{===+===}
The following events take place over a period of two months.
[The Docks]
Atra and Alma have made friends in Riften. Ash, in an act of impressive negligence, lets the two girls wander around the city so long as they promise to be home before sundown.
…well, that wasn't entirely true. While the new Warwolf house is strong, it is, as Byrnjolf proved, not impervious to entry. Should something like that happen again and if the adults in the house were unable to respond in time, Ash wanted to make sure that, if the girls were taken, as many people as possible would recognize them and thus make the search process easier.
The fact that he could spin it off as trust in the girls was just an added bonus.
Either way, both girls have made friends with the other children running around the Waterlily district, and have been haphazardly inducted into the ranks. The girls, fastidious as they were with keeping themselves clean, nevertheless managed to mix in quite convincingly with the comparatively less hygiene-inclined crowd and were basically unrecognizable shortly after leaving the house and at all hours before dinnertime.
One day, the girls and their crowd of friends wandered onto the dockyards. The group of eight children had a fun time staring at the boats loading and unloading from the piers. They jump when one of the cranes snap rather menacingly and giggle when the workers clear out on a hustle.
"So, Atra, how do you like Riften so far?" One of the boys asks her nervously. He really wanted her to like him. (He likes her hair).
Atra…doesn't really notice. "It's interesting." She says. "Way different from Whiterun."
"Do you carry that with you all the time?" Another boy asks, pointing to her knife. "It looks cool." He's in the same boat as the first boy. (He…doesn't really know anything about Atra but thinks she's nice).
"It's useful." Atra pats her knife. "I can do a lot of things with it." Given Atra's size the knife was more a short sword, but she didn't care enough to make the distinction.
"What do you guys want to do today?" The leader of the group, a Redguard girl some 14 years old or so, asks. "Going on the docks is really dangerous when they're working."
"Let's go into the Circle." Boy C offers. "I've never been to the top." 'The Circle' is one of the many nicknames for the shopping tower that makes up the center of Riften.
"I have." Boy A puffs up his chest. "The view's great."
"Well, why not?" The Leader hops to her feet. "There's a punishment waiting if you hit anything on your way up!" She grins.
"Yeah, yeah, sis." Boy B huffs. "We know you'll be the first person to knock things over." He says to general agreement.
The Leader pouts. "Sometimes grown-ups like me have things in their mind." She says with a snide smirk.
"Suuuuure." Boy B rolls his eyes and hop back quickly to avoid getting grabbed by the Leader's sisterly anger. He leads the way to the Riften's marketplace, escaping from her chasing all the while.
…
The Circle, as it turned out, was not as busy as it could be today.
"Must be because of the weather." Boy B says. "Looks like rain today."
"A little rain never stopped them before." The Leader says. "Oh well." She heads up the stairs and almost immediately trips on the sturdy but rather randomly angled stairs.
The view from the top of the Circle was…not particularly impressive. While tall from the ground, it was very apparent from the top that the nearby buildings of better construction overshadowed it by…well, by enough to matter for the purposes of getting a good view.
Slightly disappointed, the children descend while comparing all of the things they saw from the spreads of the slightly reduced shops around them.
Now with one less thing to do, the children wander over to a low stone wall and take seats. After a fashion, Alma notices something in the distance.
"Who are they?" She points to another group of comparatively younger-looking children.
Alma's the youngest of her current group and her age was now just barely in the double digits, a fact she reminds anyone who thinks she's 'small'.
Atra follows Alma's arm to a group of three small, thin-looking children on the far side of the Circle's grounds.
"Probably orphans." Boy A says. "They wander around here a lot with the other beggars."
"Orphans have to beg?" Alma asks uncomfortably. "Don't they get some kind of…help?"
"Well, they're not dead." The Leader says with faux-levity. "So that's something." She looks at Atra. "Not something you two ever had to worry about, right?"
Atra didn't answer. The two of them didn't really get along.
They watch the orphans wander around the Circle a little before the children sight the group and approach.
The average age of Atra's group is about 11. The orphans are about 7.
"Hi." The Leader says slowly, visibly shrinking away. "What do you want?"
"Hi Amie." One of the orphan boys says. "How are you?"
"I'm alright…" The Leader replies. "…what about you, Hvar? Is everything alright? Is Greta being…well, y'know?"
"Greta lets us out now and again, so it's not all bad." Hvar says. "New friends?" He stares at Atra and Alma.
Atra hops to her feet to bow. "I'm Atra." Alma does the same.
"Um." Hvar isn't quite sure how to respond. "Wanna play?"
The two groups merge, more or less, and wander around the area some more, mostly focusing between the docks and the Circle (to avoid going too far). Initial discomfort aside, the children, being children, take to each other quite well, and after one run-in with a cart of vegetables any visual differences went away.
Eventually, the children burned out some of their energy and settled on what children do best: comparing what they know with each other.
"I can already do Flames." Boy B says, flexing his hands and shooting out a small puff of fire. "I don't get to practice at home, though. Momma says it's too dangerous."
"It would be bad if you burned down the neighborhood." Boy A grins, opening and closing his hands with small puffs of flames. "Not enough practice will do that."
Boy B pouts. "Oh, shove off."
"What's the biggest Flames you can make, then?" Boy C challenges Boy A.
Boy A raises his hand into the air, checks to see if there is anybody in his firing radius, then lets loose a blast of red flame-like magical energy. A mage with any training could tell that the flames were basically just a faintly red cloud: visually neat but not dangerous in any way.
The orphans clap energetically.
"Your turn, Atra." Boy A says with a little bit of pride.
