Yeah, that's me. Choking the life out of a blue dragon in a frozen gorge in some random mountains. You may be wondering how I got into this peculiar situation. Well, it all started when I decided to take a 'shortcut' home and pay a visit to the Colleges Saarthal excavation…
-
Saarthal is the earliest known capital of Skyrim. Built by Ysgramor and his kin, it was sacked in the infamous 'Night of Tears', a night that would spell the end of the native Snow Elves and spark Ysgramors legend as the father of Nords. The Saarthal of today is a tomb, not much different from the Barrows I've explored and the current research expedition of the College. It's also a pile of frozen wet slush, making exploration impossible. I've come to see it for myself since Saarthal was the first real quest the College gave you and is close to the shortcut I want to take. The weather is unseasonably cold for summer, even this far north. The moment I scaled the top of the mountain path behind Winterhold, the cold slapped me so hard I fell down. The snow melt that was supposed to happen this time of year got caught halfway and refroze where it was melting. Worse yet, the snow melt from other places is leaking through and causing more problems for the mages trying to thaw the site out.
It seems the cold snap is a recent, localized event causing havoc with the dig site. While I feel some sympathy for my poor fellows, I'm more than grateful for the delay. As far as I'm concerned what's in Saarthal doesn't need to come out, ever. If I mess up with the Thieves Guild or the Companions, the world doesn't even come close to ending. What's down there in that tomb could possibly rewrite the rules of the universe. Actually, that might be useful for later, now that I think about it. I make a mental note and move on with my journey.
This is the unfun part of my trip back. Slipping on ice and hardened snow wasn't really my plan, and it's pretty obvious that if I kept on moving through this slush, I'd either be dead or worse, late. Luckily, I am a genius and will be neither, thanks to my enormous brain. I only need to make some good distance from the Saarthal excavation to enact my master plan. My master plan is to grow big and then use my significantly longer stride to walk faster, but I can't have everyone knowing that it's me stomping around. It's the downside to visiting Saarthal since I'm more likely to be identified by my fellows and have to travel the normal way for longer. A large giant bipedal anything roaming around Skyrim is bound to cause a stir, and I doubt everyone will be fooled by my Dwarven automaton ruse, so using less traveled paths is better. That and I won't accidentally squish innocent people by taking the main road.
An excavation is basically a hole in the ground, so it doesn't take too long before I can safely put on my armor and start growing. At first, it's a few inches, then a few feet, and then I finally reach my full magnificent height of… well, I don't really know exactly. I lack a method of measuring myself precisely but I did find a way to kind of guesstimate how large I am based on the footprints I leave behind. I stomp out a really well-defined print and then shrink back down to normal to compare it to other things I've seen. The last time I did it on the shore I surprised even myself. I could already sit inside my own footprint! Standing up it would be about the level of my tits. It's still not even half the size of that one massive giantess we saw earlier on the road to Karthspire, but that will change.
Navigating the refrozen snow melt is so much easier with my big metal boots crunching beyond the ice onto solid ground. It doesn't really feel like I'm moving any faster than usual, but I'm also not used to this perspective, so it's hard to tell. The Clairvoyance spell is invaluable right now; this size does nothing to help me see where I'm going. Skyrim is just that big in this new world, I've recently discovered there are plenty of smaller settlements the game never mentions. Hopefully, my new stature will open up some better paths, but I'm still hoping for some kind of trodden path to make it easier. Clairvoyance leads me down into a frozen crevasse that has me feeling claustrophobic enough to briefly consider shrinking down, but I push the feeling away and keep moving through the ice. The freak weather has refrozen the melting ice in strange patterns you normally wouldn't see, like water that's frozen upside down as the wind picked it up. Most of its pretty small or fragile, so I can keep on crashing through without issue.
