On Writing Prequel Fanfiction

I don’t think I can do an essay on fanfiction in general, but I’m fairly sure I’ve written more fanfiction for Prequel Adventure than anyone else so at least I feel qualified enough to write something on that specifically. This isn’t intended to tell you what to write or not to write, just what I’ve found in having done quite a bit of it.

First, learn proper writing technique – and this includes (gasp!) grammar. Yes, you need to learn it. I am working on it still, and I’m not very good at it. But here’s some Don’ts that I’ve learned.

1. Don’t try to disregard proper grammar. The English language has evolved into its current form over hundreds of years. There are good, valid reasons for differences between commas, semicolons, colons and dashes as well as apostrophes, quotes etc. They exist for a reason. They make reading your crap easier. Trust me on this one, if you want your work to be read, you have to do this. No one’s going to slog through a bunch of home-made grammar rules. I actually did start writing this way. It was dumb.

2. Don’t forget your tenses. If you start writing in past, stick with it. https://depts.washington.edu/engl/askbetty/tenses.php is your friend.

3. Don’t stagnate the reader. In every chapter, something significant should happen. I specifically avoid descriptions and scenery, except where they are needed for the story. Reading is a very imagination-friendly activity. You should have a pretty solid grasp of the scene where an action takes place, but there’s no need to describe it in minute detail to the reader. They can fill in the blanks as good, if not better, than you can.

4. Avoid tropes. I hate tropes, but still use them occasionally. However, I’m constantly looking for ways to subvert the trope and do something different. Your imagination is your friend. Try and find some better, or at least different, way to resolve a situation.

5. Avoid Evil Characters. I don’t believe in Evil characters. Sure, you need a villain, but that villain can have perfectly reasonable motives. Or the villain can just be the situation. When I run across an Evil villain, unless they are Satan Personified, I don’t buy it. Someone wants to kill your character? Fine! But you damn well better know why they want to, even if the reader doesn’t, and it better not be “because they are EVIL”. This one pisses me off to no end. Actions can certainly be classified as evil, but I don’t buy it as a motivation. This may just be me though.

6. Think of your viewpoint. You should be writing typically from your protagonist’s viewpoint. Don’t write about things he/she/it wouldn’t know about. There are times you need to explain something they wouldn’t know, but there are likely creative ways to work around that rather than just be a NARRATOR and expound on it.

7. Don’t show the monster. That’s something I learned from reading Lovecraft – and his own essays on the matter. The reader can imaging far worse (or more beautiful – ‘monster’ is just an example) than you can ever describe. The yoyo-pineapple incident is a good example. Maybe Kaz has some idea what that was, but – believe me, I’ve written an essay on it – the audience can fill it in far better. Describe reaction to the monster, but let the monster stay hidden. Sometimes it’s what you don’t describe that’s the most memorable part of a story.

Next, avoid White Knight-ism AND avoid Perfect Heroine-ism. I’ve seen both. The first, I think, is more rampant and screams of Self Insert-ism. Sure, everyone’s fantasy is to be the White Knight. (or Black Knight but you get the picture). But are you writing a story for yourself, or for your reader? All good characters are flawed, and they shouldn’t be you. And by flawed, I don’t mean that they have an Achilles Heel. I mean that they aren’t perfect. They screw up. Make sure they screw up sometimes.

But the reverse comes up sometimes too. Perfect Heroine-ism. Esp. in relationship-heavy romance type fiction, sometimes the author will endow the object of the protagonists’ affection with perfectionism. Typically female, but of course that varies, but they can fight off the assailant and protect the protagonist invariably. This is related to the White Knight, because – and here’s big news – females aren’t perfect either. And again, I’d better damn well see that in the story. They need to screw up too. Even if they’re not human, they still need to Be Human. Be Fallible.

Fighting those two tropes will improve your story, because the outcome of every conflict is uncertain. Game of Thrones takes it to extremes, but you’ve got to lose sometimes. Want a hell of a good romance? IMHO, write one where the two don’t get together. Or don’t fall in Immediate and Immortal Love. There’s fantasy and then there’s fantasy. I guess it must be possible, but damned if I’ve ever heard of a perfect relationship. At least have the guy leave the toilet seat up once in a while, if you catch my meaning.

Also, avoid Deus Ex-Machina, but don’t let that hinder a good story either. It’s not a NEVER thing, it’s an AVOID thing. Better if the conflicts can be resolved by something conceivable to the reader than something totally unexpected.

Now, specific to Prequel, here’s some observations.

First, if you’re going to write a Katia+X relationship story… don’t. Katia specifically is trying not to get involved in any relationships right now. She wants to build her own life on her own terms. Sure you want to come rescue her from herself (most of her issues are self-inflicted). You can’t do that, and neither can your weird OC because that’s exactly what she doesn’t want. She wants to become her own person, with her own abilities and to fix her own problems. She can’t do that if your story requires the intervention of a third party. For Katia herself, I prefer to just watch her story unfold (slowly). But IMHO she needs to fix her life on her own. No one can fix it for her, even your White Knight.

I don’t think I’ve done any fan fiction involving Katia directly. Side characters are a whole ‘nuther beast. I can twist them into whatever I want I figure, and just keep the bits that I like. Like Quill-Weave’s propensity to get embarrassed at stuff. So that’s fun to exploit. As for my recent Ra’Jirra fictions, let’s be honest – that’s not even Ra’Jirra except that she’s a long-haired khajiit. But I think she’s exploitable because she really has no personality. We know she bailed on Katia, and that’s it. Beyond that we know she’s pretty rude. I used neither of those traits in ‘my’ Ra’Jirra – but then, I also put her into a sort of steampunkish universe too. The connection to Prequel is by the thinnest of threads.

Someone (Kaz I think) also suggested getting some college kid in need of money to edit my work. I’ve not done it, but it’s a very, very good suggestion if you think you’ve written something worthy of it. I’m still finding errors months after having written stuff. Don’t say to yourself “oh, it’s close enough. No one will mind that misplaced apostrophe.” If anyone actually bothers to read your stuff, they will mind. Once or twice, maybe not, but by the time they slog through the whole thing, those little things accumulate. And don’t think the spellchecker will catch that crap either – it catches only the crap you would catch anyway. So, at very minimum, re-read your own thing. Multiple times.

Okay, here’s one that you may not have thought of. Read your stuff. Aloud. Preferably into a recorder. Maybe not to post publicly, but just for yourself. It accomplishes two things – first, when you come across that word you were so proud of, you then realize why no one uses it. Also it makes you revise stuff into normal speaking words instead of written words. The two are awfully different, and reading it aloud makes that very obvious!

Finally, on the subject of – shall we say, FANSERVICE? Yeah. That. I do it all the time. Mine is usually pretty light stuff, but it’s a thing I do. Someone’s bikini top is bound to fall off or something. I’m probably not the best person to advise others on that sort of thing. It’s almost always completely extraneous to the plot, and Tolkien sure as hell didn’t do that. In an anime where early episodes are trying to attract viewership, it makes sense even if it’s kinda cringy. It’s probably worse in fan fiction. I should cut back on it, I know.