"Well, ok." Atra creates a flame within her hand, and then slowly kneads it into a small spiraling vortex about the size of a long nail.
"Uh…that's it?" Boy C deflates.
"Father said that the size of the flame isn't important." Atra says.
"Well, if he says so." Boy C says with the faintest hint of a scoff. He, like a few children around him, absentmindedly tug at their collars against the afternoon's rising heat. Was it this hot before?
"I think Atra's papa would know a lot about magic." The Leader says. "He's pretty good, right?"
"The best!" Alma grins. She also has a small spiral of fire in her hand.
"Hey, that's not bad." They hear someone say. The kids look around to see a teenager escorted by a guard and his tutor. "You girls can do magic?" The teenager was very well groomed and dressed, and would…honestly look like he came from a rather similar economic standing as Atra if, y'know, Atra hadn't been romping around the dirtier parts of town for a few hours prior.
Regardless, the Boys immediately recognize this person as of the upper crust and therefore their mortal enemy. "What's it to you?" Boy A asks/accuses.
The teenager throws up his hands. "It's just surprising, that's all." He has a playful, if rather devious smirk on his face. "Didn't think little kids like you could do something like that."
For context: the teenager is, at best, two weeks older than the Leader.
"We have good teachers." Atra says evenly, standing up. Her standing up elicits a response from the guard in the form of a slight shift in body language. That shift also causes Boys A and C, who were about to each take a menacing step forward, to reconsider their action.
"I'm sure." The teenager says condescendingly. Not out of malice or anything, but because he believes rather wholeheartedly that the tutor he's had from a small age is the best mage in the world.
Unfortunately that distinction wasn't really communicated to Atra, and her eyes narrow. "I would kindly like to remind you to avoid speaking ill of my father." She says extremely formally. The effect is rather lessened by her disheveled appearance.
Regardless, the teenager was just bored and realizes that he's struck a sore spot. "Ah, I see." He bows. "I apologize, it was not my intention to take slight of your peerage."
Boy A hisses "what does that mean?" to Boy B.
Atra's also slightly lost. "Well, as long as you know." She folds her arms and goes 'hmph!'
"Who are you anyway?" Alma asks. "You're kinda rich-looking." She looks him up and down.
"Ah, right." He bows. "I'm Leiz Kanafe, second son of the Kanafe family." He smiles politely.
Pronounced 'Lees'.
"Alma." Alma says with some hostility.
"Pleased to meet you, young lady." Leiz nods.
"So you were talking about magic? Does it mean you can do magic?" The Leader asks.
Flames and Healing aren't considered 'real' magic, since everyone can do it to some extent. It's like people throwing punches: people can compare their strength by doing it, but just throwing punches doesn't automatically make someone a boxer.
"Well, to some extent." Leiz creates a small Frostbite icicle in his hand.
Atra and Alma both glance at each other. Ash had given them explicit orders to avoid using anything but Flames and Healing unless they're actively fighting somebody. But at the same time it would feel really good to strut over Leiz.
But, they hold, because they are good little girls. Ish.
Regardless, as children do, about ten minutes later they're all playing together as a group, with actual adult supervision in the form of Leiz's underpaid and overstressed bodyguard.
Soon enough, they come across an interesting sight: a tent, flying an imperial flag, presiding over what looks like a fighting pit. As they watch, an Imperial soldier armed with a wooden practice sword faces off against an Argonian with his own. Blows are exchanged, and about five hits later the Argonian admits defeat, nursing a bruised arm that gets patched up by an imperial healer.
"Oh, they're doing this again?" Leiz says, annoyed.
Alma tilts her head. "Again?"
Liez nods. "Yeah. Riften doesn't like the empire much, so they're doing things like this to make people like 'em better." He glances at the Leader. "wanna go for a spin?"
"Uh, well, um." The Leader folds her arms. She very much wanted to go for a spin but didn't want to embarrass herself.
Leiz sweetens the pot. "One Septim for each hit you get on the Imperial." He grins, patting his money pouch. "I'm betting three."
The Leader's eyebrow twitches. "Alright, fine! You're on!" She stomps towards the ring.
The Imperials, vigilant as always for the best opportunity for good PR, notices the two oldest children seemingly place a bet with each other. As the Leader walks up to the ring, the fighter in the ring takes a cue from an observer posted in a nearby building and homes in on her. "Why hello there!" He says with a notable crassness to his voice. "You looking for a good time, laddie?"
The Leader scowls. "This is a fighting ring, right? I can get in on this?" She tries her best to be dangerous sounding.
The fighter sighs in his head. Oh I feel like an asshole. "Sure thing, kid." He jerks his head towards a rack of practice weapons. "Take your pick." He says gruffly.
The Leader picks a practice sword at random and almost immediately regrets her decision: it was too heavy to use as a sword. Still, she's in just a wee bit too deep at this point, so she steps in and, upon getting the go signal, takes some massive swings towards the fighter.
The fighter, leading her on, lets her get some close swings and parries them for the theatrics, before eventually knocking her off balance with one good hit to her weapon. I'm impressed she didn't let go. He notes as the Leader pulls herself up with a flush to her face and a bit of a grin.
"See! I got in seven swings!" She says triumphantly, puffing out her chest. Leiz claps out of courtesy while the other kids do so from enthusiasm. "Let's see you do better." She challenges Leiz.
"Well, I think I probably can." Leiz says, carefully picking his weapon to find one that matched his arm strength.
Leiz lasts for five swings. His talents were in magic, not melee combat…though the fighter did go a bit harder on him than he did the girl. He takes his loss in stride.
