Skyrim: Joining the Family (Amberlin &Raven)

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Ravenwoodwitch, Oct 30, 2014.

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  1. Nysa hadn't been sure about her new home..until about five seconds ago.

    It had been a collective two weeks since the damaged Dark Brotherhood had reestablished itself in their new, cold, Dwanstar home. The thieves guild had made good on her demands, furnishing the cave exactly as she...well, as Babbette had specified. The undead bosmer wasn't much for speaking...or for interior design, really. So the load had fallen on the tiny un-child, who had decided the hall needed to be as glorious as their refurbished name. Thus, the cave was now decorated in banners, fine furniture (likely stolen), and even had the addition of a torture room.

    But the Listener was distracted tonight. Staring down from the upper floors, Nysa watched from behind bars as Nazir brought in the newest recruit. She was an imperial, who smelled of enough blood to coat the floor three times over. She sniffed and smiled at the thought.

    But she was undecided on this new recruit. Hearing that little hum near the Night Mother's coffin, she spoke up.

    "Cicero," she said, voice low, eyes never leaving the new recruit. "...any thoughts?"

    Meanwhile, downstairs, Nazir was finishing a laugh from one of his own jokes.

    "Little gallows humor," he explained in his deep tones, sitting down. "You'll have to get used to it, it and many other things..."

    He peeked up to the second floor, spying two dark crimson eyes. "Well...until our leader feels ready to make herself known, allow me to lay out the land. Your room will be with the other recruits down the hall. The front door is upstairs, along with the Night Mother's coffin. Mind our matron with care...or that insufferable Jester will have your head."
    • Love Love x 1

  2. "...and that's when he said, 'No, she's just sleeping'." Nazir finished his joke off with a long, loud laugh. Ambriana was confused by the joke, but felt compelled to at least smile at him. She wasn't sure how to take him, but he did seem to be worldly in knowledge and confident in tone, which give him a few points of respect from her. Nazir returned her smile, adding, "Little gallows humor. You'll have to get used to it - it, and many other things..."

    Ambriana nodded. She was feeling rather shy, but of course would not let such a weakness show and instead feigned indifference. The place was thick with the scent of death, and after meeting Babette, it became all too clear why. The girl was undead; a vampire. A fascinating combination - her tender age and vampirism. Ambriana had never known it to be possible, although, now that she had seen it for herself, she couldn't understand why she had thought that it couldn't be. After all, she had been born with her own affliction, so it only made sense.

    She mimicked the Redguard as he tilted his head back and looked up to the second floor. A beautiful Bosmer stood beside a rather strange-looking man wearing what appeared to be court jester clothing, only in black and red. Ambriana inhaled to see if she could catch the woman's scent, but all she could smell were the mingled aromas of Nazir, the man beside the Bosmer woman, and the very strong smell of death from the vampire girl. Ambriana's eyes lingered a moment longer on the Bosmer, confused as to why she couldn't identify the woman's scent from the others, when Nazir's voice pulled her attention away.

    "...until our leader feels ready to make herself known, allow me to lay out the land." He turned toward a hallway and nodded in its direction. "Your room will be with the other recruits down the hall." He turned back to face her. "The front door is upstairs, along with the Night Mother's coffin. Mind our matron with care...or that insufferable Jester will have your head."

    The Night Mother, Ambriana thought to herself as Nazir started out of the room. She followed along behind, thinking, That's why the scent of death is so strong here. The vampire girl, and the Night Mother's corpse.... But why can't I smell the leader; that Bosmer woman...?


    "Cicero," the Listener said in a low voice. "...any thoughts?"

