She
peered through the keyhole. She saw his back within, breathing deeply.
So peaceful, he seemed. And she was about to screw up his life too.
Well, there was no help for it – short of turning herself in that is.
She thought about that for a moment before knocking. Beheading probably.
Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. She certainly deserved it. Justice in
Cyrodiil was harsh and swift, and there was no leniency for a crime like
hers. But was it murder?
“Idiot, you locked the young fool in
with that… thing,” Rajirra thought. “She burned her own gloves with the
fucking fire spell. Did you really think she had a chance against it?
She’s probably a charred corpse by now.”
An image of a body,
charred and black leapt into her mind. It’s eyes burned from their
sockets, the teeth ever-smiling now. Smiling at her. Grinning. It’s
fangs long and sharp. It turned it’s black and bone-colored skull
towards her. “MURDERER”
She screamed, then covered her mouth. A
sound came from within. She’d woken him. She shook her head out of her
nightmare and returned to reality, then knocked at the door.
She
heard words spoken in Ta’agra within. To anyone else in town they would
be unintelligible. She however, understood them quite well.
“Fucking
goddamn shit! At this time of night? I’ll fucking bash whoever is there
with my fucking mace and fuck their dead body and eat their head. Who
the fuck is awake at this fucking time?!”
“Who is it? Who is out there?” she heard the bartender switch to the Common language.
“It’s… Ra’Jirra,” she replied in Ta’agra as assurance that it was her.
She heard keys rattle and the bolt thrown back. The door opened just enough to see the bartender’s face beyond.
“Ra’Jirra? Do you know what time it is? What the hell do you want?”
“Please… S’thengir isn’t it? I… I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”
“Hold
on a minute,” he grumbled and shut the door again. She heard something
heavy thump onto the floor inside before the door opened.
“What?”
S’thengir said impatiently, standing within the doorway. Had she not
been so distressed, the sight of the khajiit dressed in silly
blue-striped pajamas would have at least elicited a chuckle.
“Can I come in?” she asked. This was the moment of truth. He had to let her in!
“What for?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
She began to unlace her bodice.
“Wait!
Stop!” he said, and she stopped. He leaned out and looked around,
making sure no one else was around. Then he looked back at her, his eyes
still full of suspicion.
“Why?”
She shrugged. “We can’t help ourselves sometimes, S’thengir. Surely you know that. You’re a khajiit.”
He grumbled, but opened the door wide and stood aside. “Come in. Of course I do. But I control myself.”
She entered and looked around the little room as he closed and locked the door behind him.
“I’ve…
done so myself, pretty well. But tonight. I just couldn’t,” she said,
finishing the unlacing and removing the vest. She started unbuttoning
the blouse underneath.
S’thengir sat back on the rough ‘bed’ he’d
made on the floor and watched her, a touch of a smile reaching the
corners of his mouth. It was a smile few had ever seen on the gruff face
before.
“Do you want to become pregnant?” he asked her. “I’m not prepared to father a litter.”
“No, khajiit. I have potions. I just need you. I am leaving town in the morning. Before I go, I need this.”
“I
see. Yes, I know the need too. But you must have more self-control,
khajiit-woman. We must not be seen as animals here among the other
races.”
“That is why I come at night,” she answered. She stood now
with her blouse open, her breasts not fully revealed, knowing they
would have their natural effect.“
“That was wise,” he said, watching her in the flickering candlelight, his eyes focused somewhat lower than her face.
“Will
you not join me, khajiit-man?” she asked, her hands ready to remove the
blouse and reveal herself to him. “You make me feel… wanton.”
He laughed a short, somehow angry laugh.
“You are wanton, are you not? No, thank you Ra’Jirra. I prefer to watch you undress. It arouses me.”
“I
see,” she said, and let the blouse slip from her shoulders. Then, with
as much grace as she could muster, she lowered her skirt slowly. She
stood naked in front of the bartender, awkward and embarrassed. Her hair
covered her breasts after she had bent to step out of the skirt now,
but he was looking farther down than that now. She felt the familiar
heat rising within her, and it shamed her. She did like this, and she
didn’t want to.
“Turn around,” he said, and she did so, bending to rest her hands on a chair. Behind her she heard him removing his pajamas.“
"Will you not… ”
“Foreplay? Of course. I am no rapist. I do not enjoy an unprepared woman. But, turn back around Ra’Jirra.” he replied.