As a result, the Leader's chin was so high it practically flew. "Why don't you give it a try, Alma?" She asks, determined to keep the train of pride going now that the adrenaline was well within her system.
"Sure." Alma says, positively bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Alma, for her age, is relatively small, so it came as a surprise to all watching when she picked functionally the biggest weapon possible for her grip, a broadsword that acts as a two-hander for her. Looking very lopsided, she squares off against the fighter, who's simultaneously confused and bemused. He makes a motion for the onlooking crowd to cheer for this plucky little girl, and they do so with a bit of confused enthusiasm.
"Here I come, sir!" Alma calls out confidently and then steps in with a powerful charge.
She's fast. The fighter realizes immediately, dodging out of necessity rather than show. And strong, too. He parries a pair of swings from Alma, noting how the little girl seemed to have full control over her weapon, using her entire body's momentum like a seasoned fighter rather than pure arm strength.
"She's so good." An orphan sighs dreamily as Alma goes past her tenth swing. "She's like a warrior." She looks around at the other kids, transfixed like the crowd on the little girl going wildly on the attack.
The fighter, however, seems to have noticed something. Well, that's not good. He muses, watching her footwork. It's obvious she's been learning from someone with very good fundamentals, but…she's too rigid. After the fifteenth swing, he steps in suddenly against her overhead swing and causes Alma to be wildly off balance, then ends the match with a tap to her head.
"Boo." Alma pouts, but bows politely against the fighter anyway, and returns to the children who immediately crowd around her in excitement and awe.
"What was with that girl?" The fighter's friends ask as their operation changes fighters. "Why was she so rigid?" They're watching from the tent.
"Probably never actually got into a dangerous fight." The fighter says with a little bit of disdain. "Whoever's training her is spoiling her. If she ever gets into a real fight without being broken a little she's going to die." He noticed that Alma had a tendency to emulate a taught form very closely, with no regard for her current terrain or the condition of the enemy. Once that became clear, it was obvious that her 'seasoned' experience came from copycat actions from a different person. Hell, the only reason she did so well was because she was so damned fast. "Once she learns to be a scrapper she'll be insane." He adds. "I'd want someone like that in my squad."
"Atra, your turn." The Leader says, now giddy with excitement. "You have to!"
Alma and Atra perform a ritual they saw Ash and Jake do: a high five. "Get 'em, big sis." Alma says, panting and grinning.
Unknown to everyone present: both girls are wearing armor underneath their outer wears.
Alma picks a one-handed sword, equivalent to a short sword.
"Alright, lass, I'm your opponent." The fighter's replacement (an Orc) says. "Pleasure."
Atra nods. "Yes, please instruct me well." She says. Her eyes flair slightly, and she takes her stance.
Observing from the tent, the operation's battlemage/healer blinks in surprise. With his mouth hanging slightly open, he shares an incredulous look with his partner (dedicated healer). "Did…did she do what I think she did?"
The more veteran healer nods. "Cast a spell without even making a move? That's right she did." He writes down her name. "When this is over we're taking her." He says. "Talent like that in Riften? Can't possibly pass this up."
Meanwhile, the orc, seeing that Atra is taking a defensive stance, adopts a 'I can see what you're doing and I like it' in his body language. Playing his part, he blatantly takes the role of the attacker and then starts rushing her down with massive, overly telegraphed swings. Overly telegraphed swings that still manage to be worryingly fast.
Atra…more or less defends against his attacks. The Orc, for the purposes of going easy on a small child and playing the role of the Big Bad Bully, is indeed holding back. Even so, Atra's defenses are surprisingly sturdy.
Hey, that's not bad. The orc thinks. Girl's got good senses. He pulls back and telegraphs a powerful and slightly dangerous swing to her neck before letting it loose. Atra, given time to prepare, parries it without trouble and, letting the energy of his hit spin her around, counters and lands an actual solid 'cut' on the soldier's armor.
There is a brief moment of quiet, then awesome cheering from the children.
The orc, now smiling wide, claps twice. "Nicely done, lass!" He readies his sword again. "How about round two?" Without waiting for a response, he charges right in.
Atra, quite used to This Bullshit™ from Alma when they spar, was still not quite ready for the strength of an actual adult, and is heavily on the back foot.
"Uh oh." The healer mutters. "Kal, get Hallon to calm him down." He says to the battlemage. "If his blood gets to his head this might be bad for us."
"Hallon's at the Cap's camp, he's not gonna be back for a while." The battlemage Kal says, preparing a spell. "Relax, Yolt's got a good head on his shoulders even if he goes a little nuts."
The orc Yolt was certainly enjoying the fight so much that he gradually stopped holding back, and, accounting for his innate training on not killing a small girl, was basically unloading full-strength swings at Atra and getting it deflected with seemingly little worry.
"She's so good." The Leader whispers as the two pass their thirtieth exchange. "So good."
Atra at this point is pretty much at her limit. Being charged down by an orc at nearly his full strength meant she was getting tunnel vision, panicking despite her calm outward appearance, and was rapidly forgetting the best ways to counterattack.
Yolt, seeing that the girl in front of him was flagging, instinctively went in for a killing blow before getting to his senses and pulling that blow back. Unfortunately, pulling back tends to be slower than the actual attack, and his sword cuts Atra on her face, sending her back two paces and flat on her rear.
Just two paces? Yolt can't help but think. Tough lil' cookie, she is. "You alright there, lass?" He extends a hand.
Atra, bleeding slightly from the cut to her face, nods. She takes his hand and gets back on her feet.
"Alright, that's that." The Fighter says with a curt clap, leaving the shade of the tent. "I daresay she held out more than well enough to warrant a special reward!" He calls out to agreements from the energized and cheering citizens. "What's your name?" He asks her officially.