    The jester moved to her side slyly, like a cat in the dark, and hovered just over her shoulder. He peered down at the new recruit and grinned wickedly. "Oh, Cicero approves, dear Listener. The Night Mother will be pleased! Our ranks grow, our power swells, and the blood will spill ten-fold," he said, hissing the last words out. His expression dropped to one of gentle amusement as he closed his eyes and pictured the Night Mother praising him for his devotion, for everything he had done for her and the name of the Dark Brotherhood. And the dear Listener; she, too, would praise day. His grin spread, and though it was one of pure delight, one might mistake it for something akin to mischief.
    #2 Amberlin, Oct 30, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Oct 31, 2014
  3. The sudden air by her ear made her own breath catch (not that she needed it). His utter delight in the dead was always of a strange, fascinating charm to her, somehow different from the other mindless blood-letters she had come across. He had no hope of gain in his work, as she could tell...just the pure sight of blood flowing, like a steep river. It was dangerous so, naturally, she was highly addicted.

    "Yes," she said quietly, eyes looking down. One could have sworn she was trying to look demure. "I am...curious."

    Listen well, my child...
    It was a sudden voice; one Nysa now knew all too well. As always, her matron's voice made her freeze; made her go rigger-mortis without the added dagger to the back. With wide eyes, she gently moved past her companion and approached the coffin, staring up, awe-struck and obedient. Yes...yes mother had work. Mother knew best, she always did.​
    Yet another child has prayed to the mother. The will of Sithis shall be done this night.
    With a sudden wash of images, the Listener was brought to her knees.Her mind's eye was zooming past little cities, rural villages, and all other parts of Skyrim. All the while, she heard The Nightmother speak, as she was visually carried to Morthal, the swamplands. She saw a, she saw one of her own. One she had known had existed, but had figured would play quiet. Why was she being carried to Movath?​

    Seek the spurned lover, turned vile and twisted by one of your own.

    It was Alva; the other of her own kind. The 'spurned lover' looked hurt, abused for once by the master she'd grown attached to. The cave hid a Black Sacrament, perfectly arranged, with an enraged, beaten, and vicious Alva ready to see Movath dead.
    Accept the gold, eliminate the target, and bring back what you see fit. Hail Sithis...
    And then, like always, it was over. Nysa was of her own mind again, and brought herself back up. Taking down Movath wouldn't be easy...this would be a multiple person job. Splitting the gold wouldn't exactly work

    "I have a contract for her," she said, standing up. "She'll need me there to observe...and assist."

    She blinked, and turned to Cicero. "I'd like you to come as well, if you can. Render me a service, and bring her here to me."​
    "Here-" Nazir opened the door. "Pick a bed and guard it well. Let the Listener know if someone here is...unjust."

    "We are a family after all," Babbette, ever the curious one, observed from behind. "If we can't behave with ourselves, who can we really trust?"

    The other recruits looked on with curious eyes, watching their newest member with a deep set interest. Before much else could be said, Nazir reached into one of the dressers. "The large room at the end belongs to our leader. Stay clear during daytime hours, and approach cautiously at early night fall."

    "The listeners is a Vampire too," one of the female recruits explained. "Though don't let Nazir scare you. She hasn't harmed one of us yet, besides Jakob; and that's because he got frisky."

    "Shut up!" the Nord in question snapped, sharpening his blade.

    "Enough," Nazir said. "Here...your new armor. Welcome to the family, sister."​
    • Love Love x 1

  4. Cicero knew exactly what was happening the moment the Mistress left his side. He turned, holding his breath, and watched her glide to the Night Mother's coffin. She seemed to look up at the corpse inside with the wide, wondering eyes of an obedient child...but such is the silent power of the Dark Lady, their Lady Death...the Night Mother. Her magnificence could bring even someone as powerful and deadly as the Listener to her knees, and that made her as equal as all of Mother's children.

    Of course, Nysa was by no means the same as the rest of them... She was much stronger, much faster, and had an air about her that commanded Cicero's attention. She was not like the others, no...but more like their darling and dearest Night Mother, in a way. They were both creatures of death, able to speak to the living. Is that why they fascinated Cicero so much? Is that why he saw murder when he looked upon the living, yet nothing but love for the Dark Lady and the Mistress and Listener of the reborn Dark Brotherhood?

