“One question,” Dodger said after they’d risen in the morning and resumed their trek to the Imperial City. “Why did you need my knife when you had that sword last night anyway?”
“Can’t throw a sword,” came the terse reply.
Dodger nodded to herself and they walked on in silence.
As they got nearer the city, the road became wider and Dodger began to see other people on the road. First came a farmer, driving a wagon loaded with just what she expected – corn and lots of it. She waved and called a greeting to the old man as he rumbled past, but he didn’t even slow down and Yellow-Eyes took her hand and led her off the road before he got too close.
“Are they all so friendly in the city?” she asked sarcastically.
Yellow-Eyes looked at her before replying, “Be grateful he didn’t run off the road to hit you. They don’t intend any disrespect, Dodger. Most of them don’t even see us as people. We might as well be the grass or the trees. You wouldn’t expect him to talk to a passing tree.”
“But, they’re not all like that. Right?”
“No. There are exceptions. It’s like those slavers yesterday. I think they really believe the bullshit they spouted. They had to muzzle me so they could imagine I couldn’t talk. Otherwise I’d shake their world view and they might even feel guilty about binding us all up as slaves.”
“But they had respect for that Briarbird guy.”
“They did indeed. On some level, I think humans see the elves as superior to themselves. High elves at least. It’s a sure bet the High Elves do.”
“He decimated them didn’t he?” Dodger laughed, kicking a rock down the road.
Yellow-Eyes didn’t respond.
“Well, technically he didn’t. Decimated would mean he killed a tenth of them. He killed ten-tenths of them. He deci-decimated them.”
Yellow-Eyes kept walking.
“You probably didn’t know that,” Dodger muttered.
Still nothing.
“It was supposed to be funny,” Dodger said to the ground as they topped a hill.
But when she looked up, she saw the city. “Oh… my… god!”
Yellow-Eyes took her hand to help keep her out of trouble as they approached the city, steering her this way and that to avoid the increasing traffic while her eyes were glued upward to the walls as much as the awesome spectacle of the White-Gold Tower that loomed larger than any tree she had ever seen, ever even imagined. In her experience, only mountains could rival it’s size. But this had been built by… someone anyway!
“Human’s can’t be all bad! Look at what they built!”
Yellow-Eyes didn’t even turn to look at her. “Bullshit. This was built by the Aldmer. Humans just took it over.”
“Oh. Well, anyway it’s so… BIG! Surely you must be impressed. Briarbird said you were an architect.”
They passed within the gates without incident.
Once inside, and away from the guards Dodger noticed, he said, “Not that kind of architect.”
Dodger pulled at his hand and he stepped aside out of the road.
“What do you mean, not that kind of architect? How many kinds are there?”
Yellow-Eyes looked around, then led them to a more secluded area, where he knelt before her.
“Dodger, I know you’re young…”
“Seventeen,” she reminded him.
“Seventeen. But do you really think the Imperials would send someone like Briarbird to find me if I was just a designer of buildings?”
“Well, I didn’t really think…”
“You need to start thinking, Dodger. This is no place for a dope who can’t put two-and-two together. Do you think my friend went through all that expense to find me just to have me draw up plans for some outhouse? An emergency office tower?”
Dodger began to pout. “You think I’m stupid.”
“No, Dodger. I don’t. I think you’re unusually smart in fact. But you need to use that brain. Especially here. I’m not kidding when I tell you ‘I’m not your nanny’. You’re going to have to take care of yourself, and that means keeping your eyes open and that brain of yours engaged. Now, you said you were a writer, so you know words. Let’s see if you can puzzle out just what kind of an architect I am.”
Dodger brightened when he said she was smart. So she thought about it.
“Well… no offense, but you look kinda rough. Those scars didn’t get there designing buildings I guess.”
“No, they didn’t.”
“And they said they found you with your tail caught in a printing press in a warehouse. That’s an odd situation for a building architect.”
“That was an odd situation for me. Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime. But the word… architect. What does it imply, other than buildings. What does an architect do?”
“He… um,” Dodger thought furiously. Yellow-Eyes was being unusually talkative. He wanted something from her. She needed to work this out. “He… makes plans.”
“Good. Yes. I make plans. But not plans for buildings. What kind of plans would someone want that are valuable enough to send an Imperial agent out for? An obviously highly qualified Imperial agent at that.”
“Something big. But not big like a building. Someone… wants you to make plans… for something big…”
Suddenly Dodger’s eyes grew very wide and she looked at the Argonian with newfound respect and something like awe.
“Something CRIMINAL!”
Yellow-Eyes nodded, closing his eyes in a sign of satisfaction.
“You’re a… mastermind!”
“Well. Sort of. I plan things. I don’t do them, but I plan them. I have a reputation among certain people of being very successful at it too. My friend wants me to plan something. I don’t know what yet, but he went through a lot of expense to get me here. If you’re going to tag along, I figure you should know what you’re getting yourself involved in. This isn’t some petty drug thing. It’s not even smuggling or slave running. It’s big, and likely political. It usually is with… my friend.”
“Is it dangerous?” Dodger asked, eyes practically sparkling.
“For me and you, if all goes well, no. For the field operatives, sure. But I just make plans.”
“You’ve been a ‘field operative’ though, haven’t you.”
Yellow-Eyes looked at her with more seriousness than she’d seen in him before. Normally he either just ignored her, or looked down on her like a child. This time he looked at her like an equal.
“Yes, Dodger. I have been. I got out of that though. It’s a bloody business and not one I recommend. But I owe my friend my life, so I come when asked. You don’t. I’ve already told you that you should go home. But you’re right. I can’t stop you. I can advise you though. Seriously advise you. Go home. If you get involved in this any more than you are right now, I don’t want to be responsible for any consequences. You’re making a very grown-up choice right now. It’s up to you, but staying with me is not wise.”
Dodger looked at the Argonian she called Yellow-Eyes. She noticed the little wrinkles around his eyes for the first time. The scar on his head looked deeper than she’d noticed too. He was certainly no young buck. His eyes had seen a lot. This was as serious as he knew how to get. He was trying his best to warn her off, but he didn’t understand that his warning had the opposite effect.