To his surprise, Atra shrinks back and doesn't actually answer as she wipes the wound with her sleeve. Yolt feels a pang of guilt as he realizes just how deep his cut actually went. That's gonna scar. The wound that used to look light starts to bleed a little more seriously.
"Big sis, are you ok?" Alma rushes up upon seeing the blood on Atra's face. "Should we get dad?"
"He'll be mad, I think." Atra says. "Besides, something like this is no big deal." She passes a finger over the cut, and the bleeding stops.
…
"So…that wound wasn't shallow, was it, Yolt?" The Fighter asks after the kids leave. "The one you gave to that girl."
"No, it wasn't." Yolt nods sadly. "I feel like an ass—something like that'll definitely scar." He worried momentarily about the caretakers of that girl coming over and beating him down for what he did.
"Well, she passed a finger over it and it healed like that." The fighter snaps his fingers for emphasis. "Yo, Palla, can you do something like that?" He asks the healer.
"If she could do something like that then the wound wasn't that deep." Palla replies. "Have some faith in your skill, Yolt."
…
…
[Day Trip]
…
…
"Hey, you busy?"
Ash looks up from the finishing touches on his enchanting table.
"I got a request." Jake holds up a piece of paper. "Bodyguard duty."
Ash frowns. "O…kay? Who, where, why?"
"Some rich dude, north of here, and because he's fat and bald." Jake shrugs. "Dude wants someone who doesn't ask questions, so I figured it's a good way to learn a few things."
Ash nods. "I can see that. When are we leaving?"
"Tomorrow. Think you can finish your…uh…thing by then?"
Ash frowns at a pair of rather strange-looking oval plates sitting next to his new enchanting table. "Obviously not, but the jerry-rigging should be done by then."
"Good luck." Jake laughs. "I seriously hope you succeed, but maaan you set the bar high for yourself."
Ash shrugs lightly. "It's about high time I seriously tried to make it."
…
Next day, the two of them set off on a trip by themselves, with Mell housewatching.
"Alright, I think we'll be safe here." Jake muses after they take a turn off the main road. "We're gonna need to double back a little bit, but it should be fine to be there before noon."
"Aiight." Ash cracks his knuckles. The target of their escort was a noble in a small town north of Riften, and the place that the noble wanted to do was a little bit south of his town.
The two of them summon giant wolves then ride to said town (making sure to unsummon out of sight). There, they meet the noble they're guarding: a short and slightly plump looking Nord by the name of Quin.
"The two of you will be my bodyguards, I see?" He says after a short round of pleasantries. "Pleasure to make your acquaintances and follow my instructions."
"Yep." Jake says confidently. Ash just nods.
…
The destination, as it turns out, is a cave dug into the cliffs that separate the good, lush parts of Riften and its marshy badlands.
"Oh this looks familiar." Jake mutters as they come to a hidden cove with some wolves in cages outside.
"Mornin' Quin." One of the area's guards say to the noble. "What happened to your old guards?" He nods towards Ash and Jake.
"My daughter's on a trip to Windhelm, so they're with her." Quin says. "No sense depriving her of the best hands I got. 'sides, these guys seem like they can keep a secret." He glances at Ash. "Especially that one."
I feel slightly offended. Ash notes without any outward change.
"Well, enjoy yourself, sir, and may your purse leave lighter than when you're coming in." He grins, getting himself a light punch on the arm in response.
"Cheeky little brat." Quin says in good nature and enters the cave.
The tunnel leading down into the cave is well lit and opens rather quickly to a large and reasonably well-lit cavern. While it splits off into smaller rooms, the main attraction is arguably the depressed wooden ring in the middle ringed by a wooden fence. Around the ring is an assortment of chairs, bars, tables, all looking like they were salvaged from broken carts and trashed furniture. At the moment, around two dozen patrons sit, enjoying the local atmosphere, alcohol, and what sounds like a pit fight between two people in the ring.
"Now this is my idea of a good time." Quin says to nobody in particular before taking a look down at the ring. "Who's the favorite?"
Within the ring are a pair of men wearing simple clothing duking it out with their bare fists, with one wearing a red scarf and the other blue.
"Blue's favored." His immediate neighbor (well-dressed Argonian) says as Blue swings and knocks Red to the ground. "Really favored." A bell sounds somewhere.
Quin buys himself some mead. "First time in the ring?"
"Yeah, but given how he moves, the man's likely a Stormcloak." The neighbor says as Blue celebrates. Red gets some smelling salt rubbed under his nose before being dragged off for some medical attention. "Plenty of those lately."
"Takes some fun out of the bet." Quin takes out his coin purse. "Five on Red in the next round." He gives it to a maid/bookkeeper wandering around.
"New guards of yours?" The neighbor asks Quin as he notices Jake and Ash standing around. "They seem fresh."
"Mercenaries." Quin says. "You know how it is with Ceres these days, Kleist."
Jake and Ash share a look of "that's her name?"
"She's at that age, eh." Kleist chuckles. "Can't be easy with her father running off to a place like this every week."
"Oh, lay off." Quin huffs while a new pair of Red and Blue enter the ring. "With how that last expedition went I can use every drop I get." He drains his mead.
"Uh-huh." Kleist has some disbelief. "Five on Blue." He puts his own bet. "So, what, you're going to stiff the Lioness on her share, then?" He raises his mead to Jake. "Given your new friends?"
Quin shrugs. "If she has a problem with me she can take it up with the contract she signed. I've already paid for her greedy little fingers." He nods in appreciation as Red lands a savage-sounding blow on Blue.