Finally, the path starts to head up and out of the crevasse, and I breathe a sigh that instantly freezes back into my mouth. It's almost unbearably cold and windy here at the base of these mountains that frame Winterhold, or it did on the map. I know it's got winter in the name, but this is ridiculous. I haven't even started climbing yet, and already there is a gentle snowfall. There are loose rock formations of varying sizes, making it more difficult than the crevasse before. The snow is starting to hide them, making judging where I can maneuver with my new size even harder. It looks like snow and rainwater runs off down this path, which probably preserves the path better than the foot traffic. Eventually, I climb high enough that the loose rocks start to taper off, and I can see a couple of monuments in the distance. To my left, I can see the back of the head of a gigantic female statue in black stone, who I know to be Azura, Goddess of Twilight. It's big and high enough to be seen from the College, but this is the first time I could really make out some of the details. It's wider than I remember. She's not a Goddess in the traditional sense in Tamriel, but every bit as real. I don't really want anything to do with her right now, so I turn my attention to the second, closer monument.
It's a Word Wall, carved long ago into the mountainside. I can already hear it calling to me and I get a little too excited and accidentally smash through several rocky formations at my feet. Not enough to seriously hurt or stop me, but enough to trip me up and let everyone know I'm here with the noise. It looks like the earth here is more put together, allowing for complex natural structures like the stone arch I just banged my knee on. When I pull myself up to look at the Wall again, I realize there's a dragon statue on top of it. Its scales are deep stone and glacial blue, I admire it for a moment before I realize its eyes are a steely grey and looking at me, so not a statue. It lets out a roar the instant I move, and a moment later a snowstorm kicks up before the dragon takes to the skies, and our battle begins.
I pull out my Dwarven bow, won so many nights ago with Lydia, and aim at my foe. Immediately a problem emerges: this dragon is abnormally fast. Aiming at a flying dragon is tricky at the best of times, but now it seems almost impossible. Even when the beast hovers in one spot to deliver a full blast of ice breath, I can't seem to draw my bow back quick enough. The dragon doesn't really do any damage to me, at least nothing I can't heal through, so maybe it's traded strength for speed. This goes on for several minutes before I manage to adapt and draw in time to launch an arrow, throwing a Dwarven arrow the size of a small tree hurtling at the dragon's chest. It takes the hit like an overgrown bird, plummeting to the earth and I seize my chance like a two-story housecat. Pinning the speedy bastard down I start sucking size from him. It's not a fast process; I've not found a way to increase the speed of suck, so I spend the next thirty minutes wrestling the shrinking lizard while my Magicka recovers naturally. My time at the College my have made me a huge bitch but a broke bitch, so Magicka potions are for life-and-death situations right now, not when I'm comfortably got a dragon in a full nelson.
The dragon never does stop struggling, not even when I can close a fist around its neck after shrinking it down so much. I eventually get bored and just drag the beasty with me, carrying it like an angry chicken. I visit the Word Wall with dragon in hand. My size forces me to crouch down to read the script and learn the word for 'Ice' of all things. I feel my grip loosen, and when I look back at my hand, the dragon is just gone. I would be more concerned if the same thing hadn't happened to the horkers I preyed on earlier. Once something is small enough, relative to me, the spell seems to just take the rest and shrinks my victim into nothing. I have to be significantly bigger than my target, though, so it's not an instant win if I'm not significantly bigger than my opponent, and I'd imagine it won't work on certain all-powerful beings. I've grown quite a bit from the dragon, but there's no way to know by how much. The rock ground around here's not really soft enough to make a quick footprint.
Or that's what I thought. A few steps in, and I realize I'm making significant marks in the earth here. Shrinking down I visit one of my footprints for a quick comparison. I can almost lay down perfectly inside my own print. I would guess I'm roughly five and a half feet tall (168cm) at my natural height, and my feet when enlarged are almost as tall as people now when I've fully grown. There's a stiffness in my pants I didn't know I had becomes painful and reminds me I've got stuff to do other than worship myself. I haven't wasted too much time, though; growing back to full size is the time-consuming part but can be done on the move. Oddly enough, shrinking myself down is much faster, almost instant, if I aim for my original size. It's probably because I'm dispelling the magic but I'm not acquainted enough with magical theory to know just yet.
