It’s my current obsession now. I’ve got the whole story pretty well worked out now. Up to ‘chapter 7′ up now at http://bdfanfic.tumblr.com and I’ve also got a new artist doing my images. Anscer. I posted some of her work to the Prequel fanart booru, but I might as well post them here too. First, this is her first drawings of Porcupine-Dodger she drew as a practice to see if she could do it. She’s more an anime artist than furry/prequel.
And then this is the one she did for Dodger: Continuation (5). She’s going to do one for Continuation (7) as well, but it will have to be added later. (I’ve already written (8)!
I’m working on coloring it too, but I put it up in the story as-is till I get the coloring done. She’s got her own style, but I’d say it works pretty well!
Oh… did I mention Anscer’s my daughter? Don’t worry, she’s an adult. (No, don’t ask me how old I am. Old enough I should know better probably.)
Rather than clog up your feed with yet another of my ever-expanding Dodger fanfic posts, I’ll just make this a notice that it’s up. New character – the gal on the right here.
I’m probably going to add another image to the post tonight as I have a new artist who’s going to be helping me out occasionally. It’ll be interesting to see what her rendition of ‘anonymous fantasy dodger criminal’ looks like.
I think she’s just going to send me line art so I’ll probably color it
too. She’s been working on doing Dodger too. Her comment, “Dodger’s
really a chrome dome, isn’t she!”
(And yes, I know that was just Dodger’s imaginary representation of the criminal class. She’s just had one actually appear.)
http://bdfanfic.tumblr.com is where I’m posting them now. Probably best to go to the archive if you’re not up to date though.
She waited a moment, then put the key in the lock and opened the door. Yellow-Eyes was still on the bed but awake as she set the plates down and locked the door behind her.
“Everything okay?” he asked taking a plate.
“Yeah. A couple of guys tried to pick my pocket, but no problem. I didn’t have any money there anyway, thanks to you. Apparently there’s a Thieves Guild in this town!”
“Of course. Not uncommon in a city of this size.”
“They called you ‘Kem’.”
Yellow-Eyes didn’t even pause. Between mouthfuls, he grunted, “Yeah. They call me that here.”
“Which is your real name then?”
“Neither. Can you get me some water from the table?”
Dodger crossed to the table, filled a mug from a pitcher there, and brought it back.
“Well, what’s the plan? Are we going to see your friend?”
“No. She’ll come here.”
“She?”
Yellow-Eyes looked up. “Yes. She.”
“When?”
He resumed eating. “Don’t know. Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”
“So, we’re just going to stay here?”
“I am. You do whatever you want. Go see the city. Just watch yourself.”
Dodger sat on the floor cross-legged and dug into her dinner in earnest. Once she started eating, it was all she could do to keep from wolfing it all down at once. It was as if her body was reminded how long it had been since she’d last eaten – and how little it had been even then. It wasn’t till her plate had been picked clean that she looked up. Yellow-Eyes was watching her.
“You okay?” he asked.
Dodger wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “Fine. Sorry. I was pretty hungry I guess.”
“I guess!”
“Well, I think I’ll take a look around anyway. You’re really just going to stay here?”
Yellow-Eyes nodded.
“Okay. I guess I’ll see you later.”
“Two knocks, then two,” he said as she was walking out, though this time she looked both ways down the hallway before she turned back.
“Wait, we’re going to change the knocks every time? Why?”
“Someone might have heard you last time.”
“You’re paranoid. You know that, right?”
“Two knocks, then two more. I’ll keep the key and lock up behind you.” he said.
She tossed the key back to him, but he let it hit the floor without making any effort to catch it.
“Lazy too,” she said.
“Dodger. If you get in trouble, I won’t be looking for you. You need to know that. You’re on your own here. Be careful.”
“Alright DAD.”
“That’s the point. I’m not your dad. I’m an architect. I wish you well, Dodger, but I’m not even you’re guardian here. You don’t have a guardian.”
“Okay, okay. Got it. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
The hallway was still clear when she closed the door and by the time she got to the stairs at the end of it, she heard the latch turn. She went back down the stairs. In the public room, the place was getting busier. She took the plates to the end of the bar. Mr. Broad was talking to someone at the other end of the bar, but he noticed her and nodded so she set the plates down and walked out.
The stars were just coming out as she stepped into the cooling air. The streets, though far from deserted, were certainly less bustling than they had been earlier. Yellow-Eyes, a.k.a. Kem, a.k.a. who knows what had given her a fair idea of the city layout with the tower in the center. It did make it easier to navigate though.
But mostly she just watched the people. Such a variety of people. And not just the variation in races she had read about, but the sizes, ages, clothing styles. It was like the vines back in the Marsh – no two were exactly the same.
“No wonder humans think we all look the same. In comparison with them, I guess we do!” she thought. “Not many kids though. I wonder if they keep them indoors?”
She found herself back in the area with the graves. When she came near the one Yellow-Eyes had placed a rock on, she noticed it was gone. At least, if it was the same headstone. They were all so similar she might be wrong, but she didn’t see any rocks on the other nearby headstones either and she was fairly sure she was at the right place.
“Must be some sort of signal,” she thought. “He puts a rock up there and his friend notices, and comes to that inn as a pre-arranged meeting place. Gotta write that down.”
She sat and scribbled some notes about the two men and what they’d told her of the Guild as well as what she’d learned from Yellow-Eyes. The locking of the door and the code knocking she could use too. Even the nasty restroom could be handy. This trip was turning out to be a bounty of ideas!
When she’d finished her notes, she just sat back and watched the people go by. There were certainly Argonians as well as Orsimer occasionally, but they were still a minority compared to the humans with their swirly ears and their patchy hair. She began to notice patterns though. While there were exceptions, the males tended to keep their hair cropped short, while the females’ hair was usually longer and more elaborately kept. Also, the older the males were, the less hair they tended to have if they weren’t completely hairless.
Yet facial hair ran the opposite way. In fact, she finally decided that the females didn’t have facial hair at all! She saw not a single case in which a female sported any below the nose or under the mouth. That must go beyond style and be an actual physical trait.
She also noticed that the females tended to dress to emphasize their breasts, while the males wore loose fitting trousers as a way of de-emphasizing their own sex. She thought back to Yellow-Eyes and his comment about only needing a jacket. She saw no Argonians here without a full outfit though – minus the footwear. Humans may just see a crocodile in a jacket, but he really should have a full set of clothes. She decided to see if she could find him some pants.
Of course, she actually did have some coin. But she certainly didn’t keep it in her pockets like those cutpurse’s seemed to expect. Yellow-Eyes had seen to that long before they got to the city. The problem was going to be to find a clothing store with clothing for Argonians that would fit Yellow-Eyes. She stood up and began to wander around, now with an eye to finding such a store.
However, she began to realize that the storefronts were all closing down for the night. Only the taverns and brothels seemed to stay open much after dark here, so she gave up on that idea and came at last full-circle back to Luther’s. She climbed the stairs, having only elicited a couple of glances by the patrons and knocked the pattern. Within she heard the lock turn and the door opened. Yellow-Eyes was still alone.