    He pondered these things, becoming lost in his mind. When Nysa spoke, he jerked his head in her direction, giving the Mistress his undivided attention.

    "I have a contract for her," she spoke, standing up.

    Cicero bounced over to her side, his excitement fueling the animated expression on his face. "Cicero is listening, Mistress..."

    He studied her features carefully. She was lovely... The way she looked, with her brows arching gracefully above half-lidded eyes, briefly made Cicero think of things he should not think of-

    NO, stop it...

    "She'll need me there to observe...and assist," the Mistress continued. She blinked and turned to Cicero, eyes now clear and sharp. "I'd like you to come as well, if you can. Render me a service, and bring her here to me."

    "Absolutely, Mistress," Cicero said, his murderous grin returning. "Cicero would be honored to come along!" He patted and petted the dagger at his hip as he turned for the doorway, muttering something about quenching the thirst of his blade.

    After being properly welcomed into the family of assassins, Ambriana was beginning to feel...uncomfortable. She was not used to the idea of family, and while she wanted to belong, all she felt right now was the need to take a good run through the forest to clear her thoughts and give her the solitude she very much craved now. Perhaps it would be best if she took on her first contract?

    Ambriana made her way through the sanctuary toward the dining all, hoping to find Nazir, but instead she found it empty. Her sensitive wolf-hearing picked up the ever-so-slight scuff of a boot on the stone floor behind her, and she whirled around, drawing her steel dagger as she did so.

    The man in the jester clothing jumped back, surprised, then grinned wickedly. "Oh, dear Sister... You wouldn't hurt poor Cicero, would you?"

    Ambriana relaxed and sheathed her weapon, but took a good step back to give herself enough room to act in case the man tried anything else. He was strange and unpredictable. She wasn't sure how she felt about him yet.

    Cicero cackled, bringing his finger tips together. He turned slightly and nodded to the stone steps leading up to the second floor. "Come, follow. The Listener wishes to speak with you, Sister..." When Ambriana did not move immediately, Cicero's expression melted into something sweet - something too sweet. "The Mistress doesn't bite...unless you wish for her too."

    "I'm not sure she would enjoy what I have to offer," Ambriana replied, remembering what the others had said earlier about the leader also being a vampire - which would explain why Ambriana could not catch the woman's scent. It, too, was of death, much like the girl, Babette, and the Night Mother's corpse.

    Cicero waved elegantly toward the steps. "After you," he said, blinking and pursing his lips.
    • Love Love x 1
  5. In a way, this was fortuitous. She could test out her newest recruit, whom she was itching to see in action, and fix a little problem that was starting to happen. Looking at herself from a puddle, she saw her features shifting her so slightly. She would be near stage two very soon, soon enough to be noticed and chased out of the next town she entered. This would be the perfect opportunity to find a drink, maybe some random ruffian who thought to rob them.

    But, hearing footsteps, she put that thought away for now. She pulled her mask up above her lips, trying to ignore the sweet smell of the Jester's blood as he rose behind her. What was it about the little man that called out to her dark nature? Why did his scent have to be so enticing?

    "Greetings," she said, turning around, tucking a strand of aburn hair behind her ear. "I am Nysa, your Listener. Mother has given us a contract that will require some team-work in Morthal. Alas, I will be forced to slay one f my own tonight....likely several, who will rush to defend their Lord. But Mother's will must be done."

    She smiled under her mask, and motioned for her to follow her up. The sun would just be setting, and she was eager to get her hood up and get on the way.

    "We seek Alva, a Vampiress in Morthal," she explained. "She has given her Vampire Lord's soul, Movath, to Sithis. I'll be here to assist, along with Cicero, but I will also be here to observe, see your skills. Nazir spoke highly of you...I'm curious to see it in action.
    • Love Love x 1

  6. Ambriana followed along behind the sanctuary leader as she spoke, listening intently to her words.

    A contract to take out a few of Nysa and Babette's kind.... Ambriana had never killed a vampire before, but definitely knew of their strength, and that they possessed formidable abilities. Other than that, she didn't know much else.