Kleist more or less let the matter drop. "Speaking of which, the Gautier household is looking to probe deeper from that path you discovered." He says. "They're looking to embark in four days' time. Think your, uh…" He glances at Jake.
"I hired them for this trip only." Quin replies as Red beats the bejesus out of Blue in the ring. "Whatever they do when we're done for the day isn't my problem." This, of course, makes Jake and Ash very intrigued.
"Right." Kleist looks at Ash. "You a mage?" He asks, if only because Ash didn't look the part of a fighter.
"In some respects." Ash replies lightly.
"Yep, a mage." Kleist gets a big grin on his face and pulls out a pouch of gold. "I got a bonus for ya if you go in the ring. Don't have to win, just get in there and get your face punched in."
"Don't antagonize my bodyguards." Quin says automatically, like this is a normal occurrence. "Triple it and I'll let him." Kleist pulls out another pouch. "Well, go ahead then." Quin says to Ash. "You get to keep the spoils from Kleist's idiocy."
Well aren't you pleasant. Ash sighs in his head and watches as the latest (3rd) pair of Red and Blue beat the shit out of each other then leave the ring as brothers. "As long as I'm getting paid." He says.
"Perfect." Kleist snaps his fingers, then points to a deeper part of the cave. To the right of that cave's entrance is a piece of a broken cart repurposed as a sign with the words "Fite Pit" written on the precious space. "Get in there."
Ash frowns. "I don't mind, but it does feel like I'm not guarding you if I'm doing this."
"It's fine." Quin says. "I just needed you to guard me on the way here and back, after all."
…
Thus, Ash, now stripped down to just his undershirt, finds himself standing in the ring, wearing a Blue ribbon.
"A hundred on blue." Quin says with a challenge on his face at Kleist.
"Never one to back down, huh?" Kleist pulls out yet another pouch. "A hundred on red. But wow, he's scrawny, even for a mage." He says, frowning down at Ash. "You sure you made the right call?"
"Well, this guy here's more than enough anyways." Quin says with a dismissive gesture to Jake. "The little guy's more of a bonus than anything else."
Part of the reason why Ash looks so scrawny is because his undershirt is spun steel, which, despite its flexibility, still gives him a 'wearing a shirt too big for his size' look.
Well, this is a good time for me to practice a few things. Ash muses. The rules were explained to him as he was getting 'suited up': no murder, no potentially life-endangering hits, no weapons, no attacking magic. The rest is fair game.
"Not a brawler, I take it." Kleist observes as Ash takes a stance that was more 'martial art' than 'bar fight'. "Hands near your head, boy."
Ash, meanwhile, silently overlaps five barkskins on himself and ten on his fists. A few of the more magically inclined patrons look around in confusion before going back to whatever it is they were doing.
His opponent was a miner who lived in one of the villages to the west of Riften, with arms that looked like they were built to arm wrestle bears. He gives a polite and curt nod to Ash before putting up his arms.
Ash's response is to look confused. Should…should he be smoking like that? It looked as if the miner's body was emitting smoke, and that smoke seemed to concentrate on the man's fists.
Since Ash didn't seem like he was going to make the first move, Red closes in and lets loose with a big haymaker.
Ok, that's definitely not there before. Ash notes as the smoke seems to coagulate into a strand and reach towards him before the man's fist. Acting on instinct, he ducks underneath the path of the smoke, and Red's haymaker wooshes over his head. Interesting. He replies to the haymaker with a fast jab at Red's stomach before pulling back hard.
"He's got good eyes." Kleist remarks. "That swing wasn't hard to dodge, but still, good eyes."
The Red Miner, now getting a better idea of his opponent's abilities, tightens his defenses up and approaches slowly. Once in range, he begins to unleash probing attacks against Ash's guard.
Yeah, this is definitely new. Ash notes. Every time Red tried to punch him, a strand of smoke would telegraph the line of attack. The more he concentrated on the line, the easier it was to see.
"He's really good, my goodness." Another watching patron observes. "What's with those movements?"
Dodging the smoke that was apparent only to him, Ash's evasion looked much more professional than its execution. After twenty swings, the miner was starting to get irritated. Since he was irritated, he merely backed off and started to turtle.
Ash just mumbles to himself. "Alright, I know how that works, so how does attacking work?" He moves in with his own probing attacks.
"I guess he can really only guard." Kleist says with a bit of a laugh. Compared to his professional defense, Ash's offense was embarrassingly bad. "I can see that he's probing, but still."
After ten strikes, Ash came to the conclusion that the smoke was pretty useless as an attacking indicator, and changed tactics. If the smoke can predict where his attack is coming from, then can I manipulate it so he thinks I'm striking at the wrong position?
Five strikes later, the verdict is that Ash…while he could make his target guard the wrong place, he didn't have the experience or skill to actually make that kind of misdirection work.
Ash, a bit disappointed, sighed and tightened up. Now no longer interested in learning more about this weird smoke business, he had no issues laying in with the full strength of his punches and kicks against someone whose attacks he could predict and read clearly.
Ten exchanges later, the miner was on the ground and in pain.
"Technically not illegal but an asshole move, lad." The ring's master laughs. Ash had landed the heaviest kick he could against the miner's balls…and then gave him two more for good measure.
Ash's fight earned him 400 gold in winnings. Quin's bet stayed with him.
"Oh, come to think of it." Kleist says as Ash returns to the table, harassed the entire way by younger fighters who wanted to know how he 'moved like that'. "Have you seen this?" He takes out a piece of paper. "The Ulto family's putting up a hefty reward for this."
