Rick2Tails uploaded a sketch by Kandlin ( http://kandlin.tumblr.com/ ) of Quill-Weave in a bikini with pie. Specifically:
Now granted it’s just a sketch, but I wanted to color it anyway and I don’t think Kandlin would mind. I know Rick wouldn’t because I asked him first!.
So here it is.
It’s getting more rare that I can post things here in bdprequel blog that aren’t nsfw and are Prequel related, that I’m glad to have something new to post
This is something Kazerad drew for Rick2Tails quite some time ago. I was looking for something to color since I’d not done any of those for awhile and thought this was awfully cute. Porcupine-Dodger peeking at a Rick2Tails sketchbook apparently (though I thought it was a Elder-scrolls version of the Kama Sutra. On second thought, there’s probably not a heck of a lot of difference.)
First task, darken up the lines and flat colors:
…throw in a background and shading…
Then I shiny-ed her up a lot to make her looks more sweaty, and of course the standard eye-highlights. So final version came out like this:
Sorry, this is a bit of a long-form story compared to the others. But I was afraid I was getting too predictable. I thought about breaking it up but decided to leave it as a single massive post. I did get an image commissioned for it by Ciderward, though I’ve not colored it yet. You’ll see it down there.
“Oh no,” Quill shook her head. “In fact, once I got over the embarassment, it actually turned out quite well.”
Mae was sitting at her work space in the hidden ‘exotic’ area below her stall in the Imperial City, working on replacing the ruby stones from Quill-Weave’s Evil outfit while Quill sat nearby, telling the tailor about her latest exploit with it.
“How on earth can that be? You were parading around their fall festival bonfire completely naked for all they knew!”
“And carrying a Jack-O-Lantern don’t forget.” the Argonian laughed. “I was holed up in my tower for days after that, too embarrassed to go out. But Mooky’s wife came by after he’d told her the whole sorry tale. She had explained it to the rest of the town and they actually want me to do it again next year!”
“Really?”
“Well, after they put the kids to bed and with some matching underwear for modesty.”
“They must really like you Quill!”
Quill-Weave restrained the instinctive correction of ‘Mistress’. Mae certainly knew her as both. “They do, I think. I guess I’ve brought a little notoriety to their little town. Of course, that wasn’t exactly what I was going for originally.”
“Still, having an Incarnation of Evil living nearby must bring in some tourist dollars.”
Quill laughed and rummaged through her bag, pulling out a little wooden figurine. “Look Mae! This is what one of the shops is selling now!”
Mae took the figure and looked it over before handing it back. “Nice replica! Though really, the boobs are a bit much don’t you think? I mean, even disregarding the size, there’s a couple of points there that you don’t have at all!”
Quill put it back in her bag, snickering. “Well, you mammals have your little fetishes. Besides, a little enhancement is good for the myth, and I owe it all to your and your cleavage magic. Plus it helps me go incognito when I need to. I’m all for it!”
“Well, here you go,” the little tailor said, standing and handing her the revised outfit. “Nice normal rubies this time. I even got a local jeweler to do the skull.”
Quill held the outfit up. It looked identical to her eyes. “Thank you Mae! I know these must have cost you something extra. I don’t want you to go broke replacing them!”
The little cat waved her offer away, “Nonsense. For the right purpose, those enchanted stones will bring a lot more than normal rubies.”
Quill looked at her darkly.
“Hey! Business is business.” Mae said defensively.
“Oh, I guess it’s okay. You’ve got to make a profit after all. Thanks a lot Mae. But now I’ve got another request for you…”
…………………………
She rode back to Anvil with two packages tucked away. As much as she would like to have stayed in her Evil Tower of Doom, she had to get her writing back to her publisher. Her monthly sabbaticals were doing wonders for her writing, even if so far they had led to nothing but embarrassment personally. She’d even gotten inspiration for a new book, “Life in the Sticks”.
The days at her home in Anvil passed slowly though, and she glanced at the calendar every morning as the day of her next sabbatical approached. It finally arrived and she took the first coach heading towards her destination, hopping off midway since there were no actual stops near the village. Mooky was there waiting for her as usual.
“Good trip?” he asked.
“Oh, it was fine.”
“Let me carry those,” he offered as they walked down the path into the woods where her Tower lay.
“Thanks! So, anything interesting happen while I was away?”
“Oh, the usual things that happen out here I guess. My sister is pregnant again. Farmer Brown’s cow got loose and we had a dickens of a time trying to rope it. Your tower was burnt to the ground. Fox got into our hen house again the other night.”
Quill nodded then stopped. “Hold on, what was that last one again?”
“Fox… hen house?”
“No, before that.”
“Oh. I thought you might mean that one. Your tower was burnt to the ground. A bunch of do-gooders came down from Cheydinhal. Said they were purging the countryside of evil and they’d caught wind of our Mistress of Evil. Yup, came and leveled the place. Not so much as a ‘by your leave’ either.”
The rain started to fall as Quill-Weave sat on the ground hard. “But… My tower!” she cried.
Mooky sat down beside her. “I know. A damned shame too. I guess you probably won’t be needing me anymore.”
Quill looked at him with tears in her eyes. The Faceless Mook patted her on the back. “Now Mistress, it’s just an abandoned tower.”
She turned to him with real anger in her eyes, “but it WASN’T abandoned! It was MY tower!”
He nodded in agreement, “A real shame. Want to see it?”
Quill rose and nodded, and Mooky led the way into the deep woods to the clearing where the tower had stood. Now it was a pile of rubble.
“How do you burn stone anyway?” Mooky asked to no one in particular while Quill poked around, prying a charred fake skull loose from cold cinders that was all that was left of her throne of skulls. Tears streaked her face as she held it up.
“Come on to our hut, Mistress. The wife has made up the spare room for you for the night.”
Quill allowed herself to be led away from the ruin.
……………………
The Argonian that stepped inside the little hut on the outskirts of the village that Mooky called home was not the Quill-Weave that had hopped off the wagon earlier that day. She was, in every aspect, a broken woman. The big lady that was Mooky’s wife welcomed her into the modest dwelling graciously, but Quill-Weave wasn’t paying much attention. She had met the woman some weeks back and was quite fond of her, though she would have described the housewife as ‘bombastic’. But along with her larger-than-life demeanor, she was a genuinely caring lady and kept her home tidy and respectable. And if she browbeat Mooky every once in a while, he still had genuine affection for her. Quill could see why he’d taken to her.
But now she was seeing none of that. In the few months since she’d taken on the role of Mistress of Evil, she’d really come to enjoy these trips as the highlight of her life. But now it was over and she’d have to go back to her old life without this spark of intrigue.
“It’s not fair!” she said as Mrs. Mooky sat her down on the ratty couch. “They can’t just go burning down people’s Evil Towers of Doom like that! Where’s the justice?”
Mrs. Mooky sat down beside her, handing her a cup of coffee. “Well dearie, you are supposed to be the Mistress of Evil after all. You shouldn’t be too upset.”
“Damn if I shouldn’t! I may be the Mistress of Evil, but that doesn’t mean I’m bad! I’ve committed no crimes or anything! Well, not serious ones anyway. But they just come and burn down my house?”
“There there. This life is hard, I know.”
Quill-Weave looked up into the big woman’s eyes. “Oh Mrs. Mooky. And I’d bought you an Evil Outfit too. I was going to ask you to be my sidekick.”