In fact, I’m thinking of cutting back on Prequel fan fiction altogether. I don’t know that people who ‘read’ webcomics are much on reading anything. That’s why I made a foray into doing audio. I think it’s easier to ingest than actually reading words on a screen. I’m not very good at it obviously, but my price was right (free). I do think I’d listen to your audio recording of your own stuff though. At least it’s a lot more likely than every reading 31000+ words on a screen.

Just one final thing, sorta related. Some time ago I started doing my own webcomic. (No, I don’t do artwork. Screenshots of posed Skyrim characters). I made the mistake of posting it on some of those sites that list webcomics. Well, guess who goes to those sites? Other webcomic writers. Yeah. I’m not saying not to post your fan fiction on fan-fiction sites, but I don’t think you’re ever going to get popular because of doing that, and you shouldn’t expect it either. Not sure I have a good answer for how to get popular. I’m not. But don’t think that if you post it up there They Will Come. Not likely. Maybe a few, but very few. If you want to Get Popular, you’re going to need to do something other than that.

After all that, of course, you can do what you want. Maybe I’m all wrong. These are just my thoughts on the subject.

The Best Prequel Update Ever.

SPOILER ALERT – This is 100% PURE PREQUEL UPDATE SPOILER post. If you haven’t read it yet, don’t dare continue. Besides it wouldn’t make much sense to you. I’ll stick a bunch of blank space and a little unrelated rant on my bad luck first before I get into it too much though.

here so you can go there:
http://prequeladventure.com

I just realized this post is List-Heavy. Owell.

That feel when you:

1. Record over an hour’s worth of narration for multiple chapters to get as much done as possible while you have the time.
2. Miss the best Prequel update ever. (well, I didn’t really miss it. Just didn’t see it till I was done recording.)
3. Go hoarse.
4. Stay up waaay too late.
5. Load up the recording and you had the mic too close and it’s full of breath pops.
6. Realize that it would be faster to re-record than try and fix them all.

Yes. That was me. Well, you live and you learn – and one of the things you learn is “Don’t put the microphone so friggin’ close”! (Or use a windscreen).

So… Good morning! Is this the best day evar? Why yes. Yes it is. Because the update is the best update evar. Why is it the best update evar you ask? Good thing you did so, because that’s what I want to talk about and Comments just won’t do it justice – plus I get to pontificate here without much chance of anyone refuting me.

First, the ‘best’ updates previously IMHO were:
1. Telekenesis Learned: http://www.prequeladventure.com/2014/07/katia-extrapolate/
Because Katia just achieved something she never thought she could do. And Aggy helped.

2. Second Fuckup: http://www.prequeladventure.com/2011/04/304/
Because it’s such a relatable situation. She knows better. All the voices in her head tell her no. But she’s hurting that bad.

Getting through dinner with the countess ranks high. Naked rained on Katia’s night in the chapel is up there. Gaius’ meeting with Vaermina. Imp murderboss. But I’d still say the above are the best. Till now. Because, at least in the arc since Sigrid has been involved, this is the climax. Now finally we know why Sigrid is such an asshole. We really know WHY.

Self-charmed. And it makes sense with the nondescript Sigrid that is seen in Oblivion. She’s no longer self-charmed. Totally didn’t see that coming, and it is the most perfect resolution to this arc I could have imagined. Coming up with that was pure genius in storytelling, even if it took years to get here.

As for the future, this COULD be the peak of the comic, but I see another villian on the horizon – faceless CairnCorp. But here’s some things that probably won’t happen. Sigrid won’t become bestest buddies with Katia, and she won’t share her gold with her. Katia’s character can’t win TOO much. We’ve still not figured out the nightmares either. But hey, one down it looks like! Woohoo!

Now, here’s some other reasons this is #1 Prequel update of all time. (Sorry Infiltrate. You didn’t even make the list, though you were fun as hell. But as for story progression, not so much.)

1. Multiple artists and styles.
I’m not sure that would work for most updates, but IMHO it really works here.
2. The countdown timer. Gives a sense of urgency. Hell I think I tried to read through it faster because of that. Something psycological going on there.
3. The back-and-forth betweein Katia and Sigrid is both funny and clever. When I finished, I had some questions, but after thinking about it, they don’t matter. Like the “Don’t Attack Me” footstomp. How? Doesn’t matter, it’s cool as hell.
4. That Dispel animation sequence. I both didn’t understand it, and yet understood it perfectly. Which is what any story involving magic damn well better do. You’ll never understand it, but it better have rules that make at least vague sense! Plus the smoothness is just… special.
5. Sigrid redeemable at the end. I have ALWAYS loathed the concept of villains who are evil for evil’s sake. There has to be some reason. Sigrid was never exactly evil – she just loaded up on charm spells so much she charmed herself.

Okay, now… frame breakdown! I’m not going to embarass myself by trying to guess who did which frames because I’d inevitably be wrong and feel… douchey.

#1 – Classic Kaz with the background. Love the glitchiness. Can’t really quite make out what backgroud Katia is saying there, but I get the gist. Internal conflict.

#2 – Timer started. And that makes sense. Surely eating a bunch of imp gall can’t keep your charisma that high for long. 12 seconds sounds just about right.

#3 – First introduction of what I call Elmer Fudd Katia design. It’s okay. I like Elmer Fudd Katia. She’s cute. Also later on the style really plays off well against Evil Sigrid. And nice to see a Red Herring. Looks like that sword will serve no useful purpose. For now anyway.

#4 – Ah yes, the fabled Writing With A Foot Stomp. The lineless style has been seen before but it’s still effective for the coolness factor.

#5 – More Elmer Fudd Katia. The design works well to show desperation tough.

#6 – Sigrid still at full confidence level. This one looks like standard Kaz style.

#7 – Badass Katia style. Good to see it introduced so when she goes full badass later it’s not too jarring. And the word says “PAP” by the way. “PAP”. Just in case you thought it said something else.

#8 – Katia Fail. Well, we can’t expect her every idea to be a winner.

#9 – Badass Katia, though not sure how she told Bones to do that, but obviously there’s some connection between them, evidenced by the sight thing, so close enough. I think I looked at this at least 5 times before I figured out “No Pen” though. I kept wanting to read “No Bien”

#10 – Humans love corn. There’s always some freshly cooked corn within easy reach that you can nibble on when you need it.

#11 – Now this one is the one that bothered me for a while. How is Katia “saying” No fancy enchanted clothes? I asked someone else and he was thinking eyebrow morse code. But now I think it’s simpler than that. Her expression is just saying “take your clothes off”. I mean, compared to random corn and footstomp writing, that’s certainly reasonable! Also return of Elmer Fudd Katia.

#12 – If there was any doubt on how she is able to see, there is no longer.

#14 – (13 blank) – and the payof for Elmer Fudd Katia. Compare poor innocent Katia here, her charm run out and now totally vulnerable after all she’s done with…

#15 – The most badass Sigrid ever. Though they’re obviously Convenient Censorship, SLEEP fire letters are still best at conveying raw power. This is Galadriel’s Temptation level. Elmer Fudd Katia is doomed.

#16 – Switch to Sleepy Katia, but the style is still badass Katia. Obviously fighting the command but losing.