Quin takes the paper and stares for a second. "Looks like a ciphered piece of work." He shows it to Jake and Ash. "Interested?"
Jake gives it a blank stare and shrugs. Ash gives it a slightly less blank stare and also shrugs. "Looks like doodles to me." Jake says. "What's this about a reward?"
"Well, I don't expect mercenaries to keep something versed in code around." Kleist says. "The Ulto family, with their connections to some…unsavory types within the Empire…are looking for a talented code breaker to crack this thing." He waves around the page. "There's a coin amount for even being able to solve a small piece of it."
Ash frowns. "Or it's just gibberish, no?" Despite being the person who encrypted it, if he had found the page lying around Ash definitely would have considered it to be nonsense.
"Maybe." Kleist nods in agreement. "But there's enough money around for someone to make shit up."
Ash's heart sank. Ah crap. His mind immediately conjured a scenario where a lucky idiot, in the efforts of making some money, maps the page to its actual source and accidentally solves it. His mind then immediately reminded itself that just because the page can be solved doesn't mean the methodology can be found out.
Quin and Kleist, both used to reading body language for a living, noticed Ash's sudden freeze. Interesting. Kleist notes. "If either of you know somebody well read, point them to the Ulto household." Kleist says. "There'll be gold in it for 'em."
Jake nods. "We'll keep that in mind."
…
Per Ash's worries and expectations, a young Nord by the name of Leiz 'solved' the cipher and revealed the message to be from Mixed Unit Tactics…but couldn't figure out why. Thus, even the Aldemari considered the solution, valid as it may be, to be only marginally useful.
…
[Some Days Later]
…
The Warwolf residence hears a knock on their door.
"Who the hell's that?" Mell says as she clambers up the ladder leading to the overlook. "Can we help you?" She calls out the singular window above the door.
The overlook is around ten feet above the floor and is built over the main entrance so someone can look out to greet visitors.
"I heard this is the Warwolf headquarters." The visitor calls back. "I'd like to talk about business."
"Just a moment." Mell goes down and opens the door. "Hey Piers." She greets the visitor.
"Good morning, Mell." Piers bows slightly. "Is Jake around?"
"He's training around the back. Want me to get him?" Ash too. Mell adds in her head.
"I am, for once, in no rush." Piers says and takes a seat at the long table in the living room. "It's always a bit surprising to see just how large this room is." He looks around. "Were it not for the Lily district I'd have mistaken this for a mansion."
"You and everyone else." Mell laughs.
Some minutes later, Jake, Ash, Mell, and T'mare arrive and assemble themselves at the table. Jake and T'mare were training and thus were sweaty and armored. Ash, working the forge, was also sweaty and armored. As they sit, he snaps his fingers and all the sweat and dirt of the three seem to vanish into thin air.
You'd think he'd realize that the average court mage can't do things like that. Piers muses. "Hello everyone." He greets politely. His eyes track Alma and Atra as the two bring out some water.
"'Sup, man. What're you here for?" Jake greets him.
"Yes, I…" Piers briefly loses his train of thought as the two girls, after serving the water, take their seat at the table as well. Most children don't exactly participate in meetings like this. "I'm sure you are, on some level, aware of the recent expedition into a newly discovered Dwemer Ruin."
"Don't really know the name, but yeah, I've heard of it." Jake nods. Warwolf had made quite some money selling equipment to the expedition and had pieced together information based on rumors. Many of such rumors were, even for Skyrim standards, total nonsense.
"Good, then this will go faster." Piers takes a swig. "The initial expansion into the Ruins have finished, so all of the noble houses are now primed and ready to haul some treasure from the site. The Orlia household is looking for some extra hands. You interested?"
Mell narrows her eyes. "What kind of extra hands?"
"Generally, mercenaries of an upper crust variety." Piers says. "Things like this tend to attract treasure hunters and opportunists by the hundreds, many of whom are…perhaps destined to be a lesson to others." He shrugs. "Circle of life, really. Our house has a few good fighters, and it certainly doesn't hurt to have some more, but…most importantly, we're sorely lacking in support staff." He gives a pointed look to Ash and Mell.
Mell gets it. "In other words, potions, equipment, daily living, that kind of stuff?"
Piers nods. "That's correct." He takes out a piece of paper. "The conditions of the contract are written as thus." He grins. "Not going to lie, Ash, Jake, I think you'll find something like this to be very…in your alley, so to speak."
Jake scans the paper and whistles. "Six thousand septims up front? That's a lot."
Piers nods. "Just goes to show how important good support staff is."
Jake reads over the rest. In effect: the entire contract is for ten thousand septims, with all loot rights being decided by the employer party. Materials (like fresh linens, food, etc) are covered up to one thousand septims.
"Probably why the monetary value is so high." Ash notes as he gets his chance to read through. "The rest we have to buy ourselves? Raw materials, I mean."
"Anything that's not approved by our boss, you pay out of pocket." Piers says. "Otherwise, we'll cover the costs." He leans forward conspiratorially. "Honestly? It's just because we've had bad experiences with dumbasses buying shit swords at a markup, and then throwing a fit because they thought we'd be paying for it."
"People do that?" Mell's surprised. "Wow."
"Well, once in a while." Piers says. "So, how about it?"
"Don't see why not." Jake says. "We haven't had a major job for a while."
"Excellent." Piers claps. "I'll alert my master once I return."
"Kind of weird that you get to make the decision on hires." T'Mare notes. "We're not the only team going in, I take it?"
Piers nods. "That's correct: the master of the house has great expectations for this excavation."
