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Fire On The Mountain (A Skyrim Quest)

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Do'azda's Character Sheet
  • Informational
    • Name: Do'azda Khrimnin
    Race: Khajiit (Suthay-Raht)
    Gender: Female
    Age: 22
    Profession: Shaman
    Appearance/Description: She stands at a normal height for a Suthay-raht, that is to say, shorter than most men or mer, but not by too much. Her fur is a warm, rich orange, paler around her muzzle and down her neck, and her eyes are startlingly yellow. Her hair is braided, with rings that jangle faintly when she turns her head too fast. Her robes are basic, and worn from age, but have been fastidiously cleaned.
    Level: 7
    XP: 0/120

    Alchemy: 25
    Alteration: 5
    Archery: 5
    Block: 6
    Conjuration: 40
    Destruction: 5
    Enchanting: 5
    Heavy Armor: 5
    Illusion: 35
    Light Armor: 20
    Lock Picking: 1
    One-Handed: 21
    Pickpocket: 5
    Restoration: 15
    Smithing: 1
    Sneak: 20
    Speech: 27
    Survival: 13
    Two-Handed: 5

    They say it kills cats - Do'azda has few restraints on her inquisitive nature, asking whatever questions occur to her, paying little attention to whether this may be considered rude. Whatever else, at least Do'azda never finds herself regretting her failure to ask about something.

    Dancing the night away - Do'azda is a fine dancer in the Elsweyr style, where dances are not the slow, ritualised partnering of the Altmer, but instead are a whirling piece of performance art, with the dancer's emotions informing the dance more than any practiced steps. Do'azda can feel the music in her bones, and can dance to only a drumbeat.

    In the shadow of the moon - Do'azda was blessed even as she began her journey to become a shaman. A priestess of Azurah, the Mistress of Dusk and Dawn, favoured daughter of Fadomai, received a vision. Azurah's light shines favourable upon her.

    Tangled Tails--Do'azda has had flings before, "Tangled Tails" as the euphemism goes, and she's willing to engage in casual relationships or 'one-night marriages' if the opportunity arises.

    Racial Perks--

    Claws--She has very wicked claws indeed.
    Darksight--She can see incredibly well in the dark.

    Skill Perks--

    Conjuring Efficiency (10): Do'zada knows how to be careful with her Magicka without losing any power when she's Conjuring, and can use such magic more freely and easier when fighting or in other circumstances. (Cojuration)

    Mystic Binding (20): Do'azda gains skill at creating bound weapons of magic, so that she is never without her arms no matter what. She also becomes more skilled at creating bound objects of all types, and begins to study that which might allow one to bind a soul into a gem. (Conjuration)

    Haggling 1 (0): Everything in Skyrim is far more expensive, and so Do'azda should probably try to figure out how to make do with what little gold she has. (Speech)

    Insight (20): One of the key elements of persuasion is knowing what would convince someone. Do'azda now knows how to evaluate what kinds of arguments and reasoning would convince different people if she spends enough time to get a feeling for how they think. (Speech)

    Agile Defender (10): Armor is often hard to get used to, so figuring out how to move with light armor so as to reduce how bad a hit is is something you can only learn by doing… and Do'azda has begun to 'do.' (Light Armour)

    Rahjin Perks

    Laughter-Silvered Wings (Level 5): A flying companion does not simply owe its speed to its physical form, but the strength of its spirit, and so it tends to be faster and more manuverable than its terrestrial version, harder to hit, and a greater predator of the sky.

    (Next at Level 8)

    Blur - Do'azda knows a spell to obscure her features at a distance, to render her indistinguishable from another Khajiit. Up close, it is almost pathetically ineffective, however.
    Clairvoyance - Do'azda is granted flashes of insight into the path to her goal by Azurah - the Goddess of Dawn and Dusk sees much of the land.
    Conjure Animal - Do'azda reaches onto Hircine's hunting ground and recalls the imprint of an animal which perished nearby to fight by her side
    Conjure Axe - Do'azda can create a hatchet from pure magic. It is too cumbersome for effective use in combat, but for cutting wood, it is more than adequate
    Bound Dagger--As she has learned how to better summon such things, she has figured out how to use a Bound Dagger.
    Courage - Do'azda uses magic to inspire in another the will to fight, though currently only to instill confidence in victory, not to cause conflict where none exists.
    Summon Familiar - Do'azda reaches into her own soul to bring forth her familiar, the falcon Rajhin. No mere shade, Rajhin remains with her until slain and can do far more than just fight, but cannot be summoned for a day and a night thereafter if killed.
    Fear - This spell pulls from the mind a fear that the target has, and creates from this the feeling of fear.
    Distraction - Creates sounds and sights on the edge of perception. Sights and sounds determined by the caster.
    Healing Wounds - The caster uses their magicka to seal the wounds of the target. All healing occurs in a single burst.
    Conjure Flame Atronach - Do'azda can call forth a spirit of Infernace, a being of fire, constrained in a form of iron.
    Flames - Do'azda can release a gout of fire from her palm, directly setting alight her foe, though only for so long as she feeds magicka to the fire.
    Lesser Ward - Do'azda can use her magic to create a shield of magical energy, blocking low level magical attacks, reducing high level magical attacks and mitigating the damage of physical attacks.

    Do'azda can make...

    Potion of Minor Healing - Bruises fade, cuts close, aching muscles relax, this potion provides a little relief from injuries. The first potion a young shaman will learn to brew.
    Potion of Suppress Disease - A potion which will suppress the symptoms of a disease for several days; oftentimes long enough for the body to get the cold or flu from its system. More serious or outright magical diseases will return with a vengeance once the potion's effects wear out, but it is a useful potion to know how to craft.