Suddenly a change came over Mrs. Mooky. “Sidekick? Me? Oh Mistress, you shouldn’t have! Can I see it?”
Quill-Weave sniffled and motioned to a package Mooky had left on the table.
Mrs. Mooky opened it up and unfolded the garment. Dark brown leather glistened and metallic edging shone around the ample chest-piece. Her eyes went wide at the scandalous cutout.
“Oh my! Quill, you had this made for me?!”
Quill-Weave nodded, adding a half-hearted “Mistress of Evil” correction between sniffles. Not that it mattered anymore.
“I’ve got to try this on! Excuse me Mistress. I’ll be right back!” she said excitedly and fairly ran down the hallway to change.
“That was a very nice thing you did, Mistress. I haven’t seen her this excited in years.”
“Well, she’s been kind to me Mooky. I had to do something for her.”
Later, a door opened and something came striding up the hallway, something large and dark. Quill was especially happy to see that she had put brown mascara around her eyes as well to accentuate the dark leather mask that covered her eyes. To call her a large woman was, perhaps, a bit misleading. Standing over six feet tall and quite broad, she was nonetheless not fat at all. Years of working with livestock and running a small rural homestead had kept her quite fit in fact. Now her bosomy physique was made plain. She was a vision. She was larger-than-life. She was… Evil Woman! Somewhere a clavinet played a staccato measure and in the back of her head and Quill started humming a tune.
“Clarisse?” Mooky said hesitantly.
Quill-Weave rose from the couch, a big grin on her face and temporarily forgetting her loss. “Nonsense! This isn’t your Clarisse, Mooky. This is EVIL WOMAN!”
Somewhere in the background a clavinet played again.
“Oh!” said Mrs. Mooky from behind the mask. “I wasn’t sure what the ‘EW’ meant.”
“I considered ‘Evil Girl’, but frankly you’re quite obviously no girl.”
Mooky nodded his agreement enthusiastically.
“Mrs. Mooky, you really rock that outfit!” Quill responded. “Though my guess at your bust size may have been too conservative.”
“You think so?” she replied, crossing to a little mirror nearby. "What do you think Hon?“
The Faceless Mook was speechless for a minute. "Um… don’t you think the cleavage is a bit… much? It’s practically bursting out. I can almost see your…”
“I know! Isn’t it great?” Evil Woman responded happily and turned to Quill-Weave. “Besides, it’s nice thick leather. It can’t break!”
“Well, you are certainly impressive,” Quill-Weave added, remembering the tower. “Too bad we won’t get a chance to use it now. It would have been a lot of fun having a sidekick.”
Suddenly Mrs. Mooky stood up straight, her back arched proudly and even Quill-Weave was beginning to lose faith in the leather straps that held the breast-piece in place. “Nonsense! Mooky, get the Mayor and tell him to convene a town meeting. We’ve got things to discuss! I think it’s time we deal with those vigilantes. They’re in the next village over, looking for witches. Well they’re going to get more than they bargained for. They won’t soon forget the Mistress of Evil and Evil Woman!”
Then she seemed to return from a fantasy world and looked at her husband. “But, can you help me out of this first? It was a bitch to get those straps tied up by myself.”
Mooky nodded happily, running his hands over curved leather on his wife. “Of course!”
“Oh! Hon! Umm… Never mind the Mayor for now. Mistress, will you excuse us for a little bit?”
Quill-Weave nodded and left the two to their hut and strolled out into the village proper.
………………………….
Later Quill was dressed in her Evil garb and was sitting at a large table inside what passed for the town hall. The fact that it was normally occupied by a few cows and horses and smelled as such didn’t seem to bother the townspeople who had gathered there with her though. Mrs. Mooky, dressed again in her humble housewife clothes now, was speaking.
“And furthermore, I think we need to call for the Imperial Legion to do something! We can’t have some random people wandering the countryside looking for trouble.”
The Mayor was a portly, balding man with a hint of grey still visible at his temples. While the village was barely more than a hundred souls, he obviously took his position as lead council member seriously though. “Now now Clarisse, they may have done some damage to this fine lady’s Tower of Doom, but you have to consider their motives too.”
“Motives, schmotives,” said a new voice. When Quill turned to look, she saw it was the shopkeeper who had sold her the toy Mistress.
“Mayor, ever since the Fall Festival this town has been booming. Why, my profits last week were more than I made all last year on Nekked Mistress figurines alone! Pumpkin sales went through the roof too. I’m having to import pumpkins from all the neighboring farms to keep up with demand!”
The Mayor looked concerned. “Yes, but the Imperial Legion? Surely we can handle this ourselves and keep them out of it.” He turned to Quill, “and Mistress, we all know and love you around here you know, but the Imperial Legion wouldn’t take kindly to your particular style. The Knights of Stendarr have moved on now, and are the next village over’s problem aren’t they? Let them handle it.”
“Mayor,” the owner of the local inn spoke up. “Maybe you don’t realize it, but since the Tower was razed my rooms have gone empty. Word has gotten around that our Mistress of Evil has been run off. No one’s coming to visit anymore. I’m back to just serving Herbert the Drunk again.”
A Bard nodded agreement, “And I’ll have to move on. Herbert doesn’t tip me!”
“AND,” Mrs. Mooky interjected, interrupting them all with her booming voice, “…all this lost money means lost taxes too you know.”
Quill looked back to the Mayor. He had suddenly become a lot more interested.
“Point taken,” he said, his face changing to one of concern. “But what do you propose?”
This time Mrs. Mooky had no comeback. Quill looked to the others, but they were just grumbling among themselves.
“And that’s the crux of the matter, Clarisse. If we don’t call out the Imperial Legion, what can we do? They mean well, they’re just a bit radical in their approach. And I’m none too sure if the Legion will side with us.”
“Gentlemen,” Quill-Weave said, speaking up. “And ladies,” she corrected herself before continuing, “I think this calls for the Mistress to wreak her revenge. I think, if you give me a little time, I can scare them off for good. But I will need your support.”
“What do you have in mind?” the Mayor asked uncertainly. “Nothing really evil, right?”
“I’ve got some ideas, but I don’t think you want to know about them. Not officially anyway. Just let me have free reign for a few days and I’ll see what I can do.”
The townspeople murmured, but the shopkeeper spoke up. “If the Mistress of Evil were to do something… substantial, it would surely bring interest back to the village!”
That seemed to sway them. Even the Mayor got on-board since he would not officially know anything about it.
“I’m a little worried about your term ‘free reign’, Mistress. But as long as it’s nothing too outlandish, I think we’re all agreed. Do what you can and we’ll help if possible.”
Quill looked to Mooky and Mrs. Mooky. Of course she knew their real names by now, but somehow it didn’t seem appropriate to call them anything else. “Can I stay with you for a few more days? I will need some time to come up with a plan, but if the Mistress of Evil has to go, I’d at least like her to go out with a bang and not a whimper.”
Mooky looked at Mrs. Mooky who smiled warmly at Quill. “Of course you can. Anything we can do, we’ll be happy to. For an Incarnation of Evil, you’re quite a good neighbor!”
“If a little nuts,” the Mayor added, but he was beaming a genuine smile.
Quill looked around her. All the villagers were looking at her and nodded their agreement. She gulped, “Well, I’ll do my best!” she promised.