Dodger smiled back, a smile that was more mature than her years. “Thank you Yellow-Eyes. I know you’re being serious. But I also know what I’m doing. There’s nothing waiting for me back home. I need to get away. I’ll stay with you, if you’ll have me. For a little while.”
Yellow-Eyes stood up and sighed like an old man. “Mistake. But it’s your mistake Dodger. Always remember, it was your mistake. Deal?”
Dodger held out her hand and grabbed his. It felt at once strong and old at the same time. She shook it once firmly. “Deal.”
Her first inclination was just to return home. She was well aware of how close she had escaped slavery. Or worse. But the warmth of the drink and the relief of having escaped, along with the Argonian stranger’s words caused her to rethink that decision. Her fascination with humans in general was too deep to let his cynical words stand. And besides, if she returned now she might as well admit defeat. As weird as this day had turned out, she also realized she had learned practically nothing that she could use in her book.
“WAIT UP!” she called to the stranger and raced to catch up.
He looked at her askance. “Now hold on young one. I am no babysitter, and you have no business coming with me. Go home to your clutch. The Imperial City is no place for a hatchling like you. I’d thought you would have learned your lesson back there.”
Dodger stood defiant. “You can’t stop me. I’m going to the Imperial City with you or without you. We might as well travel together. I’m seventeen, I’ll have you know. I’m not a hatchling.”
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “But don’t expect me to be your nanny. You’re on your own when we get there. And here, give that bottle back. I don’t need a drunk hatchling…”
“Seventeen!”, she insisted.
“…drunk teenager then. I don’t need some drunk teenager staggering around slowing me down. Keep up or don’t. But you don’t need that.”
“Yes sir, Mr… what did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.”
“Well, what should I call you then?”
“You shouldn’t. But ‘Sir’ will do.”
Dodger groaned at that. This was going to be a long, boring walk.
“Well, I’m Kakar-Sutheeth,” she said, holding out her hand in the common human way of greeting. “And I’m glad to meet you.”
The stranger looked at her hand, a smile coming over his face.
“Shut up!” she said at his non-existent words. “Just call me Dodger.”
“Dodger it is then. A porcupine?”
“I said shut up about it,” she said, knowing a blush was stealing over her face against her will.
They did find a road before long, and the stranger seemed to know where he was and where he was going, so Dodger kept pace and tried not to ask too many questions until the sun began to set.
“Um… sir?”
“Yes Dodger?” he sighed as they climbed yet another hill.
“How far is it to the city? Will we get there tonight?”
“Not tonight, no. I’ll stop before nightfall. You can continue on if you like, but I’d advise against it. Unless a Legionnaire comes up behind us that wants to keep guard over you, it’s not safe at night.”
“Oh. Okay.”
They walked on for a while until he came to a stop as the sky began to darken. He pointed at last to an outcrop of rocks some way off the road. “There,” he stated.
Dodger followed dutifully, taking another drink from her water flask as she followed him.
“Do you have a knife?” he asked.
“Sure! Unlike you, I came prepared!” she said cheerfully as she dug around and produced the small blade.
“Hmph. Got any food in that pack of yours?”
“Well,” she stammered. “Not a lot. I’ve got some jerky left and a little green-leaf salad.”
“Prepared eh?” he said, looking at the knife in his hand. He looked at her again and the knife suddenly looked a lot bigger than she remembered.
“You can have it!” she said, proffering her pack whole.
“Oh relax hatchling. I’m not going to rob you. You stay here. I’ll be back in an hour or less.”
She watched his back fade into the darkness and settled in atop the rocks in a little cubby and picked at her salad. She decided that, as gruff as the stranger was, she was duty bound to offer him half anyway so she separated what she had. That crack about being prepared was stupid, she realized, and she hit herself on the head for having said it.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
But as time went on, she began to wonder if he was even going to come back. It had certainly been more than an hour and there was still no sign of him. She wouldn’t blame him if he’d abandoned her altogether. Eventually she pulled out her blanket and tried to sleep. But the breeze was cold, the blanket thin and small, and the rock was hard. She snuggled up to the rock behind her closer, the heat of the day still radiating from it a little.
She heard him return finally, whispering her name, “Dodger? Are you there?”
“Sir? Yes, I’m here.”
“Sorry, it took longer than I thought. I’ve a little food if you’re interested,” he said, climbing up to where she lay.
Dodger took one look at the raw mystery meat he offered and shook her head. “Thanks, Sir. I really appreciate it. But I’m good.”
He nodded in the darkness, her eyes able to pick out his silhouette against the night sky.
“I’d cook it if I could. I don’t eat raw meat as a habit. But a fire out here isn’t a good idea.”
“I saved you some salad,” she said, sitting up and offering it.
“Thank you, I’ll take it young one,” he said. “We’ll be in the city by midday tomorrow. My friend will put us up and feed us when we get there.”
“Oh! That would be wonderful!” she said, not hiding the delight in having a more formal plan for her future, if even just for another night. She offered him her water.
The stranger took the water bottle gratefully and drank a draft before handing it back with a grunt, then lay down with his back to her and his jacket over his shoulders. It didn’t even reach to his tail, she noticed, then looked to her own blanket. Too small but better than that.
“This is silly,” she said. “Sir, turn around.”
“Hmm?” he grunted, turning over.
She snuggled up against him, stuck her tail between his legs and put the blanket over them both, using his arm for a pillow and pulling his other arm over her.
“A human would be warmer,” he said.
“I’m sure they would,” she agreed. “But you’re all I’ve got tonight. Now don’t get fresh. Goodnight, Sir.”
“Yellow-Eyes,” he said a little later. “Call me Yellow-Eyes.”
“You don’t have yellow eyes, do you?”
“You don’t know?,” he asked.
“I’m color-blind,” Dodger admitted, a little ashamed. “I really don’t know.”
