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- The Thieves Guild |&| Babylonia
The room was dark, and somewhat humid. Vines grew down the wall from a grate covered skylight in the roof. The room had a slight green tint, and one could even see the slight mist rising in the patch of sunlight. The walls and floor were made of ancient carved stone, worn down by many footprints and small streams of water. It was here in this room that a man and expert thief, Ahkaan, was addressing a frightening force, some even took to calling her Nocturnal’s chosen, and others believed the rumors that she was in fact one of Nocturnal’s mortal incarnates.
She however, never spoke on these rumors. She knew she was powerful, but she liked letting her underlings’ heads run wild, she let the others tell the tales of her skill, her birth, and her journey. It made her ambiguous, and that made her even more fearful to her would-be challengers. It cloaked her in a deep shadow of abstruseness and kept her and her guild safe... Well for the most part, until recently that was.
“Ra’tima, what would you like us to do? The Summerset Shadows are rising up aga-” The stocky male ohmes was silenced with a deathly hiss. He looked up from under the lip of his brown leather hood with some fear at his Guild Master. She was a terrifyingly talented shadowblade, and he, even in all of his years working for the guild had never laid his gaze upon her face. She was always wearing the Nightingale’s blackened armor, her face forever concealed. It made it hard to tell her expressions, but he had learned how to read her posture, her tail movements, while rising through the ranks. He was her right hand man, and yet he didn’t even come close to her abilities or prowess.
“What do you mean they have risen up again? This one killed them all many moons ago.” Her voice was slightly raspy, but softly and quietly showed her power in how it carried with such little effort. That and her stoney throne was seated at the top of a set of six steps, so she was physically above most people.
“But Ra’tima, they have returned... With a vengeance. No matter who we send, they don’t come back... I fear that they’re holding prisoners, or worse, killing our people. Not to mention cut our business in the north down by quite a bit, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
“Ra’tima has noticed these things, but she did not think that it would be the Summerset Shadows. You are absolutely certain?” She said, her long black tail’s tip twitching with slight annoyance and some small amount of excitement. It baffled her that someone could’ve survived and stayed hidden for so long... Then again, she didn’t go exploring that much anymore. She had to rely on others, her footpads and underlings, to bring her rumors. If her successor had thought this to be so compelling that he should bring it to her, and disturb her peace of mind, what little she had, then it had to be important. He knew that she didn’t like to deal with things she didn’t have too, petty small things.
“Yes, I am absolutely certain, Ra’tima. I wouldn’t alert you if it was something I didn’t think would be important to you.”
She stood, tail swishing from side to side as she lost herself in thought. The Summerset Shadows. She would destroy them, make sure they stayed dead, and make certain that no one started this group up again. In fact, she would either employ a band of mercenaries, or the Dark Brotherhood. She did have some mercenaries that had joined the guild recently, and then she wouldn’t have to pay them as much as a rogue band of mercs or bandits... But if she sent them, and they died? Ah well, obviously they weren’t good enough in the first place.
“Ahkaan, tell this one, should Ra’tima hire a band of rogue mercenaries, the Dark Brotherhood, or send our newest mercenary recruits to deal with these upstarting challengers?”
Ahkaan thought for a moment, just a moment longer than she had. They had sent their own members recently, and they had failed to return, those in the presumably killed group hadn’t been the newest footpads, but they had still been new members. Besides, the thieves’ guild wasn’t a mercenary band. They didn’t send their members to die, they sent them to infiltrate, steal, and return. This would be an abnormal thing to send members to do, how ever, hiring a mercenary band of thugs would be a good alternative... But, “Ra’tima, a band of mercenaries would probably be cheaper to hire, but I would suggest contacting the Dark Brotherhood. We have a history with them, and they don’t fail contracts.”
He didn’t have to ask what she wanted, he saw how she flicked her tail up sharply, her silent way of agreeing to his proposal. “What should we pay them?” She heard him ask as she turned to her stone backed throne style chair, turning her back to him and clasping her hands behind her back.
“How many did this one tell Ra’tima there were?”
“A band of five.”