    FUS - Force
    WULD - Whirlwind

    FUS DAH--Force Push


    Gold Septim (365)
    Trail Rations (x4)
    Fine Rations
    A very nice dress for casual-formal occasions.
    A lovely dress in the gothic style, with an enchantment of illusory power woven into it.
    Iron Axe--An iron axe of low quality.
    Steel Axe - A steel axe of decent quality
    Iron Dagger--An iron dagger of mediocre quality.
    Mage Robes--Increase magical regeneration, but provides little protection, discouraging getting up close and personal.
    Leather Armor--Comfortable, lightweight armor, it counteracts the discouragement from getting up close, though as an extra layer it means it can get extra hot.
    Lunar Steel War Axe--An Axe which can, in the light of the moon, drink in the life-force of its victims and use it to restore that of its weilder.
    Steel Dagger (x2)--A well-worn but very useful steel dagger.
    Alchemical Kit--A very fine kit for the creation of potions. One careful owner.
    Stormcloak Token--A token from Ulfric Stormcloak himself...
    Underclothes--You know.
    One Powerful Enchanted Sword (Rusted)--A sword of unknown value, it has a rather potent and interesting enchantment attached to it.

    Spell Tome: Illumination--A spell tome is a sort of book that can fully teach you a new spell, but it is destroyed in the process. For such a minor spell it is probably only a few hours of reading to fully learn. This allows Do'azda to create a light in the darkness... less useful for a Khajiit, but still a spell of value.
    Spell Tome: Thieves Vision--A spell tome is a sort of book that can fully teach you a new spell, but it is destroyed in the process. For such a minor spell, it is probably only a few hours of reading to fully learn. This simple spell gives one slightly better night vision… but is also notable for being able to see writing hidden by weak illusions, and thus is commonly used by thieves trying to read the secret messages of other thieves.
    Spell Tome: Turn Undead--A spell tome is a sort of book that can fully teach you a new spell, but it is destroyed in the process. A spell of moderate difficulty, it will take several nights of reading to learn it. A spell technically of the "Restoration" school, which puts fear into nearby undead. When cast powerfully, burns them most terribly.
    Spell Tome: Sparks--A spell tome is a sort of book that can fully teach you a new spell, but it is destroyed in the process. For such a minor spell, it is probably only a few hours of reading to fully learn. Allows a mage to fire sparks of arcane lightning, sapping the magicka reserves of the target whilst also burning through their flesh.
    3 Doses of Frostbite Venom in Magicka bottles--Toxic and acidic to living flesh, it has little effect on the glass bottle.
    Healing Potion

    Troll Fat, other ingredients
    100 Septims
    3 gems of good quality.
    Troll Hide
    Troll Skull
    Troll Eyes x3
    Troll Claws

    A Handy Guide to Lockpicks: A book that should teach Do'azda all she wants to know about Lockpicks, and more. Each read will give +1 to Lockpicking, and it can be read thrice to wring out all possible knowledge from it. (2/3 reads remaining)
    Journal of a Potema Loyalist: A journal of some historical merit, belonging to one of Potema's most loyal supporters in her early years.
     
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  • Informational
    • [X] [Clothes] Practical clothes. Perhaps bandit clothes, but ones that can provide a more rough and ready look, something that could also help if she ever wants to seem less than she is, without seeming as if she was nothing at all.
    [X] [Return] Have a few drinks and a few dances before returning, relaxed and easy but also slightly compromised. But do not both compromise and ease make pleasures and obligations alike better?
    [X] [Feelings] There is something to be said for a challenge. Whether she intends to stay here, Skyrim is a cold, cruel land--and it is strange that in a moment of boldness this seems almost a virtue. She can hone herself in a place where despite all the risks--to her new people, to herself--she does not have to hold herself back.
     
    [X] [Return] Have a few drinks and a few dances before returning, relaxed and easy but also slightly compromised. But do not both compromise and ease make pleasures and obligations alike better?
    [X] [Feelings] There is something to be said for a challenge. Whether she intends to stay here, Skyrim is a cold, cruel land--and it is strange that in a moment of boldness this seems almost a virtue. She can hone herself in a place where despite all the risks--to her new people, to herself--she does not have to hold herself back.
    [X] [Clothes] Practical clothes. Perhaps bandit clothes, but ones that can provide a more rough and ready look, something that could also help if she ever wants to seem less than she is, without seeming as if she was nothing at all.
     
    [X] [Clothes] A dress of the sort she'd bought from in Riverwood. Simple, but clean and nice, and something she can add as an extra outfit without getting in the way of anything else, and something solid and unlikely to get torn.
    [X] [Return] Have a few drinks and a few dances before returning, relaxed and easy but also slightly compromised. But do not both compromise and ease make pleasures and obligations alike better?
    [X] [Feelings] There is warmth perhaps in these relations, in those she has gotten to know. It is brief warmth amidst a raging tempest, a blizzard that seeks to freeze her. But can't fires be linked together, cannot they become bonfires that will set the very winters ablaze? But will the fire consume her, or warm her and comfort her?
     
    [X] [Clothes] A dress of the sort she'd bought from in Riverwood. Simple, but clean and nice, and something she can add as an extra outfit without getting in the way of anything else, and something solid and unlikely to get torn.
    [X] [Return] Immediately, with a clear head but also with a great deal of haste. Still burning away and blazing with speed. Is speed truly what one might call the strongest trait? Yet, without it all others falter.
    [X] [Feelings] There is warmth perhaps in these relations, in those she has gotten to know. It is brief warmth amidst a raging tempest, a blizzard that seeks to freeze her. But can't fires be linked together, cannot they become bonfires that will set the very winters ablaze? But will the fire consume her, or warm her and comfort her?
     