She turned back to see him fully dressed.
“What?? I don’t understand! I need…”
“You
need nothing. Thank you for the show. Your body is excellent. But now,
put your clothes on and tell me why you wake me this late at night,” he
demanded.
“I… I wanted…”
“Ra’Jirra. Do you know what a
bartender does? It is my trade to know my customers. And you are a
khajiit. I can read you better than these humans, and I read them well.
Your eyes are red. You have been crying. Your hair is brushed, but until
recently it was disheveled. I do attract you, and perhaps sometime we
may mate, but that is not why you have come. Tell me or leave.”
Rajirra turned around and sat on the chair heavily.
“You see much, S’thengir,” she said. “More than with your eyes.”
“And
more than with my cock,” S’thengir smiled. “But you had a disadvantage
in your scheme, whatever it was, Ra’Jirra. You see, I’m already in a
relationship. A serious relationship. Your body, as tempting as it is,
will not move me to compromise my love.”
She smirked. “You were none to quick to stop me undressing, I noticed.”
S’Thengir
stood and walked slowly over to her and bent to put his mouth beside
her ear. She could feel his warm breath inside it.
“She never said I couldn’t look,” he whispered, tickling the sensitive fur inside.
She turned to him, but he backed away.
“Now now, foul temptress. Hands off the merchandise. Wait here a moment. I’ll be right back,” he said, and left the room.
Ra’Jirra
thought desperately. Seduction was out. Still, she had managed to
secure a refuge, at least for a little while. She tried to think of
something else. Something that might convince him to help her escape the
city in the morning. But he returned with two glasses of strong
khajiiti drink and she’d not come up with anything yet.
“Still naked? I guess you didn’t understand me,” he said, handing her one glass.
She shrugged. Being naked didn’t bother her.
“Drink. I call it Eye of the Tiger. My own mix. Try it! I’m rather proud of it,” he said, taking a sip of his own.
It tasted like cold fire on her tongue. She had thought of nothing. She was running out of time.
“It’s good,” she said. “Very good.”
“So,
now. Ra’Jirra. Why are you here? And please tell the truth. My patience
is growing thin, and my vow to my love hangs by a thread. I will kick
you out instantly and call the guards if I sense any lie. And I’m very,
very good at sensing lies.”
She looked at him. She looked at the
drink. She looked back at him, and the expression on her face was no
longer contrived. It was one of sincere desperation. She downed the
drink and felt it begin to do it’s work.
“I killed someone tonight. I need to get out of town.”
Another fanfiction starting. I don’t think I’ll get terribly NSFW on this one, as it’s not really about that. It’s about guilt and redemption. But it is adult in nature, so there will be some undoubtedly. No idea how long this will be. Inspired by this from the Prequel Fanart booru by GamGyuls
They say a picture is worth 1000 words. That is worth more. – BD
“Oh Gods!” she thought as she stood at the corner of the store, her eyes wide. She glanced back up towards the window to the upper story. The flashes of light and cacophony told her that her fellow khajiit was not yet dead anyway – though based on the size of that thing it wouldn’t be long. And she had barred the door.
On the one hand, the idea had been a desperate inspiration that probably had saved her life. On the other hand, she was now a murderer.
She ran through the freakish snow to her meager apartment.
Opening the door, she looked around, all the while pulling at her hair.
“Murderer.”
She gathered her most essential belongings as quickly as she could. Her hastily crafted story to the shopkeeper wasn’t going to hold water as soon as they found the body.
“Then again,” she thought as she put everything into her backpack that she could cram into it, “it might take days before the corpse starts to smell. And who’s going to look inside?”
That fighter for one. Besides, when things got quiet again and that ‘Katia’ didn’t come down, the shopkeeper would go up and see her spear lodged in the door. What she’d done would be obvious, and no amount of talk would get her out of this one. No, she didn’t have time. She had to go. Now.
She pulled the backpack onto her shoulders and took one last look at the place she’d called home for the last year. It wasn’t much. A year of her life, and this was what she had to show for it. She wasn’t dressed for going outside the city. She wasn’t prepared for this. She didn’t even have her spear!
Then she sat down and began to cry.