“Eight hundred gold per head. One thousand if they make it a var dar fusozay.” She said, slipping into her native tongue of Ta’agra. He knew what she meant though, what with all these years spent under her now. She wanted a kill without regret or mercy, grotesque. She wanted them dead, but truly wanted to make a point out of these returning upstarts. She wanted them crushed, made a scene and example out of. The north was hers to plunder.
Ahkaan turned to leave, “I will do as you ask.”
“Ahkaan,” she spoke up. Ahkaan turned his head, looking back at her, “... Don’t forget to send the new footpads on their missions.” She hadn’t bothered to move her head to look at him. In fact, she moved nothing except her tail, flicking it to dismiss him.
“I won’t, Ra’tima.” He answered back to her, softly, before he left her meeting chamber. Maybe she didn’t show much emotion, but she had a certain, funny way of showing her gratitude and appreciation. He smiled, at least he knew that he meant something, no matter how little it was, to his leader. He had earned some of her respect and appreciation. He knew that she wouldn’t dare lose him, and as such, when he went out on a mission, she accompanied him. Not because she needed him to follow along with her, she was extremely capable of handling most, if not all, of the heists and thievery they planned. She trusted no one more to have her back during an ambush, and most dangerous heists couldn’t be accomplished alone. Many major missions included raiding ancient Dwemer and Nordic ruins, which meant that there was going to be a lot of climbing, and she needed someone to help her bring back the gold, gems and valuable artifacts anyways.
He could say that they were friends because of circumstance, or skill, but he preferred to think that they were friends. Not friends because of their occupation, but actual, real friends. Hopefully she thought that about him as well.
In all actuality, no. She didn’t know how she felt about him, except that he was really dependable and she trusted him with her life. But further than that, she didn’t know. She never cared to think much of it, she didn’t care to think of much of anything that didn’t involve her position, or keeping her guild together and safe. She had sexual partners in the past, but those were flings, one night stands, they were nothing more than something to give her some pleasure for the night before she left, taking their coin purse with her.
Drunken, horny men were so easily distracted and stolen from, but those days were few, far between and long behind her at this point. In all the years she had been with the guild, she hadn’t slept with any of them, let alone fallen in love with any of them. Romance was a tired sentiment that she cared not for. Right now, she was slightly surprised, frustrated and annoyed over all of this whole Summerset Shadows situation. Why didn’t things in Skyrim just want to stay dead and in the ground?
Glaring at the stone wall to the left of her throne chair, she huffed. They would be dealt with soon, as soon as Ahkaan did the Black Sacrament and summoned a Dark Brotherhood Assassin, those over confident footpads of thieves would be dealt with, and if she knew anything about the Dark Brotherhood, they would make a scene and example out of those pointed-ears for that extra one thousand gold. She should rest her worries and relax, maybe look over and search for some new high level missions for some of her senior members. She knew that they wanted to do something more challenging recently, and seeing how they already had reestablished the guild’s presence throughout Skyrim once more, they could quite literally get away with murdering a Jarl... That just wasn’t their field of operation.
She smiled to herself. She had friends in high places, friends and people who were scared of her. She had even planted evidence against Laila Law-Giver, her family, and her steward, getting them exiled from The Rift. This strategic move had put Maven in charge as Jarl of The Rift, and had increased Ra’tima’s power all across Skyrim’s nine holds. It was even sweeter that Maven had been scared of her, the old crone never openly expressed this, but she did smell of nervousness and slight fear. The old hag was clearly paranoid about losing her power and hold, especially if Ra’tima ever decided to go and turn against her.
Turning, she sat down in her throne, tail curling around her waist like a thick blackened cord. She was the queen of thieves, she carried the title of Nightingale, and many thought she was Lady Nocturnal herself. She did not mind these titles, after all, she did believe herself to be a Daughter of the Shadows. Tilting her head back, she looked at the skylight on the top of the ceiling. Night was falling outside, and she would soon need to hand out orders to her underlings for tomorrow’s missions, but for now, she wanted to sit under her skylight and watch the moons, or rather... She wanted to go to Riftweald Manor and stargaze from the roof. She was nimble enough to do it.
After informing her underlings of tasks and missions they had the next day, she left the cistern, climbing up the ladder under the graveyard shrine and into the back courtyard of Mara’s temple. It was a few simple seconds of climbing and some jumping across roofs before she was brought to the roof of her manor. The manor that had once belonged to the previous guild leader, Mercer Frey.