    [X] [Clothes] A dress of the sort she'd bought from in Riverwood. Simple, but clean and nice, and something she can add as an extra outfit without getting in the way of anything else, and something solid and unlikely to get torn.
    [X] [Return] Have a few drinks and a few dances before returning, relaxed and easy but also slightly compromised. But do not both compromise and ease make pleasures and obligations alike better?
    [X] [Feelings] There is warmth perhaps in these relations, in those she has gotten to know. It is brief warmth amidst a raging tempest, a blizzard that seeks to freeze her. But can't fires be linked together, cannot they become bonfires that will set the very winters ablaze? But will the fire consume her, or warm her and comfort her?
     
    [X] [Return] Have a few drinks and a few dances before returning, relaxed and easy but also slightly compromised. But do not both compromise and ease make pleasures and obligations alike better?
    [X] [Feelings] There is warmth perhaps in these relations, in those she has gotten to know. It is brief warmth amidst a raging tempest, a blizzard that seeks to freeze her. But can't fires be linked together, cannot they become bonfires that will set the very winters ablaze? But will the fire consume her, or warm her and comfort her?
    [X] [Clothes] A pretty, if probably not practical, dark dress that has parts of its legging that becomes more dark gossamer. It seems to be made to be worn with a veil. It feels as if there is magic to it, though Do'azda cannot figure out just what type.

    I know it's impractical. I still want it.
     
    [X] [Return] Have a few drinks and a few dances before returning, relaxed and easy but also slightly compromised. But do not both compromise and ease make pleasures and obligations alike better?
    [X] [Feelings] There is warmth perhaps in these relations, in those she has gotten to know. It is brief warmth amidst a raging tempest, a blizzard that seeks to freeze her. But can't fires be linked together, cannot they become bonfires that will set the very winters ablaze? But will the fire consume her, or warm her and comfort her?
    [X] [Clothes] A pretty, if probably not practical, dark dress that has parts of its legging that becomes more dark gossamer. It seems to be made to be worn with a veil. It feels as if there is magic to it, though Do'azda cannot figure out just what type.
     
    [X] Plan: Fire and Shadow
    -[X] [Clothes] Dark, rather lovely looking robes… with a skull pattern on the front. This absolutely belonged to a Necromancer, and the odds that they're still alive are probably pretty low. But it does have some magical uses as a garment… if one likely to make some people suspect things.
    -[X] [Return] Immediately, with a clear head but also with a great deal of haste. Still burning away and blazing with speed. Is speed truly what one might call the strongest trait? Yet, without it all others falter.
    -[X] [Feelings] There is no way to know what to feel, because regret and fear and hope and joy all interact with each other and she has moved too fast. But why does she have a feeling that perhaps she is moving so fast so that the regrets and sorrows cannot catch up? Can a cat escape her own shade forever?

    [X] [Clothes] A pretty, if probably not practical, dark dress that has parts of its legging that becomes more dark gossamer. It seems to be made to be worn with a veil. It feels as if there is magic to it, though Do'azda cannot figure out just what type
     
    [X] [Return] Have a few drinks and a few dances before returning, relaxed and easy but also slightly compromised. But do not both compromise and ease make pleasures and obligations alike better?
    [X] [Feelings] There is warmth perhaps in these relations, in those she has gotten to know. It is brief warmth amidst a raging tempest, a blizzard that seeks to freeze her. But can't fires be linked together, cannot they become bonfires that will set the very winters ablaze? But will the fire consume her, or warm her and comfort her?
    [X] [Clothes] A pretty, if probably not practical, dark dress that has parts of its legging that becomes more dark gossamer. It seems to be made to be worn with a veil. It feels as if there is magic to it, though Do'azda cannot figure out just what type.


    Give us the impractical, pretty dress with the non-specific enchantment 😃
     
    Aight, the whole stabbing the tree with Nettlebane thing is looking more sketch to me now with confirmation that the Hagraven have been cutting deals with The Lost Daughter.
     
    [X] [Clothes] A pretty, if probably not practical, dark dress that has parts of its legging that becomes more dark gossamer. It seems to be made to be worn with a veil. It feels as if there is magic to it, though Do'azda cannot figure out just what type.
    [X] [Return] Immediately, with a clear head but also with a great deal of haste. Still burning away and blazing with speed. Is speed truly what one might call the strongest trait? Yet, without it all others falter.
    [X] [Feelings] There is no way to know what to feel, because regret and fear and hope and joy all interact with each other and she has moved too fast. But why does she have a feeling that perhaps she is moving so fast so that the regrets and sorrows cannot catch up? Can a cat escape her own shade forever?
     
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    [X] [Return] Have a few drinks and a few dances before returning, relaxed and easy but also slightly compromised. But do not both compromise and ease make pleasures and obligations alike better?
    [X] [Feelings] There is warmth perhaps in these relations, in those she has gotten to know. It is brief warmth amidst a raging tempest, a blizzard that seeks to freeze her. But can't fires be linked together, cannot they become bonfires that will set the very winters ablaze? But will the fire consume her, or warm her and comfort her?
    [X] [Clothes] A pretty, if probably not practical, dark dress that has parts of its legging that becomes more dark gossamer. It seems to be made to be worn with a veil. It feels as if there is magic to it, though Do'azda cannot figure out just what type.