“No, they’re not yellow.” he answered, shifting a little and obviously not planning to explain further.
“SIR!” Dodger exclaimed at a sudden poke in her backside. “I SAID DON’T GET FRESH!”
Yellow-Eyes reached between them and handed her knife back to her.
Dodger laughed nervously and accepted the knife, noticing the handmade sheath of leaves he had created for it. “Oh. Heh. Sorry.”
Author’s note: Images blatantly and obviously edited from Kazerad’s original Evil Quill-Weave posts. I don’t think he’ll mind. I really like this one. And it’s almost not lewd! (almost). Thanks to the discord folks on UPD5 for providing me with the worst imaginable names for Evil Quill-Weave by the way!
“You need a name if you’re going to
be an arch-villain you know,” said the Faceless Mook. “You can’t just be some
nameless mystery villain.”
Quill-Weave sat back on her new
throne of skulls. Well, it was painted like skulls anyway. “I know, I know. But
it’s so hard to come up with a good name. Got any ideas?”
“How about Quill-Reave?”
Quill wrinkled her face in disgust.
“No. Lady something. Or maybe Mistress something.”
“Lady Quill-Reave?”
“Too close to my real name too. No,
it needs to bear some reflection on me though. Something unique.”
“Baddy Two-Tits?”
The wine spurted from her nose.
“Cute.”
“Mistress Cannonball Rack?”
“If possible, see if you can take
your mind out of my cleavage and think! Maybe something random…”
“Lady Kazerad”
“Don’t be ridiculous. What kind of
name is Kazerad?”
“A shitty one.”
“That’s the first thing you’ve said
that makes sense.”
“Um… Kill-Weave?”
Quill sighed. “I told you, it’s
hard! Let’s go with that for now. But I retain the option to change it later!
For now, Mistress Kill-Weave will do.”
“And I suppose I’m just supposed to
call you Mistress?”
“Of course! Like all good minions
do.”
Faceless Mook stood up from the
ebony (colored) table and stretched, “Well, Mistress, I’m going to call it a
day. The wife said I have to be home early today to help clean up the hovel.”
“You don’t tell her where you go
every day do you?
“Of course I do. Quill…”
“Mistress!”
“Sorry – Mistress, she’s my wife. I
tell her everything I do.”
“What do you tell her?”
“I tell her I’m going back to that
crazy Argonian’s tower.”
“And… she doesn’t mind?”
“Not when I bring back money every
day.”
“What if we were having an affair?
What about that?” Quill asked, rather insulted.
“If I was bringing back money every
day, she’d call me a gigolo. And then take the money.”
“You don’t tell her where my secret
lair is, do you?”
“Quill…”
“MISTRESS!”
“Mistress, everyone in the village
knows where your secret lair is.”
“They do?”
“They do.”
“Do they cower in fear?”
“Not… precisely. But the carpenter
did say nice things about you after you bought that chair from him.”
“Throne.”
“Sorry, ‘Throne’”
“Throne of Skulls.”
“Throne of Carved Skulls. Carved,
painted skulls.”
“Well dammit, where am I supposed to
get real skulls at anyway?”
“There’s always the graveyard.”
“EWWW! That’s just gross!”
“Sorry Mistress. But I gotta be
going.”
“Alright, but I expect to see you
bright and early tomorrow morning.”
“Noon.”
“Bright and early tomorrow at noon
then.”
“Goodnight Quill.”
“MISTRESS!!!”
“Goodnight Mistress,” said the Faceless Mook, as
he removed his Mook outfit and put on his regular clothes and walked out the
door, taking care to jiggle the handle so it latched properly.
“Well, every villain has to start
with what she has available,” the Mistress of Evil thought to herself. “Now, I
need to start thinking about the future. I have to do something Evil. What can
I do that’s Evil tonight? Hmmm…”
She rose from her throne and began
the ascent to her bedroom. As she rounded the circular stairs to the top of the
tower, she looked out the small arched window. “No, you peed out the window
last night. Besides, then I’d just have to clean it up again in the morning. Something
even more Evil than that…”
Eventually she gave up, removed her
Evil garb, and continued her writing. She found that her writing was inspired
by these monthly trips to her lair at least. It wasn’t till she had climbed
into bed that she finally got an idea. Suddenly she was wide awake. Those
stupid villagers. They were probably talking about the crazy Argonian lady even
now. That wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all! She had to inspire fear, and if
she couldn’t even get those rubes to fear her, what was the point?
But now she had a plan. It would
have to wait until they were all asleep, but then she would strike!
She heard the bats flying in and out
of the attic above her. Mooky had wanted to clear them out, but she knew
better. They were atmosphere. The
dungeon was even better. The manacles were a bit pricey, and they hadn’t a
speck of nice authentic rust on them yet, but they were necessary. She’d
considered buying a rack, but those things were damnably expensive! The
carpenter could make a fake one she guessed.
Finally the candle had burned low
and she estimated it must be after midnight. She smiled a toothy grin that
would have made an alligator proud and donned her villain outfit again. She
only got her tail stuck once this time and felt she was getting better at it.
Then she took the remains of her candle and crept down the stairs, pausing
momentarily to get what she needed.
Then she slunk out into the cool
night air. Before she’d gotten halfway to the village, she realized it was too
cool. A breeze was coming up as a storm approached. Suddenly a bolt of
lightning flashed in the distance and the slow rolling rumble of thunder
swelled.
“That’s more like it,” she thought.
“This is a night for Evil. Tonight, Mistress Kill-Weave will strike fear into
the hearts of those who would mock her! Crazy Argonian indeed! I’ll show them
Crazy!”
The moonlight disappeared as the
racing clouds covered it just as she neared the outskirts of the village. Just
as she’d hoped, the lights were all out and not a sound was heard, but for a
dog yapping from some far-away hut.
Suddenly she realized something.
“What if they have a dog?” As she approached the door of the nearest hut she
looked around her for signs of any pet. Her worries were dispelled when she saw
the yellow eyes of a black cat watching her. “No, no dogs here!” she realized.