"Well, that's nice." Jake scratches his beard. "When are we going?"
"Five days from now."
…
[1st Person Camera]
…
Kinda weird that we're now going to a Dwemer thingie. Piers said it's called…Avan…Avan…thing.
Avanchnzel.
Anyways, we're not caring about raw mats since Piers' household is bankrolling the cost. So, in these five days, I will kit out my party. Everyone's going.
Delphine's never gone into one of these ruins herself, but as far as she's heard the insides of a ruin is always 1) extremely dark, and 2) full of trash, the dead, and the blind goblins. White Dwarves? I don't remember their proper names right now.
Either way, we need gear that minimizes noise. Against the…Falmer! That's what they're called. According to some ex-divers, Falmer weapons tend to be good at scraping and blunt strikes due to their chitinous nature and daily use as tools. The other potential threats (according to the game) are the Dwemer Automatons, of which we had no information on and thus technically know nothing about. Extrapolating from the material conditions of the metal, though, I assume that we're more or less in for a lot of pierce and blunt damage, with magic being less than effective as an offensive option.
To that end, again, we need gear that minimizes noise and is good against primarily blunt damage. Considering how long we might have to be in there (Piers implied that we'd be in there for days) the armor also needs to be easy to repair.
I've done a bit of asking around, and I've found out that leatherworkers are practically selling out of their armors, which means that the extras are being bought as replacement parts…in other words, a dungeon is very resource-intensive.
Since we'll be dealing with mechanical things, blunt weapons are very, very desired. Delphine's going to give our guys a crash course on how to handle blunt weapons effectively: the idea is to have, in effect, Aria and the T-sisters be anti-Falmer with mostly slash/pierce weapons, and Jake, Eric, and the Gro-Kala brothers be anti-armor.
Anyhoo.
…
[Five Days Later]
…
Alright, so the setup is like this:
Weapon wise, the anti-armor team have: Folding Sword, one-hander hammer, dagger, Spiker.
The anti-Falmer team have: Folding Sword, short swords (set of three), daggers (set of two), Spiker.
People good with bows still get to use their bows.
Armor wise, everyone gets Warwolf Medium plus Composite Pinpoint Armor.
I've divided my armor construction into Light, Medium, and Heavy categories, with light being essentially padded cloth with spun steel mixed in, and Heavy being multiple layers of spun steel and Titanium™ with leather and plate on top. Medium is padded cloth with Titanium™. It's… I don't remember if I mentioned this before, but it's the lighter metal material that I have which is stronger than steel and is also lighter. I'm calling it titanium as a means of giving it a reference.
Underneath everything is a spun spidersteel shirt for comfort and anti-chafing.
Medium is chosen this time as the good balance between wearer endurance and adequate protection against getting shanked from odd angles.
Composite Pinpoint Armor, CPA, is technically a mix of two sections: the first section is essentially a harness of reinforced leather straps that affix onto the base Warwolf armor and has hardpoints. The second section are the actual armor bits that go onto those hardpoints. More on this later.
In our current scenario, because I know we're up against Dwemer metal and Falmer equipment, most of the damage we're going to take are going to be of a blunty nature, with Dwemer spiders being the most likely cause of piercing attacks. To that end, the pieces I'm using this time are the anti-shock variants, CPA-AS. Jake pronounces it as 'seabass' which…is honestly awesome, not gonna lie. Other variants are guard-slash (CPA-GS, 'pugs') and pierce-resist (CPA-PR, 'CPR').
CPA-AS has a thin outer layer of fluted, highly concentrated leather, with about a half-inch of ultradense cotton behind it. Like a sponge, the goal is to absorb at least a hit from a strong piercing attack or deflect one strong slashing hit, while the metal armor behind it soaks the physical strength behind the hit.
Due to this design philosophy, the first section (leather harness) came about as a way to replace select parts of the armor without having to rebuild the entire thing. Each piece is fixed onto a wood plate nailed into a piece of steel, which is itself attached to a square magnet (Replace™). The straps themselves have magnets as well, and each piece of armor therefore attaches to one of these magnets and then locks into place. The piece can be peeled off by inserting a piece of leather into the empty place created by the two magnets attaching to each other and then pulling on said leather.
This means that, in a pinch, the attachments can actually just be mounted on any kind of armor piece and that armor piece can be used to reinforce the Warwolf Special. It won't be pretty, but it works.
Overall, the CPA setup's greatest weakness is the fact that it's not, nor will it ever be, a fully contiguous type of armor, hence its Pinpoint name. Still, most enemies can't target the spaces between the armor pieces, and those that can will probably be going for the head.
From now on, Aria shouldn't need me to get her a new armor kit every time…even though she probably will.
Armor talk over. Weapons now.
The weapons are all of Warwolf Steel make, so called because I'm making it from my own forge. My forge, incidentally, will be traveling with me due to its relative light weight. The weapons are functional, more or less, so they'll be easy to replace and repair.
The special cases, though.
The folding sword is my answer to "what the fuck am I going to do against something big and scary". It is, basically, two hunks of steel attached with a swivel, bolt, and fish oil. The two pieces of the weapon are practically triangles, one foot wide and three feet long, about big enough for someone to hide behind. When folded, the triangles more or less make a convex square facing the target and can act as an ad-hoc shield. When extended, the six feet motherfucker can hack with its pointy edge and smash with its blunt edge.
The downside is, of course, that the folding is manual and has to be locked into place by hand, so a person (i.e. Jake) can't just Anime Swing it into shape and start to beat heads. If we get jumped while the sword is stuck as a shield then it's basically stuck as a shield until they get some breathing space, and so on. The weight distribution makes it kind of an awful armor basher, but honestly that's what the hammer is for.