-
I'm in trouble. Not only did I return home malnourished, I couldn't even argue since I was starving pretty badly. Like stomach touching backbone bad. I really didn't eat at the College with survival in mind, and after the dragon fight, I started getting hunger pangs. I didn't stop to eat anything so I could make it back in one day (Food doesn't grow with me, so to eat I would have had to have stopped). I just didn't realize how calorie-intensive the fight was. That said, I did make incredible time; the only reason I didn't make it before noon was because Whiterun hold is flat and has nowhere to hide and shrink down, so I had to walk the last part of the journey normal sized. I did cram a quick meal at this point, but it only stopped me from passing out. This might be why Nords are so big on feasting.
Despite this, I've not got a lot of time before I have to return to the Thieves Guild, which is how I managed to skirt my fiance's wrath and convince them that we should go on a bug-catching picnic with Lucia. There's a place Lydia knows just outside the walls that has fantastic freshwater springs, and that's where we've set up a little nighttime picnic. Lucia is doing the lion's share of the catching, seeing as how I'm being stuffed to the gills. In the old world my physique would have been the stuff of legends, given my supple curves and shredded muscles, but when I returned, even poor Lucia was concerned I was starving. Granted, you could have eaten cereal with milk in my stomach cavity, but beauty is pain. It's a big wake-up call. I've got to be a lot more careful about my energy needs from now on; starvation seems to happen really quickly here. Luckily, all my future obligations can be met by carriage ride.
-
My obligations are bullshit. Not only did he cancel the Thalmor party infiltration scheme, but that bastard Guild Master Mercer also has me going anyway without any kind of plan. 'You got into Goldenglow, didn't you? I'm sure you'll manage just fine.' Hur ha hurrr. Fuckhead. I have half a mind to rip off a chunk of the embassy, bring it back and drop it on his head. Not that it would work on a slippery bastard like that, but it would make me feel better. After much carriage riding later, I'm sculking below the cliff that the Thalmor Embassy is built on; searching for the secret exit that should be here somewhere. You'd think a whole complex of elvish Nazis would be fair game for a heroic giantess to just smash up, but I know of at least two innocent NPCs that work there, and if I do the math now with this new reality that number is probably much higher. I'm not saying I'm not going to do it if I have to, but I am going to try the alternatives first. That and I don't want to risk me and my best trump card being put on the radar of one of the biggest intelligence apparatuses on the planet if I don't have to.
I nearly lose hope (Clairvoyance can't really help me find a nondescript cave) until I notice that one of the rocks is darker than usual and find a narrow slit into the cliffside. If I remember right a Frost Troll lives here, so I breathe a big sigh of relief when the cave opens up into a large space. Not enough for me to grow to full size, maybe, but big enough to bully the troll if he comes back. It looks like he's not here at the moment; nothing's tried to eat my face off, and it's lit well enough for me to see everything here. There are lots of bones but no bodies. The Thalmor dump their bodies here, which probably attracted the troll in the first place, but without something fresh to munch on it's either hunting right now or has simply moved on, I hope. I can see the place where the ladder extends from the trap door, on a high cliff overlooking the rest of the cave, conveniently troll-proof in its height. Or troll-resistant, going by the markings up the side.
I've actually got a nifty solution to the cliff problem, my own ladder! The single most broken thing about my growth spell isn't the raw incredible power or the ability to shrink my enemies to dust no, no, no. It's the fact that my inventory gets exponentially larger the bigger I become. Knowing your inventory limits in this world is more of a feeling than anything else in this world, so I had no way of knowing for sure how big its capacity is now but I've just been chucking anything that looks useful inside without issue. I don't want to get silly in case I need that capacity but I did take a small boulder at one point.
When I climb my ladder and then the inferior Thalmor ladder, I come across a new problem. The locks on the other side of the door, because of course it is. There's not even a mechanism to fiddle with, the padlocks on the other side. This is where the Skeleton Key Mercer stole would actually come in handy. The least of its powers is to open doors and locks, even impossible locks, which also makes the bastard almost impossible to trap. I, however, need to find a way to pry this door open like a peasant.