“No friend?”
“Not yet.”
Dodger noticed the room had been rearranged somewhat in her absence. A new set of bedclothes had been arranged on the floor among other things. Yellow-Eyes sat atop those, leaving the bed empty for her. She sat down on it.
“You need clothes, Yellow-Eyes. No one walks around without pants here.”
“I’ll get some as soon as I can.”
“I was going to buy you some, but all the shops are closed after dark.”
Yellow-Eyes turned to look at her. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll make my own way.”
“I know. I wanted to,” Dodger said, laying down and turning to the wall.
“Well… thank’s Dodger,” she heard as she closed her eyes.
“No problem.”
She drifted off to sleep then, probably as happy as she could ever remember being. She was on an adventure for the first time in her life, and the next day would bring more adventures without a doubt.
Suddenly she was awoken by knocking. Three knocks, then one. She looked over at Yellow-Eyes, but he was already up, sword in hand and standing at the door. He signaled for her to be quiet, and she backed up away from the door with her feet pulled up.
Author’s note: I’ve decided to continue my fanfiction on a different blog. bdfanfic.tumblr.com. I’ll reblog to here from there for a while, but eventually I’ll stop putting fanfictions there at all and reserve it for other oddities. So, if you want to follow my fanfic stuff, be sure to add bdfanfic.tumblr.com blog to your… whatever it is. Here’s part 3 of Dodger: Continuation.
They resumed their journey in the bustling street. Eventually they came to a district full of what appeared to be graves. Yellow-Eyes stepped off the path and grabbed a small stone, setting it gingerly onto an otherwise unremarkable headstone.
“What’s that for?” Dodger asked, not able to resist the question.
“Never you mind. Let’s go.”
They returned the way they’d come and passed through to an area where she read “Elven Garden” above the gateway. Dodger was nearly ready to ask Yellow-Eyes where she might stop to use a bathroom when instead he stepped up to a building with a sign overhead that read “Luther Broad’s Boarding House”. Within, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light. Yellow-eyes was already speaking with a man she could only assume was Luther Broad in quiet tones. The man nodded and handed him a key.
“Come Dodger. We have a place to stay for the night.”
“Where’s the restroom?” she asked, and Yellow-Eyes gestured to a door to their right.
Once inside, she wished she had done her business outdoors. The stench was powerful, and there were two men there pissing into the same hole while another was just finishing up. As disgusting as the place was, she had to admit that she’d discovered a new fact about human anatomy she’d not known before. Her books had been quite unclear as to certain details. Looking at the stinking hole, she was at least gratified to see the other two were finishing up, and they left her in peace while she did her best to complete the task as sanitarily as she could manage while not gagging.
She saw Yellow-Eyes waiting for her by the stairs as she tried to adopt a non-nonchalant attitude.
“Sure, I piss in stinking shitholes all the time with other humans around,” she thought to herself. “No big deal, right?”
But as they entered their room, she let loose.
“Oh my god! Yellow-Eyes, that place was awful! How do you stand it? I’m going outside next time!”
“You’ll get used to it,” he said, laying down on the bed.
Dodger crossed to the meager window and tried to look out. “I doubt that very much.”
“Dodger, don’t piss outside unless you go all the way out of the city. It’s a crime and you could get put in jail. This place is full of laws you mustn’t cross.”
Dodger scratched at the window, hoping to clean through the dirt. She finally managed to get a bit of a view, but her window just looked out onto the next building so she turned back to Yellow-Eyes.
“Only one bed?”
“Dodger, I’m penniless. My friend will help us out, but I don’t want to push it. You can have the bed, just let me take a quick nap. I know the owner though, and he knows I’m good for the rent. And he knows you’re with me. Why don’t you go down and get us some food?”
“Good idea!” she nodded, suddenly feeling the emptiness of her belly.
As she stepped to the door, Yellow-Eyes caught her attention and tossed her the key.
“Lock it.”
“Nice place you’ve brought me to,” she said, catching the key.
“I brought you nowhere, young one. You came here of your own free will.”
“Good point. Okay, I’ll be back shortly.”
“When you come back, knock three times, then once before you open the door,” the Argonian said, closing his eyes.
“Jeeze,” she thought as she stepped out into the hall. “Is he paranoid or what?”
Suddenly she had a thought and looked around the hall. No one there, but she should start checking. Maybe he wasn’t paranoid.
“So, you’re with Kem?” the man she figured was Luther asked as she sat at the bar. It was still afternoon and there weren’t many patrons around.
“Kem?”
“Well, that’s what he calls himself here anyway. Why, what do you call him?”
“Mostly Sir.”
“A good girl, you. Sure, I’ll get you some food. Want anything while you wait?”
“A drink would be nice. Maybe some ale?”
“Ale huh? How old are you kid?”
“Seventeen,” she admitted.
“Yeah. About what I figured. Have some Root Beer.”
Dodger took a sip as Luther walked into a back room. “Not bad, really,” she thought. Somehow she had figured it would taste like the bathroom smelled. But mostly the public room smelled of humans, smoke and stale beer. She saw a couple of men looking at her, but decided it would be best to ignore them as much as she could. That worked for a minute, but then she saw them approaching from the corner of her eye.
“What’s a scaly girl like you doing in a place like this?” one of them asked. She was actually please to notice he didn’t slur his words.
“I’m traveling with a friend. Name’s Dodger. What’s your name?” she asked, standing up from the stool and holding out her hand in greeting.
“Oh! You speak the language well. Glad to meet you Dodger. I’m Falric and this is my brother Elric.”
Dodger was pleased to see her insight was right. Give a stranger your name and they’re not a stranger anymore. And hopefully they’ll be kind. She shook Elric’s hand.
“Are you travelers too?”
“Traveler? Oh no. We live here in the city,” Falric replied, resting his hand on her shoulder.
Suddenly she felt uncomfortable. Customs vary widely, but what she had learned of human custom indicated that physical touch is not normal among strangers. This man was getting a little too personal. She decided the direct approach might be best. She took his hand and pulled it away from her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Falric. I’m still not familiar with human customs well, but where I’m from we don’t touch like that. Really, I apologize. It’s just not comfortable for me.”
The man’s reaction was a relief.
“Oh. I see. Well I meant no offense. So where are you headed?” he continued.
She felt a rustle behind her and spun around to face Elric, catching his hand deftly.
“I don’t have any money. Sorry Elric,” she said, baring her teeth in what could have been a sweet smile, or could have been something more.
“Oh. Um… sorry Dodger. My brother… sticky fingers you know.” Falric said.
Dodger released the Elric’s hand, making sure he scraped his wrist on her talons first.
“Oh, I know all right.”
“Listen, Dodger. You seem like a girl with her head on straight. If you ever need a job…”
“If I need a job pick-pocketing travelers, I’ll look out for you two. Or I’ll just freelance.”