#18 – (17 blank). Awake again. Sigrid never said she had to STAY asleep. I figure she was out for a millisecond, to comply. Or it may be that Sigrid’s power wasn’t that strong anymore due to:

#19 – Note the text mentions “spell resistance” too. That’s important, because Katia blew the friggin head off a certain Imp Murderboss. She could do the same to Sigrid now. And that’s clear in the next frame.

#20 – Badass Katia realizing she could kill Sigrid outright. And she looks like she’s ready to do it too. Before…

#21 – The Katia style we know returns. The implication is that she’s fighting against the charm that Sigrid already mentioned, but I also like to think something in her said that Sigrid isn’t an Imp Murderboss, and Katia’s not a murderer. Good time to return to the Katia style we know too. She isn’t THAT Badass.

#22 – Katia realizes she can do something finally. The voices actually have ideas she can use.

#23 – Badass Katia is about to do something major. She’s confident. She can do this.

#24 – I’d love to analyze this one frame-by-frame. I have to assume this is Kaz’ work. The animation here is unbelievably smooth. This is a friggin 3 pages of text in a story summarized in a 9 second animation. I had to watch it a few times to catch everything that happened there. Bones and Tumblespider are gone. Not quite sure why Bones would be gone, but doesn’t matter. Magic is Dispelled. By the tail. I feel like I want to see the animation without the blue magic lines over the top. How is Katia holding onto the cage there? But again, not really important. Most Activated Katia Evar. Culmination of the culmination. Katia In Charge, if only for a second.

#30 – Remember round-head Katia? She’s BAACK. Perfect expression as usual. Stunned confusion. “What?”. Nekked Sigrid is nekked. Well yeah. But more importantly she’s not fighting anymore. She looks like she’s done.

#31 – Katia looks at Sigrid as if to say. “Yeah. After all that I’m still locked in this cage. What are you gonna do?” Sigrid looking away realizing something…

#32 – Redeemable Sigrid FTW.

There are certain things that are too obvious to even bother submitting a command for. Someone WILL tell Katia to take Sigrid’s clothes and charms. They’re right there. Because some people will think we’re still fighting Sigrid. But those people are wrong. Katia should pick up the clothes and charms and hand them back to Sigrid. Who really shouldn’t put them back on if she realizes what has happened.

Although, I would dearly love to see what Katia looks like in Sigrid’s clothes.

Just once.

I’d been hoping for a change of outfit – but with Kaz’ new Hoodie of Grey Tomorrow, I’m afraid Katia is stuck in that thing for a while yet. 🙂

From Elsweyr With Love #2

bdfanfic:

“You understand the mission then?” La’Dasha said to the grate under her feet as she sat on the bench.

“I do,” came the terse reply. La’Dasha had never met the man she knew as Faelian, though she had made use of his services for years. So far he had been undeniably successful. However, her requests had typically been much simpler than this one. She sincerely wished she could have just ordered a straightforward assassination, but that wasn’t the plan. Her operative would need to have a good grasp on the complexities. But she trusted no one more than Faelian.

However, that wasn’t saying much. She wasn’t even sure what race he was, though he was clearly not a khajiit or argonian. She only knew he got the job done where others had failed her. And this was going to be an expensive operation, though expenses didn’t bother the Dominion. A good thing too. The long range weapon she had left in the drop off location was priceless.

“Where?” came the hoarse voice from below her.

“Crypt. Name of Shelley. Key is in the urn on the left of the door. And Faelian…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to be following this one closely. It’s important.”

“Got it. When do you expect her in the city?”

“Two days from now.”

“I’ll contact you when it’s over.”

“No need. I’ll know when it’s over.”

There were no footfalls, but she sensed the man had gone anyway. It wasn’t like her to worry, but she was worried now. This was way too complex, and too many people were involved. Important people. If she failed this, she would die. It was as simple as that. Number 5 didn’t have to make the threat. She’d carried out similar orders on other high ranking members herself.

She needed a drink. She crossed the road to a bar. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light within and she sat at the bar and ordered her usual. It came to her – clear, cold and strong. She downed it with a single gulp and ordered another.

“This seat taken?” came a voice beside her. She looked to see a man. Big man.

She thought about it for a moment, then decided she needed the distraction. “There is now,” she replied noncommittally.

“You new in town? I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Pretty new. Just came in yesterday. Business.”

“Ah,” he said, and she wondered how long he was going to take to get to the point. But it was all part of the game. She had to wait.

“Say, wanna guide? I know all the hot spots in town. This place, it’s alright, but it’s dead.”

“You like cats?” she asked, touching his thigh. She felt the muscles flex underneath her claws.

“I like everybody,” he said.

“Do you?” She looked him up and down. Slowly. “How much do you weigh, stud?”

“Oh! Like what you see? Couple hundred.”

“Mmm. And how big are you?”

“Big enough for a cat.”

“Are you? Well, this one does like to sample the local meat when in town. Want to skip the hot spots and make our own?”

This was the turning point. A lot of men she met would balk at this point. She didn’t mind. It was all part of the game. Some would be turned off by her boldness, and those were the ones that got away. “Go home to your wife,” she would tell them in her mind. “Go kiss your kids, stud. Be smart.”

“Sure, pussy. Where are you staying.”

Externally she smiled and told him her hotel and room number. Internally she sighed. The mean intelligence of the male population of Tamriel would slightly increase tonight. There was that. She was a force for evolution.

“Give me 20 minutes,” she said, standing up and downing her second drink. “The door will be open, stud.”

She saw the lecherousness in his eyes when she turned back at the door, watching her tail make motions in the air. “20 minutes.”

“I’ll be there,” he said, smiling a smile that told her all she needed to know. He would be.

**********************************************

Ra’Jirra stepped down from the wagon behind a family of fellow khajiits into the full majesty of Rihad. It stank. The odor of thousands of different people, all crammed together in such a small space and under such high heat, would yield nothing else. Along with that wafted the aroma of a thousand different street vendors, all selling their possibly-still-edible wares. It combined to give a stench that reached to the sky.

She’d been here before. She had hoped to not be again.

Her contact was named Serosh, a rather bland looking Redguard she had met once before briefly, but she had done her research on him during her trip to Rihad using the folio Em had given her before she left. Not a top agent, but reliable and committed. However, he was a family man, and that was dangerous.

He hailed them a taxi, a premium affair. The Orsimer pedalling it was pleasantly quiet and didn’t reek too badly.

“Where am I staying?”

“The Pendant. Best lodgings in town. They’ve a premier casino and bar if you’re interested. I’ve got you the penthouse suite.”

“Nice! You know my tastes,” she smiled as he offered her a cocktail. She spat out the feathers though. She preferred them plucked first.

“Indeed. But it’s not just for your vanity, Raj. They’re the only hotel that excels in privacy. We’ll talk there.”

Ra’Jirra saluted him and began gnawing on the cocktail as she watched the riffraff of Rihad go by outside. The driver was impressive in his speed and mobility. She lay her head back and enjoyed the meager breeze and occasional respite from the atmosphere of the place. At moments she might almost think…

Suddenly an explosion rocked the small cart. She spun around to look out of the small window behind her. Smoke was rising from a storefront behind them, but the Orsimer was dutifully speeding past. She saw blood and heard screaming.