As if in assurance, the cat padded over to her and stroked itself against her
leg. For a moment she wondered if cats could breathe underwater, but banished
the thought as irrelevant and unproductive. Instead, she slid from shadow to
shadow until she was at the door. She tried the latch.
“Unlocked. Of course. The innocent
peons,” she laughed to herself. Soon they would lock their doors and bolt their
windows every night now that Mistress Kill-Weave was near! The door
opened directly into the kitchen, and was as silent as she was. It took only a
little time to find what she was looking for.
When she emerged, the storm was
growing stronger and threatening to unleash it’s fury any minute as flash after
flash of lightning guided her back to her lair as if by her own dark lord’s
will. The howl of the wind was now growing and she laughed out loud, knowing
the scene of chaos that would present itself in the morning. The laugh, lost on
the wind, was the perfect cackle of an Evil Overlord.
Still, she thought, damn but these
leggings are thin. The wind raced
right up her dress and sent a shiver over her that was at once thrilling and
damned embarrassing. Maybe she shouldn’t have worn the Evil Outfit after all.
Suddenly something slapped her hard
in the face as the wind caught hold of her dress in earnest and blew the front
of it smack into her snout. She pushed it away, and used her tail to hold the
back side down.
And then the rain started. It went
from dry to monsoon in less than a second. As she staggered towards the tower
through the woods, she realized her high-heels were no longer appropriate in
the rain. She would definitely need to get boots. She removed her shoes, then
realized that she would ruin her leggings if she tried walking in them. Those
things weren’t cheap either. She wondered momentarily if leather was okay to
get wet, but decided it was pointless now. She did what was necessary and
removed the leggings and tucked them under one arm as her other tried in vain
to keep the front of her dress down with her free hand.
She was no longer feeling a thrill
at having a breeze blow up her dress. Now she just felt cold, wet and naked.
Miserable. She recalled Mae’s admonition, “Be
that woman.” Well, that woman wouldn’t be in this mess. But she saw the
tower close ahead and at least she was almost safe within its walls at last,
where she could dry off and try and salvage some dignity. At least no one had
seen her.
But something had seen her. Suddenly
she saw two glowing yellow eyes. The cat. It was hissing as it bounded towards
her. She tried to avoid it before she stepped on it, but it let out a yowl as
she tripped over it and she fell headlong into the mud just in front of the
tower door. The leggings were buried in mud. Slime and muck dripped from her
forehead as she raised her head to look at the door she’d almost reached, and
some of the water that flowed down her cheeks was not rain.
She staggered up again, now filthy
as well as wet and reached the door. The latch wouldn’t budge. She pounded on
the door, but the latch diligently did its duty and stayed latched. She slid
down and cried. Only a merciful God could explain why the door gave way when
she was at her most wretched, but open it did and she crawled in.
Eventually her tears dried up. She
peeled herself out of the dress, found a towel and dried herself off. Then she
half-walked and half crawled up the stairs to her room and wriggled into bed. A
few tears found their way out that apparently she’d saved up when she thought
of the beautiful outfit she’d surely ruined.
When she awoke, an afternoon sun was
shining through the window. A fresh set of clothes was waiting on the nearby
table that she stared at uncomprehendingly for a while. Then she realized she
was laying across the bed in her normal posture upon awakening, her upper body
slung over the edge. She felt oddly breezy too.
Then she remembered the night’s
disaster and realized she was still naked. Somebody had been in here and put
those clothes out for her. She closed her eyes and fought to make circumstances
different by sheer willpower. It didn’t work. She got out of bed and put on the
clothes and went downstairs.
“Good afternoon, Mistress!” the
Faceless Mook said in greeting.
She wasn’t sure if the man could see
the blush on her face. “Good afternoon Mooky. I suppose that was you who left
the clothes?”
“Sure was Miss Nipless! I saw your
outfit by the door when I came in too. Took ‘em to my wife. Look here. Good as
new!”
Suddenly Quill-Weave’s attitude
brightened considerably. She took the proffered clothes and held them up. They
were as advertised. Even the leggings showed no sign of the previous night’s
disaster.
“Oh, Mooky! THANK YOU!” Quill said,
tears of joy running down her cheeks as she gave him a hug fit for another
Argonian.
“Aww, wasn’t nothing. My wife did
most of the work. She’s a wizard with laundry. You should meet her sometime.”
“I will! I will!”
“We figured you got stuck out in
that storm last night. It was an awful storm. You must have been soaked.”
“Oh I was. But I made it back.
Eventually.”
"Well, all’s well that ends
well. Now, come and sit down. The wife made you something special for your
troubles.”
The cake on the table looked like it
was made by an angel. Quill walked over to it, her eyes wide and sparkling.
“For me?”
“Of course it’s for you! Here, I’ve
cut you a slice already. Say, what were you doing out there anyway last night?”
“I… well… I was doing something…
evil.”
“Oh! What did you do? Kill some
innocent animal or something?”
“No. I started thinking about what
you said. About the villagers. That business about the crazy Argonian lady. I
took my revenge!”
Suddenly the face on the Faceless
Mook became worried.
“Really? You’re first real Evil
Deed? What did you do?”
“Mooky, I did the most evil thing
imaginable. I sneaked into someone’s house and…”
“Yes? What did you DO
Mistress?!”
“I… replaced their sugar with….
SALT!” she said with an evil grin as she stuffed a big bite of cake into her
mouth.
After two full glasses of water, she
was able to talk again. But she didn’t say anything. She just sat on her skull
throne, sobbing miserably. She didn’t even see Faceless Mook take the cake away
and throw it into the trash bin. He left quietly after that, deciding that she
probably wanted to be left alone.
Author’s note: After working on that Evil Quill-Weave picture, I got inspired to write another fanfic. Not sure if/when I’ll continue it, but here it is. It seems inane to post the same image again, so instead I’ll post an image of my Evil Quill-Weave mod from Skyrim that I use as a Avatar sometimes. The rest is, alas, a wall of text.