As the meeting broke up, Quill found herself torn. She felt sure she should be upset that all her attempts to become a real Mistress of Evil had instead resulted in her being turned into the town nut case. Yet somehow she couldn’t muster up the emotion to be upset. With Mrs. Mooky holding her hand as they walked back to her hut, something decidedly NOT evil was washing over her. She liked these people, despite their conviction that she was as crazy as a loon. Still, they saw her as THEIR crazy loon, and that made her feel warm inside.
The zealots that had caused her to lose her place with them must pay for that.
……………………………
The next day Quill was racking her brain trying to come up with a plan. Calling themselves the Knights of Stendarr, nonetheless there were only five of them, so it wasn’t like they were a big group. The small cult of Stendarr and had taken it upon themselves to rid the countryside of all evil forces they came across. Yet for all her imagination, she simply could not think of a good plan until the next morning. She awoke from sleeping on Mooky’s couch with the plan firm in her brain, as if someone had planted it there. But she needed gold.
She explained her plan to Mrs. Mooky who, true to her socializing nature, came up with a plan to hold a bake sale. Quill found herself helping Mrs. Mooky bake cookies and cupcakes that afternoon while Mooky himself spread the word around town. Though Quill protested, Mrs. Mooky insisted that she wear her Mistress of Evil outfit.
“Oh you have to wear it Mistress! It’ll bring so much more interest!” she said as they were putting the baked goods into little containers for sale.
“But… I’m going to be selling cookies! The Incarnation of Evil can’t be seen selling cookies!!!”
“Sure you can. It’s just the townsfolk. They know you anyway. Come on, you’ve gotta wear it.”
Quill got an idea. “I’ll wear mine if you’ll wear yours!”
That caused Mrs. Mooky to pause for a minute, but then she smiled. “I’ll DO it! The Mistress of Evil and Evil Woman will unite!”
A few minutes later, the Mistress of Evil and the mysterious Evil Woman emerged from the hut and set up a small table. Mooky tacked on a little signboard in front of them that read “Evil Bake Sale”. Below that it read “Mistress of Evil” on Quill’s side and “Evil Woman” on Mrs. Mooky’s side with crude hand-painted caricatures of each.
The line started forming ten minutes after they’d set up and sales were brisk. However, Evil Woman had to explain to the Mistress of Evil why she should stay seated when the customers came up to pay.
“Mistress,” she whispered as Quill was sitting back down after completing a transaction with an elderly man who seemed to walk away disappointed. “You’re not giving them a chance!”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
Evil Woman told the waiting customers that they’d be right back, then she took Quill back a few steps to explain in private.
“Mistress, you need to stay seated. They can’t look down your cleavage at all if you stand up.”
“My cleavage? What does that have to do with anything?”
Her sidekick let out an exasperated sigh. “Mistress! Do you really think they just came here to buy cookies?! Give them a SHOW! After that bonfire scene, they expect at least a little something extra.”
“Oh! I see. Well, if that’s what it takes…” Quill said, and turned her back to the customers and unceremoniously pulled her boobs up higher behind her bodice before turning back. “Let’s start the show!”
After that the money really started to come in on Quill’s side as well as on Mrs. Mooky’s. In fact, she had to remind some customers to take their cookies and cupcakes as they seemed to have forgotten just what it was they were buying. Eventually Quill noticed that the same faces seemed to be coming back. She mentioned it to Mrs. Mooky, who just explained that there were some lonely men in town with more gold than sense. Finally, though, all the products were sold out and Quill stood, getting ready to pack up the table.
“Sorry sir, we’re all out,” Quill said sadly.
“Oh, well… that’s okay. Take this coin anyway,” he said and dropped it between her boobs before turning and heading back to the back of the line.
“Wait a second! E.W., selling cookies in skimpy outfits is one thing, but we’re not going that far are we?!” Quill said standing up indignantly while she fished out the coin.
The next guy in line offered to buy the coin for two more.
“Enough! Thank you for coming gentlemen!” the Mistress of Evil declared, glaring at the pervert.
………………………………………
“So, how much did we make?” Mrs. Mooky asked as they sat at the kitchen table while Quill-Weave counted the coins.
“Two hundred and sixty! My lord that’s a lot for some cookies and cupcakes!”
Mooky was sitting with them, smiling broadly. “There’s a lot of lonely men in this town.”
“Apparently,” Quill-Weave agreed. “But desperate times call for desperate measures. I’m just glad the women didn’t mind!”
Mrs. Mooky laughed, “Oh, we’re a pretty pragmatic folk here Mistress. There’s a lot of lonely women here too. They won’t be so lonely tonight. So, will that be enough for what you need?”
“I certainly hope so. With what I have with me and this, it should cover my trip as well as the scroll I need. I’ll leave tomorrow morning. With luck, I’ll be back tomorrow night.”
…………………………………………
The ride to Cheydinhal was thankfully uneventful and she was able to find a mage selling just the scroll she was looking for. She made it back to the village before the sun had gone down.
The Faceless Mook was waiting for her along with his wife.
“So, did you get what you were looking for?” Mrs. Mooky asked excitedly.
“Sure did!” Quill answered. “No problem. I even have a few coins left over! Here, you take them. For your hospitality. Now, just direct me to how to get to that village where they were last seen.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you, Quill? I might be able to help. You need your sidekick don’t you?” Mrs. Mooky asked, though Quill noticed she didn’t protest when accepting the change. But then again, Quill-Weave didn’t bother to correct her using her real name.
“I appreciate it, but no. You’re a married woman with responsibilities. I don’t want you to get in trouble if things should go wrong.”
“Well, if you insist. Just head down that trail going across the road to the west. It will take you straight there. Here, I brought your outfit.”
Quill thanked the two and headed off in the other direction. She waited till they were out of sight before changing and becoming, if for one last time, the Mistress of Evil. Then she headed down the trail as the sun set in the west.
The lights of the village appeared soon after. It didn’t take long to find the men she was looking for. They were in a clearing outside of the village proper, goading an old Khajit man.
“Come on you mangy cat,” one was saying while pulling the man’s tail. “We know witches love their cats. You must know something!”
The Khajiit looked like this had been going on for quite some time. He just sat stoically while another man poked him with a stick.
“No one’s going to help you here. Want another dunk in the river?”
“Yeah,” said a third. “I can get a bag. Isn’t that how you dispose of cats? Bag them up and throw them in a river?”
Quill saw a little shiver run through the Khajiit, then he went silent again. Then she noticed his eyes were open and unfocused. In fact, they were so clouded by cataracts he must effectively have been blind. Suddenly she really began to hate these men. Stendarr or no, they were doing nothing but torturing this poor creature. She pulled out her Scroll of Terrifying Presence and cast the spell. Instantly they all turned to her as the Mistress of Evil approached them boldly. Even the blind Khajiit squeaked timidly.
“BEGONE YOU! I AM THE MISTRESS OF EVIL. BEGONE AND NEVER RETURN OR YOU SHALL FACE MY WRATH!” she shouted. One broke and ran, followed by another. The other three looked on the verge of doing the same.
“YOU REMAIN? FOOLISH MORTALS, IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO DIE!!!” she screamed as they backed right up to the nearby river. She raised her hands as if to cast a powerful spell. Two screamed and ran headlong in opposite directions. But the last did something unexpected. He raised his hands and a purple glow infused them, rapidly covering him entirely. Now it was the Mistress of Evil’s turn to step back.
