Fredas, 1st of Sun's Dusk 4E201 Evening
Etienne Rarnis
If I ever see Brynjolf again, I might have to kill him.
It's about all my mind can hold on to right this moment. I need someone to blame, something beyond the dirty rotten luck plaguing the Thieves' Guild, the only thing keeping my mind together, my sanity from breaking like my body.
Easy, Etienne. I try to pull back from the mental cliff. It's hard. Everything hurts. My wrists are chafed and bloody from… days? Weeks? Months of manacles? It's impossible to tell how long with no windows to track time. The irregular meals and gnawing hunger don't help. I can feel my hands trembling lightly, no matter how long passes between torture sessions. Useless hands now, too shaky for any sleight of hand, no lockpicks, no pickpocketing. No, don't think about that. The web of jagged wavy lightning scars down my body, at least those can be hid by leathers.
Distantly, I hear the door upstairs open, and tense against my will, even that movement sending a shock of pain down my spine, lingering. Rulindil back again? It couldn't have been more than an hour since he was here last, dragging some poor wood elf girl they locked up in the cell next to mine. I couldn't really bring myself to care too much about her quiet sobs while I was being asked for the hundredth time about the same old man in Riften in between torturous bursts of magick.
"A gift from Elenwen," an unfamiliar voice says, though with a touch of that Summerset accent all the Thalmor had. Not Rulindil. But not any of the other torturers I can remember. New one?
"How very unlike her." My earlier torturers voice is much more familiar. "And a ewer of Metheglin, no less."
"The party is going well, so she broke open the good stuff. Not that those Nord swine could appreciate it. Their 'honey mead' is a poor imitation and substitute for a good year of Metheglin."
"... Ah, to Oblivion with it. I've been on watch for hours and will be for hours more. Hand it over." The sound of drinks being poured would make my mouth water, were there any wetness left in my dry body. "How long do you think until our 'informant' ends up down here with these fools?"
A chuckle from the unfamiliar voice. "Not long, he keeps mouthing off to Rulindil as he has been. He'd do well to remember a Nord beggar like him certainly wouldn't be missed once he's outlived his limited usefulness."
"You can have just said 'Nord' - the beggar part is already implied." I tune out their laughter as they prattle on. Just another pair of sadistic Thalmor flunkies. What else was new. The girl next cell continues quietly crying. Well, at least if I die in here, it sounds like the skeever-scat who landed me in this place won't be far behind. Small consolation, but better than nothing.
Whumpf! What in Oblivion was that sound? "Finally. Thought the damned gums-a-flap would never stop talking." Rustling. Keys jingling. Drawers opening. "Aha!… Hmmm… Interesting…" I say nothing, though I desperately want to know what's going on. Talking leads to pain. I don't try to look, either. Looking leads to pain. Head down, just answer questions, whatever they want. The cell door creaks open. "Well, you're a sight for sore eyes, aren't you?"
"I am." I wait for another question or instruction, only to flinch as I feel hands grasp my arm. Are they going to break my bones now? Click. Click. I fall to the ground, muscles weak and aching from the sudden change. I gasp in pain, then flinch again, expecting the feel of lightning on my skin again.
It never comes. "Somehow I don't think you want to stay here, Etienne. Look up at me." I do so. A Thalmor looks back at me, gold skin, pointed ears, black robes, though a somewhat short one. Shorter height, shorter face. My brain finally catches up. "You… you're no Thalmor, are you?"
"Thankfully for us both, no." A startling transformation happens before my eyes, as he pulls off the black robes of the Thalmor wizards, wiping his face of gold makeup and pulling off prosthetic ear tips. "Talao, at your service. Or rather you both at mine, considering I've just pulled you out of the fire. Shall we take a trip on the frying pan?"
The wood elf girl stands behind him, somewhat in awe. In fairness, so am I, I'm willing to bet. Just behind them both, the guard is sitting at the scribe's desk, facefirst into the wood, snoring away. "You… who are you? Why are you here? How did you…? You just broke into the Thalmor Embassy and… what?"