The idea had been fermenting in her for months. ‘Foment’ might be the better
word choice, she realized, but with the added implication of alcohol
involvement it seemed more appropriate. It was during her travels doing
research on the doomstones that it had truly moved from fanciful thought
process to a more concrete notion. A rumor had come to her of an undocumented
doomstone deep in the forests south of the Corbolo River. Since a known
doomstone, the Shadow Stone, was in the region anyway it made sense to travel
there.
Of course she had gotten lost, but in a very real sense, that was kind of
the goal. She’d hired a retainer to act as her guide and, though practically
mute, he seemed competent enough. Then they came across a site she’d not
expected. It was a tower, long abandoned but still serviceable, hidden deep
within the forest and apparently completely forgotten. Upon her return from her
travels, she hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. It was her secret, she decided.
Well, her and that retainer. But she’d paid him well to keep quiet, not that he
apparently knew any other way, the faceless Mook. She didn’t even tell her
lover, Castia, and that was saying something.
However, it was Castia that really was the impetus that began Quill-Weave’s
descent into evil. Of course, she’d long been fascinated with the criminal
element of society, yet they never measured up to her imagination. Inevitably,
when you got right down to it, the criminal mind was one of two types. One was
usually a decent enough chap who was pushed into law-breaking by circumstances
beyond his control, then realized he liked it. As long as you didn’t cross him
or threaten to expose him, he was likely to be a nice guy really.
Then there were the crazies. Sociopathic nutjobs who would do whatever they
felt like, at any time, to anyone. Those were the dangerous types and she tried
to spot them quickly and then head the other way. But even they were… random.
They weren’t like the characters in her books, who were always scheming up some
nefarious plot or another. The sociopaths were just nutjobs who had no filter
for any whim that blew across their mind. That’s not really evil. It’s more
like they’re just animals who never developed higher civilized brain function.
Those types she didn’t like though, and on more than one occasion she let slip
a clue or two for the Legion.
Okay, maybe “clue” would be too subtle. She practically handed them notes
saying “So and so did this. Here’s proof. Arrest him.” The Legion wasn’t known
for its deep cunning or wit.
But an author knows more than most how deep words can cut. Being called a
stick-in-the-mud would have been a trivial offense to most. But Quill-Weave was
particularly susceptible to its deeper implications. She had spent years
writing her series on the lowlifes of Cyrodil, and some of those ‘lowlifes’ had
become pretty damned ‘high’ in the political world in that time. She was more
than a little aware of just how bourgeois her own life had become, and in the
back of her mind she resented it. So it only took a little spark to set her
off.
She sat up in bed suddenly one night, realizing what she had to do. She had
to become that which she had sought for all her life. She had to become Evil
Incarnate. Her search for it in the criminal classes had been fruitless. It
didn’t exist. But she was an author. She knew what it must look like and how it
must act. And she had enough resources now to make it reality. So she took a
special trip to the Imperial City to visit a tailor she knew who worked in
specialty products that only certain trades would have a need for.
In front it appeared to be just another shop marketing trinkets and small
leather goods and watched over by an equally nondescript Khajiit. She recognized
Quill-Weave when the author entered. A quick exchange and Quill was led through
a door in the back, then climbed down a hidden trap door to an underground room
of illicit and undeniably erotic fabrics, most of which would require a leap of
imagination to call them clothing.
“So, the great author returns to this one’s humble shop eh? Another story of
prostitution perhaps you are working on?”
“Cut the Khajiit-talk Mae. I’m here as a customer this time, pure and
simple. I need something… special.”
“Alright, alright. I get so used to it I sometimes forget who I’m talking
to. So, what are you looking for? Something lacy maybe? I’ve got this great new
design for a G-string that can even handle an Argonian tail. Here, take a
look!”
Quill-Weave took the pink undergarment with disdain, but then looked at it
more closely. Try as she might, she couldn’t figure out how the damned thing
was supposed to work.
Mae took it back from her with a look of disgust. “You really have no
experience at all, do you Quill? This is where the tail goes… here. Then this
wraps around the front.”
“But then that part is what goes over your… you? But it’s not big enough to
cover…”
“Not meant to cover it, silly lizard.”
“But then why would you eve…”
“Oh forget it. What are you looking for?”
“I need something in leather. Black leather.”
“Oh! I didn’t figure you for the S&M type! Top or bottom?”
“Huh? Well, I need both a top and a bottom I guess.”
The Khajiit rolled her eyes. “Newbie eh? No Quill, that refers to if you are
the Dominant or the Submissive. Master or Slave?”
“Oh! Well then… Master. Definitively Master.”
“Come this way. How do you feel about studs?”
“I’m not into men, Mae.”
“Jeeze, no Quill. I mean metal studs. I’ve got a wide variety. Spikey,
black, chrome. Here, take a look at this rack.”
“Mae, I might like women, but that doesn’t mean I want to see your tits!”
Quill responded to a blank-faced Mae.
“So that’s how it is eh?” the Khajiit finally responded when Quill let the
smile creep over her face.
“Hey, you started it!”
“You’re okay Quill, but puns are evil,” the little Khajiit laughed, handing
her an odd crotch-less pair of pants.
“Um… no Mae. I’m going more for a Master Villain look. Less sex, more severe.”
Though she tried on some very, very interesting outfits, in the end Quill
wasn’t satisfied with any of them. None were quite right for the villain she
was planning to become, though she did purchase a couple cute ones anyway just
to have on hand should the need arise.
“Well, that’s all we’ve got that will fit an Argonian. I’m afraid we’re
going to have to go Custom. Let’s go into my office and see if we can come up
with something more like what you have in mind.”
Some minutes later, Quill was watching Mae do sketch after sketch as they
both made adjustments.
“Now, about the bodice, do you see it as open or closed?”
Quill looked down at her chest. “I’ve not got much in that department. I
guess closed.”
Mae noticed the inherent disappointment in the Argonian’s tone. “Nonsense
Quill. Stand up.”
