "The thief moves well, like a dancer," she added. "It is poetry to watch her operate." I grinned. "Last I heard she was available," I said and gave an easy shrug. "No harm in asking if she makes it back in one piece. Just don't expect to bring her into the family – she's squeamish." The assassin gave me a serious nod. "Thank you for the advice, Listener." There was a creaking of unoiled hinges then, and we both looked over to where a trapdoor on the further side swung open. The assassin stood as Bruz climbed out, Methredhel over his shoulder. We looked at each other. "If you have healing, then go," I said. "They'll need you." The assassin nodded and hurried over. "I got it!" Methredhel called, holding up her hand. Burz moved over to let the others out of the trapdoor, setting the thief down gently. I limped over, as Burz took the key from 'Redhel and let the assassin take over her care. "What happened?" I asked. "The Blackwood woman triggered a rockfall as she was showing your thief where the key might have landed. The Bosmer girl caught a rock and broke her leg, but otherwise, everyone is fine." He motioned for me to hold my arm out, and set to unlocking the damnable device. "And the Breton?" I asked. "She didn't make it," Bruz said. "I'm sorry," I said. "I know how much you wanted to be the one that made her pay." The lock clicked and I felt the coldness in my belly retreat, the serpent of my magicka raising a sleepy head to taste the air. "She got her comeuppance in the end," the pragmatic orc said with a shrug. "What do you want to do with this?" He held up the golden band. "Bring it with us. I'll lock it away someplace safe. Who knows, it might come in handy one day." He raised an eyebrow but made no further comment. "Gather up the troops would you?" I asked. "I am more than ready to get out of here." Burz smiled and gently patted my shoulder. "Sure thing," he said as I turned away. "And Boss?" "Yeah?" I said, pausing. "It's good to have you back."

[druidx]

Broken Promises (Pt6)

Context: Modryn Oryen (or 'Fighter's Guild dad', as I think of him) needs more love. For more context, see my whine about this fic.

Warnings: Torture, slavery mentions, grief, self-hate, moderate swearing (cannon curses; no f-bombs), disassociation, general fantasy violence, magical bindings

Notes: I took extreme liberties with the way Morrowind slave bracers work. Please don’t yell at me.

(Gods this got huge; I’ll make a masterpost for all parts when they're up)

The light had gone from the outside world by the time they'd finished with Modryn. He'd been right the first time, I thought. Without my pleas and desperate begging, the Breton woman had tired of him quicker than she'd tired of me. It didn't buy me a reprieve though. Elandril and Fa'nir dragged Modryn back into the cell, dumping him in a heap and reattaching his manacles. Then Fa'nir had backed out, and the Breton had entered. I thought about fighting, but that idea was quashed when the Bosmer put a dagger to Modryn't throat. The implication was clear, and I limped out, led by the neck like a dog. Elandril didn't move all the while I was winched up. Only when I was secured again did the Bosmer retreat. The Breton paced around me, tapping her dagger on her chin. "You know," she said eventually, "I've been thinking. If you're so determined to stay quiet, why don't we make a little game of it? Let's see just how quiet you can stay. For every noise you make, I'll take it out of Oreyn's hide tomorrow. Understand?" She used the blade to lift my chin, icy blue eyes staring into mine, blazing with hate. "Hrm?" I nodded, such as I could. She gave me a winning smile. "Ah, you've got the hang of it already. Good, good." She flipped the dagger onto its edge and drew the blade along the underside of my chin. I closed my eyes, fighting down the whimper trying to escape. Then she began in earnest.