    The Laurent said:
    Gwyna almost bounces as she bursts out the words, "So, Bathes-In-Steel, doesn't it hurt, bathing in steel?" She winked a little and leaned forward, seeming to rest her entire identity, all of her emotions, and everything she'd ever felt on the success of this joke. It is remarkable, to look at someone and know that they've spent an actual day waiting to say something so silly.

    "Yes, but the scales help," Bathes-In-Steel says, without even the tiniest visible trace of irony.

    Gwyna held her chest and stepped back. "And you have slain me!"

    "I would not want to do that," Bathes-In-Steel says earnestly. "Murder is wrong, and you have done nothing to hurt me."
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Oh, that's the joke! :rolleyes::rofl::lol: But also, I am forever surprised and thrilled by Bathes-In-Steel's reactions to things.

    The Laurent said:
    She doesn't have to go out of her way to find the three witches that have somehow beat them to their destination. They're waiting just around the bend.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    All hail to thee, Do'azda, thane of Whiterun! Thou shalt be Dovahkiin hereafter!

    The Laurent said:
    "But she's a dragon, that's not quite the same as people," Gwyna says, nodding eagerly.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Don't tell us she's a corporation, Gwyna!

    The Laurent said:
    But while she is not fumble-tongued, she finds it easy to get hung up on the side details. The time passes like this, in religious debate that she handles well enough--but could handle better.

    It also does the very simple task of making it so that Do'azda does not address, does not feel able to address, the lingering looks and touches. Aodhsil is flirting, and she is unable to quite confront the witch, and is indeed quite hapless at this. She is not--she does not know what angle to search for.

    So when she excuses herself, she cannot tell whether she hopes that the flirtation continues or if it ends, either in consummation or conclusion.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Thrice, the brinded cat hath mew'd, "I need an adult?" But really, it's gotta be rough being flustered by flirty, frustrating witches when you've got more and more quests you need to take care of.

    A terrific update, thanks for sharing, I liked the ritual, with everyone getting a turn to suggest what she could do with her newfound stabbing knife. If Do'azda's anything like most Dragonborn, she'll probably hold onto it for awhile afterwards... until it winds up sitting in her loot storage forever and ever. She should probably get somewhere to store her swag when she brings the sap/sapling back to Whiterun. Overall, it seems like it's tough out there for a witch, or a person of the reach, or a cat, basically anyone that isn't a Nord or Imperial, not that most of them have it much better. Just hard times all around, but there's baths, parties, and drinking, so that's something, right?
     
    Honestly I like the way that this is her first serious weapon, and with the ritual and the binding to it, I hope the dagger sticks around. Nice part is that while upgrading primary weapon frequently is good, keeping an extra dagger equipped for sentimental reasons is viable long term.
     
    [X] [Clothes] A pretty, if probably not practical, dark dress that has parts of its legging that becomes more dark gossamer. It seems to be made to be worn with a veil. It feels as if there is magic to it, though Do'azda cannot figure out just what type.
    [X] [Return] Have a few drinks and a few dances before returning, relaxed and easy but also slightly compromised. But do not both compromise and ease make pleasures and obligations alike better?
    [X] [Feelings] There is warmth perhaps in these relations, in those she has gotten to know. It is brief warmth amidst a raging tempest, a blizzard that seeks to freeze her. But can't fires be linked together, cannot they become bonfires that will set the very winters ablaze? But will the fire consume her, or warm her and comfort her?
     
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  • Voting
    • Adhoc vote count started by The Laurent on Mar 29, 2023 at 8:39 PM, finished with 17 posts and 15 votes.
    • [X] [Return] Have a few drinks and a few dances before returning, relaxed and easy but also slightly compromised. But do not both compromise and ease make pleasures and obligations alike better?
      [X] [Feelings] There is warmth perhaps in these relations, in those she has gotten to know. It is brief warmth amidst a raging tempest, a blizzard that seeks to freeze her. But can't fires be linked together, cannot they become bonfires that will set the very winters ablaze? But will the fire consume her, or warm her and comfort her?
      [X] [Clothes] A pretty, if probably not practical, dark dress that has parts of its legging that becomes more dark gossamer. It seems to be made to be worn with a veil. It feels as if there is magic to it, though Do'azda cannot figure out just what type.
      [X] [Clothes] A dress of the sort she'd bought from in Riverwood. Simple, but clean and nice, and something she can add as an extra outfit without getting in the way of anything else, and something solid and unlikely to get torn.
      [X] [Feelings] There is something to be said for a challenge. Whether she intends to stay here, Skyrim is a cold, cruel land--and it is strange that in a moment of boldness this seems almost a virtue. She can hone herself in a place where despite all the risks--to her new people, to herself--she does not have to hold herself back.
      [X] Plan: Fire and Shadow
      -[X] [Clothes] Dark, rather lovely looking robes… with a skull pattern on the front. This absolutely belonged to a Necromancer, and the odds that they're still alive are probably pretty low. But it does have some magical uses as a garment… if one likely to make some people suspect things.
      -[X] [Return] Immediately, with a clear head but also with a great deal of haste. Still burning away and blazing with speed. Is speed truly what one might call the strongest trait? Yet, without it all others falter.
      -[X] [Feelings] There is no way to know what to feel, because regret and fear and hope and joy all interact with each other and she has moved too fast. But why does she have a feeling that perhaps she is moving so fast so that the regrets and sorrows cannot catch up? Can a cat escape her own shade forever?
      [X] [Clothes] Practical clothes. Perhaps bandit clothes, but ones that can provide a more rough and ready look, something that could also help if she ever wants to seem less than she is, without seeming as if she was nothing at all.
      [X] [Return] Immediately, with a clear head but also with a great deal of haste. Still burning away and blazing with speed. Is speed truly what one might call the strongest trait? Yet, without it all others falter.
      [X] [Feelings] There is no way to know what to feel, because regret and fear and hope and joy all interact with each other and she has moved too fast. But why does she have a feeling that perhaps she is moving so fast so that the regrets and sorrows cannot catch up? Can a cat escape her own shade forever?
    Click to expand...