"Let's begin again." I hear a muffled voice say from above. I press my ear to the door to listen.
"Stop. Please. I don't know anything else. Don't you think I'd have told you already?" A desperate voice replies. I do a silent fist pump on the ladder. My target is still alive. Wasn't entirely sure that would be the case.
"Silence. You know the rules. Do not speak unless spoken to. Master Rulindil will ask the questions." A female voice chimes in, sounding very similar to Nirya.
"No…" The prisoner moans. "For pity's sake... I've already told you everything..."
"You know the rules~." The original voice says. It's male with that same lazy confidence that seems to suffuse Altmer speech. One of their Inquisitors, probably.
"Nooooo!!!" There's a thwack as a whip meets flesh. This goes on four more times, and then there's a pause with sharp, heavy breathing.
"Start at the beginning, as usual." The Inquisitor says. "If you persist in this stubbornness I'll have-"
"No, wait! I was just... catching my breath... why wouldn't I tell you again? I don't even know anything... There's an old man. He lives in Riften. He could be this Esbern you're looking for, but I don't know. He's old and seemed kind of crazy. That's all I know."
"And his name is...?" The Inquisitor questions.
"I don't know his name. Like I've already told you a hundred- Ahhh!" The prisoner is cut off by five more blows, this time duller and meatier in sound; a blunt instrument this time. There's another pause as the prisoner gasps pitifully, whistling as he wheezes.
"You know the rules. Just answer the questions. And where can we find this nameless old man?"
"Like I said, I don't know! I've seen him down in the Ratway! Maybe he lives down there, but I don't know for sure!" The prisoner says, chains rattling.
"That will be all for now. I must say I continue to be disappointed in your lack of cooperation. I hope next time you will do better." The Inquisitor says with a tone of feigned disappointment.
"What else do you want from me?" The prisoner cries. "I've told you everything. Listen, if you let me go I can take you to Riften, show you where-Ghaaa!!!"
"Silence, prisoner! You know the rules." The female chimes again, beating and whipping the poor man with less precision than before, striking him every few moments before eventually stopping. Then there's just the sound of the prisoners wheezing for a long time.
Well, that was horrible. Hopefully, they left him in enough pieces for me to rescue. The only question is how to get the door open. I could Shout it open, but that would make a lot of noise. I could also go giant and pop the door open, which would also make a lot of noise, but not as much. The problem is I'll have a fight on my hands no matter what. Thalmor guards are trained spell blades, and unless it's one-on-one, I'm not really confident in my ability to win outright. I'd also like to not be seen at all if possible. The Thalmor are the kind of Nazis that hire assassins to murder your family and you.
"Uraaaaah!"
The Frost Troll is back from its hunt. The three-eyed white gorilla thing bounces up and down as it violently strikes the earth at the indignity of my trespass in its lair. While I can't grow to my full height, I can get big enough to manhandle that man-eater, so I'm not overly concerned by his arrival. But that does give me an idea. A wonderfully awful idea. I start to grow, sliding off the cliff, landing a few feet taller, and climbing. The troll seems taken aback, if thats possible, but even when I fill the chamber, it still seems furious and ready to tear me apart, starting with my toes. That makes this next part easier.
I might have misjudged when I said I couldn't use my full size earlier. It turns out that in form-fitting Thieves Guild leathers, I can, but it's a tight squeeze in here. I trade aggravating my claustrophobia for the ability to grab the troll like an oversized action figure. He resists, of course, but after bashing his head against the wall a few times, he lulls into concussive compliance. Trolls have insane regeneration abilities, so anything short of killing it should be fine for what I have planned. Swiveling carefully in place, I take my left arm and prop my elbow on the cliff, placing two fingers against the trap door. Using the cliff as leverage, I pop the door open with as little force as possible, managing not to explode the plank of wood off its hinges. With any luck no one will have been staring at the door just now. I then take my dazed troll action figure and ram him through the hole. I didn't want to ram him, but he's a little bigger than the hole, so I improvised. Now, I wait.