“What’s that all about?”

“Local disturbance. The usual thing. Massive poor population, small rich population and practically no middle class. The place is ripe for revolution, but the government keeps a pretty firm hand.”

“So that was a revolutionary bomb?”

Serosh shrugged. “Or counterrevolutionary. Who knows? Doesn’t make much difference really, does it?”

“Not to those people bleeding on the street.”

They pulled past the gates leading to The Pendant. Armed guards were in evidence. Lots of them. She watched as the gates clanked into place firmly behind her.

“Are they locked out, or am I locked in?” she asked Sarosh as he took her hand to help her out of the taxi.

He handed the driver something gold and the driver bit it before pocketing it. “Yes,” he replied with a smile, and two large Redguards came to see to her luggage while she strolled into the hotel. The doors opened at her approach, and she wondered for a moment if there might be magic involved, until she saw the ropes which obviously led to a couple of menial laborers stationed to give them a pull at the proper time.

Inside the air temperature dropped at least 20 degrees.

“Whoa! What’s this?” she asked the her friend.

“They call it Air Ice. They have a big tub of ice on each floor with a fan that blows it into the rooms. Nice, eh?”

“I’ll say! Almost makes me think I could live here!”

“Better watch that, cat. Some of us do, you know.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

“Let’s get you to your room,” he said.

They walked into a small box surrounded by a gated door which he closed. He turned a knob to indicate her floor number, and the box began to rise smoothly. She never did see the laborers that accomplished that little miracle, but she had no doubt they were there.

Serosh handed her the key and she opened the door. The room was huge and immaculate. She even let out a squeal when she saw the bath. It was enormous and open, with a commanding view through thick glass doors that led to a balcony beyond.

“Serosh, you’re not into cats are you?”

“Sorry Raj, no. Not me. Happily married man.”

“Good! You stay there, I’m taking a damned bath!”

“You do that. Sweaty fur isn’t exactly the most delightful perfume, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t I know it!”

She opened a spigot and water began to flow. She had no idea how that worked, but she was sure somebody’s muscles were involved. The water temperature was perfect.

“I’ve left a dossier on the table,” she heard from the next room as she got undressed. “Burn it when you’re done.”

Ra’Jirra lowered herself slowly into the warm water and let the tub fill slowly over her as bit-by-bit parts of her were submerged. She nearly cried with pleasure. “Aaaaaahh!”

“Long trip?” came the voice from the other room.

“Too long. I think I just want to stay in here all night. So, how long are you good for tonight? When do you need to go home?”

“I’m good as long as you’d like. I sent my family away. I don’t like them to be around during an operation.”

“Smart thinking.”

*************************************************

Reblogging the second chapter from bdfanfic blog. I feel like with it being a crossover and involving Ra’Jirra, it’s pushing it to file it under bdprequel. But I’m about to post the 7th chapter over there, so if you want to read it, here’s the link to the archive. It’s adult but not porn, pretty much like the Bond movies.

https://bdfanfic.tumblr.com/archive

Raydio’s Slavcat recolored

Just in time for the 4th, I stole Raydio’s new Slavcat drawing and recolored it as Rajirra from Prequel.

As Slavcat, he had her saying something that doesn’t make as much sense if she’s Rajirra, so I left that part out.

After coloring her, I felt so proud and patriotic, wrote a thing. At 1am. I probably shouldn’t have done that.

Oh say do I see
In the sun’s glaring light
What so proudly she wore
though it barely stayed on there

Whose small straps and tight strings
under tension they swing
and the knots that she wore
were nearly un-rav-ling

And the stiffies arise
At the sight of her thighs
And her boobies did bounce
And sway for the guys

Oh say does that star spangled banner yet stay?
Or have they flown free
and her thong
Blown a…
waaaaaaay.

(PLAY BALL!)

Murderer #8

She recovered quickly, and the days passed in a Skooma-induced blur. She hated every minute of it, of course, but she started to make some decent coin at least. The Madam was fair enough, and the clients were easy to please though. But as the days went on, she found herself needing more Skooma to maintain her composure. The other girls introduced her to the smoking version of the drug, and that helped for a while, but by the end of the first week she realized that her income was just barely enough to cover her habit.

Then one day she woke and noticed one of her teeth was loose. She knew what that meant. She was losing it. But try as she might, she couldn’t break away from the drug, and no one was there to make her. The tooth fell out one day. It was in the back and not noticible, but she sat and looked at it for a long time. Then she began to cry. The next day she noticed another tooth was loose.

She couldn’t hold up any longer. It was too much. She was laying on her bed, the last client having just left, and she looked at the Skooma pipe on her table.

“I could just end it,” she realized. “Just take too much. Then I could sleep. Sorry Honest John. Your work was in vain. You should have just left me to die.”

She wondered idly what he must have done to keep her alive. Then something shifted in her brain. She couldn’t quite define what it was, but something CHANGED.

A knock came at the door. She knew who it was. She couldn’t speak.

The door opened slowly. Beyond the door was utter blackness. She saw the hand on the door. Blackened and charred.

“Hello Ra’Jirra,” it said.

She screamed, but no sound came forth.

“It is time,” said the cracked, hollow voice, and the thing stepped into the room, closing the door ever-so-gently behind it.

“But… the Skooma. It’s supposed to keep you away! It did!”

“The Skooma let me free, Ra’Jirra. It did what you never did. It LET ME OUT!”

Ra’Jirra released her grip on reality then. It was time indeed. Time to let this happen.

“My turn,” it said.

“It’s 50 per hour,” she found herself saying to the apparition. “How long will you use me?”

The thing shambled closer to her bed, and she took off her clothes, laying back langorously.

“How long?” it asked, kneeling beside her. “Eternity.”

She spread her arms invitingly, and the thing crawled in beside her.

*****************************

“We found her like this last night,” the Madam said to the priest. “She’s only been on the stuff for a week, maybe a few days more.”

“Worst case I’ve seen,” he replied. “But we’ll do what we can for her. She’ll need to be locked in a cell till the addiction passes. You did right by her to bring her here.”

“But… the madness…”

“It may pass with the addiction. Or it may not. No way to know.”

“Poor girl,” said the Madam.

“Indeed. Poor girl,” the priest agreed.

“Every once in a while she comes out of it, you know,” the Madam continued. “She sounds almost normal then, but then she’ll just say ‘She’s back again.’ and off she goes.”

“Making love to a ghost. Can’t say I’ve ever seen the like before. But we’ll take as good care of her as we possibly can.”

“Thank you. Now I’ve got to get back to the House,” said the Madam.

They lifted the khajiit up and carried her to a cell in an out-building of the chapel made for such cases. Currently she was the only soul housed there, but she had regular attendants that came and took care of her. But her routine in the cell didn’t last long. A few days later the addiction had broken, but the madness remained. And she had a visitor. Two actually.

“Doll?” came a gruff voice.

“Oh, excuse me. I’ll be right back,” she said to no one, then opened her eyes.

“Honest John? Is that you? Sorry for everything. They put me in a madhouse, you know.”

“I know Doll. I know.”