"As I just said, I'm Talao, I'm here for the same information the Thalmor were so poorly torturing you for, I snuck in using a bit of misdirection and disguising, as well as a rather potent sleep potion, that last one wasn't really a question, but if there's nothing else, perhaps it can wait until after we leave. Preferably before this poor bugger wakes up and realizes that he's going to be taking your place in the cell given his failure." He holds up a delicate key that I'd seen Rulindil use to throw waste and corpses down the traphole in the far corner. "Shall we?" I can only nod mutely as I painfully get to my feet, legs wobbling under me. "Brelas, darling, might I ask you to help Etienne walk?"
It's awkward, but the three of us manage to get the trapdoor open and descend even more awkwardly down a short set of stairs to a… startlingly clean cave. I guess they have someone to clean up their mess from the outside. "Why… why help us?" The elf supporting me asks this 'Talao.' "If you were here to steal something and got as far as you did without raising some kind of alarm we would've heard… If you got what you came for, why help us and let them know someone was here? You could've gotten away and no one would have known a thing."
"Would you believe I just don't care for the imprisonment of innocent people?" His head swivels around as we walk through the cave, to what I hope and assume is fresh air and freedom.
"No. If only because if you got the information you wanted, you'd know I'm no innocent."
My voice only seems to surprise me - I didn't think I had any ability to talk out of turn again - as he chuckles lightly. "It's the truth regardless. But if it helps you, consider it me needing a guide through Riften and an introduction to its… less savory elements. Of which you are a member, no?"
Before I can answer, we all hear a low noise. Like a growling and the heavy impact of air. Warm breath in a cold cave. Brelas screams next to me as around the corner walks a creature, white fur stained red with fresh blood, large human bones decorating the ground. A frost troll, enormous, the largest I'd ever seen. And angry. I instinctively reach for my belt, my hand finding… no dagger. Not that I would have done much, barely able to stand. Brelas just pulls us both against a wall, afraid for her life, and Talao…
The man just stands there, as the beast beats its chest and lets loose a terrifying roar, its beady eyes looking at us with hate. The weedy man was no match, It fills me with a calm I hadn't felt… ever in my life, I think. Here I die. At least not in a cell at the mercy of elves. Maybe Arkay will be merciful to my soul.
"Bovil sunvaar"
A wind blows through the cavern, and the terrifying beast before us whimpers - whimpers - and suddenly turns tail, running from us all as though it were a mudcrab facing a dragon. Talao simply turns to face us, as though nothing had happened, and says, "That was lucky. Must not have been hungry after all."
…What in the name of Mara, Magnus, and Nocturnal is going on here? I nudge a speechless Brelas to keep moving, and we follow Talao out of the cave. I now no longer wondered who he was, but what he was. That wasn't any magic like I'd seen. No fear spell was cast like that. He just... spoke, and the troll ran. Was he even human?
A few hundred yards away, two horses wait in a hidden copse of trees, saddles and tack ready. "It's a long ride to Riften. We can talk on the way, but I'd like to get past Dragon Bridge before any odd rumours follow us down the mountain. We need to beat the Thalmor to this old man; I'm not joking when I say the very fate of Tamriel might rest on it. Let's ride."
…Brynjolf better pay me triple for this job. And then I'm never running another numbers job in my life.
"Bovil sunvarr" - Flee beast(monster)
The three 'potions' Talao made were as follows. A potion of sneak, using the frost mirriam and purple mountain flower, which was more to prevent the guards from looking too closely at Talao's disguise rather than not being seen at all. That much might've been obvious. The valerian root and bleeding crown made a potent sleeping potion, masked by the taste of the honey liquer. And the mica, dwarven oil, and dragon's tongue was not a potion, but a gold-colored makeup, to mask Talao's skin color. An infiltration mission through the Thalmor Embassy as a non-Thalmor was an interesting challenge for me to make work for a character who isn't really good at magic period, or 'sneaking' thanks to his disability, but I knew it had to happen somehow; Talao is not the kind of person to bust down doors or walk around unseen. He hides in plain sight, like any good Charisma-based character. Deception rather than Stealth.
Note: while mica was traditionally and historically used as a pigment in makeup, please do not use it in the present day, as it can have harmful effects to your skin.