“Oh, you don’t want to do that, Missy,” Elric said, rubbing his wrist. “There’s a Guild you know. You’ll lose your hand or worse if you don’t join the Guild.”
“A Guild huh? Tell me about it Elric,” she said, putting her arm around his back and lead the two brothers back to a table nearby. “I’m very interested…”
A few minutes later the bartender returned with two covered plates. He stepped up to the table where the three were talking.
“Hey, what’s this? Dodger, you don’t want to hang around with these two!”
“Oh, it’s fine Mr. Broad. My friends here were just telling me all about a Guild I might be interested in joining.”
The owner’s eyes opened wide. “Oh? You?”
“You never know.”
“Best ask your friend Kem about that,” Mr. Broad warned, setting the plates down.
At that, the other two men’s eyes followed the same path. “Kem? Is he here? You’re with Kem?” Falric said, suddenly pulling back away from her.
“I… suppose so. Yeah. I’m with Kem. Why?”
The two stood up with alarm. “Listen, tell Kem we didn’t many anything by it. We were just… well, you know. Business!”
“Yeah, business!” said Elric as they walked as quickly as reasonably possible to the door. "Gotta go now. Nice to meet you Dodger!“
“Nice to meet…” Dodger was saying as the door closed behind them. “…you too.”
“One question,” Dodger said after they’d risen in the morning and resumed their trek to the Imperial City. “Why did you need my knife when you had that sword last night anyway?”
“Can’t throw a sword,” came the terse reply.
Dodger nodded to herself and they walked on in silence.
As they got nearer the city, the road became wider and Dodger began to see other people on the road. First came a farmer, driving a wagon loaded with just what she expected – corn and lots of it. She waved and called a greeting to the old man as he rumbled past, but he didn’t even slow down and Yellow-Eyes took her hand and led her off the road before he got too close.
“Are they all so friendly in the city?” she asked sarcastically.
Yellow-Eyes looked at her before replying, “Be grateful he didn’t run off the road to hit you. They don’t intend any disrespect, Dodger. Most of them don’t even see us as people. We might as well be the grass or the trees. You wouldn’t expect him to talk to a passing tree.”
“But, they’re not all like that. Right?”
“No. There are exceptions. It’s like those slavers yesterday. I think they really believe the bullshit they spouted. They had to muzzle me so they could imagine I couldn’t talk. Otherwise I’d shake their world view and they might even feel guilty about binding us all up as slaves.”
“But they had respect for that Briarbird guy.”
“They did indeed. On some level, I think humans see the elves as superior to themselves. High elves at least. It’s a sure bet the High Elves do.”
“He decimated them didn’t he?” Dodger laughed, kicking a rock down the road.
Yellow-Eyes didn’t respond.
“Well, technically he didn’t. Decimated would mean he killed a tenth of them. He killed ten-tenths of them. He deci-decimated them.”
Yellow-Eyes kept walking.
“You probably didn’t know that,” Dodger muttered.
Still nothing.
“It was supposed to be funny,” Dodger said to the ground as they topped a hill.
But when she looked up, she saw the city. “Oh… my… god!”
Yellow-Eyes took her hand to help keep her out of trouble as they approached the city, steering her this way and that to avoid the increasing traffic while her eyes were glued upward to the walls as much as the awesome spectacle of the White-Gold Tower that loomed larger than any tree she had ever seen, ever even imagined. In her experience, only mountains could rival it’s size. But this had been built by… someone anyway!
“Human’s can’t be all bad! Look at what they built!”
Yellow-Eyes didn’t even turn to look at her. “Bullshit. This was built by the Aldmer. Humans just took it over.”
“Oh. Well, anyway it’s so… BIG! Surely you must be impressed. Briarbird said you were an architect.”
They passed within the gates without incident.
Once inside, and away from the guards Dodger noticed, he said, “Not that kind of architect.”
Dodger pulled at his hand and he stepped aside out of the road.
“What do you mean, not that kind of architect? How many kinds are there?”
Yellow-Eyes looked around, then led them to a more secluded area, where he knelt before her.
“Dodger, I know you’re young…”
“Seventeen,” she reminded him.
“Seventeen. But do you really think the Imperials would send someone like Briarbird to find me if I was just a designer of buildings?”
“Well, I didn’t really think…”
“You need to start thinking, Dodger. This is no place for a dope who can’t put two-and-two together. Do you think my friend went through all that expense to find me just to have me draw up plans for some outhouse? An emergency office tower?”
Dodger began to pout. “You think I’m stupid.”
“No, Dodger. I don’t. I think you’re unusually smart in fact. But you need to use that brain. Especially here. I’m not kidding when I tell you ‘I’m not your nanny’. You’re going to have to take care of yourself, and that means keeping your eyes open and that brain of yours engaged. Now, you said you were a writer, so you know words. Let’s see if you can puzzle out just what kind of an architect I am.”
Dodger brightened when he said she was smart. So she thought about it.
“Well… no offense, but you look kinda rough. Those scars didn’t get there designing buildings I guess.”
“No, they didn’t.”
“And they said they found you with your tail caught in a printing press in a warehouse. That’s an odd situation for a building architect.”
“That was an odd situation for me. Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime. But the word… architect. What does it imply, other than buildings. What does an architect do?”
“He… um,” Dodger thought furiously. Yellow-Eyes was being unusually talkative. He wanted something from her. She needed to work this out. “He… makes plans.”
“Good. Yes. I make plans. But not plans for buildings. What kind of plans would someone want that are valuable enough to send an Imperial agent out for? An obviously highly qualified Imperial agent at that.”
“Something big. But not big like a building. Someone… wants you to make plans… for something big…”
Suddenly Dodger’s eyes grew very wide and she looked at the Argonian with newfound respect and something like awe.
“Something CRIMINAL!”
Yellow-Eyes nodded, closing his eyes in a sign of satisfaction.
“You’re a… mastermind!”
“Well. Sort of. I plan things. I don’t do them, but I plan them. I have a reputation among certain people of being very successful at it too. My friend wants me to plan something. I don’t know what yet, but he went through a lot of expense to get me here. If you’re going to tag along, I figure you should know what you’re getting yourself involved in. This isn’t some petty drug thing. It’s not even smuggling or slave running. It’s big, and likely political. It usually is with… my friend.”
“Is it dangerous?” Dodger asked, eyes practically sparkling.
“For me and you, if all goes well, no. For the field operatives, sure. But I just make plans.”
“You’ve been a ‘field operative’ though, haven’t you.”
Yellow-Eyes looked at her with more seriousness than she’d seen in him before. Normally he either just ignored her, or looked down on her like a child. This time he looked at her like an equal.
“Yes, Dodger. I have been. I got out of that though. It’s a bloody business and not one I recommend. But I owe my friend my life, so I come when asked. You don’t. I’ve already told you that you should go home. But you’re right. I can’t stop you. I can advise you though. Seriously advise you. Go home. If you get involved in this any more than you are right now, I don’t want to be responsible for any consequences. You’re making a very grown-up choice right now. It’s up to you, but staying with me is not wise.”