“Good try, witch!” he smiled. Then he cast a spell not at her, but at the backs of his fleeing companions. "JONAH! HURRASH! Come back here! She’s just using a spell!“
The purple glow enveloped the two and they stopped, then returned, encircling Quill.
"Yes, you do look like your effigy,” said the mage in front of her. “A reptilian witch. What? No response?”
He began walking towards her as the other two approached from both sides. A feeling of panic washed over her and she looked around for an escape route. She knew she didn’t have much time.
“Not much of a witch,” one of the other men said.
“Oh, she’s a witch alright,” said the mage, and he cast another spell, this time directly at Quill-Weave. Instantly she felt tired – so tired she couldn’t even stand. She fell to the ground with a grunt.
“Tie her up boys! Now, how do we deal with witches?”
“DROWN HER!” the two responded with gusto as one of them wrapped up her hands and feet in rope.
“Oh no! No gentlemen. We don’t drown anyone! We just test them. If she floats, she’s a witch and we burn her at the stake. If she sinks, she’s innocent!”
“Oh yeah!” said one of the others. “That’s right.”
Quill-Weave detected two flaws in that testing method, the salient one being that she could breathe underwater, but decided she’d rather not participate regardless. She bolted towards the smallest of the men, hoping to slip past him. Unfortunately he was also the fastest of the men. He had her tackled and flailing on the ground before she could get two steps past him. A minute later she was completely hogtied. The one good thing, she was happy to see the old Khajiit getting away.
“And now, my fine fellows,” said the mage, “let’s give her the old Heave-Ho!”
They carried her up to the edge of the rushing water and began to swing her when a large dark shape in brown leather crashed into one of them. Had Quill-Weave’s snout not been tied up as well, she would have cried for joy.
“Oh no you don’t!” Evil Woman screamed, shoving one of the men into the rushing river. She turned immediately to the other man who was still holding Quill-Weave’s hands and even behind the mask Quill could see the rage burning in her eyes. The woman ran full speed and head first into the other, knocking him to the ground. Though he was struggling valiantly, Evil Woman sat firmly upon his head and his struggles began to subside.
But the mage had recovered his composure by then, and a flash of red flew from his hands and struck Evil Woman. She rolled paralyzed off the man underneath her as he struggled to regain his wits.
“A Coven! Jonah, we’ve found a Coven! Quick, tie the big one up. The spell won’t last long. Tie her tight. There may be others, but they’ll talk. Oh yes! Now that we’ve got proof, we can do whatever we like with them!”
Evil Woman shot him a glare that would melt ice, but she was unable to speak.
The third man, wet but unharmed, came stumbling back from downriver shortly after and helped tie the two up to a tree back-to-back. They’d untied Quill’s snout so she could talk fortunately.
“Sorry E.W.,” Quill said when she was able to. “I’m not very good at planning I’m afraid. I told you not to come.”
E.W.’s voice was slurred, but Quill could make it out clearly enough. “Not your fault Mistress. You couldn’t know they had a mage.”
“Shut up you two,” the man they called Jonah said, kicking E.W. in the stomach with enough force to knock the wind out of her.
“That’s right. We’ll ask the questions here. So, how many others are in on your little witchcraft game around here ‘ladies’?” asked the mage. “Let’s start with that.”
“There are no witches around here,” E.W. replied. “The only evil mage around here is you.”
“Hah!” he said, bending low. “Look at you. Why, you’re practically the poster child for witches! I serve Stendarr, one of the eight Divines you hag! Now it’s time to talk before we burn the both of you. We’ll burn you anyway, but at least we’ll burn you whole.”
“Ken,” said one of the men. “Isn’t that a little drastic?”
“SHUT UP!” screamed the mage and struck the man hard across the chin sending him to the ground. “They are pure evil and must be destroyed! They work their seductive magic on us even now! Look at those heaving breasts, you! Those nubile curves! Why, even the reptile is trying to seduce us now that she can no longer wield her magic! Is there anything more evil and perverted than that? They must BURN and quickly, before we are reduced to less than men!”
“Too late,” a voice said quietly from behind them.
The three spun around and looked at a little man, dressed in a ridiculous minion ‘armor’ that likely couldn’t stop a pin.
“Are you with these?” the mage asked, somewhat flustered and red-faced after his tirade.
“Oh, yes! The Argonian lady is my employer, the Mistress of Evil. And the other is my wife, whom I love dearly. Clarisse, are you alright?”
“KEVIN! What are you doing here?!”
“Yes, little man. What are you doing here?” the mage demanded, and sparks flew between his balled up fists.
“I’m here to rescue them from you of course,” Mooky squeaked.
“YOU? Ha! What can you do little man? We are allied with Stendarr and will vanquish all evil, including these witches and you, admitted witch-lover!”
“Uh… Boss…” one of the men said, backing away from the mage but not looking at him.
“Me? Oh, not much. But I can rescue them from you two.”
“Two? There’s three of us you nitwit!”
“Not anymore,” Mooky said, smiling and Quill noticed a flicker of light dance across his face followed by smoke.
The mage swung around to see hundreds of torches bobbing up and down approaching from the nearby village. His remaining companion was already running like the devil was at his heels in the opposite direction.
Mooky ignored the mage and knelt beside his wife and Quill, brandishing a meager knife that was barely as long as the rope that bound them. It was, however, incredibly sharp.
“What? What is this? We are the Knights of Stendarr! You cannot escape so easily!” the mage said, his hands glowing in a myriad of colors, rapidly changing as he desperately searched for a spell to use. But the torches were getting very close now and Quill saw the face of the Mayor of Mooky’s village as well as another man similarly dressed. They did not look happy.
“Don’t,” Mooky advised the mage, who looked at Quill’s little minion with fear for the first time. But Mooky wasn’t looking at him. He was sawing through Quill-Weave’s bonds now that E.W. was loose. “It won’t go well for you if you try to use magic now. No matter what you do, you’ll be overwhelmed in a minute. The way I see it, you have three choices. You run, and hope you run faster than my wife. You can give up, and throw yourself on the mercy of the villagers. Or you can fight and get taken down by all the people you don’t manage to hurt.”
Quill felt the bond snap loose and she unwrapped the remaining rope from around her hands and feet. Mooky turned back to the mage then, without getting up.
“But I also should warn you of three things too. One, We can be pretty savage out here in the countryside, especially to those who would hurt our families. You wouldn’t survive the last choice.”
The mage looked at him, down at his hands, and then at the crowd approaching, now just a few yards away.
“Two,” Mooky went on, “If you give up, you still may be put to death. We really don’t have Defense Lawyers out here. I wouldn’t call our justice system exactly ‘Fair’. But we like it.”
The mage took off at a dead run, straight down along the river’s edge. A flash leaped after him. A dark, large flash of brown leather.
“Three,” Mooky said, turning to Quill-Weave and helping her up and smiling broadly. “My wife can outrun a deer.”
Quill looked past the little man. Though the figures were rapidly dimming, she saw Mrs. Mooky collide with the mage at a speed unbelievable for a woman of her size. The mage didn’t have a chance. Quill saw his body fly away from the point of impact as if it had wings, landing with a splash in a shallow, but very rocky, section of the river before being carried off to the waterfall just a little farther downstream. He was never seen or heard from again.