"What the hell was that?!"
"Garuuuua!"
Bless the troll and its quick healing factor. I take advantage of my manufactured chaos and shrink down, popping an invisibility potion before following the troll up. The ladder is a little unsteady after my rough troll handling, but I manage the climb up. The troll is thrashing an overwhelmed Thalmor guard clad in standard golden armor to the right of the room by a stairwell. The prisoner cells are directly in front of me, with only one occupied. Creeping my way down, I try his cell door. It's locked, of course, so I start to work with my picks. My invisibility breaks, but I don't think the troll or the dying guard are going to notice. Any noise my picks are making are drowned out by the sounds of wet flesh. I open the door a few seconds later as slowly as possible. Apparently, rust and loud creaking sounds are integral parts of any prison door.
"What? Who…" the prisoner stirs through long greasy hair.
"Shut up." I whisper, unlocking the cuffs holding him to the wall. "And follow me."
He flops on the ground with a thump. I carefully peek my head out to see if the troll noticed anything, but he's happily munching away on the corpse tartar he just created. I retrieve a small health potion and pour it over the prisoner's body. He stirs but doesn't get up. Great. I grab him by his grimy rags and drag him to the hatch, hoping the troll won't notice. Then a door opens from above on the upper level.
"Arwen, you know I don't mind a little extra persuasion but remember to call me if- Arwen! Guards! Guards! There's a troll in the interrogation chamber!"
I nearly pissed myself. If he had been paying attention, he definitely would have noticed me. I fling the prisoner and then myself in the hole, immediately grabbing him to keep moving. I grow a few inches to make carrying him easier and free up my arm to cast Healing Hands while we move. He starts to stir just as we leave the cave.
"Hey… haven't I seen you around the Flagon? I never expected to see another Guildmate down here." He says, standing on his own, dirty blond locks falling to reveal a handsome, if bruised, face. "I'm Etienne, by the way. They grabbed me in the Ratway. Can you believe the nerve of these bastards. They need to be taught a lesson."
"You okay?"
"I'm good now. Thanks for springing me. I owe you. See you at the Flagon." He says, smiling.
"Wait, you're just leaving?" I ask incredulously.
"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Better than ever, thanks to you. I bet I'll even beat you to Riften." Etienne says, beaming despite his obvious abuse. He treks away with a final wave and disappears into the wilderness, wearing nothing but rags.
These people are just built different. Oh well, that should buy me some time to plot my beloved Guild Master's demise. I think I'll need to visit Mercer's old business partner and a certain meadery to celebrate the occasion.
-
I can't believe this. When Brynjolf brought this wench to the guild, I could feel a sudden shift in the wind. And at that moment, I knew she was my enemy. I've tried to throw every impossible job the Guilds ever had at her, but like a pest she somehow keeps coming back. Only this time she's trying to poison the water.
"Open the vault, Mercer." She says, arms crossed under her bust. A shame she has the best tits in the Guild. At least Brynjolf got that right.
"Have you lost your mind?" I growl. "Talk to me like that again, and watch what happens."
"What's gotten into you, lass? What's this about?" Brynjolf says, noticing the commotion she purposefully caused.
"He's been stealing from the guild. When's the last time you've seen the inside of the vault?" She replies.
"We don't open the vault. That's the point. You can't just throw out an accusation like that, especially at the Guild Master. You're lucky you're still breathing." Brynjolf replies.
"The proof is behind those doors. I'd wager every coin this guild paid me and double it if there's so much as a Septim in there." She says, all eyes on her.
"Fine." I relent. "Since you clearly don't value your life or your wealth, I'll gladly take both. Brynjolf, if you would."
"Aye." He nods obediently, heading to the vault. "I don't know what's gotten into that head of yours, lass. I think I misjudged you…. Done, now for your key… Mercer? Where did he go?"