“Oh Gods! Oh Gods! What have I done?! Why did I follow that fool? I didn’t need the money that bad! And she was so obviously incompetent!”
“IDIOT!” she said aloud, pulling her hair again. “IDIOT!”
Desperately her brain tried to wish it’s way out of reality. Just a few hours ago, everything was fine! If only she’d just stayed inside tonight. Gone to bed early maybe. Or just said “No” to that crazy khajiit woman.
“But… they were only supposed to be Imps!” she said aloud, crying to the ceiling. “IMPS for god’s sakes! I can take out a few Imps by myself easily!”
But her mind had gone dark.
“The khajiit will be dead by now”, she thought. "The shopkeeper will have gone upstairs to check. She’ll have seen the spear. Hell, she’d have to remove it to open the door. No, she won’t be missing that little clue. Wait… How long have I been here!? How long would it take for her to find a guard? Not long, not long! Does she know where I live?”
She’d seen the shopkeeper around, of course, though Ra’Jirra had never actually done any odd jobs for her. But she was the only khajiit in town, save that cute bartender. It’s not like they wouldn’t know – they only watch her every move because they all think she’s a thief! Of course they all knew where she lived!!!
She had to get out of here. She opened the door quietly and looked both ways. She thought briefly of going back, to see if it was over yet, but she knew better. Guards were likely headed to her apartment even now.
She shot a look up and down the street again. Nothing yet. She crept down outer stairs to street level and headed for the city gate.
“Wait! If they know, they’ll be waiting for me there! And even if they don’t, nobody leaves the city unarmed at this time of night. There will be questions. DAMMIT!”
She looked around. She couldn’t go back to the apartment. But she couldn’t get out yet either. Somehow she had to wait until morning when the gates were opened.
“But what then?” she realized. “By then they’ll all be looking for me! And it’s not like I blend in here. There’s only 3 khajiits in town. Well, probably only 2 by now.”
The tavern. S’thengir was an asshole though. He wouldn’t help her even if he was a fellow khajiit. He didn’t like anybody. Plus it would be closed by now. She could find a stable and hide out there, but the problem of how to get out in the morning would still be there.
Suddenly she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. She backed into a doorway, but whoever it was passed by at the corner.
“Doesn’t matter,” she realized, “I can’t stay here, that’s for sure.”
She made a quick decision. She headed for the tavern. If she could get him to let her in, he’d be an accomplice. She could use that. She could probably coerce him into helping her get out of town in the morning at least. But she’d have to get him to let her in.
The tavern was in front of her now. He’d be sleeping in the little room by the side door.
She stopped tugging on her hair.
“It must be a mess by now,” she thought.
She found a dry spot and started brushing her hair. Then she sighed, deeply and started to cry again. She knew what she had to do to get him to let her in. He might not like her, but he was male.
“GODS DAMMIT!!!” she cried to herself. “I was leaving all that behind! This goddamned high-necked outfit cost me more than I make in a year, just to scream to the world that I’m not one of those! But I am. I’m still a fucking whore. I was doing so good too! No! I don’t WANT to be that again! IDIOT! Why did you have to do that? MURDERER!”
As her mind swirled in darkness and self-pity, she realized slowly that she was wasting time.
“Buck up you whore. Now you’re a whore and a murderer. One more fuck is nothing. But… It wasn’t my fault! I was doing good here!”
She looked at the side door. Inside there lay a man. She hadn’t had a man since… Well, not for a long time. And he’d be spiky to boot. It’s not that she wouldn’t like that. She was built for it. No, it’s that she would like it too much.
That was the worst thing about being a whore. Sometimes you didn’t hate it. And she barely knew the guy. Still, as the only two khajiits in town, their paths had crossed numerous times. And she did kinda like the guy. Well, his looks anyway. Plus, he ran a respectable tavern. You have to give him some credit for that. In a town like this, to be a respectable citizen while being a khajiit was quite an accomplishment. He was, she realized, pretty much her role model here.
“But what’s my story? Why am I knocking on his door at this time of night?”
The answer was obvious. She’d have to play the slut of course. The horny slut who finally couldn’t stand it anymore and had to have khajiit cock. His khajiit cock. It was the only explanation that he’d believe anyway.
She sighed, then slapped herself. Hard.
