convergence [p][m]

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620 words | private - mjoll the lioness | mature content

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the rift was a subtle sort.

in hjaalmarch your enemies are obvious. werewolves howl for blood and hagravens shriek in ritualistic oblivion. they are bold in their defiance, unobscured. riften was the opposite. hidden threats conspired in each shadowy crevice, veiled aggressors subjugating justice at every turn. sevrend could not claim to respect such underhandedness, but he was certainly intrigued by it.

it was for his aid in illuminating the shadowy corners of her kingdom and purging the nefarious forces found within that the jarl had extended her invitation onto sevrend. or so she said. perhaps such a thing was her true intention - sevrend was, after all, renowned for enforcing order upon the chaos of hjaalmarch - but the jarl could not help but suspect a broader political motive was at play here.

sevrend expected the jarl’s true objective was to measure his allegiences, to discern whether the lord of morthal raised the banner of stormcloak or empire. she would be found wanting... for in these times - with alduin casting down horror from overhead - both causes were made trivial.

”your money or your life!” came the brash demand, splintering sevrend’s pondering. turning a slow gaze across his shoulder, sevrend considered his assailants. there were three of them - a nord and two argonians - armed with the small blades of cutpurses. the jarl never travelled with guards. the byways of morthal were not so secure to facilitate such a luxury even if he wished to. either way, sevrend could not call himself a lord if he was incapable of defending his title with blade.

perhaps, had it been any other time in history, he would have supported the rebellion.

”your kind remind me of the sewer rats we had in daggerfall.” he mused as he rounded fully upon the thieves.
”you will hiss and you will spit, but when faced by those who defy your petty intimidation you will flee into the night.” sevrend condemned as he drew his blade from its scabbard - the silver screaming viciously as it stroked against leather - and approached. arms stretched out boldly at his sides and stance rigged with hunger, he continued.
”come then. show me the fury of riften’s sewer rats. show me how you hope to steal my life.”

the nord charged first, blindly throwing himself into sovngarde.

with the neatest and most modest of sidesteps, sevrend strafed to his left, bypassing the nord’s rush. arching his blade in a wide circle, he cut mercilessly from left to right, bludgeoning the nord’s brow. the silver edge split the flimsy sinew of his cheek asunder, casting him down with a spatter of crimson and a guttural wail. drawing up to his full height, sevrend wrapped both palms about the handle of his blade and loomed over the wretched creature. for all his righteous cause and faith in the mercy of stendarr, the jarl could not deny the unbridled joy this moment gave him.

sevrend enjoyed killing.

the thief was ended. plunging his blade deep into the spine of the nord, sevrend jerked upwards, yanking his sword from the corpse and the hood from his face with the lurch of his body. even in these blackened hours of night he could see the fear in the lizardmen. smiling cruelly, the jarl swung his sword downwards, crashing its tip against the cobblestones underfoot with a deafening, intimidating clang. his reptilian adversaries faltered twofold, folding before his unspoken act of territoriality.

the beastly, animal part of them could hear the silent roar from the beastly, animal part of sevrend.

perhaps this is why the hidden threats of riften remain hidden. perhaps they know they are without the mettle to face down death.

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[MJOLL THE LIONESS .]

feeding the wolves, don't you know better

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background: #2e3233; width:300px; height:450px; padding:0px;] [style=width:250px; height:40px; font-family: times; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing:3px; background-color:#transparent;]WILL YOU KILL WHAT'S LEFT OF ME TO STOP THE BLEEDING?

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tagged: open words:

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the night was growing colder but the lioness kept her post outside of the bee and the barb, her blue eyes scanning the square like a hawk on a mouse. for the past week she had been at this post, every night trying to find some sort of answer to what had been going on within the ratways. or, even better, the chance to get her hands on one of those filthy sewer rats and interrogate them herself. it would lack any of the kindness that she usually showed to others around her. as intimidating as mjoll looked, she rarely ever acted on it, until it came down to situations that she felt were unjust.

wrapping her cloak tightly around her, she let out a heavy sigh, seeing the hot breath form in a could in front of her. skyrim was an amazing place in her mind, even throughout the blizzards and the corruption, she still found it be the most beautiful place in a tamriel. having been to both daggerfall, morrowind and hammerfell, she had plenty to compare to. most would disagree with her but mjoll stood by her beliefs and claimed them wrong. turning her head, she saw aerin walking towards his house, a place she would be retiring to, soon enough.

she had been lucky more than a handful of times, but never as lucky was she until aerin had saved her from the dwarven ruin. the young blond had been a fool, going into such a place by herself, nearly losing her life in the process. not only that, but she had managed to lose her favourite sword in the process. aerin had begged her not to go back, but mjoll was determined to do so, before her life was through.