Sitting down, she shook her head. She had so many fond thoughts of Mercer. One of her fondest had to be her trip with him to and through Snow Veil Sanctum, when he had requested, strangely, that she be the one to lead the way through, when she asked he had explained that he wanted to give her a chance to prove her stealth skills to him. It irked her when she could feel the irritation radiating from him with each trap she missed, and it quite literally hurt her when he pushed her in front of him to be a meat shield for Karliah’s arrow.
The black arrow had pierced through her standard light thieves armor, burying itself deep into the muscle beneath her left collarbone. She hadn’t even seen the attack coming, but she sure as hell felt it when it hit her. She let out a sharp cry of pain, before going numb and blacking out.
She had opened her eyes to a sliver before seven seconds had passed, and she could see a cowled figure with a bow approaching Mercer, who had walked over her.
“Do you honestly think your arrow will reach me before my blade finds your heart?” Mercer said to someone that Ra’tima assumed was Karliah. The khajiiti woman couldn’t see either of them very clearly, her vision was dimmed, even with her enhanced night sight. Her hearing was a bit dampened as well, couldn’t hear high pitched noises as well as normal.
“Give me a reason to try.” Her voice had a thick but soft accent, she sounded like she hailed from the province of Morrowind, maybe she was a Dunmer, a dark elf.
“You’re a clever girl, Karliah. Buying Goldenglow Estate and funding Honningbrew Meadery was inspired.”
“To ensure an enemy’s defeat, you must first undermine his allies.” She said, sheathing her bow. “It was the first lesson Gallus taught us.”
“You always were a quick study.”
“Not quick enough, otherwise Gallus would still be alive.”
“Gallus had his wealth and he had you. All he had to do was look the other way.”
“Did you forget the oath we took as Nightingales? Did you expect him to simply ignore your methods?”
“Enough of this mindless banter! Come, Karliah! It’s time for you and Gallus to become reunited!” He drew his sword, getting into a fighting stance.
Karliah reached to her quiver, as if she was going to pull an arrow from it, but then, she vanished. Her voice sounded, “I’m no fool, Mercer. Crossing blades with you would be a death sentence, but I can promise the next time we meet, it will be your undoing.” Soft footsteps could be heard as the female Nightingale retreated into some unknown dark crevice.
Mercer then looked to Ra’tima-dro, walking over. “How interesting. It seems that Gallus’s history has repeated itself. Karliah has provided me the means to be rid of you, and this ancient tomb becomes your final resting place... But do you know what intrigues me the most? The fact that this was all possible because of you. Farewell. I’ll be certain to give Brynjolf your regards.” He didn’t hesitate to bury the first few inches of his Dwemer blade into her side.
As a thief she had followed Mercer, who gladly tried to sacrifice her life to make sure that she got hit first before him. Upon her finding out his intentions he stabbed her to finish her off, fearing that the truth would reach the guild members. As a thief who single handedly carried out a stealth operation; stealing from the vault and paying off others to cover his tracks meant that as a thief he only cared about himself. It was little wonder why he purposely did not want to get close to anyone, only going as far as to give proper introductions and information, whether or not that information had been true.
True though as a thief, it had really been all about the money. A true thief would never place their full faith in their comrades and Mercer’s betrayal drove this point home. The experience with him taught Ra’tima that it was best to deceive others or one would risk being used like the rest of them with very little reward. Even without Mercer, one would never witness a true thief until someone stabbed them in the back and showed them how determined they are to pull off a heist or robbery alone.
The next month and a half had been spent tracking Mercer down and swearing an oath of loyalty to Nocturnal, Lady of the Night. It was then, when Ra’tima aligned herself with Nocturnal, that she felt something changing inside of her. She had always been a prodigy when it came to stealth and thievery, but after aligning with Nocturnal, she felt a kind of presence fill her body, guiding her fingers, her form, and her mouth. She became a passing shadow, there and then gone. She would have become notorious across the holds, if they even knew what she looked like, when she struck, or even what her voice sounded like. It seemed that outside of the guild, once she was seen, people miraculously forgot that they had seen and interacted with her. She was the paragon of thieves, and she knew it better than all the others beneath her. She would continue in her reign, and her precious guild would continue to flourish, but what would happen when she had to leave, when she died and returned to the Nirn? Who would she trust to lead her culture and society of tricksters and thieves?