Dodger looked at the Argonian she called Yellow-Eyes. She noticed the little wrinkles around his eyes for the first time. The scar on his head looked deeper than she’d noticed too. He was certainly no young buck. His eyes had seen a lot. This was as serious as he knew how to get. He was trying his best to warn her off, but he didn’t understand that his warning had the opposite effect.
Dodger smiled back, a smile that was more mature than her years. “Thank you Yellow-Eyes. I know you’re being serious. But I also know what I’m doing. There’s nothing waiting for me back home. I need to get away. I’ll stay with you, if you’ll have me. For a little while.”
Yellow-Eyes stood up and sighed like an old man. “Mistake. But it’s your mistake Dodger. Always remember, it was your mistake. Deal?”
Dodger held out her hand and grabbed his. It felt at once strong and old at the same time. She shook it once firmly. “Deal.”
Her first inclination was just to return home. She was well aware of how close she had escaped slavery. Or worse. But the warmth of the drink and the relief of having escaped, along with the Argonian stranger’s words caused her to rethink that decision. Her fascination with humans in general was too deep to let his cynical words stand. And besides, if she returned now she might as well admit defeat. As weird as this day had turned out, she also realized she had learned practically nothing that she could use in her book.
“WAIT UP!” she called to the stranger and raced to catch up.
He looked at her askance. “Now hold on young one. I am no babysitter, and you have no business coming with me. Go home to your clutch. The Imperial City is no place for a hatchling like you. I’d thought you would have learned your lesson back there.”
Dodger stood defiant. “You can’t stop me. I’m going to the Imperial City with you or without you. We might as well travel together. I’m seventeen, I’ll have you know. I’m not a hatchling.”
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “But don’t expect me to be your nanny. You’re on your own when we get there. And here, give that bottle back. I don’t need a drunk hatchling…”
“Seventeen!”, she insisted.
“…drunk teenager then. I don’t need some drunk teenager staggering around slowing me down. Keep up or don’t. But you don’t need that.”
“Yes sir, Mr… what did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.”
“Well, what should I call you then?”
“You shouldn’t. But ‘Sir’ will do.”
Dodger groaned at that. This was going to be a long, boring walk.
“Well, I’m Kakar-Sutheeth,” she said, holding out her hand in the common human way of greeting. “And I’m glad to meet you.”
The stranger looked at her hand, a smile coming over his face.
“Shut up!” she said at his non-existent words. “Just call me Dodger.”
“Dodger it is then. A porcupine?”
“I said shut up about it,” she said, knowing a blush was stealing over her face against her will.
They did find a road before long, and the stranger seemed to know where he was and where he was going, so Dodger kept pace and tried not to ask too many questions until the sun began to set.
“Um… sir?”
“Yes Dodger?” he sighed as they climbed yet another hill.
“How far is it to the city? Will we get there tonight?”
“Not tonight, no. I’ll stop before nightfall. You can continue on if you like, but I’d advise against it. Unless a Legionnaire comes up behind us that wants to keep guard over you, it’s not safe at night.”
“Oh. Okay.”
They walked on for a while until he came to a stop as the sky began to darken. He pointed at last to an outcrop of rocks some way off the road. “There,” he stated.
Dodger followed dutifully, taking another drink from her water flask as she followed him.
“Do you have a knife?” he asked.
“Sure! Unlike you, I came prepared!” she said cheerfully as she dug around and produced the small blade.
“Hmph. Got any food in that pack of yours?”
“Well,” she stammered. “Not a lot. I’ve got some jerky left and a little green-leaf salad.”
“Prepared eh?” he said, looking at the knife in his hand. He looked at her again and the knife suddenly looked a lot bigger than she remembered.
“You can have it!” she said, proffering her pack whole.
“Oh relax hatchling. I’m not going to rob you. You stay here. I’ll be back in an hour or less.”
She watched his back fade into the darkness and settled in atop the rocks in a little cubby and picked at her salad. She decided that, as gruff as the stranger was, she was duty bound to offer him half anyway so she separated what she had. That crack about being prepared was stupid, she realized, and she hit herself on the head for having said it.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
But as time went on, she began to wonder if he was even going to come back. It had certainly been more than an hour and there was still no sign of him. She wouldn’t blame him if he’d abandoned her altogether. Eventually she pulled out her blanket and tried to sleep. But the breeze was cold, the blanket thin and small, and the rock was hard. She snuggled up to the rock behind her closer, the heat of the day still radiating from it a little.
She heard him return finally, whispering her name, “Dodger? Are you there?”
“Sir? Yes, I’m here.”
“Sorry, it took longer than I thought. I’ve a little food if you’re interested,” he said, climbing up to where she lay.
Dodger took one look at the raw mystery meat he offered and shook her head. “Thanks, Sir. I really appreciate it. But I’m good.”
He nodded in the darkness, her eyes able to pick out his silhouette against the night sky.
“I’d cook it if I could. I don’t eat raw meat as a habit. But a fire out here isn’t a good idea.”
“I saved you some salad,” she said, sitting up and offering it.
“Thank you, I’ll take it young one,” he said. “We’ll be in the city by midday tomorrow. My friend will put us up and feed us when we get there.”
“Oh! That would be wonderful!” she said, not hiding the delight in having a more formal plan for her future, if even just for another night. She offered him her water.
The stranger took the water bottle gratefully and drank a draft before handing it back with a grunt, then lay down with his back to her and his jacket over his shoulders. It didn’t even reach to his tail, she noticed, then looked to her own blanket. Too small but better than that.
“This is silly,” she said. “Sir, turn around.”
“Hmm?” he grunted, turning over.
She snuggled up against him, stuck her tail between his legs and put the blanket over them both, using his arm for a pillow and pulling his other arm over her.
“A human would be warmer,” he said.
“I’m sure they would,” she agreed. “But you’re all I’ve got tonight. Now don’t get fresh. Goodnight, Sir.”
“Yellow-Eyes,” he said a little later. “Call me Yellow-Eyes.”
“You don’t have yellow eyes, do you?”
“You don’t know?,” he asked.
“I’m color-blind,” Dodger admitted, a little ashamed. “I really don’t know.”
“No, they’re not yellow.” he answered, shifting a little and obviously not planning to explain further.
“SIR!” Dodger exclaimed at a sudden poke in her backside. “I SAID DON’T GET FRESH!”
Yellow-Eyes reached between them and handed her knife back to her.
Dodger laughed nervously and accepted the knife, noticing the handmade sheath of leaves he had created for it. “Oh. Heh. Sorry.”
Author’s note: Images blatantly and obviously edited from Kazerad’s original Evil Quill-Weave posts. I don’t think he’ll mind. I really like this one. And it’s almost not lewd! (almost). Thanks to the discord folks on UPD5 for providing me with the worst imaginable names for Evil Quill-Weave by the way!
“You need a name if you’re going to
be an arch-villain you know,” said the Faceless Mook. “You can’t just be some
nameless mystery villain.”