…………………….
Almost three months had passed. Quill had resumed her normal life back in Anvil, but every once in a while she would see the old outfit in the back of her closet and a pang of regret would pass through her. Though her exploits had been far from what she’d envisioned when she first donned her Evil persona, she still thought about them from time to time, but without Mooky and her Evil Tower of Doom, she knew any attempt to relive that experience would just be disappointing now.
A knock came on the door unexpectedly. Quill automatically looked to her calendar, but no – there were no deliveries expected for today. She dressed and answered the door. The little man outside was the last person she ever expected to see again.
“Hello Mistress,” he said.
Quill-Weave looked anxiously up and down the street, whispering, “You can call me Quill-Weave here Mooky. How on earth did you find me? I didn’t know you knew where I lived!”
“Well, no. We didn’t. But the wife found your Khajiit friend in the Imperial City and after a little persuasion she pointed us your way. I’m ever so sorry to intrude.”
“Oh, come in and bring Mrs. Mooky in to for heaven’s sake!” Quill said, seeing the big woman still sitting on a wagon that had seen better days.
After pleasantries were made, Mrs. Mooky got down to business.
“Mistress,” she said plainly, “we miss you in the village. Things just haven’t been the same without you.”
“Oh, and I miss you-all too Clarisse.”
Faceless Mook started next, “We were going to send you a letter, but we know how you value your privacy, Mistress. But maybe, if you are interested anyway… We’ve rebuilt your tower.”
“What?” Quill said, dumbfounded and looking to Mrs. Mooky for confirmation.
The big woman nodded her head, a naturally cheery smile coming over her face. “It’s true. The whole village pitched in. Mistress, to put it simply, we want you back.”
“I… don’t know what to say! The whole village you say? You rebuilt my Evil Tower of Doom?”
“Good as new,” Mooky said proudly. “We even aged it up for you. We knocked a hole in the roof and put a whole family of bats back inside too!”
Quill frowned. “I’m not sure if that was necessary. But… well…”
“Oh please come, Mistress. Even if you don’t want to stay. Just come and visit won’t you?”
She needed no further persuasion. In a flash she had a suitcase packed and was rattling across the roads of Cyrodiil. True to their word, the tower was back. If it smelled a bit of fresh paint and wallpaper, what of that? At least superficially it looked amazingly similar to the original. The carpenter had even installed a new Throne of Skulls and, sure enough, a fake torture rack in the basement.
Tears were in her eyes when she came down the stairs from her lair at the top of the tower. “Oh Mooky, Mrs. Mooky! I don’t know what to say!”
“Well, you’d better come up with something because there’s a whole village waiting outside to hear you,” Mrs. Mooky said.
Quill stared and darted to a window by the stairs. Sure enough there must have been a hundred people coming up the path to the tower and they cheered when they saw her looking out.
“Tell them to wait! I’ve got to get my outfit on!” she cried and raced back up to her room to change.
In a flash she the Mistress of Evil was ready. She tried to don her Evil Persona as well, but a terribly non-Evil smile kept stealing over her features. She stepped outside of her Tower to a quite respectable cheer for a bunch of villagers.
“Now what’s all this!” she demanded in her best Evil voice. “Torches and pitchforks will avail you nothing against the Mistress of Evil! Begone you vile mob!”
The mayor stepped up to her, handing her a small box. “Yes Mistress,” he laughed. “We will leave you in peace to terrorize the countryside as you will. But before we go, we wanted to give you this as a token of our… fear.”
The Mistress of Evil may have choked up a bit, but she accepted the large box and unwrapped it. Inside was the most beautiful pure-white cake she had ever seen. In black lettering it read, “Welcome Back, Mistress!” Atop it was a very respectable likeness of her, even if it was naked and carrying a pumpkin.
She looked up and her mouth was shaking. The mayor and the townspeople all nodded and seemed to be satisfied and left the way they had come.
“But,” Quill said before they’d got far. “But don’t you all think I’m just crazy?”
“Certifiable,” said the carpenter whom she recognized.
“Daft as a Loon,” said the innkeeper. “But you’re our Loon, Mistress. Welcome back!”
They all shouted “Welcome Back!” in unison, then left the way they had come.
“We’ll leave you be. I’ll be back in the morning, Mistress,” said the Faceless Mook as he and his wife followed the others.
She watched them go and closed the box. “Nice people,” she had to admit, and went back to the door.
The new latch fairly sparkled in it’s silver frame. But it wouldn’t open.
“MOOOOKYYYYY!” she yelled.
That is the question. Yesterday I felt like doing yet another color job, and I came across this sketch by Kazerad as a commission for Rick2Tails. I didn’t ask Rick if I could color it, but I feel like I know him well enough to know he’d be fine with it – and Kaz is certainly fine with it.
Now first, let me go off on a rant about coloring scanned sketches. Don’t. That’s my rant. I’m not ragging on Kaz here at all, but dammit it’s hard to get rid of all those extra lines! On the good side, you get so MANY lines to choose from – it’s kinda of a Roll-Your-Own sketch. Don’t like the curve of her thigh? Choose a different line! I mean, look at those intertwined tails! Quill magically has two different end-tails! 🙂 But that’s my problem. If I really wanna color a pencil sketch, there’s an hours worth of cleanup work to even get started!
But I really like this one because I honestly think it’s the only Kazerad drawing of a HAPPY Quill-Weave in existence. And, let’s face it, there’s some pretty seriously implied shipping going on here between Quill and Katia. Granted they’re about to go down on the Titanic but still…
Okay, but here’s the real question. A while back I did that sunbathing Quill and put lots of shiny highlighting on her. I liked it. A lot. So then even when I did the Pilgrim one I kept the shiny highlilghts.
Now, I’m afraid I’ve probably taken it too far. And that’s the Q. I know from past experience that my Tumblr readers don’t talk back much. That’s okay. I’ll post this elsewhere too. But I’m honestly wondering if I’m taking the shiny too far. (And breast emphasis – I already know that. But that’s something I’ll just have to live with.)
So, here it is – without the shiny. This is not finished – I made sure to keep all clothing colors change-able as I’m not convinced I like those either. And the water is horrible. But BESIDES that, is this better without shiny highlights:
Or with the shiny bits:
Of course, I’m leaning towards ‘with’ but that may well be just me. If I’m overdoing it, I would actually like to know!
I did another thing. This thing:
Got turned into this thing:
Drawed by Kazerad, color and shitty background by me.
I started to second-guess myself on the shiny hussy Quill-Weave highlighting, but then I said WTH. It’s just for fun after all, right? I think that Bikini-Quill where I made her all shiny has somehow stuck, so I’m making her shiny here too.
But really, the pilgrim Weedum-Ja is being pretty hypocritical here even for a pilgrim! I doubt they’d approve of the gaudy gold headfin rings, and I KNOW they wouldn’t stand for the cross-dressing!
I was thinking about making Quill’s dress a sensible grey, but your eye can only handle SO much grey,black and white and I liked it better in pink. So QW gets to wear a nice pink dress. With frills. Don’t be upset Quill, what does that cross-dressing Weedum-Ja know anyway?
(Both characters technically copyright of Bethesda in Oblivion, though of course the redesign by Kazerad in Prequel Adventure. Also, if Kaz can be believed – and on this I think he can – Weedum-Ja IS a Pilgrim class in-game. So, nice little flip on the Pilgrim thing there.)