    Vote closed, work on the update will begin soon.
     
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    All Awhirl
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    • All Awhirl

    "I can stay, but only for a little while," Do'azda insists, looking nervously at Aodhsil. "Maybe a drink, perhaps two? She does not want to impose."

    This is not it at all.

    Do'azda is not someone who has a great deal of dignity and poise when she's truly drunk rather than merely slightly tipsy. She is quite aware that going too far is likely to soil the dignity of the office of Shaman, which needs all the polish that it can take, because of course she is twenty-and-two and thus she is younger than many of the people whose fates she is supposed to help shape.

    But a drink? How can that harm her?

    "I think you'll like what we have today. Not ale, not mead, something far nicer." Aodhsil turns as Gwyna brings two tankards. Gwyna hands one to Do'azda.

    It is yellow-red, and it is glowing, slightly bioluminescent. "What's in this?"

    "Apples," Aodhsil says blithely.

    Gwyna looks at her steadily.

    "Well," she corrects, "Mostly apples."

    "Also Nirnroot, for the glow," Gwyna says.

    Mostly apples? Well, Do'azda does like apples, so surely it cannot be too bad.

    She takes a sip, and her insides start burning. But there is already fire in there, fire against the cold, fire against this cold, cruel world. And so, coughing, she prepares to take another sip. Just another sip.

    ***​

    The world is not beautiful, the world is not ugly, what the world is is stark, and the blurring at the edges of it from the warmth that is now inside her is all that she can think about.

    There's a reason that the cold can drive one towards drink. She takes in the warmth inside her and tries to think about the people she has met and who she does appreciate. She can't see Bathes-In-Steel anywhere. But she also doesn't know if she's trying hard enough, because a part of her wants to dance and another part of her is drinking and watching the scene.

    The dancing is fast and strange, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, and she watches it with interest. She is looking for a dancing partner, but she can't see Aodhsil. And while she's sure that Bathes-In-Steel would be a good dancer, and is a good friend, she's not there either.

    She pouts, feeling her lips turn down into a frown as her tail stills a little, her ears, she's sure, showing her annoyance.

    Why is she the most miserable person that has ever lived, doomed to loneliness and--oh!

    She sees someone she can dance with. Well, it's someone scary, but a Shaman is supposed to confront her fears, right?

    A Raven Mother is standing amidst the festivities, just watching all of it like she doesn't understand what this 'dancing' thing is, or is trying to remember. She looks so sad and alone and Do'azda cannot remember exactly why she had been so worried. She knows vaguely that, yes, yes, deals with strange monsters and all of that, but so?

    She's a dragon, right? She burns with the flames of fear or love or something? She's not sure, but she's sure she can figure it out. But what better way to figure it out than to stride forward with a grin. "Would you like to dance?" she asks.

    The Raven Mother isn't beautiful, of course, she's a strange bird-like creature, but her face is so familiar, so--

    So something.

    Like Do'azda has seen her before. And isn't it said that you're supposed to be polite to all ladies you request a dance with?

    She's speaking in Ta'agra, she realizes. "I am very happy to dance with such a fine lady, if you'd like to. I mean no offense, but…"

    She trails off, even drunken courage having a limit, or at least a place where it starts to break down or look a little bit foolish.

    The Raven Mother reaches out a clawed hand to place it in hers.

    She grins, confidence reassured. Okay, she can do this. She has on a very nice dress that is probably not warm enough, but feels as if it might be alright, and she likes the feeling of it swishing as she moves. So she grins up at the Raven Mother and then begins to dance.

    It is dancing as a fight, dancing as a competition to see which style wins.

    But there's not as much of a difference as there might be. They were both fast styles, styles that were driven by passion and frenzy. It was baffling to see a blank-faced Raven Mother, someone who had taken at least one step from mortality, someone who had given up something that Do'azda has never even been given a chance to hold onto, did not even know she lacks...

    Until at least and at last she becomes aware of it.

    The Raven Mother does not smile or grin or laugh, and yet her motions are fluid and energetic, and Do'azda laughs at the joy of being spun around.

    She laughs at the feeling of her skirt flowing with her, at the sound of her own jewelry, and she presses forward. She doesn't want this to simply end, she does not intend to cut this short. She spins and the world revolves around and around and around. Perhaps she should be a little woozy, or dizzy, but she isn't.

    "Ha," Do'azda says, grinning up at the Raven Mother. "That… that is something I would do again."

    She's speaking in Ta'agra, and the Raven Mother is nodding as if she understands. "You can only die two times," the Raven Mother rumbles in Tamrielic, whispering carefully. "The first is when you stop changing."

    Do'azda feels as if she's heard something profound, but she's also maybe a… bit tipsy. So she nods sagely and lets the music carry her off.

    ***​

    The world is spinning around her, the music is getting louder and her tankard of Mostly Apples is bereft. She doesn't recognise any of the faces around her, and she's beginning to feel a little bit sad.