“Idiot,” she said. “You fucking killed that girl. FUCKING KILLED HER!DEAD! They’ll bury her rotting body soon. Her parents will never know what happened to her. Her friends will wonder whatever happened to old ‘Katia’ after she went to Kvatch. YOU did that. YOU. Now you’re fucking too sweet and pure to go seduce some bartender? Idiot.”
I like Sashimi. No, not the food – the Prequel fan that’s obsessed with Rajirra. It would be easy to obsess over a character in secret. Sashimi is open to it, and like Rick2Tails, has to put up with shit for it. I find I like Sashimi’s Rajirra too. But she’s kinda been expanded so much that the original character is kinda lost in there somewhere.
Anyway, Sashimi commissioned Guoh to draw another scene from his fanfiction. Here it is, by Guoh:
It should be no surprise that I colored it. Jeeze, what a start! So I decided to do my best work on this one. I’m at 19+layers in my .psd file and it takes a good 2 minutes to convert it to a .png. Whether all that work is worthwhile is up to you, but I like it and – though as of this writing, Sashimi hasn’t seen the end result yet, he’s seen a couple of preliminaries.
Alright, let’s start with Flat Colors…
Yeah… okay. Nice enough I suppose. BTW this was the main color ref:
So… wood. There’s lots of wood in that picture. So I tried an experiment. This may have been done by plenty before me, but I at least came up with it on my own. I thought – what if I add some Noise, then Motion Blur it in the direction of the wood grain? I think it turned out pretty good actually!
As for the sky, that’s not a photoshopped real sky. Its a 4-color gradient, but I did nab the colors from a real photo. The scene is supposed to take place somewhere around dusk and I kinda liked the mood. But notice Kazerad’s colors above, in particular the pale under-colors. He shades them with a darker yellow- almost orange. That’s not what I’m used to doing… so let’s give it a shot!
Now I’m skipping over a LOT here.At the default res it’s a bit hard to see, but I’ve shaded the hair to be more like hair, put a lot of furry-edging on, withstrained my natural urge to make everything out of rubber (there’s some ‘sheen going on there, but for me I kept it subtle). Now just some shading of the wood and I’ll call it done. The yellow shade on the dress does look pretty good though!
It may just be my conceit that I think it looks much better at higher resolution. I don’t know why Tumblr refuses to link automatically to the higher resolution images that ARE stored in Tumblr. Bandwidth conservation? Anyway…
And there you have it. Sashimi’s Rajirra. He let me read a bit of his fiction to see what was going on in this scene. Trust me when I tell you that Rajirra is NOT just getting up from pissing in the bucket while reading a scrolled-up newspaper. 🙂 She’s accepting a reward for some heroic deed. The bucket is there for a reason and the scroll is too. Until his fanfiction is public, that’s about all I can say.
Anyway, hope you liked it. I may still have issues, but at least I put real time into this one and tried to do my best. For Sashimi’s Rajirra. (Not sure that I’d do the same for canon Rajirra!)
No, not the Excess-opposite Moderation. Moderation – as in censorship on Internet communities. My proposition is that Moderation is a necessary evil, but it is extremely easy to get wrong and it is undoubtedly evil, and thus the use of moderation should be kept in check as much as possible and only applied when the evil you are combating is greater than the evil of moderation.
So, first – why am I writing this. The impetus was a situation on the Prequel fanart booru where something I worked on was rejected as not being “Prequel related” enough. The primary focus of the image wasn’t Prequel related, and I did add QW and Katia in the background specifically to get okay to add to the fanart page. I pulled them from a couple different Prequel pages, removed all background from them, pasted them into a layer on my image, Flipped QW horizontally, resized them appropriately, added a blur filter. How long did that take? How much effort was involved? I’d say around ½ hour. Because I’m slow. But effort was put into it. I’d argue that much less than ½ hours’ time was put on other images that are on the booru, but granted those have Katia as the central focus rather than in the background.