    The listener finished speaking, and Ambriana gave her a slight nod. "I am not very good with a dagger; I prefer my claws and teeth. Or my bow," she added. "I will change quickly," she said, holding up the neatly folded Dark Brotherhood garb, "and then I will be ready to leave."
  7. (Gonna mildly skip ahead here)

    Nysa opted to leave Shadowmere in his place today, hiding away behind the bushes. The red-eyed horse attracted too much attention as it was, and she doubted his ability to work with too many people. Besides, Morthal wasn't much of a distance from Dawnstar with the purchase of a cart...though she imagined they attracted some major attention.

    A jester, a wolf and a Vampire; it's a miracle we can travel at all.

    Still, Nysa was just happy to be out in the night air. With Skyrim's full moon, brash colors dancing over the sky, and a nice nip to the air, the assasin was happy to take in a nice long breath. One could only stand the musty smell of caves for so long, trapped underground in an unnatural darkness. Here with the moon, the aurora, and the seveal torches surrounding, she was more than happy to be out.

    But fate had other plans. The driver let out a grunt, nearing a large fort.

    "It's as far as I go, kiddies," he said. "I ain't got the toll for these scoundrels, and I don't want any trouble."

    Nysa looked up. "Thank you all the same," she said, dropping the coin in his hand. "Morthal's an hour's reck from here anyhow."

    With his gold in hand, the driver turned the cart around, heading in the other direction. Nysa's eyes eyed the thieve's hideout hungrily, spying bandit after bandit crawling over it. Her stomach growled with decedent much blood, in one place...

    "They dare obstruct the will of sithis, than they must pay the price," she instructed them. She flashed the Jester a smile under her mask. "I don't think you'll mind some extra work, would you dear Cicero?"
    • Love Love x 1

  8. Ambriana opted to follow behind the cart as they traveled toward Morthal, picking a few flowers here and there to add to the small collection growing in the herb pouch at her side. She wasn't one for alchemy, but did know which herbs were beneficial and which were not. When the driver stopped near an old fort and said he would go no further, Ambriana moved around to the side as Nysa stepped down, followed by a leap over the side from Cicero. She watched the Listener pay the driver, then joined her side as he turned the horse and cart around and started back the way he came.

    Ambriana watched the vampire eye the fort with a primal hunger burning deep in her crimson eyes. She knew all at once what the Listener wanted.

    "They dare obstruct the will of Sithis, then they must pay the price."

    Ambriana gave her a nod and loosened the buckles and straps of her armor - not to take them off, but to allow room in case she had to let her wolf out. She would hate to have to ruin such beautiful new armor.

    Nysa's eyes flashed to the jester. "I don't think you'll mind some extra work, would you dear Cicero?" she asked. Ambriana looked to Cicero then and felt a chill dance up her spine. His face was contorted into the most frightening smile she'd ever seen. Is this man even human, she wondered?

    She took a moment to observe the fort, then looked back at Nysa. "Should we stick to the shadows around the side, or look for a back door?"

    Ambriana tried her best not to look directly at Cicero as she saw him pull his weapons out from her peripheral vision. That impossibly wide grin was still plastered on his face.
  9. Nysa tilted her head to one side. They'd cover more ground if they split, but devastating if they moved as one. There was no call to be discrete, given how few people would actually care about the disappearance of cut-throat bandits. Beyond that, she was itching to get her fangs in one of those necks...

    She caught sight of a guard by the backdoor. "The back," she said, voice predatory. "Wait a moment..."

    She'd already decided by the cut of this warrior that he'd be her victim tonight. The haughty Orc was in that complacent daze, confident that his job wpould be smooth and painless that night. Sharpening his axe, he hardly noticed the vampire slink up the shadows, death and mute joy moving her slender form. She could already hear his heart beating, so quiet and calm. Could her new recruit see her? Likely, given the level of skill she seemed to have...