    The Blood Cat has come, his paw heavy on her shoulder, his breath thick with wine, and Do'azda staggers, suddenly woozy. The world continues to spin, sending her dress flying out around her.

    "Do'azda?" The voice comes from far away, as though underwater. "Do'azda, it's time to go."

    "How much Glower did she have?" This is another voice. She feels a hand on her arm, tugging at her, and the world begins to slow. Do'azda giggles.

    "Too much. Go fetch Gwyna and Bathes-In-Steel," The first voice says evenly, and Do'azda's eyes refocus.

    "Aodhsil!" She exclaims happily, "I lost you, but here you are again!"

    Aodhsil's face swims before her, bewildering incomprehension in her eyes.

    Do'azda frowns, concentrates. Tries again in Tamrielic. "This one could not find you? And now you are here. You're very pretty."

    Aodhsil goes a little pink, and Do'azda reaches out to boop her nose.

    "And you're very drunk," The witch says, pulling her face back out of Do'azda's reach. "Maybe Glower has more effect on khajiit, or maybe it's just because you're small…"

    Do'azda scowls. "This one is not small. It is not her fault you are all so big…"

    The others are back now, and Do'azda grins. "Bathes! She missed you!"

    Bathes-In-Steel cocks her head. "Are you well, Do'azda?"

    "She's overindulged a little," Aislin says lightly, "Happens to the best of us, when we start knocking back Glower. Make sure she's not at the end of the chain whilst we walk the Mire's Path. I have no doubt Aodhsil will hold at least one of her hands."

    Bathes-In-Steel takes her other hand, with Gwyna bringing up the rear and Aislin taking Aodhsil's other hand to take the lead. Do'azda hums, happy to be in the middle.

    She's leading them out of the camp, the way Do'azda and Bathes-In-Steel came, but then Aislin tugs on Aodhsil's hand, and Aodhsil tugs on Do'azda's, and suddenly they aren't going out the way Do'azda and Bathes-In-Steel came in.

    The forest begins to grow denser almost immediately, and then rapidly gets darker, the trees more stunted, the ground softer and wetter underfoot. Branches catch at her dress, run through her hair, and she shivers. She turns to see the path behind-

    "Don't." Gwyna's voice is low and strangled, and Do'azda turns around, chastised. The trees are thinning out again anyway, becoming a swamp in truth.

    The stench would normally be unbearable, but Do'azda is floating a little bit, the world just slightly blurred, and the stench is something she can ignore as she focuses on holding Aodhsil's hand, and holding Bathes-In-Steel's hand. She tries not to distract the other woman, but it is very easy to let her fingers slide across Aodhsil's wrist, to reassure herself of the steady heartbeat--and please herself with the idea that the slight increase in Aodhsil's heart is from holding hands with her.

    That would be so sweet, wouldn't it? She giggles a bit, and then has the misfortune to look up and see dark bogs and strange distant shapes that threaten to come closer. She groans at that and buries her gaze in Aodhsil, watching her with way too much attention. She needs to focus. She's going to fight Spriggans. She's going to fulfill her end of a bargain and in doing so make the world a better place.

    But a part of her thinks, why shouldn't she have a little fun doing it?

    And it is fun. She can admit this here, beyond the bounds of the world, with her head filled with Sangiin's malaise. She enjoys the fight, the burn of adrenaline through her veins, the east camaraderie it breeds with those who join with her in battle. She thinks of the Spriggan she will fight, and something roars in her at the challenge.

    "Are we nearly there yet?" She asks, her voice slightly petulant, sing-song.

    "The journey takes as many steps as it takes," Aislin says, and Aodhsil and Gwyna groan in unison.

    "Aislin, you sound like your mother!" Aodhsil says, "We're all far too young to start talking in platitudes - you don't sound wise, you sound pretentious."

    "Oh, I see," Aislin replies, "You'd like to find your way out of the Mire on your own, Aodhsil? Is that it?"

    Aodhsil only laughs.

    "It'll be another few minutes," Gwyna says, taking pity on Do'azda, who was beginning to feel terribly lost.

    Leaving the Mire is more subtle than entering it was; Do'azda doesn't exactly know when it happens, truthfully - at some point the swamp became the hot springs of Eastmarch, but it's all still damp and smells rather foul, so she's not completely sure when.

    And besides - they're still holding hands. She swings her arms happily, to muted protestation from Bathes-In-Steel and an eye roll from Aodhsil.

    The Eldergleam Sanctuary looms out of the twilight before them all too soon, and Aodhsil releases her hand. Do'azda resents the loss, just a little.

    "We'll need to rest up before we head back," Gwyna says, squeezing Bathes-In-Steel's arm to draw her attention, "Travelling the Mire's Path when you're too tired is just begging for Vaermina to set a nasty little critter crawling down the path, weaving itself into your shadow. Best to sleep it off before we return. Shall you and Do'azda be going to face the Spriggans tonight? Or do you need a bedroll to share?"

    She winks brazenly, smirking to show she's joking, but Bathes-In-Steel's brow furrows all the same. "I think we took the Mire's Path so we could resolve this tonight?"

    Gwyna rolls her eyes, releasing Bathes-In-Steel's arm. "Don't worry about it, sweet one."

    Bathes-In-Steel nods seriously, as though she had planned to worry about it, before Gwyna's assurance.

    The witches disappear somewhere in the cave as they make their way through it, off to wherever their camp is within the Sanctuary, and Do'azda leans against Bathes-In-Steel, feeling suddenly too tired to support her own weight.