I got mad. But even then I knew 2 things – I was not mad at the Moderator. I was mad at the policy. I think it is a mistaken policy, and this essay is my reasoning for why I think so. But ultimately this is only my opinion. It’s not my sandbox. Before coming up with this reasoned approach, I had a couple other reactions in mind, the best one being to take 15 minutes and draw a bad Katia on blue-lined notebook paper in crayon, take a picture of it with bad lighting, and upload that to the booru. But cooler heads prevailed. (and I didn’t have any crayons)
Okay, now, on to my credentials. I’ve been a moderator before. In fact, I think you could say I was a Proto-Moderator. I was a Moderator before there was an Internet. In the 1990s I owned and ran the largest BBS in Palm Beach county, Florida in fact, with 24 lines into two PCs dedicated for its use – and this was back when PCs were pretty damn expensive. It cost the users $10 a month to login and they were happy to do so, and that more than covered my expenses for those 24 telephone lines. It was profitable month-after-month and I am still to this day in communication with many of the friends I met through it. It spawned multiple relationships and at very least 2 marriages that are still going strong to this day. (…and more that aren’t including my own at the time, but that’s life.) I guess you could say it spawned actual children for that matter!
I also run a small gaming website with my own home-written Forum software that ties to the game intimately- since I wrote both the game and the Forum software. That game has been running since 2000. A case could be made that I’ve been Moderating since the early 1990s. I’ve seen different styles and have tried them myself, both the Strict Police State model and the Laissez-faire model. As expected, the ideal lies somewhere in between. However I am going to argue here that the ideal lies much closer to that latter than the former.
As I mentioned, I do believe that Moderation is an Evil. When I first started doing this, my plan was to let the users run amok. I would set up forum topics, but leave it to the users to stay on track. When the user base was limited to a very few and not very diverse, that worked surprisingly well actually. Sure they would stray off-topic occasionally, but they would self-police or the ‘stray’ thread would simply die. However, as the users became more diverse (less a geek-fest and closer to a normal demographic with GASP actual women and girls online!) it did tend to stray more often, until moderation was required.
However, there are different ‘grades’ of moderation too. As my BBS grew, it became clear that moderating was not a 1-person job, so I had co-sysops that would keep up on specific forums and the chat room to help out. So the 1st grade of moderation would be a light warning from the co-sysop. 2nd level a serious warning, 3rd level, co-sysop would get me involved before banning. (no one was banned without consulting me since they paid $ to be there.) Even then the ban was likely only for a day or two. And then the perma-ban (which was never actually used!)
A more modern system is my game site because it is free to anybody and so are the Forums. Being free and relatively anonymous is a whole ‘nuther beast, and I took pains when setting it up to not require any personal information at all. I have the IP address, and that’s it. It’s not 4chan, but it’s pretty close. And yes, it’s more chaotic. Threads tend to stray more often – but they also seem to die sooner too. My analogy is to a rope. When the users have to pay $ to join, users are more likely to follow the rules – but when they stray, they stray hard. When free and anonymous, they stray more often, but the deviance from accepted norms are shorter-lived. So it’s like a frayed rope, but the majority still stay on track. So at most a moderator just has to trim the edges a bit. But no need to shave it!
Before I move on, I’d like to give an example of the worst situation I ever ran into. It could not have been solved by any moderation. It was back in the BBS days and two users were going at it in the real-time chat. One was a Conservative guy, probably about 17 years old, the other a Liberal woman of about 18. I wasn’t online at the time so I got the initial details from a co-sysop who was. He ended up banning the guy for ‘virtual rape’. Basically the conversation got more and more heated until the guy said something to the effect that he would rape her blah-blah-blah…
Yeah, it was pretty bad. But before I did anything else, I went back through the chat logs and read the entire conversation between these two. She was worse – by far. But the accusation of ‘rape’ can only be used by one sex. Virtual castration appears not to be a thing. Online, where no physicality is possible, whatever ‘virtual rape’ means, it can go both ways – and it did. In the end I removed the ban from the guy and applied it to the girl instead. As support, I posted their conversation publicly and specifically showed where she crossed the line. (and there was a clear notice on every login that all conversations should be considered public and that no privacy was implied or guaranteed btw.)
Again, it was not a perma-ban, she was back the next month and the incident never repeated.
A Tale of Two Discords:
Picture this. Two Discords. (If you don’t know what that is, you might just skip this bit.) One is highly policed and every attempt is made to keep it on-topic and clean. The other was created with the same fan base in mind, but allowed to run amok – cliques created, chaotic chats, unbridled lewds, everything.