    She pounced in an instant, once she was an adequate distance behind him. Her hand grabbed his shoulder, and she lashed into his throat with her dagger. Properly muted, she let her fangs sink into a vein. She counted to five, letting herself take her fill, before finishing the job. He dropped with one last cry of anguish, sure to send more. Nysa motioned the others to follow...and wiped her lips.

    "We move fast!"
    • Love Love x 1

  10. Ambriana and Cicero waited in the shadows, watching the vampire as she stalked her prey. Ambriana couldn't help but feel a jolt of excitement within her from watching her hunt, and it caused her blood to itch and her skin to crawl. Her wolf wanted to come out, but she couldn't let that happen - not yet. Though, she was quite in control when in her wolf form due to being born into such a blessing, the wolf in her still had its moments of blind savagery when tact would have been a better choice. She closed her eyes and inhaled softly, willing herself to be calm. The wolf was at bay. For now.

    Her eyes followed Nysa as the vampire crept up to her victim - an unsuspecting Orsimer - and then, she was gone, lost to the shadows. While Ambriana's gifted vision was greater than that of a human's in low light, it was still no where as good as it was when she was in full wolf form.

    As the orc sharpened his axe, completely oblivious, Ambriana began to grow concerned. Where had Nysa gone? All it took was a questioning look at Cicero to know that she was fine, as the jester brought his hand up between them with a small wave and a shake of his head, that eerie grin still across his face.

    Then, the vampire appeared from seemingly nothing and pounced. It was quick; almost too quick for the eye to detect. She slit the muscled orc's throat and buried her face in his skin, and all he could do was tremor with the shock of it all. Again, the excitement began to build within Ambriana, starting from her center and working its way out. There was something about the savagery of the kill that enticed her wolf side, and her human side couldn't quite understand it. This was the first time she had ever killed with others, and it was proving to be a rather exhilarating experience.

    Cicero watched the lovely Mistress creep through the shadows until she had become them. His heart was racing. Palms sweating. The thrill of it, the kill of it, the spill of it...all red - brilliant and bright in the darkness - down the orc's armor, his face twisted in horror. His soul would go to Sithis. Cicero could hardly contain his glee, but he did, because he was no fool. No, not dear Cicero. He was a killer, too, and killers were silent, creeping, deadly things. He turned to the newest Sister and saw the look on her face, her mouth slightly parted, eyes shadowed from her hood and deepened with the pure energy and excitement of the scene. Cicero's grin broadened. She was feeling it, too.

    Our dearest wolf Sister will get along just nicely, he thought, turning back to the Mistress.

    The orc was able to spurt out a gurgled cry before he fell into an awkward heap. Nysa wiped her mouth and turned back to them with an order: "We move fast!"

    Cicero didn't wait to see if the wolf was following or not as he dashed forward like a loosed arrow. He rushed inside, daggers drawn, and did a theatrical spin to the left as footsteps were heard. Heart thumping, mind racing, he waited, posed perfectly like a statue with his daggers to his left, and when the human bandit came jogging through the threshold with her bow at the ready, Cicero spun clockwise and sliced at the woman's arm. She cried out, looked down at her wound, then up at the jester coming at her from the dark as he plunged his daggers into her eyes. She fell back, and Cicero came down with her, his feet on her stomach and his face a mere inches from hers. He slowly pulled the blades from her eye sockets and admired the gleaming red dripping from the tips, then turned to his Mistress with an almost calm, collected sort of smile. The Wolf Sister came through the door, bow out and arrow notched. The look in her eyes was a strange medley of slight fear and ravenous excitement.
  11. They surely heard the screams then; all the better.

    Nysa turned her head as footsteps rushed down. It was time to clear a place in these stone halls, and show what became of those who dared interfere in their work; Mother's will was that of Sithis, and it would suffer no obstruction.

    As three more Bandits came out, a rare jolt of fear passed through their leader. There was one proficient in magic among them, wielding a fire in her palm. The dominant vampiric instincts in her shrank back, and focused instead on a Nord, coming at the three with a well made blade. With what bit of magic she knew, she drew her sword, and let her other hand magically drain his blood.