She did as she was bid while the Khajiit boldly grabbed her under her tits
and lifted them up and pushed them together. She squeaked.
“There, now what do you see?”
“I see a cat squeezing my boobs together. Without my permission I might
point out!”
“Oh, lighten up Quill. I’m going to have to take measurements in a little
bit, and I get need to get very accurate around your tail region. No,
Quill, that’s cleavage and plenty of it.”
“But it’s not real. You’re just squeezing my boobs together.”
“Honey, that’s all cleavage is. And I can design it so you look like a
double-D.”
“Will it be comfortable, being squeezed like that?”
“Hell no. You’re a Dominatrix remember. You’re not supposed to be
comfortable.”
“Oh… yeah. Well then, open if you can make me look like that!”
The Khajiit hastily drew an open bodice.
“More… evil,” Quill commented but a growing smile on her face.
Mae drew what looked almost like horns on the sides, but lowering the bodice
even more to their sides.
“Thats… daring!” Quill said, though her wide eyes showed her approval. “My
nipples won’t show?”
“Darling, you’re an Argonian. You have the distinct advantage of not having
any nipples to worry about! Rock that advantage!”
“You’re right. Let’s go for it! Now, about the dress. I feel like it’s
missing something.”
“Yes… You’ll be practically exposed up top. It’s too conservative below. How
about a slit up the side?”
They both looked at the sketch for a minute.
“No, not enough,” Mae admitted. “Two slits. WAAAY up.”
Quill’s smile became more pronounced. “I’ll never be able to wear any
underwear with that.”
“Ah, but I’ve got just the thing for that. Transparent colored leggings
underneath. It’s my latest design.”
“Do it Mae. How long?”
“I’ll have it done in a week. Cash up front of course. You can take those
other two outfits with you. If you’re going to buy this, they’re on the house.
Now, it’s time for measuring. Quill, don’t be shy and let me do my work here.
Humans have it easy with just two legs to worry about. Even Khajiits have
smallish tails that don’t require a lot of precision. But you Argonians have a
massive tail that must be accommodated precisely. I need to know it’s movements
from full up to down flat to full left and full right if I’m to do a proper
job. So, off with the clothes and lift your tail as high as it goes…”
An hour later, Quill felt like she’d just finished a workout with her lover.
“You sure you don’t want to measure my depth? It seems like the only measurement you haven’t taken.” she quipped
as she pulled her skirt on.
“Don’t laugh,” Mae said while scribbling some numbers on a note pad. “I’ve
had to do that before. Sorta. I’ve done some very VERY unusual work. But
no, I’ve got everything I need now. Of course, I get paid for doing what I do,
and paid handsomely. This isn’t going to be cheap.”
She passed a number to Quill.
An eyebrow was raised.
“The other two outfits are free,” the little tailor reminded Quill, her tail
swishing from side to side in anticipation of a sale.
“What’s this line item? Rubies?!”
“I have an idea. Trust me.”
“After what you just put me through, I should marry you! Go ahead. But don’t
expect a tip!”
“What I just put you through was my tip, my dear. See you in a week!”
By the time the week was out, Quill-Weave had worked up something of a
lather in anticipation. No arch-villain worth his salt could go without the
appropriate outfit after all, and the one she and Mae had worked up was right
up there with her own imagination.
At the sight of her, Mae smiled an enigmatic smile and led her down again.
“Oh, I think you’ll like it. Come, try it on!”
A sparkle of red caught her eye. “What’s this?”
“Just try it on. You’ll see.”
Quill looked around for a dressing room before she caught the disdainful eye
of the tailor.
“Just exactly which part of you were you trying to hide from me?”
“Well…”
“Quill, if you’re going to wear this, you need to BE this. The woman who
wears this dress isn’t going to be looking for a dressing room. She’s going to
look for a whip. Be that woman, or you’ll never fit the dress.”
Quill closed her eyes. When she reopened them, she smiled in a way that
almost looked like a different person. She felt different. She had her
old clothes off in an instant, kicking them aside as if kicking away her old
life. Then she pulled the snug leather over herself. She needed a little help
getting her tail in properly, but otherwise it fit like it was tailor-made for
her, which of course it was.
The look on Mae’s face told her all she needed to know, but she submitted to
be led to a full-length mirror anyway.
“Now, put on these leggings,” Mae said, handing her some very sheer, very
stretchable cloth in a shocking purple color.
“Mae. This is really transparent. I told you, this wasn’t for sex!”
“Darling, everything’s for sex.”
"But… it’s very… breezy. I may not have nipples but I’ve got…”
“BE that woman Quill! The woman that wears this doesn’t give a fuck about
modesty. She wears her modesty in her attitude. If a breeze exposes her, she
will wield such disdain for any who would dare to glance at her they would
melt! You are untouchable. You are…”
“Evil Incarnate!” Quill finished for her and Mae smiled back.
“Yes, that’s it. You are no longer Quill-Weave, you are Evil Incarnate. And
Evil Incarnate doesn’t wear frilly panties.”
Quill took another look in the mirror, her eyes sinking to a sultry glare.
The face that stared back at her was not that of the author whose livelihood
came from telling of the exploits of others. This was the face of the person
that Did Things. She bared her fangs and they shone in flickering underground
light. When she looked back at Mae, the little Khajiit backed off reflexively.
“O… okay Quill. That’s enough.”
Quill stepped towards the tailor silently, menacingly until their breasts
touched and her gleaming teeth reflected in the Khajiit’s wide eyes, frightened
eyes. An involuntary shiver ran through Mae that even Quill could see.
“I like the red skull,” she whispered.
“Please, Quill. You’re scaring me.”
Quill turned around and took off the leggings.
“Sorry Mae,” she laughed. “I had to try it out properly.”
“Heh. Yeah. You’re very good at roleplaying. This is for roleplaying,
right?”
“Sure. Roleplaying. That’s what it’s for. Now, please help me get my tail
out of this. Will I need someone to help me with it every time?”