As a final bonus, the swivel part of both pieces are ad-hoc handles, so both pieces can be used as really crude choppers if needed.
The Spiker is basically a small tube strapped to a person's arm, about half a foot long. The tube has two chambers separated by a metal slider barrier. The idea is that the long part of the tube is loaded with something like a nail, and the short part of the tube is loaded with a soul stone. Then, the slider is removed to give the two a level of contact. The soul stone is then activated and the raw magic power in the soul stone acts as an explosive force. In order to make the whole setup viable in terms of durability, the tube is technically two pieces that are screwed together and need to be unscrewed in order to be reloaded, so…not great in a combat situation.
Which is fine, honestly: it's designed to be a contingency. While it's got ammo issues and it's range is fucking awful, it shines in close quarters combat and the 'oh no we're gonna die' situations involving that kind of range. In that super short range the Spiker will break just about everything it touches: if three layers of literal steel can't stop the nail, no crummy piece of chitin will.
Incidentally, the reason why the ammo is not consistent is because…uh…in order to actually make use of the propellant from a soul stone, the ammo (nail) has a flat head that seals off the tube. When fired, the head deforms to allow the nail to actually fly. It's not a very good system but it's the best I can do with what I got. I'm not about to make 'modern' ammunition given how tight my production schedule is already.
…
Since I'm not participating in active combat (for the most part) my equipment includes: Warwolf Medium, a bracer on my left arm with three Spiker Bs, and a folding sword type two on my right arm, and, for panic defense, the Peacock Shooter.
The type two is really just a short sword mounted on a swivel, and it basically exists so I can test how to actually make a latch that can snap two pieces into place, out of place, and still maintain a usable level of endurance as a weapon.
The Spiker Bs are, per their name, a variant. They're longer, angled, and are in one piece instead of two. A nail gets slid into the back and the soul stone immediately after. The range is still awful and the tube suffers greater wear and tear when fired, but since I can do Replace shenanigans it doesn't matter. They're also heavier for headbashing, and in a pinch I can Replace+Transmute the heads into spikes for bayonetty goodness.
The bracer they're mounted on has a latch that lets me purge the Spikers attached in case I want to swap to fresh ones instead of just reloading, though they're kinda heavy to carry full replacements around.
The Peacock Shooter is an array of Spiker Bs jerry-rigged onto a Grand Soul Stone. Power goes into the stone and they all go pew. It looks like a fan made from tubes and I've colored it with the colors of the rainbow and it is a fabulous shotgun.
An array of 16 Spikers.
…It's also somewhere close to sixty pounds and the only one capable of using it with any kind of value is Jake. Basically, if I need to use it, I will doublehand ram it into the target, pull the trigger, and run away screaming. I designed it exclusively to fight the Dwemer Gundams in a "oh no they've made it into camp we must run away now" situation.
Dwemer Guardians.
…
Oh, last thing. Everybody gets a pair of trinkets: a silver necklace with a polished ruby, and a small ring with a polished emerald. The ruby has a wish of "I hope you can see better" imbued in it, and the emerald has "please don't get ambushed and die."
Every little bit helps in dark and cramped spaces and I don't like dark and cramped spaces.
…
When all the preparations have been made, we leave.
The total participating units include three major(ish) noble houses, of which we are employed by one, six minor noble houses, and an Empire Task Force. The total manpower moving to the site clocks in somewhere at around five hundred.
The rugged terrain of the location means that the trip takes a grand total of three days.
There're some things I'd like to talk to some of the people about, but since each camp keeps to themselves, I'll wait until the main event starts.
…Or, rather, I waited until the main event.
The main entrance of Avanchnzel resembles a large, bronze gate encrusted against a halfway dug out mountain of stone and soil. In front of the gate is a war camp of sorts with many ramshackle tents and wooden lean-tos built to house miners, researchers, adventurers, and many other people. In one corner of the tent is a massive cauldron where a crew works furiously to churn out bowls upon bowls of soup for a line that quickly flows through but never seems to shorten.
We've arrived at Avan…Avan…thing. We'll be camping along with our employers within the first chamber that they've found. Pity there won't be any earth striking, but hey, indoors.
It starts to rain.
...yep, indoors.
.
.
.
{ === + === }
Author Notes:
Side quest! Side quest! Side quest!
(The end of the next chapter would be the end of the two-month time skip. Though I guess it's not a timeskip if things are happening.)
Incidentally, the Playfair message from the last chapter (Encoded with Esbrn and Skyrim, use each letter only once) would look like this:
ZkmntfkqumkmnvqkpmgfiefmhovfnmrpexunembdqfztcouocAqfzzgtckkkwntfkIngeqfgqqowbqsxvfdhpmpkqlqckOgimutfovtfcGqfzzgtwnxqlgoekurrbcgmsycqdcegxetfkidmydodtfyMmndkmufqvogplhbcdmonbclscqqkgKvfTdhqzzqkfmsxvfmnnlexqoMyyevffgftukummlqcwnsybcikwbllsxsyeevfpimuhfconmodtfcqgfmogkumymZkmngtikmdeqaqqaumsxtfovtfcGqfzzgtwondpgnwqclfkqvfeilscqqkpmxekIngeqkevkngkqocymmkgphfbcebdbkqvfTdhqzzqywoagwnlkax
Aka, Literal Fucking Gibberish. Usually with codes you'd look for things like letters that appear in repeats for hints, but what kind of hints are you gonna get out of "fzzgtckkk"? It maps to "ajiitfell", for those who are still paying attention.