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Random Oblivion screenshots 24

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pet owners in Anvil
and here is Sparky
personal replacer for Azzan
Azzan is an original fully voiced follower with nearly 1000 lines of dialogue, adaptable to your playstyle!
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Broken Promises Masterpost
As mentioned in this whine, I haven't seen many TESFics about Modryn Oreyn (there aren't too many about most of the "minor" characters at all TBH, but that's another project for another day). He's such an interesting character to me: Bold, proud, ferocious. Intimidating until he likes you. He has a lot of unexplored depth, I feel. I also like that he's one of the few mentors in the game that doesn't die, or otherwise become inaccessible, at the end of their quest arc. Such that I feel he makes an excellent surrogate parental figure to the disaster-case of a Hero (and yes, I may be projecting slightly, apologies). So, in the vein of "this character needs more love; I'd better write it myself" I went ahead and did so.
Prompts: X, X, X. Each of these gave me ideas and helped direct the story, so thanks to their authors. I forgot to copy the links down at first, so I'm still missing the one about magical healing :(
Notes: I remembered halfway through that Dunmer don't worship the Nine, which is why Modryn switches at some point to thanking Azura. This is really bad consistency on my part, and I'm very sorry I forgot to do my research before hand. On a similar point, I have take extreme creative liberties with Morrowind's slave bracers - in game they drain magicka only. Hopefully the scheme Armand and Azzan employ doesn’t seem too out of character for them (please let me know if you disagree! Constructive criticism is how we grow).
Premise: Set some when after one has "finished" the game and the HoK/CC runs every main guild in Cyrodiil, Modryn Oreyn has been kidnapped by the remnants of the Blackwood Company. A ransom note is sent to the HoK/CC, and they set out to rescue their friend and Second-in-Command. All does not go smoothly.
Warnings: Torture, slavery mentions, grief, self-hate, moderate swearing (cannon curses; no f-bombs), disassociation, general fantasy violence, magical bindings, general injuries.
Post List: (This fic did get way out of hand. I was aiming for ~5k. It's 14,700. I cannot write short to save a life apparently) Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Coda

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Broken Promises (Pt7)
Context: Modryn Oryen (or 'Fighter's Guild dad', as I think of him) needs more love. For more context, see my whine about this fic.
Warnings: Torture, slavery mentions, grief, self-hate, moderate swearing (cannon curses; no f-bombs), disassociation, general fantasy violence, magical bindings
Notes: I took extreme liberties with the way Morrowind slave bracers work. Please don’t yell at me.
(Gods this got huge; I’ll make a masterpost for all parts when they're up)
We tracked back through the complex of tunnels and caves, coming into the chamber with the crevasse. The fighting had slowed considerably by the time we arrived, only Bhos and Tabelle holding out on a raised ledge. We paused by the head of the bridge, scanning the scene. There were more bodies than I expected – evidently the Breton woman had more forces than I'd assumed. And there she was, being held at the edge of the cave, an orc standing over her. He turned and a wash of relief passed over me, nearly taking my legs out. Burz. I'd been certain the Breton was lying about leaving him dead in a ditch, but it was nice to see the evidence of his continued existence with my own eyes. I pulled out the potion Methredhel had given me and downed it. I was going to need everything I could now, I thought. "Assassin, you're a mage, correct? Would you mind doing the honours," I said, gesturing at Tabelle and Bhos. "Of course, reverend Listener," she murmured. She stepped forward, white light shooting from her hand to strike the Dunmer archer. Tabelle fell, paralyzed as frost tinged her dark hair white. No longer pinned down by Tabelle's fire, the fighters were able to take Bhos down with ease. "Thank you," I said, passing the assassin and approaching Burz and the Breton. "Boss!" Burz cried out as we approached. He straightened, looking over at Methredhel, his voice dropping to an angry growl. "What's the Guildmaster still doing here? This wasn't the plan." "We hit a problem," the thief said, her response cool. "Have you searched her?" I asked Bruz, inclining my chin at the Breton woman. "Aye, boss." "Did you find a key of any kind?"
Broken Promises (Pt6)
Context: Modryn Oryen (or 'Fighter's Guild dad', as I think of him) needs more love. For more context, see my whine about this fic.
Warnings: Torture, slavery mentions, grief, self-hate, moderate swearing (cannon curses; no f-bombs), disassociation, general fantasy violence, magical bindings
Notes: I took extreme liberties with the way Morrowind slave bracers work. Please don’t yell at me.
(Gods this got huge; I’ll make a masterpost for all parts when they're up)
The light had gone from the outside world by the time they'd finished with Modryn. He'd been right the first time, I thought. Without my pleas and desperate begging, the Breton woman had tired of him quicker than she'd tired of me. It didn't buy me a reprieve though. Elandril and Fa'nir dragged Modryn back into the cell, dumping him in a heap and reattaching his manacles. Then Fa'nir had backed out, and the Breton had entered. I thought about fighting, but that idea was quashed when the Bosmer put a dagger to Modryn't throat. The implication was clear, and I limped out, led by the neck like a dog. Elandril didn't move all the while I was winched up. Only when I was secured again did the Bosmer retreat. The Breton paced around me, tapping her dagger on her chin. "You know," she said eventually, "I've been thinking. If you're so determined to stay quiet, why don't we make a little game of it? Let's see just how quiet you can stay. For every noise you make, I'll take it out of Oreyn's hide tomorrow. Understand?" She used the blade to lift my chin, icy blue eyes staring into mine, blazing with hate. "Hrm?" I nodded, such as I could. She gave me a winning smile. "Ah, you've got the hang of it already. Good, good." She flipped the dagger onto its edge and drew the blade along the underside of my chin. I closed my eyes, fighting down the whimper trying to escape. Then she began in earnest.