~*~*~

They'd left me hanging for the night again, nauseated from Fa'nir's ministrations, disoriented and dehydrated from blood loss. The cave was dark, only the faintest starlight reached us from the holes in the ceiling. Is it any wonder then, that when cold reptilian hands brushed mine, I jerked into full consciousness? The startled cry on my lips was stifled by that same scaled hand. "Greetings, fellow thief," whispered a droll Argonian voice from behind me. "I trust you realise it would be well to stay silent?" I nodded into the hand. "Good," the voice said, and the hand withdrew. Something about that voice was familiar. It wasn't until the manacles dropped from my wrists with the tiniest of clinks, that I understood. "Amusei?" I whispered. "One and the same," the Argonian said. I felt his hands on the back of my neck, investigating the collar. "This one will be trickier..." He padded away from me, towards the cell where Modryn lay, sleeping. Yes, sleeping – I wouldn't countenance anything else. Another figure moved in the dark, beside the cell door, and Amusei whispered to it. Other shadows twitched to life in my periphery, and I twisted to see someone stood there, his long curved sword glittering in the faint light. Only a few people I knew carried swords like that – the Dunbarrow crew. I nearly cried out in relief. Plans E and F had arrived together. I didn't think to question what had happened to Plan D. I hissed out between my teeth. Amusei and the second shadow paused in their whispering, said something more, then the second shadow broke away, coming towards me. It resolved into the form of a young Bosmer woman. She silently raised a questioning eyebrow. "Methredhel," I greeted her. "Take the Dunmer and get out." She shook her head. "My instructions are for both of you." I bit back a scream of frustration. "Amusei says the collar is too difficult. Take the Dunmer, and come back for me. Please, 'Redhel." She was silent for what felt like too many heartbeats, her face inscrutable in the dark. Then she gave a quick nod, and padded back to the cell, waving over the pirate, Zedrick, I thought. Another shadow, presumably Scurvy John, followed suit. They had a short conflab inside the cell before Methredhel trotted back out. She leaned in close enough that I could smell the leather of her armour and the lavender soap with which she bathed. "Alright, here's the plan," she whispered into my ear. "The disreputable gentlemen will take your Dunmer to a prearranged point, while you and I wait for the distraction. Then we'll see about the collar. Can you run if needed?" "Probably not. Got any potions?" Methredhel nodded against my face. "Your mage friends are very useful," she said. Before I could ask what she meant, the Bosmer was pulling away and I could only wonder at her words. How did she know about my ties with the Mages Guild, and what did she mean by 'the distraction'? Then she was pressing a vial into hands that shook so fiercely she had to uncork the bottle for me and help me drink. A flush of sweet, iron-flavoured magic washed through me, though I gagged at the sensation of bones growing and muscle reknitting. Methredhel swiftly put her hand over my mouth to stop the noises, and to stop the potion from coming back up. "Better?" she asked as my tremors stopped. "Aye. For now." She gave me another quick nod and stepped around to look at the collar's lock. As she did so, I watched figures emerge from the cell. The pirates carried Modryn between them in a queen's lift while Amusei raised a hand, signalling that their part was going well, and they would continue. The four soon disappeared around a corner of the cave. Yet another shadow, clad in leathers as purple as the night, detached from the wall to follow them, and I realised with a start that the Dark Brotherhood were here as well. Plan D was involved with E and F? What the hell was going on... Things only got more confusing from thereon. After what could have only been a few minutes, but felt like hours in the watchful dark, I heard a commotion coming from the left – the opposite direction that the pirates had taken Modryn. Methredhel was quick to take action as soon as we heard it, loosening the collar and allowing the chink of the long chain to be hidden by the sounds of combat. "'Redhel, what's going on?" I asked as she took my hand. "I'll explain later. For now, we run." So saying she took off, pulling on my hand. I was not nearly as fast as either of us would've liked. I hobbled and limped along behind her, seeing sparks each time I put a foot down, willing the adrenalin to hide my pains.

By the time we caught up with Modryn's escort, my vision was wavering, and I felt flushed and freezing at once. Stabbing pains radiated from where the slave band bit in around my arm. "Amusei, Yinz'r," Methredhel hissed. The two Argonians took one look at me, and in tandem scooped me up. If I'd had the strength, I probably would have protested. Once I was in arms, our group took off, while the sounds of battle still raged elsewhere.

We'd nearly made it to the last chamber when the pain in my arm became unbearable. The two Argonians took one step too far. My entire body spasmed, my arm feeling like someone had plunged it in lava. I clawed at the band, screaming. Someone slammed a hand over my mouth as the Argonians retreated along the corridor, dumping me on the floor. "What do we do?" I heard Scurvy John ask. I shook off the hand, trying to catch my breath. "Get the Dunmer out of here," I growled. "But-" "Do it!" There was a pause. Then, "Yes Captain," he said, and I heard them walk away. Methredhel crouched down beside me. "What's wrong with you?" she asked. "It's this band," said the assassin crouched on my other side, as she lifted my arm. "I saw one in Pelgaliad last month. It's used to keep slaves from escaping. If they get far enough from the key, then..." She gestured at me. "It's just another lock, right? I'll just-" Methredhel was interrupted by the assassin catching her hand. "You cannot pick an enchanted lock," she said. "We have to find the key, or our dear Listener will never be able to leave." "That gods damned Breton woman probably has it," I said, scrabbling at the walls. "Help me up." The rush of anger filled my veins like fire, giving me strength I would pay dearly for later. "Listener, are you sure-" "Yes! 'Redhel, what other potions do you have?" The Bosmer started a little and flipped a belt pouch open, fishing out a handful of vials. "Ah. I used the Detect Life and the Nighteye... There's another two Healing, a Shield, an Invisibility, a Fortify Fatigue..." She looked back at me, as I leant heavily on the assassin's arm. "Give me the Fortify Fatigue," I said. She looked worried as she handed over the potion. I gripped it tightly – I'd save it for when it was desperately needed. "Now get out of here, both of you." The thief and the assassin shared a look. "Respectfully, Listener, no," said the assassin. "I don't know about our thief here, but my orders are to bring you out alive. In the state you are, you will die, be it from a blade or blood loss." Methredhel nodded. "Aye, mine are close enough to that. Sorry, Guildmate, but we're coming with you." I looked between the two of them. The assassin was resolute, just enough jut of the chin, thought her eyes were anxious. Methredhel just looked annoyed with me, as she so often had when I was new to the guild and clumsy with it. "Fine," I grumbled. "I need a blade." Smiles lit up both women's faces, and a pair of fine steel daggers appeared in their hands. I tucked the potion vial in my bandeau and took both. "Stay stealthy," I told them. "The bitch is likely to be wherever the fighting's thickest. Who are they fighting, anyway?" "Some fellows from the Fighter's Guild and a private force from up the road," Methredhel said. I frowned, forcing the thought to the back of my mind. There was too much going on to get distracted by that coincidence. The three of us padded back down the corridor with Methredhel in the lead. With every step we took towards the fighting, the better I felt, as though the enchantment wore off the closer I got to the key.