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.
Dodger and other characters are Kazerad’s from http://prequeladventure.com (as if you didn’t already know.)
Dodger: Continuation (1)
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.”
Today in an unprecedented release, Quill-Weave shook her fans to the core with this revelation that has sent millions into panic:
When asked to comment further, our favorite Argonian quipped, “Maybe they should just find a nice girlfriend?”
Our intrepid reporters immediately took to the streets to get the reaction from the masses.
“I… don’t know what to think,” said one fan, obviously heartbroken. “I sent her a marriage proposal just last week. But she never wrote back. Please, I’m just trying to piece my life back together. Leave me alone!”
Another expressed disbelief and outrage. “She was coerced obviously. There’s no way this could be true. There should be a congressional investigation or something. I will never believe it.”
Still others seemed to be resigned to the new normal. This distraught fan expressed the common reaction of most:
“I don’t care. Drawing, CGI model. Pixels on a screen. It doesn’t matter. She may be a drawing, but she’s still a PERSON. She has feelings like you and me. No one should be subjected to the outrage you in the mainstream media are putting her through!”
To gauge the reaction from the female public, the most common response was, “Quill-Who?”
We filmed one fan who hadn’t gotten the news yet. His first reaction, “Hey. She’s naked!” His second, “Get out of my room!”
In a brief statement, Quill’s publicist and creator, Kazerad had this to say.
“Well, she… kinda is. I mean, I just draw her sometimes. I don’t know why it’s big news to anybody.”
It’s obvious that Kazerad is trying to distance himself from Quill-Weave’s outrageous declaration, but deep undercover operatives have discovered that in fact he has a room FULL of pictures of the lovely lizard. Some fully dressed, some scantily clad. When asked point-blank about this, he denied further comment and closed his door.
That is the up-to-the-minute news, but we haven’t yet heard the last of this. Some have expressed the belief that Quill-Weave herself is, in fact, being held a prisoner in some dark basement in Maryland under the control of the nefarious Kazerad. Until law enforcement begins to take this seriously, we can only speculate on what terrible fate lies in store for the Matriarch of Prequel.
As one of her biggest fans attests (and we can confirm we found no bigger fans), “WE BELIEVE IN YOU!”
Author’s note: I have no idea why I did this. It’s just another Kazerad sketch I colored. I suppose it’s a little nsfw. A little.
This is a fanfiction. Yeah, it is a wall of text. If I had ANY artistic talent I’d try to illustrate it. But I don’t so I can’t. I wrote it after a commission last night from Kazerad. I asked for “Quill Weave and Weedum-Ja playing Twister” and added that nudity needn’t be involved. Bikinis are fine. What I got was something totally different, and inspired me to write this…
It’s a little bit risque but not bad really. If you have the eyes for reading a bit, give it a shot and let me know what you think! If you’re Kazerad, stop reading here. This is not for you. Kazerad is now officially allowed to read this.
*****************
She’d never much liked Weedum-Ja. It might even have been a touch of jealousy though, at least she recognized that. While she had achieved some modest fame through her writing, her rival had won hers through adventures and a skill with people that Quill simply didn’t possess. But what really pissed her off was Weedum-Ja’s inexhaustible knowledge of lore. Well, maybe not that so much as her apparent inability to stop from expounding on every subject like an expert because of it. Worse yet, Weedum was invariably correct. Quill checked up on her more than once. There’s nothing worse than a know it all who actually does!
Still, while a distant cousin, she was family and in adverse times you help your own. Quill had received the letter just two days ago. The events around Kvatch were still sketchy, but Weedum had been clear enough on one aspect. Her home was gone and she needed a place to stay till she got it rebuilt. Even Quill had to cringe at the loss of Weedum-Ja’s library. It had been impressive. Now apparently all lost to the flames.
Though Quill Weave’s own abode was nice enough, it was small. It was just right for her in her solitary lifestyle and just big enough to invite her few friends over in the living room to play Dwemers and Dragons occasionally when the pub was too busy. She only had one bedroom, and even with the work she’d done restoring it, it still had scars from the trashing that damned khajiit had left behind. The window had been repaired, but she left it open nearly all the time due to the faint but lingering odor. Even now she trembled involuntarily at the thought of what must have gone on in that room. But Weedum-Ja didn’t need to know that. Fortunately the odor was an unidentifiable mix of khajiit, unicorn dung, sex and moldy peas.
Flowers? Maybe flowers would help.
Well, she’d put up with sleeping with that mangy cat for a night. Sleeping with a fellow argonian, even Weedum-Ja, would be better than that. At least her cousin wasn’t destitute. At one time she had had more money that Quill herself, which was a comforting thought. That is, if she hadn’t gambled it all away. The tales she’d heard of Weedum-Ja’s penchant for alcohol and gambling were a bit too specific to be completely false.
Quill sighed deeply and squinted her eyes as the mid-morning sun struck her full in the face. Once again she had managed sleep halfway on and halfway off the bed again with her head-fins nearly touching the floor. She turned her head and looked under the bed. Yup. Still there. The ball gag she’d found still bore deep fang-marks in the distinctive pattern of a khajiit. Why hadn’t she thrown it away? She knew the answer to that of course. There was a book in that wretched cat. The ball gag was a memento. If the poor thing lived long enough to warrant one anyway. “Although,” Quill found herself musing, “an interesting enough death might make an even better story.”
“STOP!” she said out loud. “Don’t think like that Quill! Your reading public doesn’t need to know about your morbid fantasies!”
Instead she rearranged herself, scratched her ass and tasted the vile remains of last night’s dinner – a mostly liquid dinner. She really should stop drinking so much, she thought, then got to her feet, steadied herself with her tail, and staggered off to her closet. Inside she found her Favorite Outfit #27. She had over thirty, all custom made to her exact proportions. The townsfolk thought she was odd, wearing the same clothes day in and day out. But she knew better. She just had lots of identical ones. It made things so much easier! “Which clothes to wear today? Why, the clean ones of course!” She stole a touch on the hidden black outfit in the back of the closet and smiled an evil smile, then closed the closet door.
When she turned back, she glanced down and shoveled yesterday’s clothes under the bed with her foot. Not too bad. No vomit anyway. And that thought along with an urging in her bladder took her to her bathroom where she spent another 20 minutes brushing her teeth. She’d always been proud of her teeth. Bright sharp fangs all around. That’s the way to stay young. She’d never seen an old Argonian with perfect teeth – so she was going to stay young by good dental hygiene! A quick splash of water and she was soon dressed and ready for a new day.
Of doing nothing.
“It’s good to be a writer,” she thought as she plopped back onto the bed and felt the sun on her tail.
A couple hours later she got up to begin the day in earnest when the maid came in. Quill liked the white khajiit. Very meticulous. As far as Quill was concerned, the albino cat had never left so much as a stray white hair behind. And, though she wouldn’t admit it under torture, the sight of that little tuft of fur peeking out from the collar of her maid’s outfit sent a little thrill down to her tail. Clean, tidy and healthy with a bit of meat on her bones unlike like that yellow scraggly thing. Maybe someday Quill would ask the maid her name.
“Hey, would you mind picking up some flowers and setting them in my room? My cousin Weedum-Ja is coming to visit today and I’d like to see if we can cover up that stench.”