    Do'azda lets Bathes-In-Steel lead them through the caves for a time, before eventually pausing, suddenly recalling. "Where did you go? At the dance? This one wanted to dance and you were missing, and the three witches were missing, and so instead," Do'azda lowers her voice, checking around them theatrically, though her words still come out disruptively loud. "This one danced with a Raven Mother."

    "I heard about this, yes. The witches wanted to talk to me, and so I had to go to talk to them?"

    Do'azda cocks her head, one ear flicking. "Talk to you about what? They had time earlier to talk to us, didn't they?"

    "They warned me, told me not to let myself get eaten by you," Bathes-In-Steel says earnestly. "But I do not intend to be eaten?" She sounds confused, and it's so hilarious. Bathes-In-Steel is so funny.

    'I do not intend to be eaten?'

    She laughs, belly-deep, and grins up at her as she thinks about it. "Do'azda only eats with permission. You were not there, but you can just ask L-Liesl, she'll tell you the truth about that!"

    "I shall ask her, should I encounter her," Bathes-In-Steel says easily, as Do'azda leans just a little bit on her as she tries to focus on focusing, on straightening up.

    Some small part of Do'azda knows that tomorrow she will think back on what she has said and done tonight and cringe away from it. She determinedly kicks this part until it is silent.

    The walkway creaks a little underfoot in the dim half light - the torches have burnt out in their sconces, leaving only the occasional brazier to keep the cave lit - and Do'azda looks around curiously, but the pilgrims and priests of Kynareth are nowhere to be seen - most likely they're asleep, tucked up warm in their camp. Do'azda yawns, rubbing at her eyes. It has been such a long day.

    The cavern with the mass of roots appears before them as they round a curve, and Do'azda takes it in. Thick roots twist around each other, with brambles curling around them, reaching out in every direction with almost a malice to them, wickedly sharp thorns on black stems as thick as Do'azda's forearm.

    She swallows nervously, closing her hand around the hilt of Nettlebane, which seems comfortably warm. "Shall we?"

    Bathes-In-Steel nods, beginning to go still, ready for battle.

    Do'azda draws Nettlebane, the leafed blade eager in her hand, and she glares at the roots. The brambles seem almost to retreat before her. She laughs gaily, waving Nettlebane about a little.

    "Oh, Do'azda could have used Nettlebane earlier - at the border from Cyrodiil, the brambles plucked at fur and clothes so badly… She likes this dagger."

    It's not a statement that requires a response, and Bathes-In-Steel doesn't give it one, standing patiently, waiting for whatever is about to happen.

    The roots don't shift as Do'azda approaches. The brambles slip away, curling back to shelter behind the Eldergleam's protection, but the roots themselves don't respond, don't react, and she wonders for a moment if the witches have cheated her, tricked her.

    Nettlebane seems to gleam a little, a bright, angry green, as Do'azda lifts the dagger closer to the roots, and as she moves it forwards, it passes through the thick craggily bark of the trunk as though it were not even there, and the bark begins to peel back from the blade, great chunks of aged bark flaking away from the root.

    When the point of the dagger touched the woody flesh of the tree, some few inches below the surface of the wood, the roots react, sliding over and across one another, a deep and grinding cacophony that Do'azda can feel in her bones almost more than she can hear.

    The roots do not entirely retreat, curling away to create a teardrop shaped entrance, leading further into the Sanctuary of the Eldergleam.

    The path further in has been turned to so many matchsticks by the roots, and the torches and braziers beyond this point are all long extinguished, but the cavern is not as dark as she expects. Moonlight streams in from above, and Do'azda gasps. There's no roof to the cave, only a great and open expanse, through which she can see the twin moons, with the aurora dancing about them, the lunar lattice made luminescent, the chamber dappled in soft silvers and reds.

    Clusters of fir trees dot the chamber of the Eldergleam, shielding various pools and ponds, looking vital and healthy - fed by a stream which Do'azda's eyes follow up to the heart of the great chamber, a rocky stack, with the stream pouring from one side, between two of the thick roots of the Eldergleam itself.

    The Eldergleam unquestionably dominates. The great root system has spilt out, bursting forth from the ground wherever Do'azda casts her gaze, and the trunk rises from the rocky stack, huge, gnarled and ancient. The boughs form almost a canopy enough to block the moon, their leaves blood-red, glowing oddly in the moonlight.

    "I see why people come here," Bathes-In-Steel says suddenly, "On their pilgrimages."

    Do'azda does not jump, and anyone who says she does is a liar and a scoundrel. She is merely surprised that she did not hear Bathes-In-Steel's approach, is all.

    "Yes," She replies, "Do you think we need to climb up to the trunk itself, to face the spriggan?"

    Bathes-In-Steel shrugs, opening her mouth to reply, then freezes. Do'azda takes embarrassingly long to understand why.

    One of the fir trees around the nearest pond seems to tear itself apart, creaking and groaning as blackened wooden claws pierce the bark from the inside, then pull apart, seeming to peel the tree away.

    The creature climbing out of the tree hums, as though alive with a swarm of insects, and she - for the creature is evidently female, with a face sculpted from the bark and a body of twisted wood - glows from the inside with a golden light. Branches rise from her head and back, forming a great crest, like the antlers of some mighty stag. Do'azda swallows heavily.

    "This one supposes this answers her question. She shall duel the spriggan and then-" The words die on her lips, as the sound of groaning, tormented wood continues to echo. Two more spriggans join her opponent, slighter, glowing a more earthy green, without the crowning antlers of the first, then another, then another. Five spriggans face the two of them, standing all together, awaiting Do'azda making the first move.