That was a question for a different time. Right now, she was watching the night sky.
She however, never spoke on these rumors. She knew she was powerful, but she liked letting her underlings’ heads run wild, she let the others tell the tales of her skill, her birth, and her journey. It made her ambiguous, and that made her even more fearful to her would-be challengers. It cloaked her in a deep shadow of abstruseness and kept her and her guild safe... Well for the most part, until recently that was.
“Ra’tima, what would you like us to do? The Summerset Shadows are rising up aga-” The stocky male ohmes was silenced with a deathly hiss. He looked up from under the lip of his brown leather hood with some fear at his Guild Master. She was a terrifyingly talented shadowblade, and he, even in all of his years working for the guild had never laid his gaze upon her face. She was always wearing the Nightingale’s blackened armor, her face forever concealed. It made it hard to tell her expressions, but he had learned how to read her posture, her tail movements, while rising through the ranks. He was her right hand man, and yet he didn’t even come close to her abilities or prowess.
“What do you mean they have risen up again? This one killed them all many moons ago.” Her voice was slightly raspy, but softly and quietly showed her power in how it carried with such little effort. That and her stoney throne was seated at the top of a set of six steps, so she was physically above most people.
“But Ra’tima, they have returned... With a vengeance. No matter who we send, they don’t come back... I fear that they’re holding prisoners, or worse, killing our people. Not to mention cut our business in the north down by quite a bit, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
“Ra’tima has noticed these things, but she did not think that it would be the Summerset Shadows. You are absolutely certain?” She said, her long black tail’s tip twitching with slight annoyance and some small amount of excitement. It baffled her that someone could’ve survived and stayed hidden for so long... Then again, she didn’t go exploring that much anymore. She had to rely on others, her footpads and underlings, to bring her rumors. If her successor had thought this to be so compelling that he should bring it to her, and disturb her peace of mind, what little she had, then it had to be important. He knew that she didn’t like to deal with things she didn’t have too, petty small things.
“Yes, I am absolutely certain, Ra’tima. I wouldn’t alert you if it was something I didn’t think would be important to you.”
She stood, tail swishing from side to side as she lost herself in thought. The Summerset Shadows. She would destroy them, make sure they stayed dead, and make certain that no one started this group up again. In fact, she would either employ a band of mercenaries, or the Dark Brotherhood. She did have some mercenaries that had joined the guild recently, and then she wouldn’t have to pay them as much as a rogue band of mercs or bandits... But if she sent them, and they died? Ah well, obviously they weren’t good enough in the first place.
“Ahkaan, tell this one, should Ra’tima hire a band of rogue mercenaries, the Dark Brotherhood, or send our newest mercenary recruits to deal with these upstarting challengers?”
Ahkaan thought for a moment, just a moment longer than she had. They had sent their own members recently, and they had failed to return, those in the presumably killed group hadn’t been the newest footpads, but they had still been new members. Besides, the thieves’ guild wasn’t a mercenary band. They didn’t send their members to die, they sent them to infiltrate, steal, and return. This would be an abnormal thing to send members to do, how ever, hiring a mercenary band of thugs would be a good alternative... But, “Ra’tima, a band of mercenaries would probably be cheaper to hire, but I would suggest contacting the Dark Brotherhood. We have a history with them, and they don’t fail contracts.”
He didn’t have to ask what she wanted, he saw how she flicked her tail up sharply, her silent way of agreeing to his proposal. “What should we pay them?” She heard him ask as she turned to her stone backed throne style chair, turning her back to him and clasping her hands behind her back.
“How many did this one tell Ra’tima there were?”
“A band of five.”
“Eight hundred gold per head. One thousand if they make it a var dar fusozay.” She said, slipping into her native tongue of Ta’agra. He knew what she meant though, what with all these years spent under her now. She wanted a kill without regret or mercy, grotesque. She wanted them dead, but truly wanted to make a point out of these returning upstarts. She wanted them crushed, made a scene and example out of. The north was hers to plunder.
Ahkaan turned to leave, “I will do as you ask.”