    He was weak, and she was on him in an instant. She sliced his shoulder, only because he managed to parry her thrust, and the two clashed blades. His complexion dimmed as they fought, and soon his swings became slower, to weak to fight. Seeing her chance, she dug the elven-blade into his collar and twisted as hard she could. She ripped it out through the shoulder, and let him fall to the wayside.

    Nysa began to straighten up, before a fireball flew over her head. She ducked, just barely able to avoid the searing projectile, before she locked eyes with the mage. The bastard breton saw her, her eyes gleaming with death and greed.

    "Are you prepared to die, freak?!" the mage said, and charged another fireball.

  12. Ambriana watched the display in shock, as well as a slight hint of sick enjoyment. When hunting, she gave respect to the animal and found a use for every part of its body. When she became the wolf, it was a different story. And right now, watching Cicero's crazy display and Nysa's formidable bloodlust, the wolf was growling, screaming to be let loose.

    She watched the vampire duck a well-formed ball of fire, and Ambriana had plenty of time to react. She sidestepped, allowing the ball to roar past her and hit the doorway behind her, then readied her bow as she walked forward.

    "Are you ready to die, freak?!" the mage screamed, charging another ball of fire between his hands.

    Ambriana exhaled slowly as she came to a stop at Nysa's side and let her arrow go. The Breton mage moved just a hair of a second sooner than Ambriana anticipated, resulting in her arrow soaring harmlessly past his head, but the shot had also impaired his aim, and the charging fireball let loose in the wrong direction, heading for Cicero.
  13. If the Vampire had panicked before, she was surely lost now. The Jester was a good dodge, right? Even in the throngs of violence, was he not sane enough to dodge?

    Sane enough...dammit!

    A strange feeling coursed through her then, and she was up in an instant. It lacked a name, and she hadn't even been aware that it existed, but it was powerful. It demanded that nothing would happen to that Jester so long as she drew breath. Scared, angry, and feeling adrenaline pump through her system, she dove for Cicero's body.

    The listener tackled him just as the fireball hit the wall. It exploded violently, letting out an explosion of intense heat, and sparks. The released him once the deed was done, and curled back up into a ball. The skin on her back burned, sending pain shooting up her spine. But, despite the teeth gritting pain, she was alive.

    "K-keep moving!" she said, teeth gritted. "GO!"

    The mage was now out of magic, and drew his axe. Spying the archer, he charged, a battle cry sounding on his lips.

  14. Ambriana's jaw clenched as the vampire dove into the jester. The fireball hit the wall behind them, but not without harming Nysa. The vampire cried out something, but Ambriana couldn't understand it, because now blood was rushing through her ears. Her bow clattered to the stone floor of the fort as her skin began to crawl. It was time.

    She let out a scream that morphed into a roar as coarse fur sprouted from her skin, which moved as her bones shifted and changed. Her face lengthened out into a snout, her ears grew into sharp points and moved with the rest of her changing form. As her Brotherhood armor broke away and fell to the ground, Ambriana, now fully wolf, charged forward and leaped through the air, bringing her right hand back and down on the Breton. His body flew back into the wall from the force of the hit, then fell to the ground. Four deep gashes now bled freely on the side of his face.

    While the mage was still in a daze, Ambriana pounced on him, sinking her teeth into the man's neck. That all-too-familiar metallic taste filled her mouth, and in a fit of excitement, she clamped down even harder and jerked her head back, ripping out a chunk of his flesh. Blood spurted from his sizable wound. Sadly, his screams of pain and terror were short lived, but this didn't stop the wolf. She clawed desperately at his armor, tearing it apart and exposing the man's chest, which she then began to dig into with both claws and teeth. When she reached his heart, her mind began to fight through the fog of savagery, and her movements became less violent as feasted on it like a satisfied dog. Calmer now, she turned to the jester and the vampire and made her way over in a leisure manner to show that she was of right mind and meant them no harm.

