Teldryn Sero

tagged by: Nobody! Just saw this and thought it was cool!

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“I’ve got the coin, you will be well paid I can guarantee you that. It will be good to have some help in this, who knows what I’ll manage to get myself into on this island.” 

He walks back to Raven Rock with the man, shivering a bit from the cold of just wearing his trousers out here, catching up to the Dark Elf who walks ahead of him, Turning his attention to the question that he asks. Thinking of what he knows about this Miraak. 

“When I was in that trance thing, building that monument around the ancient stone. I could hear a Nord voice ordering me what to do, to build this monument for Miraak. Also, it coincides with what I know of this Miraak. See when I was in Skyrim, I was attacked by two Dark Elves in Strange Masks, they claimed I was a false Dragonborn and Miraak is the true one. Either he is lying or there are two Dragonborns at the same time. Whatever he is, Miraak is interfering with me stopping the Dragons. 

He approaches the Inn and gives a sigh of relief as he can get on some clothes and pay the man so they can find some information as to where they can find this Miraak and stop whatever it is he is doing. 

     Even as the Breton spoke, a chill ran up Teldryn’s spine. The words he heard chanted so often seemed to whisper in his ears: “Our eyes once were blinded. Now through him do we see. Our hands once were idle. Now through them does he speak.”

     “If he really is Dragonborn, what’s he doing all the way out here, building shrines to himself?” He didn’t think being the Dragonborn granted mind controlling abilities, but he wasn’t well-versed enough in the subject to voice that particular concern. Dovahkiin or not, this Miraak was powerful. Going up against him was bound to be one hell of an adventure.

     Pushing the door of the Retching Netch open, he made his way to the counter. “I’ll be here, having a drink,” he called back to his future patron. “Come find me when you’re ready to talk.”

     “Getting an early start, eh, Teldryn?” Geldis asked, quirking a brow.

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↼♕⇀ At his first bit of words, Vasara nodded her head a little and was getting ready to walk away. She certainly wasn’t expecting much else from him nor did she think that she deserved more than that. So when he spoke again, she looked back over at him. It took her a moment to answer, not entirely sure she wanted to lay out what she was up to.

“The shrine?” Vasara echoed. She eventually nodded her head. “It would. Why?” Now she was curious, wanting to know why he was asking such a question. Eventually she noticed how he squirmed in his seat but she kept her comments to herself for the time being.

     “It’s nothing, really, it’s just... I don’t like the look of it. There’s something very wrong with that thing. And if the two are connected, well... Just be careful. Nothing good comes from these types of things.”

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Erik’s teeth dug into the leather of his gag as he glared daggers at the laughing Altmer, his shaking, non-broken hand curling into a fist. If he’s had just a bit of alcohol in him and no gag on his mouth, he’d have turned their laughters into screams of pain as they would burn those fucking-

       “Lady Elenwen,” the interrogator announced, pride evident in the grandness of his intonation. “You once told me that you would like nothing more than to see the Dragonborn suffer. Well, my research--” Teldryn gave a snort at that, but it went ignored. “--has shown that nothing causes him more distress… than this.”

Helping My Injured Muse Sentence Starters || Accepting!

     The dark elf stumbled and fell to one knee, breath harsh and ragged beneath his blood-stained scarf. ‘A lot’ was an understatement. There was blood everywhere, much of it his. Pissing off the Thalmor was bad for one’s health, it seemed.

     He coughed, wincing. Pain lanced through him, but mostly all he felt was was cold. Not a good sign. Shit...

     “You should see the other guy,” he tried to say, but it came out a slurred, jumbled mess of noise, ending in what was probably the only understandable word: “Fuck.”

-

The mage nodded with a cheeky smile.

“I don’t need to imagine it. Thanks to developments we’ve made in the ruins the dwemer automatons have begun to repair the city underground to what it would have looked like back then because that’s what they know. It’s beautiful as well.”

As she walked and talked, her green eyes lit up, excited to have someone to talk to about her work and interest, hoping he had an interest in the dwemer too.

“It’s just up here. We need to go through the keep to get there though. Watch out for the silver bloods. I’ll warn you they can be vile. I don’t want to get in trouble again for punching one of them.”

     “Oh, I’d love to see that,” he said with an unreserved gasp of enthusiasm. It wasn’t every day one got to see a Dwemer City in its full glory. He would have to make the most of his time in Markarth and take a proper tour of the place later. “Do you do a lot of work down there? It sounds like you’re close to the project.”

-

She chuckled. The excitement in his voice was obvious, though to her, dragons were mostly a nuisance. Hopefully she would get an interesting word of power out of it.

“That’s usually the case, plus a little reward from the local Jarl when we’re finished.”

     He slapped his gloved hands together. “Yes! That’s what I’m talking about! Let’s go kill us a dragon!”

-

“I’d agree with that.” She was on good terms with a few of the merchants, but they were really the only people worth being on good terms with. She was a nord, so generally people left her alone, but it left such a bad taste in her mouth to see people living in poverty because they aren’t like her.

“Anyway, that’s usually where I operate. We may come back here a few times, but mostly we’ll stick to the mainland.”

     “That’s more than fine. I’ve spent enough time on Solstheim to last a lifetime. I’d welcome the change in scenery, see some color for once, breathe some fresh air.... Get the taste of ash out of my mouth...”