A year passes. One has died. The other is still running wild, though strayed so far from the original topic that it’s discussion is so rare as to be non-existent. Which outcome is ‘better’? I would argue the latter, because any outcome is better than death. Extreme moderation is by far worse for a community than lack of moderation. IF a community is what you’re looking to build.
Now, it strikes me that one major difference between Kazerad’s booru and my own experience is that Kazerad actively discourages community formation. I am trying to promote it. And therein may well be the real crux of my disagreement with the policies on the booru. I’ll accept that.
Okay, enough history, what’s your point? My point is this. Yes, you have to have some moderation. But people tend to stay within the rules, esp. when those rules are clearly defined, with minimal intervention. If they’re overly complex or not able to be clearly defined, do not moderate the edge-cases. Let the rope have a little fray to it. Let it be a little messy. How messy is again open to interpretation, but where a post or image falls near the edge of a rule, if it’s borderline it should default to in not out in my experience. Always err on the side of liberality. You’ll know when it’s too far. It will be obvious. If it’s not obvious, it should be in. Because otherwise you:
1. Will have to define your rules better. (may not even be possible!)
2. Publicize your rules more prominently, which inherently is stifling – esp. as those rules get more detailed.
3. Do not ‘tweak’ your rules without notice, because then you have to go back through existing posts and remove those who now violate your revisions. If you don’t there will be “Well this got in and it violates your rules more than mine.”
There is a Golden Rule I’ve come up with to determine whether to moderate or not-moderate.
Is the evil of moderation greater than the evil of this post?
Paraphrased, “does the post really represent a serious problem?”
I also find the evil of moderation is pretty evil. Something’s got to really be a problem to be moderated. So ask yourself, is this really a problem? Or am I creating a problem where none exists? In an awful lot of cases, there is no problem. There’s an edge case that might be over the edge based on interpretation. But is it a problem?
It can be argued that it’s a ‘slippery slope’. “If I let this in, it is going to cause a bunch of more of these edge cases!” In my experience, that’s always untrue. It’s a single edge case and leaving it in does not cause issues. It just doesn’t happen. It’s the far outliers that you have to moderate, not the edge cases. That’s a simple truth based on years of experience. So again, in my experience, edge cases are fine. If it can be argued by a reasonable person that they are within the rules, then they are within the rules by definition.
That’s the heart of my case, but while on the topic I’d like to discuss Moderators themselves. In my case it was Unidentified BA that was my judge, jury and executioner. But here’s the thing, it doesn’t matter who the mod is. Being a mod is such a terrible, thankless job that I really don’t see why anyone would want to be one. Everything you do is open to scrutiny. If you don’t do something, that’s open to scrutiny too. You are asked to be judge, jury and executioner, but you are given a vague set of laws that are very open to interpretation to work off of. So you do your job the best you can with the best intent. And you are going to piss somebody off. It’s in the job description. “If you don’t piss anyone off this week, you’re not doing your job.”
I had the extreme good fortune in both of my Modding career endeavors to be the owner of the site. So at least I wasn’t sitting between the Owner and the Users, having to constantly look back and forth, trying to figure out what will please the Boss but still keep the masses in check. An absolutely horrible position and thankless job. So here’s some small thanks. Kudos to BA and anyone else that takes that job willingly. (Suckers!) I’m arguing against the policy, not the police here.
To summarize, it is my experience that it is better policy to allow edge-cases in rather than out. Edge cases can provide some unexpected variance and they do not cause a ‘slippery slope’. The Evil of Moderation is greater than the Evil of edge-cases. Do not try to fix a problem by moderation where no problem exists. If a reasonable argument can be made that post X is within the rules, then it is already within the rules inherently – or the rules are too fuzzy.
There is no silver-bullet to Moderation. (Ask Mr. Zuckerberg about that.) There is no easy answer to the Problem of Moderation. I can only offer my own opinion based on years of experience. The interpretation is up to the site owner ultimately on how best to moderate. This is simply asking for a reconsideration of that interpretation. Moderation is a necessary evil, but it IS AN EVIL.
I deleted my prior post because I made it when butthurt and that’s always a bad idea. Instead I’ll repost properly. Months ago Kazerad was doing a stream and he was sort of randomly doodling something. He said it looked like somebody holding a bat.