Quill-Weave sat back on her new
throne of skulls. Well, it was painted like skulls anyway. “I know, I know. But
it’s so hard to come up with a good name. Got any ideas?”
“How about Quill-Reave?”
Quill wrinkled her face in disgust.
“No. Lady something. Or maybe Mistress something.”
“Lady Quill-Reave?”
“Too close to my real name too. No,
it needs to bear some reflection on me though. Something unique.”
“Baddy Two-Tits?”
The wine spurted from her nose.
“Cute.”
“Mistress Cannonball Rack?”
“If possible, see if you can take
your mind out of my cleavage and think! Maybe something random…”
“Lady Kazerad”
“Don’t be ridiculous. What kind of
name is Kazerad?”
“A shitty one.”
“That’s the first thing you’ve said
that makes sense.”
“Um… Kill-Weave?”
Quill sighed. “I told you, it’s
hard! Let’s go with that for now. But I retain the option to change it later!
For now, Mistress Kill-Weave will do.”
“And I suppose I’m just supposed to
call you Mistress?”
“Of course! Like all good minions
do.”
Faceless Mook stood up from the
ebony (colored) table and stretched, “Well, Mistress, I’m going to call it a
day. The wife said I have to be home early today to help clean up the hovel.”
“You don’t tell her where you go
every day do you?
“Of course I do. Quill…”
“Mistress!”
“Sorry – Mistress, she’s my wife. I
tell her everything I do.”
“What do you tell her?”
“I tell her I’m going back to that
crazy Argonian’s tower.”
“And… she doesn’t mind?”
“Not when I bring back money every
day.”
“What if we were having an affair?
What about that?” Quill asked, rather insulted.
“If I was bringing back money every
day, she’d call me a gigolo. And then take the money.”
“You don’t tell her where my secret
lair is, do you?”
“Quill…”
“MISTRESS!”
“Mistress, everyone in the village
knows where your secret lair is.”
“They do?”
“They do.”
“Do they cower in fear?”
“Not… precisely. But the carpenter
did say nice things about you after you bought that chair from him.”
“Throne.”
“Sorry, ‘Throne’”
“Throne of Skulls.”
“Throne of Carved Skulls. Carved,
painted skulls.”
“Well dammit, where am I supposed to
get real skulls at anyway?”
“There’s always the graveyard.”
“EWWW! That’s just gross!”
“Sorry Mistress. But I gotta be
going.”
“Alright, but I expect to see you
bright and early tomorrow morning.”
“Noon.”
“Bright and early tomorrow at noon
then.”
“Goodnight Quill.”
“MISTRESS!!!”
“Goodnight Mistress,” said the Faceless Mook, as
he removed his Mook outfit and put on his regular clothes and walked out the
door, taking care to jiggle the handle so it latched properly.
“Well, every villain has to start
with what she has available,” the Mistress of Evil thought to herself. “Now, I
need to start thinking about the future. I have to do something Evil. What can
I do that’s Evil tonight? Hmmm…”
She rose from her throne and began
the ascent to her bedroom. As she rounded the circular stairs to the top of the
tower, she looked out the small arched window. “No, you peed out the window
last night. Besides, then I’d just have to clean it up again in the morning. Something
even more Evil than that…”
Eventually she gave up, removed her
Evil garb, and continued her writing. She found that her writing was inspired
by these monthly trips to her lair at least. It wasn’t till she had climbed
into bed that she finally got an idea. Suddenly she was wide awake. Those
stupid villagers. They were probably talking about the crazy Argonian lady even
now. That wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all! She had to inspire fear, and if
she couldn’t even get those rubes to fear her, what was the point?
But now she had a plan. It would
have to wait until they were all asleep, but then she would strike!
She heard the bats flying in and out
of the attic above her. Mooky had wanted to clear them out, but she knew
better. They were atmosphere. The
dungeon was even better. The manacles were a bit pricey, and they hadn’t a
speck of nice authentic rust on them yet, but they were necessary. She’d
considered buying a rack, but those things were damnably expensive! The
carpenter could make a fake one she guessed.
Finally the candle had burned low
and she estimated it must be after midnight. She smiled a toothy grin that
would have made an alligator proud and donned her villain outfit again. She
only got her tail stuck once this time and felt she was getting better at it.
Then she took the remains of her candle and crept down the stairs, pausing
momentarily to get what she needed.
Then she slunk out into the cool
night air. Before she’d gotten halfway to the village, she realized it was too
cool. A breeze was coming up as a storm approached. Suddenly a bolt of
lightning flashed in the distance and the slow rolling rumble of thunder
swelled.
“That’s more like it,” she thought.
“This is a night for Evil. Tonight, Mistress Kill-Weave will strike fear into
the hearts of those who would mock her! Crazy Argonian indeed! I’ll show them
Crazy!”
The moonlight disappeared as the
racing clouds covered it just as she neared the outskirts of the village. Just
as she’d hoped, the lights were all out and not a sound was heard, but for a
dog yapping from some far-away hut.
Suddenly she realized something.
“What if they have a dog?” As she approached the door of the nearest hut she
looked around her for signs of any pet. Her worries were dispelled when she saw
the yellow eyes of a black cat watching her. “No, no dogs here!” she realized.
As if in assurance, the cat padded over to her and stroked itself against her
leg. For a moment she wondered if cats could breathe underwater, but banished
the thought as irrelevant and unproductive. Instead, she slid from shadow to
shadow until she was at the door. She tried the latch.
“Unlocked. Of course. The innocent
peons,” she laughed to herself. Soon they would lock their doors and bolt their
windows every night now that Mistress Kill-Weave was near! The door
opened directly into the kitchen, and was as silent as she was. It took only a
little time to find what she was looking for.
When she emerged, the storm was
growing stronger and threatening to unleash it’s fury any minute as flash after
flash of lightning guided her back to her lair as if by her own dark lord’s
will. The howl of the wind was now growing and she laughed out loud, knowing
the scene of chaos that would present itself in the morning. The laugh, lost on
the wind, was the perfect cackle of an Evil Overlord.
Still, she thought, damn but these
leggings are thin. The wind raced
right up her dress and sent a shiver over her that was at once thrilling and
damned embarrassing. Maybe she shouldn’t have worn the Evil Outfit after all.
Suddenly something slapped her hard
in the face as the wind caught hold of her dress in earnest and blew the front
of it smack into her snout. She pushed it away, and used her tail to hold the
back side down.
And then the rain started. It went
from dry to monsoon in less than a second. As she staggered towards the tower
through the woods, she realized her high-heels were no longer appropriate in
the rain. She would definitely need to get boots. She removed her shoes, then
realized that she would ruin her leggings if she tried walking in them. Those
things weren’t cheap either. She wondered momentarily if leather was okay to
get wet, but decided it was pointless now. She did what was necessary and
removed the leggings and tucked them under one arm as her other tried in vain
to keep the front of her dress down with her free hand.