“Yes ma’am,” the khajiit replied as sweetly as that grating voice could manage.
“Oh, and maid, would you be interested in making an extra septim or two tonight?”
The red albino eyes shot up to her instantly. “Ma’am?”
“Bingo,” Quill smiled inwardly.
“I’d like to do some entertaining. You can bring some friends along. About five I think. But clean, respectable friends mind you!”
“Yes ma’am!” said the maid, her eyes shining now. Funny how a bit of money could do that to these types.
But the maid stood looking at her as if she had a question. “Yes? Was there something else?”
“Sorry ma’am but I need to know which type of friends to bring.”
Quill pondered this. She wasn’t too sure what Weedum-Ja liked in the way of entertainment.
“Bring a variety, both male and female of different races please. Oh, bring one of those dunmers if you know one. They’re always fun!”
“Will… um… Will they get paid too?”
Quill sighed. Why must it always come down to money? Was there no such thing as loyalty anymore?
“Oh, I suppose. If my cousin likes them.” said the argonian and she was delighted to see the little khajiit smile her bright smile back at her and start her chores around the house. “Such a sweetheart,” Quill thought as she watched the maid carrying out the chamber pot delicately. “I’m lucky to have her.”
**********
A knock came on the door that evening. Quill was at her writing desk as usual, staring at a blank page. She jumped a bit but soon had her clothes back on and opened the door.
“Welcome cousin! Come on in. Have a seat!” Quill greeted her green relative warmly, even if she didn’t feel terribly sincere about it.
“Hi Quill! How’s the writing business?” said, Weedum-Ja heartily while her keen eyes scanned the room as if looking for something to complain about.
“Oh, not bad. I had a new book published last month. Have you heard about it?”
Weedum-Ja headed straight for the kitchen and Quill rolled her eyes. “Not wasting any time mooching off me,” she thought.
“New book? It’s not one of those fiction things is it? You know I don’t read those.”
“Well, yes. It is.”
“Waste of time if you ask me. Bunch of made-up stories. Not that I begrudge you the income mind you! The plebs of the world revel in that stuff. Bread and circuses. Keep the masses entertained while the world goes to hell, right?”
“I suppose so,” Quill answered. Inwardly she wondered, “How is it possible for her to get on my nerves 5 minutes after she gets here?”
Later, Quill was sitting at one of her dining chairs while her guest sprawled over her good padded chair like an overstuffed pillow.
“…still,” Weedum-Ja was saying while she snacked on a carrot, “a cozy little place. Thanks for letting me stay with you. I know you and I don’t exactly see eye-to-eye on everything, but you’re always there for me when I need help and I appreciate that.”
What Quill appreciated was the growing pile of crumbs around, and in, her favorite chair.
“That’s what family is for, no? So, any idea how long you’ll be staying?”
“Well, the contractor says he’ll have the roof back up a week from now. Of course, he’s one of those orsimer types. Great for heavy lifting but their estimates leave much to be desired. If only we had some good argonian builders in Kvatch! They’d have the whole thing done by next week and they’d get it done right. But no, this orsimer’s all we’ve got that isn’t working on the chapel or the palace already. Cost a pretty septim too. They sure know how to gouge a girl when the times are tough. Fortunately I’m not in any hurry. Within a month or two it should be good as new.”
“A month or two,” Quill quoted, her tail gone limp.
“Oh cheer up cousin! We’ll have a great time. So, how about we go to that bar I was at last time? It’s been a long dry trip.”
“Actually, my maid is coming by later with some friends to keep us entertained.”
Weedum-Ja seemed to consider this, “Well, okay. If you’ve already made plans. Is she cute?”
“Weedum,” Quill explained, “she’s a khajiit.”
“Ew! You let one of them into your house?”
“Yes, and she does a good job too! You should be more open minded like me.”
“Well, maybe. What’s her name?”
“Um… ‘Maid’?”
Weedum-Ja laughed at Quill which sent her mood lower.
“Hey! She’s only been working here a couple of years. What do you expect?” Quill rallied.
Weedum-Ja uncoiled herself and stood up. “I expect,” she said looking back towards the kitchen, “that somewhere in this house you have something a body can drink. That’s not water or fruit juice!”
Quill rose. “Hang on, I’ll get you something. Mixed or straight?” she asked, admitting to herself that the girl had a good idea there.
“Straight. If we’re going to have a party, we’d best not waste any time!”
In fact, time wasn’t the only thing that was wasted by the time the little khajiit timidly knocked on the door later that night. Weedum-Ja had actually managed to raise Quill’s spirit a little as they sang some old song from the Marsh. Quill was actually laughing when she opened the door and saw her maid, another khajiit, a nord and two dunmer outside. She noticed one of the dunmer held some sort of musical instrument which she smiled at approvingly.
“Welcome friends! I assume she…” Quill said, nodding towards her maid, “told you already. I’m hosting my cousin Weedum-Ja tonight and was hoping you might like to entertain us a little.”
The four turned to the maid who turned back to Quill, saying, “We thought a little music and some dancing maybe? Ma’am?”
Weedum called from the living room, “That would be great! Come on in!”
Quill stood aside as the little troupe marched in, only a little irked at Weedum’s presumption. But the group looked nice and she didn’t fail to notice the smell of soap on each of them.
“Probably the first bath they’ve had in weeks,” she thought to herself. “Still, they are a healthy looking group.”
Even the other khajiit didn’t seem to be scanning the room looking for valuables. Instead the dunmer started to play and the other four paired off and started dancing.
“Nice!” Weedum-Ja said, nodding approvingly to Quill Weave. But under her breath she said, “I bet you 5 septims he plays King and Country next.”
Quill, who knew her cousin well, had no doubt that she was earnest in her suggested wager. “You’re on!” she smiled.
An hour later Quill was up 20 septims on the various wagers and she was in a very good mood. Fortunately, her guest didn’t seem to mind losing. Quill even offered some drinks to the entertainers. As it turned out, her maid was quite skilled at dancing and even managed to sing a song or two in that odd raspy voice. At last the dancers asked if they could take a break and Quill was happy to let them do so.
“So, what do you think?” she asked Weedum-Ja.
“Very nice!” her fellow Argonian answered. “That maid of yours is quite the dancer too. Great body!” Then, as if correcting herself, she added, “…for a cat I mean.”
Quill blushed a bit at that. Her cousin had never been what she would call modest, and it seemed the more drinks that went down her throat, the more libertine her attitude became.
“I… suppose so. But how about that nord eh? I bet he’s got a six-pack under that shirt I could wash my clothes on!” she responded, hoping it was the right thing to say in the circumstances. While her preferences might lie in the other direction, she knew her cousin was a devout ‘maleologist’.
“Well! Let’s find out! I’ll bet you that neither of us think he has abdominals worth mentioning. Say, 5 septims?”
Quill looked back to where the nord was looking at them, smiling and well within earshot. She took that as a good sign and repeated the phrase she seemed to have said a lot tonight, “You’re on!”
They both looked to the man who laughed and lifted his shirt up. 5 more septims found their way into Quill’s palm.
Weedum-Ja shook her head at the man as he pulled his shirt back down. “No no! Leave it off! You cost me 5 septims. Least you can do is let me admire my loss!”
He shrugged and pulled his shirt over his head.