“I’m off the Skooma. Isn’t that good?” she asked him.

He was kneeling by her small bed in the otherwise bare room.

“That’s wonderful, Doll,” he said, but the tears in his eyes said otherwise.

“Don’t cry, Honest John. I’m okay here. She just calls me back. She’s very needy you know.”

“Who is?” the theif asked gently. “Who is it that calls you, Doll?

Ra’Jirra smiled. "Wouldn’t YOU like to know! Sorry, old man. She’s all mine!”

Then another voice spoke, odd and smooth. The words startled the mad khajiit and she focussed on the source. An Argonian stood behind the theif. She looked vaguely familiar.

“Katia Managan,” it said.

“You can’t have her!” the mad khajiit cried, grabbing a pillow and squeezing it to herself.

“Doll, listen to me,” Honest John said, his eyes running freely with tears now. “Listen very very carefully. She can wait for a minute. I need you to listen and UNDERSTAND this….”

“NO! You can’t have her!!! You’re going to take her away from me!”

“Doll,” he said. “She’s not real. Now, LISTEN. Katia… Managan… Is… Alive!”

Ra’Jirra listened. The words entered her brain and fell into place. The gears turned. The lock opened, and her brain shifted BACK a little.

The Argonian came around and knelt beside the thief. “Ra’Jirra. You didn’t kill Katia Managan. She’s still alive. She killed that giant imp.”

Ra’Jirra closed her eyes. Her lover was gone. No trace of her. She was… free!

She looked back at the two. The priest was standing in the doorway, she noticed now.

“No. You are too cruel. You lie. You’re not Honest John!”

“I am, Doll. This is Weedum-Ja. She is…”

“Let me take over, Honest John,” the Argonian said gently. “Ra’Jirra, I am S’thengir’s lover. I never did buy that story about you robbing him. But something happened that night. I finally wormed it out of him. When I put the pieces together, I realized what had happened. Ra’Jirra, the Shopkeeper saw her leave. She’s alive! Damned if I know where, but you sure as HELL didn’t kill anyone!”

“I didn’t?”

“No, but not for lack of trying. That was an ass move, locking her in like that. But she killed it. You’re guilty of being a giant asshole, but you didn’t kill her.”

The khajiit looked back to Honest John. He shook his head in agreement. “You didn’t kill anyone, Doll. But almost yourself.”

She sat up woozily. “I… didn’t kill… anyone?!”

She smiled for the first time in a long, long time. “I DIDN’T KILL ANYONE!” she cried to the Priest, who accepted her unexpected hug happily.

Then suddenly she turned back to the thief. "Honest John. I’ve got to find her. I’ve got to apologize!“

He nodded, and gestured to the Argonian. "Weedum-Ja will see you back to Kvatch. But Doll… something has happened. Kvatch is burned to the ground.”

“What?”

“Long story,” Weedum-Ja replied. “But if you want to come back, you’re welcome to come with me.”

“But… bandits?”

Both Weedum-Ja and Honest John laughed at that.

Honest John explained. “Doll Weedum-Ja here is a Level 20 Pilgrim. She could take out the entire city guard. Us bandits wouldn’t go near her. At least, not if we knew who she was!”

“Really?” she asked the Argonian, who bowed in response with a smirk on her face. “I do alright.”

“So… she might be dead anyway,” Honest John continued.

“I don’t care. I’m going to find her,” Ra’Jirra declared and stood up. Suddenly she was aware that she was naked.

“You kept taking off the clothes when we put them on,” the Priest explained.

“Wait,” Weedum-Ja interrupted. “Wait a minute…”

She went out of the room and came back in, rummaging through her own backpack. She drew out some clothes familiar to the khajiit. “My…” she started.

Then Weedum-Ja handed her the spear she’d carried for so long. Ra’Jirra took it and fell to her knees. It was like an old friend, comfortable to her hands.

She dressed and was on her way in an instant. The three had to overnight along the trail as the day was waning fast, but with the Argonian with them, they had no problem with bandits or anything else that night.

“Just one thing,” Weedum-Ja said as they settled into their beds for the night around the campfire.

“What’s that?” Ra’Jirra asked.

“If I ever see you within ten FEET of S’thengir, I WILL kill you. Instantly and with no regret.”

Ra’Jirra laughed. “Fair enough! We women have to understand each other. Just give him my thanks.”

“Fuck. You should want to punch him. If he’d have told me the truth sooner, none of this would have had to happen. He’s an asshole. But he’s my asshole.”

“Good point,” Ra’Jirra conceeded. “I take back my thanks. Fuck him in the ass for me instead.”

“I will!”

Then she went to sleep. Her sleep was not peaceful though. In it, she saw a vision of Katia Managan wearing an outfit she’d never seen before. But she was no longer burnt and horrible. She was just the normal weird khajiit she had met before. The apparition walked up slowly to her, and she fell to her knees. “I’m so sorry, Katia. I was a coward. I didn’t think! I’m SOOOO sorry!”

“Rise, bitch,” said the apparition.

She stood up.

“You’ve paid for your crime. Almost,” said Katia Managan.

“Almost?”

The apparition pulled back it’s hand and let it fly at full speed into Ra’Jirra’s cheek. The blow sent her to the ground and stung like hell.

“There. Quest fulfilled. See you later, Ra’Jirra!” it said, and suddenly her dream was gone. She awoke with a decent bruise on her cheek. And she smiled. She deserved that.

Murderer #7

She took another drop of the Skooma, and soon everything was right again. Her body was back under control and she helped Honest John pack up their stuff.

“We’ll follow the path, but not too close. The Legionnaires know me.”

“Sounds good to me. How far are you going?” Ra’Jirra asked as they got underway.

“Most of the way, but I turn off before we get there.”

They left the woods behind and were walking now in the wild but beautiful grasses of Cyrodiil. She saw the path, but it was far to her right as they headed westward.

“You really should get off that stuff, Ra’Jirra,” he said sometime later. “It’s not good for you. It’s not good for anyone.”

She shrugged. “Keeps the nightmares away though.”

“Just starts new nightmares, I find,” he replied, but didn’t bring the subject up again.

They continued for miles, stopping to eat once.

“You ever kill anyone Honest John?” she asked him as they sat, their backs to the path behind a boulder.

“Yeah,” he said bluntly. “A few. Had to, of course.”

“How do you deal with it?”

He sighed, but didn’t turn to face her. “Same as you I suppose. The first is the hardest though. I guess after that it’s just habit. You or them, you know? I don’t like to though. I’ve never liked it. Your first?”

She nodded, “Yes. My first.”

“It’s a hard thing. Did you know him well?”

“Her. And no. Just… circumstances. She was a fool, and it was her or me.”

“I see. Well, if she was a fool then the right person lived.”

“Did they?” Rajirra thought as she eyed the vial again. She decided against it. It was too easy.

The afternoon sun was lowering when finally Honest John and her parted ways. They had returned to the main road after a Legionnaire had passed.

“So, you got family that way?” Rajirra asked as she looked down the side trail he was going to take.

“No. In fact, I’m not even going that way. But you don’t need to know more than that. And ‘John’ isn’t my real name either.”