She was no longer feeling a thrill
at having a breeze blow up her dress. Now she just felt cold, wet and naked.
Miserable. She recalled Mae’s admonition, “Be
that woman.” Well, that woman wouldn’t be in this mess. But she saw the
tower close ahead and at least she was almost safe within its walls at last,
where she could dry off and try and salvage some dignity. At least no one had
seen her.
But something had seen her. Suddenly
she saw two glowing yellow eyes. The cat. It was hissing as it bounded towards
her. She tried to avoid it before she stepped on it, but it let out a yowl as
she tripped over it and she fell headlong into the mud just in front of the
tower door. The leggings were buried in mud. Slime and muck dripped from her
forehead as she raised her head to look at the door she’d almost reached, and
some of the water that flowed down her cheeks was not rain.
She staggered up again, now filthy
as well as wet and reached the door. The latch wouldn’t budge. She pounded on
the door, but the latch diligently did its duty and stayed latched. She slid
down and cried. Only a merciful God could explain why the door gave way when
she was at her most wretched, but open it did and she crawled in.
Eventually her tears dried up. She
peeled herself out of the dress, found a towel and dried herself off. Then she
half-walked and half crawled up the stairs to her room and wriggled into bed. A
few tears found their way out that apparently she’d saved up when she thought
of the beautiful outfit she’d surely ruined.
When she awoke, an afternoon sun was
shining through the window. A fresh set of clothes was waiting on the nearby
table that she stared at uncomprehendingly for a while. Then she realized she
was laying across the bed in her normal posture upon awakening, her upper body
slung over the edge. She felt oddly breezy too.
Then she remembered the night’s
disaster and realized she was still naked. Somebody had been in here and put
those clothes out for her. She closed her eyes and fought to make circumstances
different by sheer willpower. It didn’t work. She got out of bed and put on the
clothes and went downstairs.
“Good afternoon, Mistress!” the
Faceless Mook said in greeting.
She wasn’t sure if the man could see
the blush on her face. “Good afternoon Mooky. I suppose that was you who left
the clothes?”
“Sure was Miss Nipless! I saw your
outfit by the door when I came in too. Took ‘em to my wife. Look here. Good as
new!”
Suddenly Quill-Weave’s attitude
brightened considerably. She took the proffered clothes and held them up. They
were as advertised. Even the leggings showed no sign of the previous night’s
disaster.
“Oh, Mooky! THANK YOU!” Quill said,
tears of joy running down her cheeks as she gave him a hug fit for another
Argonian.
“Aww, wasn’t nothing. My wife did
most of the work. She’s a wizard with laundry. You should meet her sometime.”
“I will! I will!”
“We figured you got stuck out in
that storm last night. It was an awful storm. You must have been soaked.”
“Oh I was. But I made it back.
Eventually.”
"Well, all’s well that ends
well. Now, come and sit down. The wife made you something special for your
troubles.”
The cake on the table looked like it
was made by an angel. Quill walked over to it, her eyes wide and sparkling.
“For me?”
“Of course it’s for you! Here, I’ve
cut you a slice already. Say, what were you doing out there anyway last night?”
“I… well… I was doing something…
evil.”
“Oh! What did you do? Kill some
innocent animal or something?”
“No. I started thinking about what
you said. About the villagers. That business about the crazy Argonian lady. I
took my revenge!”
Suddenly the face on the Faceless
Mook became worried.
“Really? You’re first real Evil
Deed? What did you do?”
“Mooky, I did the most evil thing
imaginable. I sneaked into someone’s house and…”
“Yes? What did you DO
Mistress?!”
“I… replaced their sugar with….
SALT!” she said with an evil grin as she stuffed a big bite of cake into her
mouth.
After two full glasses of water, she
was able to talk again. But she didn’t say anything. She just sat on her skull
throne, sobbing miserably. She didn’t even see Faceless Mook take the cake away
and throw it into the trash bin. He left quietly after that, deciding that she
probably wanted to be left alone.
Author’s note: After working on that Evil Quill-Weave picture, I got inspired to write another fanfic. Not sure if/when I’ll continue it, but here it is. It seems inane to post the same image again, so instead I’ll post an image of my Evil Quill-Weave mod from Skyrim that I use as a Avatar sometimes. The rest is, alas, a wall of text.
The idea had been fermenting in her for months. ‘Foment’ might be the better
word choice, she realized, but with the added implication of alcohol
involvement it seemed more appropriate. It was during her travels doing
research on the doomstones that it had truly moved from fanciful thought
process to a more concrete notion. A rumor had come to her of an undocumented
doomstone deep in the forests south of the Corbolo River. Since a known
doomstone, the Shadow Stone, was in the region anyway it made sense to travel
there.
Of course she had gotten lost, but in a very real sense, that was kind of
the goal. She’d hired a retainer to act as her guide and, though practically
mute, he seemed competent enough. Then they came across a site she’d not
expected. It was a tower, long abandoned but still serviceable, hidden deep
within the forest and apparently completely forgotten. Upon her return from her
travels, she hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. It was her secret, she decided.
Well, her and that retainer. But she’d paid him well to keep quiet, not that he
apparently knew any other way, the faceless Mook. She didn’t even tell her
lover, Castia, and that was saying something.
However, it was Castia that really was the impetus that began Quill-Weave’s
descent into evil. Of course, she’d long been fascinated with the criminal
element of society, yet they never measured up to her imagination. Inevitably,
when you got right down to it, the criminal mind was one of two types. One was
usually a decent enough chap who was pushed into law-breaking by circumstances
beyond his control, then realized he liked it. As long as you didn’t cross him
or threaten to expose him, he was likely to be a nice guy really.
Then there were the crazies. Sociopathic nutjobs who would do whatever they
felt like, at any time, to anyone. Those were the dangerous types and she tried
to spot them quickly and then head the other way. But even they were… random.
They weren’t like the characters in her books, who were always scheming up some
nefarious plot or another. The sociopaths were just nutjobs who had no filter
for any whim that blew across their mind. That’s not really evil. It’s more
like they’re just animals who never developed higher civilized brain function.
Those types she didn’t like though, and on more than one occasion she let slip
a clue or two for the Legion.
Okay, maybe “clue” would be too subtle. She practically handed them notes
saying “So and so did this. Here’s proof. Arrest him.” The Legion wasn’t known
for its deep cunning or wit.
But an author knows more than most how deep words can cut. Being called a
stick-in-the-mud would have been a trivial offense to most. But Quill-Weave was
particularly susceptible to its deeper implications. She had spent years
writing her series on the lowlifes of Cyrodil, and some of those ‘lowlifes’ had
become pretty damned ‘high’ in the political world in that time. She was more
than a little aware of just how bourgeois her own life had become, and in the
back of her mind she resented it. So it only took a little spark to set her
off.