I'm already gone. That witch called my bluff and worse, she drew a crowd, the last thing any thief wants. Even if I smoothed the situation over and dealt with her, the seeds of doubt she spread today would be impossible to snuff out for long. The smart move is to leave now with my spoils. I was hoping to squeeze a little more out of the Guild, but my time was coming to a close either way. I've even got a little project that will set me up for life before I leave Skyrim lined up after I leave. What really bothers me is how she figured it out. Her actions were too risky so it couldn't have been just a hunch. Was there something I missed? No, I was immaculate in covering my tracks. There's only one person out there who could know, but this plan is too boorish to belong to her. No, there's something else at play here. I just don't have time to figure out what it is.
"What's going on?"
"Did he run?"
"He betrayed us!"
Sorry old friends, but my prowess as a thief has far surpassed that of mortal men. I've already snuck out the door. I'll even be able to steal a drink from the Flaggon before… what in Oblivion… who put all these barrels here? A small mountain of barrels between me and my exit, perfectly wedged to block passage. I try to gingerly move one of them, and they're just as heavy as you'd expect. Honningbrew Mead, is that some kind of joke? Even the Key is useless here unless I wanted a drink. I have to retreat.
The secret side entrance is the only other option, although it will be obvious. No doubt that bitch expects me to take it when I realized she blocked the Ratway exit. Thing is, no one really seems to be paying attention to the ladder that leads out, not even her, which makes it even more suspicious. It could be a bluff, but it's worth investigating while I can still be invisible. Sneaking to the exit is easy, so all I need is a moment to climb it without being heard.
"Damn it! He's gone!" Brnyjolf exasperates. The others abandoned their search for me and looking to him for leadership. Perfect.
While they're regrouping and distracted, I can leave. The graveyard entrance makes a quiet but distinct noise when you use it, and I may need the extra time to deal with whatever trap… Alex I think her name was, has cooked up for me. I'll have to remember it for when I make a call to the Brotherhood. I make it up to the trap door and slip into the darkness of the space. Reaching out, I try for the pull lever but can't find anything. That's how she sabotaged me. Without it, the sarcophagus above won't move, and I'll supposedly be trapped here. I can't help but smile. For a minute I thought she knew about the Key, but it's clear that the barrel blockade was just luck. I give the stone just the slightest touch with the Skeleton Key and the sarcophagus pulls back like usual into the wall. Light hits my eyes as fresh air fills my lungs, my reward for being as amazing as I am. I walk out of the mausoleum, still invisible to all passersby, and begin to think of my next move. Then, something smacks me in the chest. An arrow, and its covered in a paralyzing poison I wager by how fast it dropped me.
"Finally, after all these years, I've hit my mark." A Dark Elf with purple, gem-like eyes steps from the shadows. Clad in black Thieves armor, she saunters up before stopping to look down at me, hand on an immense hip.
"Karliah…"
"Hello, Mercer."
-
Mercer was killed shortly after that, at my insistence. Many wanted to allow the paralysis poison to wear off so he could answer properly for his crimes, but I reminded everyone that though we had taken the Skeleton Key from him, his abilities were still greatly enhanced by his time with it. He could easily have escaped again, given the chance. I'm honestly surprised my plan worked at all. The mead barrel wall was easy since my inventory is huge now, but I had no way of knowing for sure if that would be enough to thwart the Key. The hard part was tracking Karliah since I had forgotten her exact location. Etienne gave up the name of her business partner, who was next to no help in finding her. I ended up checking some old College maps before traipsing through the melted tundra serval stories tall. It helped me find the place but as a result Karliah now knows my big secret. Not that I'd think she'd tell anyone, unduly at least. Not since I almost singlehandedly delivered her lover's (the previous Guildmaster) killer to justice. No, now I am to receive my just rewards if I don't fuck it up with my mouth.
"I call upon you, Lady Nocturnal, Queen of Murk and Empress of Shadow... hear my voice!"