“Hey! I’ve got an idea!” Weedum said, downing yet another glass. "I have this game someone back in Kvatch made for me. Here, let me show you how it works…“
A few minutes later, Weedum-Ja was seated around the others on the floor. Even Quill had loosened up to the point she was chatting with her maid like an old friend.
"So, let me get this straight… You spin that arrow, and whichever color it lands on, you have to touch that color on the mat. But it doesn’t matter which dot you touch as long as it’s that color?”
Weedum-Ja nodded happily. “That’s it! You just have to use the foot or hand it indicates. And not fall over.”
“But… there’s nothing for tails on the arrow-thing,” the other khajiit pointed out.
Weedum-Ja put on a frown, “No. Invented by humans. No tails.”
“Well! Let’s give it a try!” one of the dunmer cried.
“Yes, lets!” the maid agreed, her own speech becoming a little slurred.
Quill looked at Weedum-Ja as the other got to her feet. “Weedum! Surely you don’t expect me to… do that!”
Weedum looked at her cousin. “Well, not if you don’t want to I guess.”
“Hey, if I’m not wearing a shirt,” the nord pointed out as the two argonians settled into their seats to referee the game, “I think the others should take theirs off too!”
Weedum-Ja squealed with joy. “Indeed! Come on girls. Off with em!”
Quill Weave looked at her cousin as if she’d gone insane and swiftly shuttered the window. “WEEDUM! I’m a respectable member of this town! What if someone were to find out?!”
Weedum slapped her cousin on the back. “Oh my god. Quill! Live a little!”
Quill looked back to where the entertainers had already doffed their shirts. She blinked at the multiple sets of breasts bobbing about in front of her, then looked at her drink. In an instant it was down the hatch and refilled as if by magic.
“What the hell?” she declared. “I’m no Stick In The Mud!”
“Okay, so take turns in this order. Whitey, you go first. Left Hand Red!” Weedum-Ja declared, starting the game.
By the end of the first game, everyone was sufficiently lubricated that they were all having a good time. Even Quill Weave was getting into it. It didn’t hurt that she was up 20 more septims by the end of it, having only bet on the wrong horse once.
“What say we up the stakes, cousin?”
“Sure!” Quill responded a little too loudly, and, she realized, a little to happily. The show in front of her was far more arousing that she cared to admit. “How much are you thinking?”
“I’m not referring to the bets, darling!” Weedum-Ja leered. “OFF WITH THE BOTTOMS!”
Quill Weave’s eyes grew to the size of saucers as she looked back at the players. And they were doing it! In a few seconds there was a room full of naked bodies writhing around in front of her.
“40 Septims on the pink human!”
“Buh… bu…”
“It’s a bet!”
Quill watched as body parts touched body parts that should not do so outside of marriage. Other body parts touched body parts that shouldn’t be touched regardless!
Weedum-Ja had taken over the duties of arrow-spinner as Quill had gone speechless. The tableau in front of her looked like a cultural diversity mural gone badly awry. Not that the participants weren’t getting along fine. Some maybe too well. Had Quill not lost her motor skills, she would have gone to get a bucket of cold water.
“Oh relax,” Weedum-Ja laughed as Quill turned slowly towards her, her eyes wide and unblinking. “It’s a plastic mat. There won’t be any stains on your carpet.”
*************************
In the end, Weedum-Ja had been almost right. After Quill had sworn all the players to secrecy and paid them a healthy extra to help seal their mouths, she closed the door and turned back to Weedum-Ja, who was now snoring and draped over her chair like a misplaced dress. Fortunately she had won enough from Weedum-Ja to cover the entertainer’s expenses with a little left over. In the spirit of diversity, Weedum-Ja had eventually joined in the game fully before her metabolism had finally given out at the onslaught of alcohol.
“At least no one can accuse me of participating!” Quill said, looking down at her nice and still fully-dressed body.
Then she looked back at her cousin. Her distant cousin. In the sprawled position she’d ended up in, she didn’t look like much of a cousin at all. She looked like a drunken, naked female lizard.
“Should I leave her here?” Quill thought to herself. “She certainly deserves to wake up with a backache. Not to mention the headache we’ll both surely have.”
But some remote part of her complained. She’d certainly not want that for herself. Then, like a flash out of the sky, she realized something. Something important. Something meaningful.
She dragged her cousin semi-consciously to her feet and helped her carefully up the stairs.
“Come on Weedum. One step at a time,” she said as the other mumbled something unintelligible back. Other than one little slip on the landing, she managed to get her cousin to lay down properly in her bed.
As she covered up the now-snoring guest, she was proud that she had not gotten too aroused at carrying the naked argonian after all. Morning would be awkward, but in her state there’s no way she was going to manage to get Weedum-Ja’s underwear back on her now. But she no longer cared much about that. She was thinking about someone else.
Quill climbed into the bed beside her cousin and lay awake while the ceiling spun around her. Weedum-Ja shifted then and Quill let out a quiet squeak as Weedum’s tail came to rest in an inappropriate place. She carefully moved the tail away, but it promptly flopped back across her chest. Quill gave up. She couldn’t help but be aware of the touch of her bedmate, but she was remembering a night not long ago when another person had slept beside her in this bed, and her cousin’s snoring and unconscious touch didn’t bother her anymore. She had awoken that next morning, not sprawled upside down half on and half off the bed like usual, but properly aligned and her blanked snugly over her shoulders. She hadn’t thought about it at the time. The khajiit had done that. That mangy, sad, scrawny khajiit had taken the time to get her back into bed and tuck her in. And the effort! It’s a wonder the noodle-armed khajiit had even been able to lift her at all. But she had.
“Poor khajiit. I hope you’re doing alright,” she said out loud to the ever-circling ceiling. She knew she was suffering from the Drunk Emotional State, but she didn’t care. Drunk or sober, it was nice to think someone like that existed. But she comforted herself knowing that she’d helped the wretch out at least a little. If she ever returned, Quill Weave vowed then that she’d try and be nicer to her. If she ever returned. If not… well… she knew another khajiit didn’t she? Tomorrow she would ask her what her name was.
Quill Weave turned to her cousin and gave her a little kiss. “Goodnight Weedum-Ja,” she whispered, then turned back and closed her own eyes. The world stopped swimming. “Goodnight Katia, wherever you are,” was the last thing she thought before she fell to sleep.
Oh! I thought I posted this already. Guess not! Well, for Valentines day I’d commissioned Kaz to draw that QW+QW thing. I wanted a follow up, so I thought it might be nice to show QW+QW walking a dog. This is what I got. I got QW+QW Potential Puppy Murderers.
Now, I’m probably reading WAAAY to much into this, but I see a deeper meaning in this. If you associate only with like-minded people, bad ideas can seem like good ones due to the resonant echo chamber effect. In pre-Internet days, everyone watched the same 3 TV channels. That doesn’t mean everyone agreed with the same things – but they saw the other point of view often.
Now you can be so selective in your choices that you don’t even know the other opinion exists. And they don’t know you exist. They become THEM and you become US.
Don’t date yourself. Open up to those with differing points of view a little. And… don’t drown your puppy. It cannot breathe underwater. Not even a little.
Kaz’ original sketch below. Yeah, I found the little happy background on the Internet somewhere. It seemed appropriate somehow. Like something out of MLP.
bdprequel 