She sat up in bed suddenly one night, realizing what she had to do. She had
to become that which she had sought for all her life. She had to become Evil
Incarnate. Her search for it in the criminal classes had been fruitless. It
didn’t exist. But she was an author. She knew what it must look like and how it
must act. And she had enough resources now to make it reality. So she took a
special trip to the Imperial City to visit a tailor she knew who worked in
specialty products that only certain trades would have a need for.
In front it appeared to be just another shop marketing trinkets and small
leather goods and watched over by an equally nondescript Khajiit. She recognized
Quill-Weave when the author entered. A quick exchange and Quill was led through
a door in the back, then climbed down a hidden trap door to an underground room
of illicit and undeniably erotic fabrics, most of which would require a leap of
imagination to call them clothing.
“So, the great author returns to this one’s humble shop eh? Another story of
prostitution perhaps you are working on?”
“Cut the Khajiit-talk Mae. I’m here as a customer this time, pure and
simple. I need something… special.”
“Alright, alright. I get so used to it I sometimes forget who I’m talking
to. So, what are you looking for? Something lacy maybe? I’ve got this great new
design for a G-string that can even handle an Argonian tail. Here, take a
look!”
Quill-Weave took the pink undergarment with disdain, but then looked at it
more closely. Try as she might, she couldn’t figure out how the damned thing
was supposed to work.
Mae took it back from her with a look of disgust. “You really have no
experience at all, do you Quill? This is where the tail goes… here. Then this
wraps around the front.”
“But then that part is what goes over your… you? But it’s not big enough to
cover…”
“Not meant to cover it, silly lizard.”
“But then why would you eve…”
“Oh forget it. What are you looking for?”
“I need something in leather. Black leather.”
“Oh! I didn’t figure you for the S&M type! Top or bottom?”
“Huh? Well, I need both a top and a bottom I guess.”
The Khajiit rolled her eyes. “Newbie eh? No Quill, that refers to if you are
the Dominant or the Submissive. Master or Slave?”
“Oh! Well then… Master. Definitively Master.”
“Come this way. How do you feel about studs?”
“I’m not into men, Mae.”
“Jeeze, no Quill. I mean metal studs. I’ve got a wide variety. Spikey,
black, chrome. Here, take a look at this rack.”
“Mae, I might like women, but that doesn’t mean I want to see your tits!”
Quill responded to a blank-faced Mae.
“So that’s how it is eh?” the Khajiit finally responded when Quill let the
smile creep over her face.
“Hey, you started it!”
“You’re okay Quill, but puns are evil,” the little Khajiit laughed, handing
her an odd crotch-less pair of pants.
“Um… no Mae. I’m going more for a Master Villain look. Less sex, more severe.”
Though she tried on some very, very interesting outfits, in the end Quill
wasn’t satisfied with any of them. None were quite right for the villain she
was planning to become, though she did purchase a couple cute ones anyway just
to have on hand should the need arise.
“Well, that’s all we’ve got that will fit an Argonian. I’m afraid we’re
going to have to go Custom. Let’s go into my office and see if we can come up
with something more like what you have in mind.”
Some minutes later, Quill was watching Mae do sketch after sketch as they
both made adjustments.
“Now, about the bodice, do you see it as open or closed?”
Quill looked down at her chest. “I’ve not got much in that department. I
guess closed.”
Mae noticed the inherent disappointment in the Argonian’s tone. “Nonsense
Quill. Stand up.”
She did as she was bid while the Khajiit boldly grabbed her under her tits
and lifted them up and pushed them together. She squeaked.
“There, now what do you see?”
“I see a cat squeezing my boobs together. Without my permission I might
point out!”
“Oh, lighten up Quill. I’m going to have to take measurements in a little
bit, and I get need to get very accurate around your tail region. No,
Quill, that’s cleavage and plenty of it.”
“But it’s not real. You’re just squeezing my boobs together.”
“Honey, that’s all cleavage is. And I can design it so you look like a
double-D.”
“Will it be comfortable, being squeezed like that?”
“Hell no. You’re a Dominatrix remember. You’re not supposed to be
comfortable.”
“Oh… yeah. Well then, open if you can make me look like that!”
The Khajiit hastily drew an open bodice.
“More… evil,” Quill commented but a growing smile on her face.
Mae drew what looked almost like horns on the sides, but lowering the bodice
even more to their sides.
“Thats… daring!” Quill said, though her wide eyes showed her approval. “My
nipples won’t show?”
“Darling, you’re an Argonian. You have the distinct advantage of not having
any nipples to worry about! Rock that advantage!”
“You’re right. Let’s go for it! Now, about the dress. I feel like it’s
missing something.”
“Yes… You’ll be practically exposed up top. It’s too conservative below. How
about a slit up the side?”
They both looked at the sketch for a minute.
“No, not enough,” Mae admitted. “Two slits. WAAAY up.”
Quill’s smile became more pronounced. “I’ll never be able to wear any
underwear with that.”
“Ah, but I’ve got just the thing for that. Transparent colored leggings
underneath. It’s my latest design.”
“Do it Mae. How long?”
“I’ll have it done in a week. Cash up front of course. You can take those
other two outfits with you. If you’re going to buy this, they’re on the house.
Now, it’s time for measuring. Quill, don’t be shy and let me do my work here.
Humans have it easy with just two legs to worry about. Even Khajiits have
smallish tails that don’t require a lot of precision. But you Argonians have a
massive tail that must be accommodated precisely. I need to know it’s movements
from full up to down flat to full left and full right if I’m to do a proper
job. So, off with the clothes and lift your tail as high as it goes…”
An hour later, Quill felt like she’d just finished a workout with her lover.
“You sure you don’t want to measure my depth? It seems like the only measurement you haven’t taken.” she quipped
as she pulled her skirt on.
“Don’t laugh,” Mae said while scribbling some numbers on a note pad. “I’ve
had to do that before. Sorta. I’ve done some very VERY unusual work. But
no, I’ve got everything I need now. Of course, I get paid for doing what I do,
and paid handsomely. This isn’t going to be cheap.”
She passed a number to Quill.
An eyebrow was raised.
“The other two outfits are free,” the little tailor reminded Quill, her tail
swishing from side to side in anticipation of a sale.
“What’s this line item? Rubies?!”
“I have an idea. Trust me.”
“After what you just put me through, I should marry you! Go ahead. But don’t
expect a tip!”
“What I just put you through was my tip, my dear. See you in a week!”
By the time the week was out, Quill-Weave had worked up something of a
lather in anticipation. No arch-villain worth his salt could go without the
appropriate outfit after all, and the one she and Mae had worked up was right
up there with her own imagination.
At the sight of her, Mae smiled an enigmatic smile and led her down again.
“Oh, I think you’ll like it. Come, try it on!”
A sparkle of red caught her eye. “What’s this?”
“Just try it on. You’ll see.”
Quill looked around for a dressing room before she caught the disdainful eye
of the tailor.
“Just exactly which part of you were you trying to hide from me?”
“Well…”
“Quill, if you’re going to wear this, you need to BE this. The woman who
wears this dress isn’t going to be looking for a dressing room. She’s going to
look for a whip. Be that woman, or you’ll never fit the dress.”