    Choose an overall strategy?
    [] Bathes-In-Steel should fight the big one, Do'azda will handle all the… less big ones.
    [] Do'azda will fight the big one, Bathes-In-Steel will deal with the little ones. She is meant to be dueling it.
    [] They will both fight the big one, and then the little ones. Maybe once the big one is dead they'll give up?
    [] They will both fight the little ones, and then the big one. Maybe it'll be easier to kill once its friends are dead?

    Choose a melee weapon (Pick One)
    [] The Lunar Steel Axe - They are wood, it is an axe. It just makes sense.
    [] Nettlebane - The witches wouldn't have given her the dagger if she wasn't meant to use it.
    [] Her claws - They're just wood, how hard a fight can it be?

    Choose an overall magical strategy (Pick One)
    [] Conjure Flame Atronach - Conjuring a creature of fire to kill her enemies seems sensible when her enemies are flammable.
    [] Flames - Why conjure something to set people on fire when she can simply… set them on fire.
    [] Bound Dagger - Summon a dagger, for more slashing.
    [] Conjure Animal - Dogs like sticks. Spriggans are made of sticks. Fetch!

    Choose an illusion spell (Pick One)
    As it turns out, Do'azda's new dress has some tricks. In addition to being fun to spin.
    [] Courage - Give Bathes-In-Steel an extra little pep, in case she's getting tired - its very late.
    [] Fear - Do'azda is a scary dragon, and these Spriggans are just little wood creatures. They should fear her.
    [] Distraction - Hey! Look over there!

    VM AN: Remember kids, always pick a designated fast traveller before you begin to drink. Also, Do'azda's decision making process when tipsy is… slightly confused.

    TL AN: Do'azda is twenty-two. When she's sober she's oddly wise if a little given to youthful enthusiasm and mistakes. When she's drunk she's a twenty-two year old idiot who thinks with her paws, tail, and gut. And other parts.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • [X] Plan Spriggan's Worst Nightmare
    -[X] They will both fight the big one, and then the little ones. Maybe once the big one is dead they'll give up?
    -[X] Nettlebane - The witches wouldn't have given her the dagger if she wasn't meant to use it.
    -[X] Flames - Why conjure something to set people on fire when she can simply… set them on fire.
    -[X] Fear - Do'azda is a scary dragon, and these Spriggans are just little wood creatures. They should fear her.
     
    [X] Plan Flaming Loins uh I mean Atronach
    -[x] Do'azda will fight the big one, Bathes-In-Steel will deal with the little ones. She is meant to be dueling it.
    -[X] Nettlebane - The witches wouldn't have given her the dagger if she wasn't meant to use it.
    -[x] Conjure Flame Atronach - Conjuring a creature of fire to kill her enemies seems sensible when her enemies are flammable.
    -[X] Fear - Do'azda is a scary dragon, and these Spriggans are just little wood creatures. They should fear her.

    Don't drink and dance with semi immortal monsters Do'azda
     
    [X] Plan Level the Playing Field
    -[X] Do'azda will fight the big one, Bathes-In-Steel will deal with the little ones. She is meant to be dueling it.
    -[X] Nettlebane - The witches wouldn't have given her the dagger if she wasn't meant to use it.
    -[X] Conjure Flame Atronach - Conjuring a creature of fire to kill her enemies seems sensible when her enemies are flammable.
    -[X] Courage - Give Bathes-In-Steel an extra little pep, in case she's getting tired - its very late.

    I am very on board with most of Plan Flaming Loins Atronach, but I'm going to differ on the last point. Making the other Spriggans scared of Do'azda would be great, if we were the ones fighting four of them. I'd rather give Bathes a leg up, especially if she's 4v1ing the Boss's backup dancers dryads. I'm not sure how well distraction would work on the lesser Spriggans, and while it might help us with the boss battle, I still think letting our better warrior become even more powerful is the way to go. The flame elemental trumps being a living flamethrower because it's another target for the beasties to focus their metaphorical fire on, instead of a cute cat and her lovely lizard. Nettlebane's the purpose built tool for the task, and we're the ones meant to be completing the ritual, so it's only fair we take the big one... although I almost want to see an apocrypha of how hilariously bad using her claws would go. Drunk'azda has the best description of her choice options!

    Another reason 'Fear' might not be the best route is:
    veteranMortal said:
    The creature climbing out of the tree hums, as though alive with a swarm of insects, and she - for the creature is evidently female, with a face sculpted from the bark and a body of twisted wood - glows from the inside with a golden light.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    As most people on this forum and that other one might know, 'scary dragon' vs. 'little creatures' covered in insects isn't always the one-sided contest most people think it is.

    veteranMortal said:
    Mostly apples? Well, Do'azda does like apples, so surely it cannot be too bad.

    She takes a sip, and her insides start burning. But there is already fire in there, fire against the cold, fire against this cold, cruel world. And so, coughing, she prepares to take another sip. Just another sip.
    Click to expand...
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    How do('azda) you like dem apples? I guess quite a lot.

    veteranMortal said:
    The world is spinning around her, the music is getting louder and her tankard of Mostly Apples is bereft.
    Click to expand...
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    "Do'azda, no they were giving it to you as a joke, they use it to burn the warts off of the Raven Mothers."

    View: https://youtu.be/2HbqRMhLmxE?t=51

    veteranMortal said:
    "How much Glower did she have?"
    Click to expand...
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    Point of order, is this drink pronounced glower, like an angry look, or glow-er like, er, something that glows?

    veteranMortal said:
    Bathes-In-Steel says earnestly. "But I do not intend to be eaten?"
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    "You almost had her, until she digested seduced you."
     
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