She laughed, and hugged him – hugged him even though he had stolen all her most valuable posessions and had gotten her hooked on Skooma. He returned the hug. “Be careful, Doll, and good luck to you. Mind what I said about the Skooma. It has a sweet taste, but the aftertaste is nothing but bitter.”

She nodded and bade him farewell, and continued on alone again.

Suddenly she felt a wash of fatigue over her, and she started looking for someplace to nap. Someplace a lot closer to the road this time though. She found a spot out of sight but only a few yards off the road and curled up to take a nap in the afternoon sun. It’s warmth on her face lulled her off to sleep.

“RA’JIRRA” it said again, grinning that evil grin.

“No! I didn’t mean to kill you!”

“Do you know how much I screamed, Ra’Jirra? They found my hands still wrapped to the door handle. Fused to it. They had to peel my skin off of it, Ra’Jirra.”

Another image came into view. Bones wrapped around a door handle that wouldn’t budge. The flesh still attached but the skin peeled away. It was still alive. It was tugging on the door handle.

“Let… Me… OUUUUUT!!!!” it screamed, and her eyes followed the desperate, dead thing’s arms and back, up peeling shoulders, to a screaming skull.

“Please die,” she whispered, and it turned to her. Looked directly at her with it’s eyeless face. “LET ME OUUUUUT!”

She awoke shivering and screaming. She looked up but no one was there. The sun hand set a little farther, but she must not have been sleeping long. Trembling hands drew out her vial and she put another drop to her tongue.

Relief washed over her. She forgot the skull, but she no longer felt sleepy. Instead she fairly skipped down the road. There was more in the vial than the old man thought anyway. She’d be good for a week at this rate! Maybe she might have yet another. She felt… good. So she took another drop and she felt GREAT!

When the three young brigands accosted her, almost within sight of the Anvil city gates, she greeted them happily.

“Want to rob me? Sorry guys, I don’t have anything left. Honest John took my stuff!”

“Honest John eh? You ever heard of Honest John, Paulie?” said the biggest of them to another.

“Nope. Never heard of him, cat. Come on, off with the backpack. Let’s see what you’ve got in there.”

Of course, there was practically nothing. They took the 20 gold of course. And her Skooma.

“Oh HO! What’s THIS?” said one of them as he opened the vial and sniffed the contents.

“Liquid Skooma. Nice! Hey, wanna party Cat?”

“YES! PARTY!” she laughed, and they led her off into some woods well off the road.

They finished the rest of the Skooma and ‘partied’ all night with the khajiit. Fortunately for her, they gave her more of the powerful drug, so in the morning she didn’t remember much of what had happened.

But she awoke naked and alone, with absolutely nothing. Her body hurt and her mouth tasted foul. She didn’t need to guess what had happened. Between the state of her body and the snippets of memory that remained of the previous night, she knew all she wanted to know. She wished she could get some water though. And wash off the smell.

She limped back to the road as dawn arrived. Walking was painful, but she had no choice now. She was hailed before she got to the gate by an armed guard, who looked less than happy to see her.

“Damn, what happened to you, cat? You look like you’ve had a run-in with a troll!”

“I… There were three of them…”

“Uh huh,” he said. “Looks it.”

“Can I go in?” she asked him.

“A fucking naked Skooma addict? Are you kidding me? The captain would have my head if he knew I let you in. Sorry cat, ain’t gonna happen. Here, wait a sec…”

She stood shivering while he went through the gate. It wasn’t the cold though. Nor even the effects of her night of ‘partying’. She was hungry again, and she didn’t have any left.

Presently, the guard returned and tossed her something. She caught it and looked at it, unrolling it. It was little more than rags, but it would cover her. She put it over her head. Now, she realized, she looked the part. The shivering probably helped as well. Skooma addict.

She couldn’t believe what she was about to say to this guard. But there was no one else to ask.

“You… wouldn’t have any…”

He laughed. “Get the fuck off, cat. Look, you can’t come in, but if you follow the wall around to the docks, there’s whorehouses there. You can probably get what you need there or around the docks. For a price. Lots of horny sailors down there. Some might even be desperate enough. But you’d best take a bath in the water first. Saltwater’s gotta smell better than you do right now!”

She nodded, and began the long walk around the city walls towards the ocean. It was a long, long walk.

Of course, any city known for it’s sea port can’t be truly walled. But the docks were kept separate from the city proper, and thus the laws of the city didn’t necessarily apply around the port. Skooma trade, slavery and worse were common. Prostitution was practically mild by comparison. By the time she got there, the place was alive with activity. But she did heed the guard’s advice and bathed in the water. The taste of the salty water as she gargled it was nasty, but it was better than nothing. She climbed back out of the water, dripping and still limping. But she smelled better. Now she smelled of saltwater and dead fish. But it was better.

She put the rags back on while still wet. It clung to her. At some other time, perhaps, it might have looked erotic. But now she was simply pathetic. And the shiver was back. She really needed some Skooma.

It wasn’t hard to spot the whorehouse. She fit right in. The elf-woman that ran the place looked like she was expecting her.

“Wait there,” she said as Ra’Jirra approached up the stairs where the large elf sat on a patio overlooking the docks.

A green orc came down and frisked her, way too thoroughly, before she was allowed to come closer.

“Looking for a job?” the woman asked.

Ra’Jirra nodded.

She groaned, got out of her chair and walked over to the still-wet khajiit. “Open your eyes,” she said, and Ra’Jirra complied.

“Skooma. Figures,” said the Madam. “It’s always the Skooma with you cats. Open your mouth.”

Again, Ra’Jirra did as she was told.

“Nice teeth! How long you been on the stuff?”

“Since… a few days ago,” she answered honestly.

“Jeeze. You’re hooked bad. Jiles, get some liquid Skooma for the girl.”

The orc hurried off inside.

“Bend over,” she commanded, and once again Ra’Jirra complied. The woman had said the magic words. Salvation was coming!

“Holy shit! Cat, what happened to you?”

Ra’Jirra laughed, maybe a little madly. “Long night partying with the boys,” she said. “Out in the woods along the road.”

“We don’t call that partying around here, girl.”

The orc returned with a vial very much similar to the one she had.

“Fuck that, Jiles, this girl needs to lay down. Come on cat, let’s get you a bed. What’s your name?”

“Ra… I mean… Call me Doll,” she answered, but her eyes didn’t stray from the vial.

“Oh, go on. One drop. Then it’s off to bed with you.”

She took the vial greedily, but didn’t overdo it. One blessed drop touched her tongue and she handed it back to the orc. She’d pay for that, she knew. But she needed it. Suddenly her head cleared up. But with the renewed clarity came renewed pain. The Madam actually helped her into the house.

The bed they laid her down on was immaculate. She almost felt she was violating the place by laying down on it, but the sheets were cool and dry. She’d taken off the rag and it felt very, very good. She looked at the Madam. “This is going to cost me, isn’t it?”

The elf’s face looked sincere. “Of course. but we’ll work it out. You’re in good shape, Doll. A day or two from now and you’ll be my best cat. But we’ve got to get you back in shape first. No, you won’t be sleeping in my bed after that. But till then, enjoy the hospitality of the Curved Port.