I suggested – well, Mae from Night in the Woods might be appropriate! And I think as he was drawing it, as a joke I mentioned that Gregg might be a good catcher. So he drew this:
(If you’ve not played NitW – shame on you. But Gregg has a scene where he puts cups on his ears. Kaz came up with the gloves on his ears. Nice!)
So I was looking for something to color and decided to do this one. One thing I decided right off though was that I wanted to “ink” it. That is, redraw all the major lines and work off of that rather than the sketch. Watched a video or two and then did this:
The point being that by doing so I don’t have to try to clean up the reference and ‘scratchy’ stuff. That took longer than you might expect, but it did give me a good base to start from. Flats of course….
I’m on a discord and I posted it at that point just to see what they thought. Pocky asked if I was going to do her bright yellow mouth. I’m like, “What?” “Yeah, her mouth is bright yellow.” Now this I had to see:
Oh! The LINES are bright yellow. Because she’s so dark. I even lightened her up a bit anyway. But… Hmm… What would that look like? It would look like this!
Hey! That’s not that bad! And provides at least a slighly more ‘canon’ look to her So yeah, we’ll do that? I did one background but realized after I’d done it that the angle was wrong. It made Gregg look like a little tiny guy rather than the perspective thing. So I redid it and came up with this (eventually!)
The yellow blocks are supposed to look like chairs. Yeah, well… So shadows, highlights and some gloss later, I got this finally:
The eyes though… I dunno. I felt like they really needed black pupils, so i added those in my final cut. Also I realized I couldn’t post it on Kaz’ Prequel fanart booru because there’s nothing Prequel about it. So in addition to the black pupils, I also added Katia and QW as spectators. I will be the first to admit it wasn’t hard to do.
So that’s it right? Not so fast. The image was removed from the Booru as not related to Prequel enough. I wasn’t pissed at the moderator, but I was pissed. I complained long and loud to some friends. (and the Tumblr post.) I updated everywhere I had posted to leave out K&QW. If it’s not Prequel enough for the Booru, I reasoned, I’m not going to go giving free ‘advertising’ either. And I railed about how some that were accepted took less effort than mine! And I got this idea bout drawing a terrible Katia on blue-lined note paper in ink, taking a picture of it in bad lighting and posting it to the Booru, making sure I spent less time on it that I had inserting QW and Katia into mine.
But eventually I calmed down. I don’t get butthurt a lot, but I do occasionally. I came up with a better plan. I’m going to write an essay, tited “The Problem of Moderation”. I have some experience in the topic. The point is honestly to get Kaz to at least reconsider the policies there. But it’s his show, I’m just in the audience. But maybe if I present my case reasonably and calmly, he might at least consider it.
So that’s the whole story. And I want to emphasize again that I NEVER was mad at the Mod who deleted it. I was mad at the policy itself. And the essay will explain why. Being a mod is a thankless, no-win job No one should be angry at the moderator for doing that job.
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
FurNut and I collaborated on a drawing he did yesterday. We got to talking about shading and he drew me a nice nekked Rajirra to use as a model. Also he suggested I try a light source overhead as a change-up to the standard top-left or top-right sources.
This is the result:
To say I really like the end-result would be an understatement. I added the painted-on bikini originally so I could post it to the booru, but then I made up a short little story around it. But before I go there, just let me say this was not me painting a drawing by FurNut. This was much more collaborative than that. Like, I did the background beach but he added the clouds and the island. I did the belly-shading and painted underwear, but he did the tail and arms. I did the little furry highlights and the eyes, but he did tinted the overall picture a bit to blend it in with the background with hints of aqua etc…
I’ve never worked with someone else like that. I do hope to do it again! Hope you like the picture, and perhaps the little fanfic thing below…
Rajirra BeachPaintWear
Khajiiti fashion wasn’t something most people notice around Anvil. Yet among those in-the-know, an underwear revolution is taking place. For them, gone are the baggy, ill-fitting loincloths of yesteryear. Painted underwear has taken over, replacing the needle and thread with the paintbrush and a steady (and flexible) hand. Indeed, only those with very intimate mates or who can hire professionals can finish the look properly. No one knows quite how it had started, but once the cats had been given a taste of it’s tail-freeing freedom, it has spread like wildfire as fashion trends often do.