“Oh no. Here, let me show you. If you just stick your tail in first like
this, the rest is easy. Yes, like that. You’ve got it now.”
“So, what about the skull?”
“Oh, I felt it needed a pop of color. Ruby red. I’ll have you know I looked
all over the city for these and no one had anything even close to matching. I
ended up buying them from some strange guy outside the city. Weird guy. Would
you believe, he wore a lit candle on his shoulder! But he had the perfect
stones. I embedded them into the gloves, belt and these optional gauntlets too.
And the skull just fit so perfectly, I didn’t have to touch a thing! Crazy
cheap too.”
Quill spun back to face her again, her eyes flashing.
The Khajiit’s eyes grew wide again. “I… I meant to tell you I was going to
refund some. Here, you can have this back. I’m sorry Quill, but, well, you know
how it is, right? Business is business!”
“Don’t fuck with me Mae. You’re the best at this work. You deserve your pay.
But don’t fuck me over or you’ll regret it,” Quill said with a menace to her
voice that seemed to come of its own accord. Still, the thrill of that cowering
look in the little tailor’s eyes was intoxicating.
All the long ride back home, she kept the package on her lap protectively
while it kept her warm over the miles, seeming to generate its own heat that
went straight to her core. The look in the tailor’s eyes kept coming back to
her. For the first time in her life, Quill had seen real fear – fear of her –
in someone else’s eyes. She felt at once both ashamed and thrilled by it – the
thrill seeming to reach deep into her core and to fill a space she barely knew
existed. Something both primal, physical and essential.
She couldn’t wait to get back home, lock the doors, shutter the windows and
try it on again.
There was a bit of a discussion on the Prequel Fanart booru when I suggested I don’t think I’ve good at coloring. There might be some false modesty in there, but then again I look at some stuff and realize I really do kinda suck still. But I decided to work my ass off on one and see how far I could take it – given my current skill set. I decided to work on a simple one from Kaz:
Even this isn’t unmutilated. I added her right-breast curve and a slight nipple bump there because dammit, if I’m going to be working on this for like 3 hours, I’m gonna have my nips! And of course, this is after significant scan cleanup work.
After flat colors the real fun began. I ended up with 15 active layers on this! First, I thought it would be fun to add actual leather textures and scale textures. In the end, they’re probably not really visible, but they’re there anyway:
3 levels of shading there and I went nuts in highlighting:
If it seems like I spent an inordinate amount of time on her breasts, congratulations! You win the booby prize! Is truth. And I don’t normally do highlights on the skin too. It may be too much but I like it and that’s what matters right? I added this background:
It wasn’t till I’d uploaded (a nipless version) to the Fanart Booru that I realized what I’d created. This is Evil Quill Weave doing a standup comedian routine and angry because someone is heckling her. At least, that’s what it looks like to me! I should have added a mic stand, but I’ve spent enough time on a silly throwaway Kaz sketch. If you like it, GREAT! But I know this is the best I can do given my current abilities.
I still don’t think I’m very good at coloring – but I think, given enough time, effort and inspiration, I’m okay.
First, I’m up to 92 watchers. Wow! I should do something special when I hit 100 I guess! Someone suggested I should stream my coloring jobs. I dunno, I don’t think I’m being falsely modest when I say I’m really not that good. I mean, really – have you SEEN what some people can do? But hey, I’m also enough of an egotist to maybe give it a shot.
I watched a couple FurNut streams a while back and he’s got the cutest cat using FaceRig ever. Great idea. They’ve got a dragon too, but it’s not a CUTE dragon. Still, I might have to give that a shot.
Here’s my dilemma. I got a bunch of sketches from Kaz when I was up there, but I’ve already done all the ones I’m really interested in. Here’s what I’ve got. (I’d clean up the scans a lot before coloring though. No idea why they have that green tint, but I’d turn them to black-and-white first anyway)
Kaz can’t draw anything without them being cute. But meh… Neither inspire me much.
KInda a little intrigued by the pizza one. But… eh…
Now Evil Quill Weave is ALWAYS going to be near the top of my list. The only negative with this one is, I don’t know what the context is! If I do any of them, this is the most likely.
Or this one. I do like doing Quill I must admit.
Wow. That’s a REALLY bad pun Kaz! Like… hopelessly bad. (There’s a guy on the streams that goes by Robbyn I think that’s what this is referencing.)
This is the only one that’s an actual commission! I recall I was trying to be as non-lewd as possible and asked for Katia with a nice butterfly. A good take on it as only Kaz can do! But again, it doesn’t really inspire me much, and it’s such a pain to clean up scans and color I really gotta be inspired. I think I’ve colored every one of the actual commissions I’ve ever gotten, but…
Anyway, not really asking for suggestions here. More I just like putting every chicken-scratch Kaz does online because they’re always fun to look at anyway even if I don’t color them.
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.
Got another commission from Kaz I colored here. I’ve always thought that scene in
Quill-Weave: Take control of the situation where she’s playing an RPG with a couple of friends was an awesome concept. So I wondered what her player character would look like.
So I commissioned Kaz to do one with her PC. Here’s the result after some cleanup work from the scan.
Here’s the image after I added some flat-color to it. I obviously had to make up some of the colors since there’s no reference, but I thought I saw some Wonder Woman vibe going on with the PC. Also, in a stream a while back Kaz was playing Elder Scrolls online with a friend and both were sporting a couple skinny sneks so I kinda incorporated that in a little too.
A little soft shading and background got me this:
And then some higlhighting…
I’ll try and link these to their high-res counterparts here. I think I kinda over-thought the breast shading (because I do that a lot) so I might have kinda screwed that up, but I’m going with it. Hey, at least I didn’t add nip bumps to any of em!
I’m on realbboy’s discord that’s prequel-focused and I’d talked realbboy into creating a separate fanfic channel. It’s been too quiet so I promised to write one. I took inspiration from this – a commission from Enheldor by Kazerad:
And this time, Kaz can read it if he wants. He has my permission. I had to do some archive-searching to figure out exactly when this might have happened and pegged the time as just after Katia took a bath but before she left in the next panel. And of course all mention of it has been expunged from the record.