Quill closed her eyes. When she reopened them, she smiled in a way that
almost looked like a different person. She felt different. She had her
old clothes off in an instant, kicking them aside as if kicking away her old
life. Then she pulled the snug leather over herself. She needed a little help
getting her tail in properly, but otherwise it fit like it was tailor-made for
her, which of course it was.
The look on Mae’s face told her all she needed to know, but she submitted to
be led to a full-length mirror anyway.
“Now, put on these leggings,” Mae said, handing her some very sheer, very
stretchable cloth in a shocking purple color.
“Mae. This is really transparent. I told you, this wasn’t for sex!”
“Darling, everything’s for sex.”
"But… it’s very… breezy. I may not have nipples but I’ve got…”
“BE that woman Quill! The woman that wears this doesn’t give a fuck about
modesty. She wears her modesty in her attitude. If a breeze exposes her, she
will wield such disdain for any who would dare to glance at her they would
melt! You are untouchable. You are…”
“Evil Incarnate!” Quill finished for her and Mae smiled back.
“Yes, that’s it. You are no longer Quill-Weave, you are Evil Incarnate. And
Evil Incarnate doesn’t wear frilly panties.”
Quill took another look in the mirror, her eyes sinking to a sultry glare.
The face that stared back at her was not that of the author whose livelihood
came from telling of the exploits of others. This was the face of the person
that Did Things. She bared her fangs and they shone in flickering underground
light. When she looked back at Mae, the little Khajiit backed off reflexively.
“O… okay Quill. That’s enough.”
Quill stepped towards the tailor silently, menacingly until their breasts
touched and her gleaming teeth reflected in the Khajiit’s wide eyes, frightened
eyes. An involuntary shiver ran through Mae that even Quill could see.
“I like the red skull,” she whispered.
“Please, Quill. You’re scaring me.”
Quill turned around and took off the leggings.
“Sorry Mae,” she laughed. “I had to try it out properly.”
“Heh. Yeah. You’re very good at roleplaying. This is for roleplaying,
right?”
“Sure. Roleplaying. That’s what it’s for. Now, please help me get my tail
out of this. Will I need someone to help me with it every time?”
“Oh no. Here, let me show you. If you just stick your tail in first like
this, the rest is easy. Yes, like that. You’ve got it now.”
“So, what about the skull?”
“Oh, I felt it needed a pop of color. Ruby red. I’ll have you know I looked
all over the city for these and no one had anything even close to matching. I
ended up buying them from some strange guy outside the city. Weird guy. Would
you believe, he wore a lit candle on his shoulder! But he had the perfect
stones. I embedded them into the gloves, belt and these optional gauntlets too.
And the skull just fit so perfectly, I didn’t have to touch a thing! Crazy
cheap too.”
Quill spun back to face her again, her eyes flashing.
The Khajiit’s eyes grew wide again. “I… I meant to tell you I was going to
refund some. Here, you can have this back. I’m sorry Quill, but, well, you know
how it is, right? Business is business!”
“Don’t fuck with me Mae. You’re the best at this work. You deserve your pay.
But don’t fuck me over or you’ll regret it,” Quill said with a menace to her
voice that seemed to come of its own accord. Still, the thrill of that cowering
look in the little tailor’s eyes was intoxicating.
All the long ride back home, she kept the package on her lap protectively
while it kept her warm over the miles, seeming to generate its own heat that
went straight to her core. The look in the tailor’s eyes kept coming back to
her. For the first time in her life, Quill had seen real fear – fear of her –
in someone else’s eyes. She felt at once both ashamed and thrilled by it – the
thrill seeming to reach deep into her core and to fill a space she barely knew
existed. Something both primal, physical and essential.
She couldn’t wait to get back home, lock the doors, shutter the windows and
try it on again.
There was a bit of a discussion on the Prequel Fanart booru when I suggested I don’t think I’ve good at coloring. There might be some false modesty in there, but then again I look at some stuff and realize I really do kinda suck still. But I decided to work my ass off on one and see how far I could take it – given my current skill set. I decided to work on a simple one from Kaz:
Even this isn’t unmutilated. I added her right-breast curve and a slight nipple bump there because dammit, if I’m going to be working on this for like 3 hours, I’m gonna have my nips! And of course, this is after significant scan cleanup work.
After flat colors the real fun began. I ended up with 15 active layers on this! First, I thought it would be fun to add actual leather textures and scale textures. In the end, they’re probably not really visible, but they’re there anyway:
3 levels of shading there and I went nuts in highlighting:
If it seems like I spent an inordinate amount of time on her breasts, congratulations! You win the booby prize! Is truth. And I don’t normally do highlights on the skin too. It may be too much but I like it and that’s what matters right? I added this background:
It wasn’t till I’d uploaded (a nipless version) to the Fanart Booru that I realized what I’d created. This is Evil Quill Weave doing a standup comedian routine and angry because someone is heckling her. At least, that’s what it looks like to me! I should have added a mic stand, but I’ve spent enough time on a silly throwaway Kaz sketch. If you like it, GREAT! But I know this is the best I can do given my current abilities.
I still don’t think I’m very good at coloring – but I think, given enough time, effort and inspiration, I’m okay.
First, I’m up to 92 watchers. Wow! I should do something special when I hit 100 I guess! Someone suggested I should stream my coloring jobs. I dunno, I don’t think I’m being falsely modest when I say I’m really not that good. I mean, really – have you SEEN what some people can do? But hey, I’m also enough of an egotist to maybe give it a shot.
I watched a couple FurNut streams a while back and he’s got the cutest cat using FaceRig ever. Great idea. They’ve got a dragon too, but it’s not a CUTE dragon. Still, I might have to give that a shot.
Here’s my dilemma. I got a bunch of sketches from Kaz when I was up there, but I’ve already done all the ones I’m really interested in. Here’s what I’ve got. (I’d clean up the scans a lot before coloring though. No idea why they have that green tint, but I’d turn them to black-and-white first anyway)
Kaz can’t draw anything without them being cute. But meh… Neither inspire me much.
KInda a little intrigued by the pizza one. But… eh…
Now Evil Quill Weave is ALWAYS going to be near the top of my list. The only negative with this one is, I don’t know what the context is! If I do any of them, this is the most likely.
Or this one. I do like doing Quill I must admit.
Wow. That’s a REALLY bad pun Kaz! Like… hopelessly bad. (There’s a guy on the streams that goes by Robbyn I think that’s what this is referencing.)
This is the only one that’s an actual commission! I recall I was trying to be as non-lewd as possible and asked for Katia with a nice butterfly. A good take on it as only Kaz can do! But again, it doesn’t really inspire me much, and it’s such a pain to clean up scans and color I really gotta be inspired. I think I’ve colored every one of the actual commissions I’ve ever gotten, but…
Anyway, not really asking for suggestions here. More I just like putting every chicken-scratch Kaz does online because they’re always fun to look at anyway even if I don’t color them.
bdprequel 