But it took a leap of courage, daring and innovation before the trend spread to beachwear. The look is widely credited to Rajirra, of “Rajirra’s SportsPaint” fame, here seen in a most scandalous little two-piece work she’d applied just this morning. We caught up with Raj her famous “Paint-Only” beach resort for Khajiits.
“So, Rajirra, you’ve become quite wealthy – even famous – for your line of paint underwear, this resort, and now your new line of beach-paint-wear. To what do you credit the tremendous growth of this fashion trend?”
“Is crazy, no? Thank you Mr. Johan, yes I’ve done well. But I don’t forget where I come from, and am happy to give to less-fortunate Khajiit through my not-for-profit Raj Foundation. But yes, the PaintWear business is booming, it is no doubt. And why should it not? If you have tail, you will know the issues we face with clothing. This solves not all, but certainly one of those problems. PaintWear gives freedom of movement like no other. And is sexy too, no?”
“Oh yes, very sexy. But there are critics…”
“Oh poo. Jealous women only and not-steady-hands. My salons, opening throughout Cyrodiil, have talented application specialists that provide services needed.”
“And the issue of hygene?”
“Hygene? We are Khajiits you see?! We shame other races in this way. Perhaps Argonians may reach our level of cleanliness. Perhaps. For other races, PaintWear may not be a wise choice, but for the Khajiit it is perfect solution.”
“And what about your menfolk?”
“Raj Paints is leading promoter of men’s PaintWear. But naturally there come issues not to be worried in women. Men do not stay the same. Change size, you see. Is difficult.”
“Indeed. But now Rajirra, let’s switch subjects. There are disputes about the origin of the PaintWear phenomenon.”
“Rajirra invent PaintWear. No other. I paint myself first.”
“There are those, even here in Anvil, that point to another Khajiit as having…”
“Lies and more lies. You speak of that writer, do you not? Pfah. It may be that some beggar Khajiit splashed some paint upon herself at some time. But even the lizard admits her wayward Khajiit friend only did so until she could purchase so-called REAL underwear. This is not innovation… This is not invention! Perhaps this interview shall conclude now, eh? ARMANDO!”
“Sorry Raj, I just brought it up so you could explain to our readers…”
“Ah, yes. No, is okay Armando. Sorry, I am sensitive to this. Continue.”
“Now, about your new line of beachwear…”
“Oh, like this I wear! Yes, is new application of paintwear concept for the beach! Is natural evolution. PaintWear underwear is great, but is not visible, see? No one but lover sees. But with only some minor changes, PaintWear becomes BeachWear! This is latest design I make. Templates for sale at Raj Salon near you! You like?”
“It’s quite… revealing. Perhaps a bit too revealing?”
(laughs) “Oh yes, too revealing. Only the most daring, like I, would wear my work to the beach. Is too much for you, I can see. Is only for beautiful people. Perhaps, someday, you could be beautiful people though. And now I have party to go to. Armando, can you show man out?”
“Just one more question, if I might, Rajirra. Your PaintBeachWear… wouldn’t it… I mean… in water, wouldn’t it wash off?”
“WATER? Pfft. Silly man. Armando… thank you Armando. Khajiit do not go in water at the beach silly man. Would get paint wet.”
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.
Kazerad’s Skyrim character is named Kira Fang-Fister. She specializes in the knockout punch. Last night he was playing while on a stream and he got to that scene where you release Odahviing and he asks if you want to see the world as a Dragon does.
Suddenly this commission came to me. I desperately flailed about, but no artist in sight. Then, FurNut dropped in! I snagged him into doing it. This one really should be seen in high res though. After I post it, I think I’ll try and link to the full size version.
And Katia is along for the ride (honestly because without her it doesn’t belong o the Fanart Booru! – but also because it’s always funny to make a cat cry.)
Also this time FurNut send me the layered .psd so it was a lot easier to work with to add my colors and shade to it. Here’s the original sketch from FurNut (without the caption)
Some flat colors in place…
Getting there. Some shading in place…
More shading and highlighting…
And finally, the punchline…
Oops! Those were supposed to be holes! Darn it I’ve been coloring Adine so long they looked like wing freckles! Correction here:
If you see a link below this line, that’s the link to the full size version. (well, even it’s not FULL size. This puppys is 6000px wide on my pc!) But close enough.
bdprequel 