the young blond's head jerked towards the market place as the sound of a clang caught her attention. grabbing the hilt of her battleaxe, which she had rested on it's head against the wall beside her, she lifted it, steadying it with the other hand as she started towards the noise. her cloak still wrapped around her with her hood still up, she knew it would hinder her view but she hoped that maybe it would keep her from visibility, especially at this time of night. as she made her way towards the market, she could already see something that looked like a limp, dead body on the ground and a lone person standing against anotehr two argonians. by the looks of things, the man seemed to fall victim to a band of thieves.

cautiously making her way towards the men, the lioness lifted her battleaxe, keeping it at a defensive stance before she came close enough to make a move. charging up behind the argonians, she let out a sound that most resembled a growl before she swung her axe and managed to catch one of the argonians in the neck. like butter, the blade cut through the reptile's neck before watching it fall to the ground. the other argonian looked at her with terror in his eyes before the hooded figure brought up their axe and let it fall with one swoop up top of the thief's head, slicing the head and chest in two. unlodging her axe from the dead weight, she let out a few heavy pants before she pulled her hood off her head and spat on the body that had now fallen to the ground, "serves you right..." she muttered before lifting her gaze to the man in front of her, "i would ask if you're alright, but..." hse looked down at the dead nord in front of him, "it seems you can take care of yourself."

notes: this is so horrible, i'm so sorry. ):

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convergence ---

[atrb=border, 0, true] 242 words | private – mjoll the lioness | mature content

[atrb=border,0,true] a crimson mess. it was over in a flurry of steel. the reptilian assailants cracked beneath her wrath, splitting open in a mess of ruby ichor. the sound that had torn from her throat as she charged... it had been as the voice of high hrothgar, cutting the air like the dragon-speech of legend. impressive. inspiring even. yet, also reason enough for pause. sevrend did not lower his blade as he rounded upon the ferocious newcomer. “i would ask also, but...” sevrend mimicked coolly, his stare suspicious and discerning. she wore neither the purple nor the crossed swords of the riften watch upon her person, and even if she did, her fury had been far too vengeful to be merely a matter of law enforcement. sevrend didn’t know what her motivations were, only that she fought as beasts do. she held either zealotry or a grudge in her heart. only one of those things was trustworthy. “thank you.” sevrend relented, his demeanour growing more welcoming as he knelt down to clean his blade, wiping the nord’s blood onto his own spoiled clothes before returning the renewed metal to its scabbard with a shick. “i am sevrend ire, jarl of hjaalmarch-“ he began as he rose again to his full height, gauging her reaction as he went. perhaps a declaration of title would illuminate her character, revealing some small insight into her reasoning. “-might i ask to whom i owe my life?” a platitude. the argonians had been without a chance.

[MJOLL THE LIONESS .]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,5,true][atrb=style, background-color: #d48d4d; width: 450px; padding: 5px, bTable][cs=3] YOU'RE FEEDING THE WOLVES

[atrb=style, width: 145px;][atrb=valign,top] SEVREND/ RIG THREE ONE NINE THIS IS SO SHORT, UGH! OUTFIT HERE

[atrb=style, width: 265px;][atrb=valign,top] having been in riften for so long, she knew how the locals dealt with thieves. they were ruthless. that was why mjoll felt no regret doing what she had done to the two poor argonian men now lying dead before her. it was assumed by her that the man in front of her thought her a cold blooded savage, but when she noticed the dead man before him (one of which she did not kill) she thought otherwise about him. his introduction was playful, a trait she didn't usually see in the rift, especially towards a stranger. it then became obvious that this man was no from the rift or anywhere near it. when he introduced himself, it was confirmed, "hjaalmarch? you are a long way from home, jarl. what brings you to the rift?" she asked, not phased by the fact that he was a jarl. of course, if it ws to phase her, it would be more the fact that he was breton. when he had asked for her introduction, she did a soft bow - may as well pay some respect, "i am mjoll the lioness." he stated as she reached back to her full height, "adventurer." she paused and shrugged, "well, ex-adventurer." she explained before looking him once over, "there are no guards about you - that seems odd for someone of your...status." she eyed him with suspicion. she was wary of outsiders, but not as wary as the very locals of riften itself. sad to say that the lioness was more comfortable with strangers than people in her own city. putting her axe down upon his blade head, she leaned on the handle. letting her guard down may not have been the smartest idea, but the lioness was confident the man in front of her meant her no harm. a downfall of hers was believing that every man had honor, there was a high possibility that this man did not.

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