“Ahkaan,” she spoke up. Ahkaan turned his head, looking back at her, “... Don’t forget to send the new footpads on their missions.” She hadn’t bothered to move her head to look at him. In fact, she moved nothing except her tail, flicking it to dismiss him.
“I won’t, Ra’tima.” He answered back to her, softly, before he left her meeting chamber. Maybe she didn’t show much emotion, but she had a certain, funny way of showing her gratitude and appreciation. He smiled, at least he knew that he meant something, no matter how little it was, to his leader. He had earned some of her respect and appreciation. He knew that she wouldn’t dare lose him, and as such, when he went out on a mission, she accompanied him. Not because she needed him to follow along with her, she was extremely capable of handling most, if not all, of the heists and thievery they planned. She trusted no one more to have her back during an ambush, and most dangerous heists couldn’t be accomplished alone. Many major missions included raiding ancient Dwemer and Nordic ruins, which meant that there was going to be a lot of climbing, and she needed someone to help her bring back the gold, gems and valuable artifacts anyways.
He could say that they were friends because of circumstance, or skill, but he preferred to think that they were friends. Not friends because of their occupation, but actual, real friends. Hopefully she thought that about him as well.
In all actuality, no. She didn’t know how she felt about him, except that he was really dependable and she trusted him with her life. But further than that, she didn’t know. She never cared to think much of it, she didn’t care to think of much of anything that didn’t involve her position, or keeping her guild together and safe. She had sexual partners in the past, but those were flings, one night stands, they were nothing more than something to give her some pleasure for the night before she left, taking their coin purse with her.
Drunken, horny men were so easily distracted and stolen from, but those days were few, far between and long behind her at this point. In all the years she had been with the guild, she hadn’t slept with any of them, let alone fallen in love with any of them. Romance was a tired sentiment that she cared not for. Right now, she was slightly surprised, frustrated and annoyed over all of this whole Summerset Shadows situation. Why didn’t things in Skyrim just want to stay dead and in the ground?
Glaring at the stone wall to the left of her throne chair, she huffed. They would be dealt with soon, as soon as Ahkaan did the Black Sacrament and summoned a Dark Brotherhood Assassin, those over confident footpads of thieves would be dealt with, and if she knew anything about the Dark Brotherhood, they would make a scene and example out of those pointed-ears for that extra one thousand gold. She should rest her worries and relax, maybe look over and search for some new high level missions for some of her senior members. She knew that they wanted to do something more challenging recently, and seeing how they already had reestablished the guild’s presence throughout Skyrim once more, they could quite literally get away with murdering a Jarl... That just wasn’t their field of operation.
She smiled to herself. She had friends in high places, friends and people who were scared of her. She had even planted evidence against Laila Law-Giver, her family, and her steward, getting them exiled from The Rift. This strategic move had put Maven in charge as Jarl of The Rift, and had increased Ra’tima’s power all across Skyrim’s nine holds. It was even sweeter that Maven had been scared of her, the old crone never openly expressed this, but she did smell of nervousness and slight fear. The old hag was clearly paranoid about losing her power and hold, especially if Ra’tima ever decided to go and turn against her.
Turning, she sat down in her throne, tail curling around her waist like a thick blackened cord. She was the queen of thieves, she carried the title of Nightingale, and many thought she was Lady Nocturnal herself. She did not mind these titles, after all, she did believe herself to be a Daughter of the Shadows. Tilting her head back, she looked at the skylight on the top of the ceiling. Night was falling outside, and she would soon need to hand out orders to her underlings for tomorrow’s missions, but for now, she wanted to sit under her skylight and watch the moons, or rather... She wanted to go to Riftweald Manor and stargaze from the roof. She was nimble enough to do it.
After informing her underlings of tasks and missions they had the next day, she left the cistern, climbing up the ladder under the graveyard shrine and into the back courtyard of Mara’s temple. It was a few simple seconds of climbing and some jumping across roofs before she was brought to the roof of her manor. The manor that had once belonged to the previous guild leader, Mercer Frey.