The chamber swirls with darkness until it condenses into a singular large orb in the middle of the room, atop a large dias bearing the mark of the Nightingales. The dias connects to three smaller ones bearing the same mare atop which Karliah, Brynjolf, and I are each standing clad in the midnight black armor of the Nightingales. It's Batman levels of cool, hiding our features beneath a hood that even obscures our eyes, making them appear as polished onyx shining from underneath. It's even got a cape. The orb quivers, drawing my attention again. Inside the orb a purple light ebbs and flows in shadow. After a moment, a mature woman's otherworldly voice radiates from it.
"Ah, Karliah. I was wondering when I'd hear from you again. Lose something, did we?"
"My Lady, I've come before you to throw myself upon your mercy and to accept responsibility for my failure." Karliah says, kneeling.
"You're already mine, Karliah. Your terms were struck long ago. What could you possibly offer me now?"
"We already recovered the key. I also have one other that wishes to transact the Oath; to serve you both in life and in death." Karliah says, gesturing to Brynjolf.
"You surprise me, Karliah. This offer is definitely weighted in my favor. But what of the third standing there? The one, who I see holds my Key?"
"She is the one responsible for its recovery, your grace as well as bringing Mercer to justice. She wishes to negotiate her own terms, if you would allow such a thing." Karliah explains.
"That depends on what's being offered, little mortal. Can you offer me something more than your eternal soul? Don't bother using the Key as leverage; it belongs to me, and it will return eventually, one way or the other."
"I don't really care about the key; I can pick locks just fine on my own now." I say, honestly. "And I can offer something much better than just another eternal slave. Possibly better even the Key."
"And what's that mortal?"
"Eternal friendship."
"Is this some kind of joke that mortals tell?"
"How many thralls do you have? How many thralls do the other Princes have? I'd bet it's a limitless supply for each of you. But how many honest-to-goodness friends do you or any other Prince have? I'd wager that there are exponentially more thralls, making friends more valuable by default. And what better friend than a contractually obligated friend." I say, definitely sweating.
There's a long pause, during which the orb's light disappears into shadow before eventually reemerging.
"You amuse me, little mortal, and so I will consider your offer…. Karliah, your conditions are acceptable. You may proceed."
"Lady Nocturnal, Brynjolf and I accept your terms. We dedicate ourselves to you as both your avengers and your sentinels. We will honor our agreement in this life and the next until your conditions have been met."
"Very well. I name your initiate Nightingale and I restore your status to the same, Karliah. And in the future, I'd suggest you refrain from disappointing me again. As for the little mortal… our final negotiation will take place once you've returned the Key to the Twilight Sepulcher. I've given you Nightingale status temporarily to allow access to the sepulcher. Don't keep me waiting." She warns. With that, the shadow dissolves, leaving the three of us in silence.
After a few moments, we start to walk out of the chamber. As cool as this armor is I'm reminded of how form-fitting it is by the prominent posteriors of my compatriots. Brynjolf makes it work with a well-developed upper body, but he still looks caked up from behind. Karliah simply wouldn't fit through normal doors back on Earth, or any sneaky secret passage here, for that matter. I got to see what happens when she squeezes through a too-small door. Her ass is like a cat, for lack of a better comparison, able to squeeze and slide past things it shouldn't. It effortlessly slipped past the trap door through the secret entrance to the Guild and back out with no lube required.
"Well," She says. "I certainly never thought anyone capable of talking to Nocturnal like that, but I'm starting to think you may be capable of anything. Which is why Brynjolf has something to talk to you about."
"Karliah and I had a long discussion before you arrived at Nightingale Hall." He starts, pulling his arms up to his sides like he does whenever he has a sales pitch. "Thanks to your efforts, Mercer's treachery has been exposed. After we've dealt with this, all that remains is restoring the Guild to its full strength. As a result, we both feel that you have the potential of replacing Mercer as leader of the Thieves Guild."
"That's fine. Just understand that I'll be pretty hands-off. Like once or twice a month hands-off." I reply, expecting this. I really wanted to pawn the job off to someone else, but Mercer was just too aggressive from the get-go to find a replacement.