    Cicero's senses were temporarily knocked out of him as he hit the floor, his Mistress over top of him. Her cold body shielded him as the fireball hit the wall and splattered hot flames down on her back.

    "K-Keep moving!" she demanded. "GO!"

    Cicero felt something in him he couldn't quite explain. For one, he was not used to someone being so close to him, much less on top of him, touching him. Pinning him. But there was another feeling. A hot, tight ball of darkness and anger right in the center of his chest. The Breton mage...he dare harm his beloved Mistress. But before Cicero could react, the Wolf Sister tore into the room, all teeth and fur and claws. His attention was only momentarily distracted, though, as he looked again at Nysa. He grabbed her shoulders and moved her to the side and off of him, doing his best to be careful, and then circled around behind her to observe the damage.

    "Oh," he breathed, his expression transforming from concern to hurt. "Oh, Mistress...poor Mistress..." He could not explain his emotions, but only knew that he had a lot of them, and that he wasn't quite sure what to do with them all. He needed an outlet, a release, or he feared he would lose his mind...even more so than he already had.

    But for now, all he could do was roll his line of vision from the top of her back down, looking at the burned armor, now tattered around the edges to reveal a very terrible burn wound that covered most of her back. "Poor dear Mistress," he whispered, his voice cracking. Her once beautiful, tanned skin was now various shades of red and black, wet with blood and bubbled and ruined...

    And Cicero knew it was his fault.

    "Cicero deserves your punishment," he said now, coming back around to face Nysa. He was down on his knees, his fingers curled into fists and holding his chest. "Cicero is bad... Didn't protect the Mistress... Always protect the Mistress..."

    He trailed off, mumbling now, his words no longer coherent.
  15. The battle seemed finally over, at long last. As the fighting finally ceased, the roar in Nysa's ears finally ceased, and the blood-lust finally cooled. Her mind managed to slide back to it's much cooler variety, warm blood pumping in her veins, and the night air chilling the sweat on her skin.

    But Cicero...he was so upset. Seeing him so beside himself was somehow more painful than her injuries, which were already beginning to wane back slightly. The Vampire checked the sky and frowned. That fight had cost them the night...It'd be morning by the time they reached Morthal...and she'd be defenseless.

    She turned a sympathetic eye back to Cicero, and lifted a hand to his chin.

    "You did nothing wrong, dear Cicero," she said, voice soft. "I made a reckless move, and I'm just happy you're alright. I'll be fine by tomorrow night."

    She winced slightly as she stood, but managed to get herself upright. "Well done, wolf-sister," she said, grinning. "You will make a fine edition indeed to the family.."

    But there was one way for the Jester to 'redeem' himself, if he so wished. "We'll have to stay here for the night," she said, frowning. "I..." she growled, disgusted with herself, "will be defenseless when the sun rises...I'll need someone to watch my back."

  16. Ambriana trotted over to her clothing back in the hall, still in wolf form, and transformed back in a human within the shadows so that her naked body would not be seen. She was not exactly shy when it came to her body being seen, but she still felt it was strange to show oneself in such a vulnerable state in front of others whom she had only just met; especially when those strangers were fellow assassins.

    She dressed quickly, hearing Cicero speaking softly from within the room, then gathered her bow and hurried back to the two. She walked in to see a very tender display; Cicero on his knees before the vampire, his expression no longer one of murder, but of guilt. Ambriana slowed her pace as she came closer, watching the vampire cup his chin in her hand and tilt it up toward her.

    "You did nothing wrong, dear Cicero," she said, voice soft. "I made a reckless move, and I'm just happy you're alright. I'll be fine by tomorrow night."

    The display brought a memory back to the wolf that she had forgotten about for a long time - a sad, lowly beggar kneeling before a priestess of Mara, asking her for forgiveness. Ambriana was oddly moved by the scene then, just as she was now with Cicero and Nysa.