Sitting down, she shook her head. She had so many fond thoughts of Mercer. One of her fondest had to be her trip with him to and through Snow Veil Sanctum, when he had requested, strangely, that she be the one to lead the way through, when she asked he had explained that he wanted to give her a chance to prove her stealth skills to him. It irked her when she could feel the irritation radiating from him with each trap she missed, and it quite literally hurt her when he pushed her in front of him to be a meat shield for Karliah’s arrow.
The black arrow had pierced through her standard light thieves armor, burying itself deep into the muscle beneath her left collarbone. She hadn’t even seen the attack coming, but she sure as hell felt it when it hit her. She let out a sharp cry of pain, before going numb and blacking out.
She had opened her eyes to a sliver before seven seconds had passed, and she could see a cowled figure with a bow approaching Mercer, who had walked over her.
“Do you honestly think your arrow will reach me before my blade finds your heart?” Mercer said to someone that Ra’tima assumed was Karliah. The khajiiti woman couldn’t see either of them very clearly, her vision was dimmed, even with her enhanced night sight. Her hearing was a bit dampened as well, couldn’t hear high pitched noises as well as normal.
“Give me a reason to try.” Her voice had a thick but soft accent, she sounded like she hailed from the province of Morrowind, maybe she was a Dunmer, a dark elf.
“You’re a clever girl, Karliah. Buying Goldenglow Estate and funding Honningbrew Meadery was inspired.”
“To ensure an enemy’s defeat, you must first undermine his allies.” She said, sheathing her bow. “It was the first lesson Gallus taught us.”
“You always were a quick study.”
“Not quick enough, otherwise Gallus would still be alive.”
“Gallus had his wealth and he had you. All he had to do was look the other way.”
“Did you forget the oath we took as Nightingales? Did you expect him to simply ignore your methods?”
“Enough of this mindless banter! Come, Karliah! It’s time for you and Gallus to become reunited!” He drew his sword, getting into a fighting stance.
Karliah reached to her quiver, as if she was going to pull an arrow from it, but then, she vanished. Her voice sounded, “I’m no fool, Mercer. Crossing blades with you would be a death sentence, but I can promise the next time we meet, it will be your undoing.” Soft footsteps could be heard as the female Nightingale retreated into some unknown dark crevice.
Mercer then looked to Ra’tima-dro, walking over. “How interesting. It seems that Gallus’s history has repeated itself. Karliah has provided me the means to be rid of you, and this ancient tomb becomes your final resting place... But do you know what intrigues me the most? The fact that this was all possible because of you. Farewell. I’ll be certain to give Brynjolf your regards.” He didn’t hesitate to bury the first few inches of his Dwemer blade into her side.
As a thief she had followed Mercer, who gladly tried to sacrifice her life to make sure that she got hit first before him. Upon her finding out his intentions he stabbed her to finish her off, fearing that the truth would reach the guild members. As a thief who single handedly carried out a stealth operation; stealing from the vault and paying off others to cover his tracks meant that as a thief he only cared about himself. It was little wonder why he purposely did not want to get close to anyone, only going as far as to give proper introductions and information, whether or not that information had been true.
True though as a thief, it had really been all about the money. A true thief would never place their full faith in their comrades and Mercer’s betrayal drove this point home. The experience with him taught Ra’tima that it was best to deceive others or one would risk being used like the rest of them with very little reward. Even without Mercer, one would never witness a true thief until someone stabbed them in the back and showed them how determined they are to pull off a heist or robbery alone.
The next month and a half had been spent tracking Mercer down and swearing an oath of loyalty to Nocturnal, Lady of the Night. It was then, when Ra’tima aligned herself with Nocturnal, that she felt something changing inside of her. She had always been a prodigy when it came to stealth and thievery, but after aligning with Nocturnal, she felt a kind of presence fill her body, guiding her fingers, her form, and her mouth. She became a passing shadow, there and then gone. She would have become notorious across the holds, if they even knew what she looked like, when she struck, or even what her voice sounded like. It seemed that outside of the guild, once she was seen, people miraculously forgot that they had seen and interacted with her. She was the paragon of thieves, and she knew it better than all the others beneath her. She would continue in her reign, and her precious guild would continue to flourish, but what would happen when she had to leave, when she died and returned to the Nirn? Who would she trust to lead her culture and society of tricksters and thieves?
That was a question for a different time. Right now, she was watching the night sky.