"That's fine by us. Honestly lass, you've shown enough leadership in the past week to last the Guild a lifetime. Leave the little details to us; just having you around every now and again will be enough." He says. I can't really see past the armor, but I can tell he's smiling. "You aren't really a thief at heart, are you? You're too heroic, ya know that? It's just as well; we can't all be total scoundrels."
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"Waaahhhh ha ha haaaaaa!!!" I scream, running down the ruined halls of the Twilight Sepulcher.
A small army of transparent Nightingales chase me, whispering all sorts of deathly curses as
I run. Invisibility potions apparently couldn't make up for my mediocre stealth in a temple full of the ghosts of the greatest thieves Skyrim has ever known. So I improvised. By flying blindly through the hallways, dodging ghosts, traps, and any dignity I had. Until I fall in a pit. Not deep enough to die from the fall but deep enough to lose consciousness when I land on my face for a moment. When I wake up, it's at the bottom of a long well, dark save for an iridescent circle on the floor that emits its own dim light. In the center is a small hexagon with a keyhole. I give the Skeleton Key one final look. It's a mishmash of key parts affixed to an overly large handle with a hand guard for some reason and glowing turquoise swirls reminiscent of seashells on the pommel. For all its confusion it could have at least had one skull motif on it somewhere. I don't really need it to be honest, not as much as I want Nocturnal's favor. I gladly insert it into the keyhole.
The hole swallows it to the hilt and then the ground erupts into the air like a stalagmite. The single point splits into three before spreading out to make room for something between them. A circular stone basin big enough to bathe in materializes in the space between the three points, a purple gloom filling the bowl as it settles. Before I have time to think, a massive figure emerges from the gloom, sliding out like a liquid before filling out her shape as a person. Her flesh is moon-pale; with robes are a night sky purple with swirling stars. Her ass is ludicrous. It fills the hot tub-sized basin with ease, with the three points cupping her impossible body. Each globe spills over the sides behind her, with her impressive thighs claiming the final third of the space, bare feet on the floor. Her bust is modest by comparison but still rivals those lap-filling bosoms at the college. Atop this mountain of flesh rides Nocturnal, who, minus the literal wagon, immediately reminds me of both Snow White and the Wicked Queen at the same time. Her eyes are the same onyx as the Nightingales, with no whites, framed by prominent cheekbones and luscious red lips that open to speak.
"My, my. What do we have here?" She says, voice filling the chamber unnaturally. "It's been a number of years since I've set foot on your world. Or perhaps it's been moments. One tends to lose track." She says, pausing. "So... once again the Key has been stolen, and a 'champion' returns it to the Sepulcher. Normally, this would be nothing more than a fulfillment of the Nightingale contract, but the 'champion' is a little different this time, isn't she?"
"I hope so. You're a lot hotter than I imagined." I blurt out; brain short-circuited from horny. My mods never did this before and I just wasn't prepared for a cartoon fantasy made flesh.
"Thank you. Now then, 'eternal friendship', was it? I was more than a little skeptical, but I've come to realize, little mortal, that you are not like the rest who would curry my favor, especially among those who would be Nightingales." She says as ravens land on her shoulders from… somewhere. "However, I will require more than simple friendship. I want a consort to call upon whenever I wish, within some reason, of course. In return, you shall carry my favor, little mortal, and become my Nightingale. What do you say to that?" She says, gesturing dramatically, causing her body to jiggle softly.
"Yeah, sure." I reply, still in a daze.
"Then I bid you to drink deeply from the Ebonmere, little mortal. For this is where an agent of Nocturnal is born. Our oath has been struck, the die has been cast and I will await you in the Evergloam." she says.
Nocturnal's body wobbles a moment before being melted back into the basin. The gloom spills from the basin into three small rivers before reaching and filling a doorway at the end of them. To my surprise, Karliah emerges from one of them, with her own door filling backside, seeming quite normal now by comparison. Her emergence pulls me from my booty-induced trance. After a moment, I realize I may have fucked up with the wording of my contract just a bit.
"What's a consort?" I ask her.