2 Chapter II

The gray morning, as a trickle of sunlight managed to slip past his room. The bird chorus accompanied his morning, perched on the laundry pole outside. He opened the window and threw a wooden bowl at the shitty birds that disturb his morning.

The Dragonborn was never an early riser. He donned his armor and went outside, greeting Syr and the taciturn elf on the way. He couldn't make up on his mind seeing the elves here, they were basically a super beautiful human but with elongated ears instead, something like children would believe when they heard of a Breton, but sadly those excuses are just half-breed mutt. Likewise, he was pretty sure even Pelinal would hesitate if all the elves back home were anything like here.

There's also a lot kind of races here, but all are just human with animals' ears and tails attached behind them. Mara's pillowy tits, the gods here do really lack in imagination.

It's early morning, but the road was already jam-packed with a plethora of stalls, carriages, and weary adventurers. He mused Orario is perhaps an alternate version of the imperial city, he saw the map of the continent, and the dungeon was placed exactly in the middle like white gold tower. The anchor of the world.

Except that there's no imperial here, nor trace of a governing body. The only thing that resembles and kept the chaos contained is probably the guild. He'd heard empires and kingdom exists outside the wall, but he hasn't seen them yet. It's not that he was an Imperial supporter, but he was just curious what differences they had in contrast to his homeland.

He'd arrived in front of a building, gilded with white marble formed into pillars and intricate engraving in the wall. Many men and women strolled about inside and outside, weapons holstered, and armor polished. Adventurers' Guild.

Taking a step inside, he searched around for an empty desk, and saw that his usual guild cleric stood there waiting for a patron. He'd known in the span of two weeks that the half-elf have many suitors, but seeing her alone in this rush-hour is extraordinary weird. No kind of wolves would leave such tantalizing meat undisturbed.

"Ah, Luscius… good morning."

"Good morning, Eina. So I reckoned you have some jobs for me?"

Eina sighed and fixed her glass as thinking how many times she'd said this, "I told you again, but this is adventurer guild not freelance workhouse."

"What difference does it make? Goibnu booted me out yesterday when his familia member returned from expedition, so I need a new job soon. Fucking bastard didn't even look at me twice."

Granted, he didn't go beyond what required. He mostly helped tempering a finished blade, but not good or bad enough.

"No one will hire an adventurer without falna and a familia backing them up, Luscius. I can't allocate my time to sponsor you all day just to be rejected because you've no name. Seriously, I don't want to see you go through unsavory channel searching for a job, so I implore you to give a chance to search for a familia." The guild clerk said with finality in her tone. He saw the breasts were squished when she emphasizes her point by intertwining her hands.

His partly reasoning is the fact he was not sure what effect the falna would have on his soul. His sole desire to return to Tamriel is only to be reunited with Neisa, and otherwise she could be brought here, then he would be content. The familia contract could possibly sever whatever connection he had left with his homeland, however unlikely as he's the dragonborn.

Paranoia is the more apt description of his current predicament.

"I'll… think about it. So, any job for me?" He returned again.

"No." She replied sharply. Maybe he should've asked some random bum on the street instead, like he used to.

He groaned. "Fine. Give me a list of recruiting familia; preferably a goddess –kind and beautiful, maybe with a bit of meat on her…" Eina makes a disgusted expression as the list went on and on, "And oh importantly, she's just starting out with next to no member."

He knows what kind of dog shit a large familia went through –little to no privacy, spies, rowdy individuals, exclusive inner circle, and most dreadful thing of all… taxes. At least small familia makes a tight community… like the dark brotherhood… possibly not.

"I'm –… afraid, there's none like that. I can point you to several established familia if you would like?" There's one! There's one! But she'll spare Hestia from this absolute kind of man. "Huh?"

The Dragonborn had already left at the moment, she said there's none met his criteria. He was joking at the beginning, but ultimately thought that a familia with goddess would actually be nice change of pace.

Oh, well never mind then, he needed to do this the hard way he supposes.


"So, yer got no familia, are ye son? You think you can't fool me to get those ingredients for my potion? Get out!"

"Looking for a job, are we? How about you try to clean the sewage?"

"Can you cook? Huh, salted meat? I don't need them."

"Master Blacksmith pfft –hahahahaha! And I'm married to Hephaestus!"

"Oh no, you'll scare away a potential customer with that kind face of yours."

"Retrieving heirloom? As appreciative your offer is, I doubt the Dungeon or adventurers would leave them undisturbed for so long. So thank you."

Alright, this is harder than he thought. The Dragonborn wanted to bang his head against the pavement. How everyone could reject his offer of help! He even prided himself as the most famous Skyrim's chore boy.

He saw it -the dark alley; it was a tantalizing offer for the unsavory kind. The divines should understand. It can't be helped, right? No. Luscius shook his head. He's a better man. He rather dies starving than stealing from the honest folks.

"Is that?"

He found it on the ground. Obscured by the dust and fallen leafs. "A soul gem?" He believed the local called them monster stone or something. They were dropped from a fallen monster in the dungeon and then Adventurers would carry them upward, sold them to be consumed as some kind of power source similar to the one Dwemer uses to power up their cities.

It was incredibly tiny, roughly the same size as a petty soul gem –it fits around his thumb; A product of a very weak monster dwelling on the upper floor of the dungeon. He'd sneaked in to see what the fuss is about but could only find an endless corridor that would spawn all kind of monsters, which he didn't have much interest as he couldn't sell the monster gem without guild approval. He could use it to enchant a weapon, but the definition of a magic weapon in this land is different from his world. Might as well paint a giant mark behind his back as it's written, "Fuck me over!"

He needed a solid foundation and possibly allies he can rely on with before introducing such an item. Even if he would sell it to the black market, which he didn't know of here, there's a high chance they would rat him out once the big player makes a clamor. He is no gray-fox or gifted with illusion school, unfortunately other than maybe a simple muffle and chameleon. For now, he kept the stone inside his empty pouch.


Luscius quickly whipped his head as someone was running past him while yelling. It was a boy? Caked in blood and guts –whatever, he shook his head. Not important. Luscius thought as he continues onward.



Breton - the ra.pe child between elves and human

Mara - that one goddess with soft mommy milkers

Gray Fox - a famous line of noble thieves lasting to the end of the third era during the oblivion crisis, no one knew their identities or origin.

Pelinal - or otherwise known as Pelinal Whitestrake, is a demigod that lived in 1st era and what basically is a carbon copy of doom slayer but with sword and magic and shit (not helping Doom and TES were made by the same company), famously known for his hatred towards merkind or the elves. He appeared in Vigilant mod as a shard of his soul were trapped in Coldharbour requiring the Dragonborn to freed him with an epic boss battle accompanied by equally badass intro and music. Honestly, I couldn't wrap my mind why he would be there as a canon version of him manifested in the hero of kvatch's dream in the 4th game DLC when he set out to retrieve the nine crusader set piece. Hence, I thought maybe the one in coldharbour is a shard of his soul or memories or whatever trickery Molag Bal used to trap him there.

Dark brotherhood - an exclusive assassination club ran by a withering corpse, disembodied voices, and a jester.

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