"And the Skooma?”

“I doubt I’m the first to tell you, you should quit the stuff. But if you did, you wouldn’t be here. So I can’t very well deny you that. But…”

“I’ll pay for it,” Ra’Jirra finished for her.

“You know how it works. Been a whore before?”

Ra’Jirra nodded again.

“Good. Then you know what’s expected of you. %40. I get the rest. Deal? You can walk out now and the rest is on the house. My girls work for me willingly. You can get a higher percentage at the cheap whorehouse on the other side of the docks, but the overall is a lot less. We get the captains, they get the sailors.”

“Deal,” said the khajiit.

Katia – Parkour – Yoga Pants

That was the commission. So, true to form, Kazerad drew Katia failing at both. Admittedly this is not my best coloring work. Considering the subject matter, that’s a bit surprising. But for some reason this one just didn’t inspire me much, (though it’s ALWAYS fun to shade Katia boobs. I do find myself spending inordinate amounts of time getting those shaded well! I wonder why?)

Obviously I spent like .5 minutes on the background. I just didn’t feel like spending much time on it I’m afraid. I think perhaps it’s her lack of neck that throws it off most for me. But hey, it’s something right? That’ll be the last of these for a while. I do still have Katia riding Bryce from Angels with Scaly Wings I want to do at some point though.

Cat in the Shell

A couple of streams ago, Kaz closed down to go see Ghost in the Shell. It had been a couple days and I was really curious to see if he liked it. But I couldn’t ask in Comments as it’s totally non-related. So I did this thing on the fanart page instead. Wasn’t mean’t to be art, just a silly thing:

But then Protofun did a less pasted-on looking thing:

So that’s what’s on the Booru now.

And just for completeness, the original:

Scarlett Johansson is pretty and all, but suffers from a dreadful lack of tail. Still, I am guilty of species washing since the original anime obviously intended for the character to be tail-less.

The Hero of Kvatch

(A fanfic of a fanfic – yeah. I know. Stupid brain made me write this after my first playthough of Oblivion. I blame Kaz.)

Dearest Kitten,

Your mother wrote to me and told me about your plans to join the Imperial Legion. You’ve always told me how proud you are to be related to the Hero of Kvatch, and I’ve always been proud of you too. As I compose this letter, I am almost 70 years old now. My joints are creaking, my eyes are cloudy, and some of my fur doesn’t seem to want to grow back anymore. My memory, however, is still pretty good. Quill is helping me write this. She always was a better writer than me anyway, but what I’m about to relate to you, even she didn’t know before now.

You see, I have a strong sense that you are pursuing this path in life because of my fame, such as still remains. You think you have the blood of a Hero running through your veins, and that you are special. You are special, dear! But I need to disabuse you of the thought that I’m any sort of Hero before you make this your life’s calling. And you may certainly do so, kitten! But please don’t do it out of any thoughts of what I did all those years ago. You don’t know the real story.

I’ve never discussed this with anyone before now in detail. The major points of the story are true. Kvatch was burnt to the ground by the Daedra of Oblivion. The Oblivion gate did appear where they say it did. I did go through that gate into the Deadlands in order to close the gate, and I did remove the Sigil Stone which closed the gate. All that is true, and I’ve never taken it upon myself to argue with those that promoted my story. But there are aspects they, and you, don’t know.

Life in Tamriel is hard, kitten. When an opportunity comes, like this whole Hero nonsense, you take it and keep your mouth shut. I suggest you do the same. Burn this letter after reading it. You have a name that means something still, and this letter might destroy that advantage. That is not my intent. So please consider that. My life is nearly over, and nothing would bother me now, but your mother and your siblings can still take advantage of my name.

So, here goes. Quill has her fins up now I see. She always does that when she’s perked up. Well, I can’t avoid telling her too I suppose.

It all happened many years ago when I was young and foolish. I went by another name then, a name I just made up. I was a complete failure in life. I’d left your great grandmother’s land for Cyrodil after having botched up my life back home, and was well on my way to botching it up here when Quill took me in. Even then she was a well known writer, and to let me into her house as a wandering vagabond with no gold and no prospects was a kindness I’ll never forget.

Oh… she points out that she didn’t really let me in. Well, that’s so. But she didn’t kick me out either. One day shortly after we’d met, she sent me on some errand or other to Kvatch. Believe me, I had no idea about that whole Oblivion thing at the time! I was just going there on an errand for Quill, and no humbler traveler can be imagined. Had it not been for a soldier who befriended me, I probably wouldn’t have made it that far. But I was in Kvatch, screwing up that simple errand when the Gate appeared out of nowhere. Suddenly there were these creatures running around and killing people and burning things. I don’t mind telling you I ran for the chapel without a thought of anything but saving my own fur. I certainly was no hero. That word belongs with the city guards who were doing the real battling while I huddled under a pew.

Yes, I did. I pissed myself and lay shivering under a bench in the chapel with my eyes so locked closed I don’t think a giant could have pried them open. But then I felt Brother Martin touch me. I don’t remember what he said, but he got me to get back on my feet, found me some old leather armor to wear, and gave me some food. And not just me. There were others who’d taken refuge there. But it was his voice that brought me back to my senses. Even then it was calming yet powerful. Yes, it was that ‘Martin’, though of course I didn’t know it at the time. I did feel a sense of fear of him, but considering the things I’d just seen outside, I barely noticed.

A little later the Captain of the guard came in. He refused to let us leave though, but then he did the most incredible thing. He asked me if I would help him. ME?! It may have been the leather armor that Martin had me wear after I’d soiled my clothes, but he seemed to think I could help. Odder still, I decided to try it. I don’t know if it was the fright making me a little insane, or the honor I felt that he would consider me, a lowly worthless Khajiit, worthy of such responsibility.

Honestly I think it was the armor though. It made me feel… different. Like I could do something with my life. So I agreed.

Now kitten, I do have a few skills. Or at least, I did at that time. I was… good with men, and I knew some party tricks. But I also was good at running, great at sneaking and not too bad with a bow. I even could throw some weak little fireballs. The Captain gave me a steel bow and a quiver of arrows, and I took off for the gate.

I was barely through the gate when I knew I’d screwed up. There was this huge tower, and the place was hot. Pools of lava around the bit of land I stood on. But there was a guard there fighting some monsters nearby. I hid and shot one of them with my bow, and he dropped like a rock. I wasn’t too far away and they didn’t know I was there, so I got in another shot or two.

The guard finished off the others and told me about some sort of stone that powered the gate that was at the top of the big tower. Or maybe that was the guy in the tower that told me that. My memory isn’t what it used to be. Anyway, I headed for the tower and was really feeling like I could do something worthwhile at that point.

Anyway, I sneaked past quite of few of those things that lived there and got inside. I did kill one of them inside without any of the others noticing, and got into some sort of outer passage that wound up the tower. As I crept up, I saw this really big Daedra and a human fighter who was imprisoned in this sort of cage thing. I took a potshot at the big guy and hit him pretty good, but he came at me with fireballs like I could only dream of, and I ran like hell. One of the fireballs hit me square in the back and my armor caught fire. In desperation I turned around and saw the thing running at me, but my clothes were on fire!