Without further ado – A Fine Apple.
“Well, that was… weird,” Quill thought as she closed the door behind her. She stood outside the door for a minute, listening to see if the crazy Khajiit inside her house would get up to anything stupid. She heard nothing until suddenly she heard the distinct sound of pawpads running towards the door from the inside.
“Holy shit! She’s coming! I can’t let her catch me spying on her!” Quill Weave thought quickly and leaped atop the nearest hiding place she could find, which turned out to be the neighbor’s patio roof. To call it a roof was, perhaps, a little generous. It might keep rainwater from falling to the floor underneath well enough, but her first touch proved it would not hold a fully grown Argonian from doing the same. In a panic, she leaped from one support beam to the next, barely avoiding collapsing the whole structure before she managed to jump onto a branch and swing back to the ground.
She glanced back and saw the cat standing in her doorway, looking straight at her. She bounded away over a fence and out of sight before stopping to catch her breath.
“Damn it! Pull yourself together girl! She’s just a cat and a scraggly one at that. You don’t even like Khajiits. Do you?” the Argonian asked herself.
Still, she did use her Gaydar at the bar the other day, she realized. Was she disappointed with the result? If not, why do it in the first place? Of course, it’s not every day you see a naked Khajiit hanging from the roof at the bar. There’s some real talent there…
“I’m gonna need a drink,” she decided. “Just as soon as I get done at the castle!”
**************
It took no time to drop in and ask about bringing her ‘friend’ to dinner of course, so rather than head back to encounter that cat again, she opened the door to her second home. Fortunately the bartender was being friendly today and didn’t give her a hard time.
“That was quite a night last night, eh Quill?” he asked as he handed her the third bottle.
Quill spent a millisecond considering if she should tell him about her discovery that the cat had trashed her house and was still there. Some things just needn’t be public knowledge. Instead she downed half the bottle before replying, “Yeah, quite a performance.”
“You going to pay me back for that pineapple? Those things aren’t easy to get around here you know.”
Quill sighed. “Oh, I guess. Here. Will that cover it?”
The bartender appraised the coins she’d plunked down. “Quill, that will buy the pineapple AND another case!”
“Well then bring it man!”
An hour later, the room was swimming. But that was alright, Quill Weave liked swimming. Sitting on a bar stool without falling off, however, was getting more challenging.
“Look MISHTER,” she was saying to where the bartender had been a moment ago, “Jush because I looked at her doesn’t mean I was interesting in her or anyth.”
“Oh, are you still talking about that Khajiit?” said his voice from behind her as he was mopping up some liquor that had missed her mouth somehow.
“STHAY IN ONE PLACE DAMMIT! Sop sneaking around behind me. What kinda barthender are you anyway?”
“Well I was just saying, you don’t use that on everybody. You’ve never used it on me!”
“Yer not my thype, baldy.”
“So, she is your type then?”
“She’s a slutcat. Parading around nekked like that. If I wanned to be a slut, I’d be the best slut this town has ever seen. I’d hang upthide down bettern she ever did.”
“I’m sure you would… say, don’t you think you’ve had enough? It’s still afternoon and you’re sloshed, Quill.”
“I’m juss saying. You like me donchoo? You doen wanna see me nekked on the ceiling do you?”
“No Quill. I don’t want to see you naked.”
“I bet I cood do that thing with the pineapple too. Probably better’n her. Wimpy little cat. And I could do it without splatting the whole thing all over too! Hey! I see another pineabble back there! Gimme that.”
“Quill, you don’t need that pineapple.”
Quill pondered that for a minute. “Do I need a pineabble?”
“No, you don’t. You need to go home. You can go take a nap and sleep this off. You were saying you have a dinner to go to at the castle tonight Quill. You need to go home.”
“I do, don’t I? Do you know where my house is?”
******************
As she staggered home, somewhere in the back of her addled brain she realized it was best she take the back way home. She paused to relieve herself of some excess drink and looked curiously at the clear liquid she’d brought back up for a while, not quite understanding what it was she was looking at. Then she looked at the little ball with a string tied to it and the orange that the bartender had given her. He was right, she decided. She’d have to work up to the pineapple. She took off her clothes and started to practice.
When finally she floated to the door in front of her house, she stared at it for a little while. “Why are you on the wrong side?” she asked the door. “You should be the other way around.” She knocked at her own door. “Hello? Who’s there?” she answered herself. Nobody answered, so she opened the door.
The cat was standing there with a beard of suds, looking at her dumbfounded. “Quill Weave?”
“Oh! I’m thorry. I thought thith was my houth. Thorry misther.”
“Quill, are you drunk?” the Khajiit asked, wiping the suds-beard off her chin.
“Oh! Hi Katia. Did you see that old man? You’re looking fine. Did you take a bath? Mmm. You smell clean,” Quill drawled, staggering into the Khajiit.
“QUILL! Stop that!”
“You’re one fine-looking cat you know. Hey! Wanna see me do a trick? I’ve been practith. Praktish.. Dammit, I’ve been P R A C T I C I N G! Now where is that ball and orange? Katia, do you see a ball or an orange on me anywhere?”
“I see a lot of you Quill, but sorry, no ball or orange.”
“Oh! Here’s that ball!” Quill said, finding the toy where Katia hadn’t looked.
“OH MY GOD! QUILL!”
“You know, if you were a toy, you’d be whoa-yo!”
“Quill! Be careful, the bath-tub is right there.”
“…and if you were a fruit, you’d be a FINE-apple!”
And with that, she fell butt-first into the tub.
********************
Katia was smiling, but made the oath anyway. “Never. I promise.”
“I mean it. Just forget that ever happened,” Quill said. “Thanks for getting me sober again, but really REALLY forget it. It didn’t happen.”
“Of course not. Don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Quill looked at the cat. That was a shit-eating grin if ever she’d seen one.
bdprequel 