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 Posted: Thu Feb 06, 2014 9:22 am
The 𝓝ewborn 𝓝ightingale
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A 1x1 between Ebonmare and KittyKay_66
With Gallus' death, the Nightingales of Skyrim have been plunged into chaos. Karliah remains in mourning for her lost love, while Brynjolf consoles himself with mead over the loss of his best friend. But a Nightingale's work is never done, for a large group of thieves have chosen the most inconvenient of times to attempt a theft of the Skeleton Key. Brynjolf has received information that the thieves are lead by Altric D'lrge, a mage skilled in Conjuration, who wishes to use the Key to unlock otherworldly levels of magical prowess.
Down one Agent and missing another, Brynjolf finds himself left with little options. To ride to the Sepulcher alone would almost certainly mean failure, yet the one Nightingale in Skyrim is too stricken with grief to be of any help. Only one option remains, and the last Nightingale must set out to raise a new chick, before the wrath of Nocturnal falls upon them all.
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Posted: Thu Feb 06, 2014 9:51 am
  The Black Hand of Riftenxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxClothing :: Theme :: Voice
Damn.
The words drifting up to him from the paper weren't surprising in the least, and had actually be what he was expecting. There had been little hope to start with, of finding Karliah, even with his own resources and tracking skills, and he honestly didn't need his informant's letter to confirm it. The Dunmer wasn't an Agent of Nocturnal for nothing, and if Karliah had decided she didn't want to be found, then Karliah wouldn't be found, simple as that. But Karliah's abilities as a thief didn't change the fact that he needed her, right now, or they'd all be facing a very angry Daedric prince.
…Double damn.
Something suspiciously close to a headache was forming at his brow, and Brynjolf pinched the bridge of his nose to stave it off, and also give himself some time to think before he exited his room and had to interact with anyone. The familiar noises of swords clashing, arrows singing, and general merriment out in the Cistern were rather comforting to Brynjolf, and he continued leaning against the desk as he started down at the letter, trying to figure out what to do.
What could he do? Options.
Riding to the Sepulcher was, of course, the most obvious and prominent option, even if it meant ending in failure. He was a Nightingale, sworn to protect the shrines of Nocturnal throughout Skyrim. There was no question of whether or not he would go, it was simply a matter of when. Of course, he would feel damned more confident if his singular number was paired with another - or three.
Brynjolf felt that familiar jolt in his chest, that aching reminder that yes, Gallus was really gone, he was dead and gone and would never slink down that ladder again - but, he ruthlessly pushed aside the feeling, much as he had over the past few weeks. He would mourn later, but right now, he couldn't afford to go to pieces, like Karliah apparently had.
Which led back to the question of what to do. He had information on the thieves, could catch up to them before they made it too far into the Sepulcher…but only if he left soon. And with proper reinforcements. Could he take some members of the Guild? Unlikely - bringing non-Nightingales to the Twilight Sepulcher would undoubtedly raise Nocturnal's ire even more. Plus, as much as he consider the men and women milling outside his family, Brynjolf was not so stupid to believe all of them equal to the task of a Nightingale. Not to mention, the secrecy of the Order that was required.
That, then, left only one other viable solution, one Brynjolf had been planning on discussing with Karliah the moment news of Gallus' death had reached him.
Inducting a new Nightingale was undoubtedly the best choice, both to fill the Agent void left by Gallus, and to also sheer up the odds against the thieves. The question became, then - who to induct? Who was worthy of the task, and its magnitude? The answer came almost as immediately as the question, as it had anytime he had thought about it. There was, after all, only one in the guild that could be so worthy, who had proven herself through sheer will and ambition. Just about the only one he trusted with his life, too.
There could be no more wasted time, but he would have to approach…carefully. In an abrupt motion, Brynjolf swept up the letter and tossed it into the fireplace, before tightening his straps and striding out the door.
As expected, the usual people were milling around, either chatting with each other or training their weapon skills. Few glanced his way as Brynjolf walked through them, well used to his presence hovering over their lives, but today Brynjolf forwent his usual rounds and stops to other members. Instead, he headed straight to the desk near the treasury, eyes flitting over the woman standing behind it.
"There's been a problem, lass," Brynjolf stated bluntly, tone at its normal volume and composure. "Ferderick's flaked on our deal - says he's owed more than what we're paying him. He's camped out south of Riften with Maven's cargo." Brynjolf shook his head slightly, not having to fake the disgust creeping into his voice. "She's furious. Maven wants you and I to deal with him personally, lass - leave him a lesson he'll not be forgetting anytime soon."
╓──
║ Action : Talking to Dahlia.
║ Thoughts : Best get her out of here before I explain everything.
║ Location : The Cistern.
║ Company : Dahlia.
╙──────
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