Well, another thing I’m good at is taking off clothes… fast. I did so and had just enough time to send a couple more arrows at the guy when suddenly these spear things sprang out of the wall and hit him!

Apparently he’d set off his own trap. To this day I have no idea why I didn’t set it off. I’d ran past it twice. Maybe I was too light to trigger it, or maybe I just missed stepping on the trigger. Anyway, they skewered him good, which was a good thing because I’d used the last of my arrows.

I heard the weird voices of some of those creatures down the path below me and knew they were heading up. Slowly, thank goodness, but still – there I stood, naked as the day I was born and with nothing but a bow and no arrows for a weapon. I crept back up the ramp and talked to the guy in the cage. In different circumstances, I might have been embarrassed, but this was not a time to be concerned about modesty. Of course, we’ve got our fur to keep us somewhat modest too. And now that I remember it, I had something else. I… sort of painted myself… It’s a long story, but anyway the guard either thought I was wearing something or just didn’t care. But he pretty much commanded me to leave him and go get rid of that stone thing.

Honestly, I’m not sure if I’d have done it willingly, but those voices were getting closer and I really had no choice anyway. I had nothing to fight them with and there was no way out of that room but up. I’ve often thought of that human in the years since. I don’t think I want to know what happened to him, but I do think about him.

So I left and crept further up the tower. Fortunately I met no more Oblivion creatures till I came to a wider room with two doors facing towards the center of the tower. I peeked out and both led to an inner area with nowhere to hide, and lots of monsters lurking around. I really had no idea what to do next. If I walked through those doors, there was no hiding. I had no weapon. I had no armor. I didn’t even have any clothes! I sat and thought, and honestly I cried. “What the hell was I doing there?” I remember thinking.

But I didn’t have long to sit and ponder my options. Voices and steps began to come from lower down and were approaching me, and there was no where to hide in here either. Those footsteps were loud too.

Something big was coming. Lots of somethings. I had no choice any more. I opened the door to the inner ramp.

Eyes of various shapes turned to look at me. Malignant eyes. I began to run. Some were behind me, some were ahead of me, some were on the opposite wall of the tower. But none wanted me to be there. A fireball slammed into the wall behind me as one of them realized what it was seeing. I think by that time I was screaming. Not the cool, warrior scream of a Hero on the warpath though. The frightened, panicked and desperate scream of a young Khajiit.

I ran like my life depended on it. But it didn’t. My life depended on me not being there in the first place. My life was over, I had no doubt. The only reason I didn’t just sit down and cower and wait for the end was that my mind was no longer working. I was on automatic. I remember at one point I ran smack into a big Dremora that was still just kind of staring at me. I sprang back up and kept running, not even looking back.

Fireballs and other projectiles were smacking into the wall in front and behind me. I think one of them lit the tip of my tail on fire, but I was beyond caring. I was just running and screaming. One other thing I had was the ability to throw my own little fireballs. That didn’t last long before I was out of magic, and there’s no way I actually hit anything. But it at least helped get some of them out of my way.

I do vaguely recall one thought. I thought about how much I wish I had a good bra. Your grandmother never had much to speak of in that department, other than those few wonderful months after I had your mother. For just a while then, I was a fertility goddess! But running all out like I was, the little I had was bouncing around like mad. Painted on bras really do not help!

Then, somehow I found myself at the top. I dropped so I was out of the line of sight from those below and had a few scant seconds before they would overtake me from the sides. The stone was glowing weirdly on a sort of platform out over the yawning drop down the center of the tower. I knew I was dead, but I wanted to do this one thing before I died. I was beyond fright, though I think I was still screaming – or at least my mouth was trying to. My plan, such as it was, was just to grab the stone and drop it. It wouldn’t do any good to just grab it and then have those things put it right back.

Would it shatter if it fell from here? I had no way of knowing. But it was the only thing I could think of. I also thought about jumping over with it. Surely that death would be preferable to what those creatures would do to me. At least, I think that was my plan, if you can call it a plan. But something unexpected happened instead.

The power from the stone was incredible, and I probably looked like a fluff-ball by the time I reached it, but I did reach it. I pulled the stone out.

Then, somehow, I was standing outside the gate and was back in Kvatch. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. I was just there. I had no expectation of that happening. No one even gave me a clue that could happen. But I was there.

I was naked, hoarse and shaking. I was deaf too, I think due to that energy around the stone. The Captain of the guard ran up to me I remember, and put his cloak around me. Nice guy. I should see if he’s still with us. Anyway, there were still Oblivion-things running around, but no new ones were coming through the gate and they were slowly being killed by the guards and some others that had arrived.

I found out later that they were calling me the Hero of Kvatch. They took me back to a little camp some way down the trail to the city. I met some people there, but it took me some time to understand that they weren’t backing away from me because I was a Khajiit. It wasn’t because I was naked underneath that cape. It wasn’t because I had painted my boobs and crotch with brown paint like a crazy person. They saw all that, but that wasn’t why they were looking at me with wide eyes. They were in awe. In awe of me, the Hero of Kvatch. The Khajiit that had single handedly entered Oblivion, climbed the tower and destroyed the gate.

My hearing returned later that day. My voice, a few days later. That was probably a good thing too. Otherwise I probably would have told someone what really happened. By the time I could, I’d already gotten praise from everyone for my adventure. Telling them the true story would be a big let-down, and an embarrassment to them as well. Sometimes the truth isn’t really that good of an idea. I kept my mouth shut and just said, “Thank you” to all my well-wishers.

Days later, I finally got to see Quill again. I was sort of at the head of a parade into her town. I’m sure she didn’t recognize me at first. I was wearing an outfit practically made for a Queen, but I stepped down from the carriage right in front of her house. I still remember her looking at me from her doorway as I approached, no recognition in her eyes at all.

I guess to some people all Khajiits look alike, even Quill.

I frowned and opened my blouse a bit. I may have flipped her off too. When she saw the painted-on bra, though, that did the trick. Once she got over the shock, she hugged me for the second, but not last, time in my life. The Hero of Kvatch had returned.

And that’s the true story. Quill gave me another hug just now. I guess she doesn’t think less of me. Since your grandfather died and I moved in here, she’s come to know me too well. She’s probably suspected all along that I wasn’t exactly Hero material. I got lucky, and a little insane. That’s all. So kitten, I hope I’ve explained well enough what happened. If you have some of my characteristics due to sharing my blood, those are probably not exactly the characteristics of a Hero.

Kitty, don’t be a Hero. I survived by pure dumb luck. You may not be so lucky. There are other occupations that can use our special talents better. If you insist on joining the Legion, remember to use those talents. Sneak. Learn archery. Run. It’s not cowardice to do those things. It’s using your advantages. It’s a sure bet any Orcs are going to use their muscles!

Quill just reminded me too, I never did finish that errand she sent me on. Figures she’d remember that. Anyway, one more word of advice before I finish. Always, and I mean always keep a good fitting bra. You will thank me later.

Now, do like I said and burn this letter. Then say hello to your mother for me, and I’ll be expecting you all to come and visit me and Quill again next month. Quill promises she won’t try to squeeze your cheeks again.

Love Always,

Your Grandma.