    "Well done, wolf-sister," she said with a grin after standing."You will make a fine edition indeed to the family.."

    Ambriana actually felt herself smile a little. She bowed her head slightly in respect as well as appreciation. "Thank you, Listener. I am honored."

    "We'll have to stay here for the night," the vampire said with furrowed brows. "I...will be defenseless when the sun rises...I'll need someone to watch my back."

    Cicero jumped up, as though suddenly snapping out of a trance, and came to Nysa's side. "Allow Cicero, dearest Mistress," he said, his head moving from side to side as he looked from one of the vampire's eyes to the other and back.

    Ambriana wouldn't argue with the man. After coming down from a transformation, she tended to crash pretty hard, and while she was still energized, she knew that once she laid down it would only be a matter of time. Aside from that, though, the jester seemed to want to redeem himself in the vampire's eyes by doing this for her, and the wolf was not going to deny him of that. "I will take the second watch so that Cicero may rest, as well," Ambriana said. "I have a few herbs that help to heal wounds, though, I'm not sure how well they would help a vampire," she offered to Nysa. "I am no alchemist, but I know how to make salves and pastes." She reached into the pack on her back and pulled out something wrapped in a thin cloth. "I also have some bread and dried meats for you, Cicero, if you get hungry." Though, Ambriana had intended to save her rations for this night's meal, the Breton mage had more than satisfied her appetite.
  17. The trio bunked there that night, waking as soon as dawn approached. Nysa hissed, the sun practically boiling her vampiric blood. But, once she was back under her hood and cape, everything was at least bearable. Given her vulnerable state, unable to heal or recover, she was forced to take a back seat. This was where her new sister would really shine.

    Thankfully, Cicero seemed ready and willing to help her move around on the walk to Morthal. It gave her such a warm, fuzzy feeling inside to have him there, being as helpful as ever. Despite how wretched her system felt, she at least felt safe.

    "There's the cave," she said, once they drew near. "We'll approach it first...our contracter should be down there too."

    And, more importantly, she'd be back too normal once out of the sun. Eager, she proceeded inside Movath's lair.
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  18. Ambriana followed closely behind Nysa and Cicero, an arrow at the ready and her senses focused. The vampire had healed remarkably during the day, but Cicero still stayed with her once they left for Morthal, offering his aid in any way he could. Ambriana was touched by this side of the jester. It seemed that, while unarguably insane, the man still had a tender spot. Both his skill in battle and his skill for caring for Nysa was quickly earning him Ambriana's respect, however hesitant.

    Once the sanctuary leader announced they had arrived at the cave, Ambriana pondered the thought of going in ahead of them to make sure it was safe, but then dropped the thought as Nysa hurried forward, Cicero in tow. Ambriana kept forgetting the company she was in. Not only was Nysa a vampire, but the leader of the Dark Brotherhood. The woman could more than take care of herself. Aside from that, she had a more than able assassin by her side, and of course Ambriana, herself, whom much like the vampire had heightened senses compared to the average mer or man.

    Ambriana inhaled deeply through her nostrils before entering the cave. She picked up no other scent outside of it, save for the usual smells and aromas of the night. She went inside, keeping about a person's length behind the vampire and the jester.
  19. Once inside, Nysa breathed a sigh of relief. The rush in her veins ceased, and she was able to drop the hood down. Her powers now back in full swing, she stretched and wiggled slightly, her back finishing up the last few moments of healing. Ah yes, this was exactly how life had been, long before that abominable clan found her.

    "Much better," she said, a smile hidden under her mask. "Now then; onto Alva..."

    But she stopped soon after, tilting her head. She knew the sounds that were drifting to her ears now; the sounds of multiple legs on sticky threads; large, eight-legged creatures that were drawing ever closer.

    "We have frostbite company," she said, drawing her daggers. "On your guard."

    Right on cue, the tinest of them drew closer. In the open, it lifted it's fanged head, eight eyes attempting to find the source of the noise.
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