#spellsword-archer

Within the land of Skyrim, there were quite a few dungeons to explore, whether they be caves, Draugr Tombs, or even a Dwarven Ruin...for an average adventurer, this was nothing new, and for the Dragonborn of Daedric Prince blood (Not that he realizes that), it was just a way of life.

He was scouring through one of said Dwarven Ruins, studying the architecture and broken pieces of machinery within, whilst occasionally fighting off the stray Automaton...that is, until he hears a familiar sound of hisses and grunts...the Falmer, just great...the one known as Liz Dovah lets out a sigh, and begins to ready himself for combat against the blind snow elves, and their bugs.

But...would he find more than just them within the depths? Only fate shall tell...

Send ‘🔪’ to find out what my muse is guilty of.

It could be crime, a past regret, a confession of something they did in the past.

     Our muses have never met, but they wake up chained to the wall next to one another after being drugged and kidnapped. Send me “Plan of Escape” for a starter.

     Waking up disorientated in some godsforsaken cave with his hands bound tightly in front of him didn’t make it difficult for Tullius to know that he was in trouble. He sat against the uncomfortable cave wall, making no effort to move just yet as he tried to wrap his fogged mind around how he had gotten to this point. Suddenly, a boisterous laugh startled him into noticing what seemed to be a small group of well armed bandits sitting around a crackling fire in the adjoining cavern clearly enjoying some bottles of mead.

      Tullius watched them, sighing in relief when it appeared that they hadn’t noticed him wake up and promptly turned his attention collecting his muddled thoughts long enough to formulate some kind of plan to escape. But as he looked around the cavern looking for another entrance, a small movement caught his eye and he quickly realized he wasn’t alone. He squinted into the darkness, forcing his eyes to adjust so that he could see his fellow prisoner and realized that it was a young man in some kind of armor.

The fiery burst reached so far that Azaron swore he felt his whiskers curl from the heat, and the big Khajiit quickly sat back as the kindling of his campfire flared to life. He dropped his flint and tinder to the side and picked up a larger stick, carefully prodding the bone-dry twigs as the flames consumed them. He added another handful of small kindling before adding a log or two, and settling back a short ways from the stone circle.

“…..there is no need to skulk in the shadows, stranger.” Amber eyes flickered out into the darkness, following the faint sounds of creeping footsteps beyond the flickering firelight. Be they friend or foe, he couldn’t say…but he was fairly confident that he could take care of himself, should the worst come to pass. “Come. Wouldn’t it be warmer by the fireside?”

HEADCANON MEME --- COOKING.

Ma'Ridhinna's father taught her how to cook when she was younger, realising she would have to cook for her siblings. She is still quite capable at cooking, especially cold or sweet foods, but these are not often needed in Skyrim. She can cook meat, but has never attempted making stew or soup. Ma'Ridhinna doesn't carry wood to cook while travelling, so if she can use an inn's fire and pots without anyone stopping her, she will prepare food there.

FOOD.