V S M City of Thieves [Quest | NPC]

Masahir N'air

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A soft click-drop of a lock snapping open sounded in the night.

Most normal people would be terrified in this situation, unable to still their rapidly beating hearts enough to fully concentrate on the task at hand. No one in their right minds would seek to wake a literal werewolf from his slumber in his own home, but Ra’tima-dro was no ordinary person.

While a part of her would effortlessly admit that she enjoyed perhaps a small bit of the thrill, she was equally if not exceedingly invested in figuring out all the strange, dangerous men that sought to insert themselves into Masahir’s life and body. This bumbling, unfortunate wolf had a lot to prove to the fearsome feline mother. A mother who would not hesitate to cut any man down to size should they threaten her family.

She pushed the heavy wooden door of the apartment closed behind her in absolute silence and scanned the interior of the room. Directly in front of her was the slotted wooden door of a closet. She turned to her right and crept further into the apartment’s common area, passing the dark kitchen by with only a short glance to ensure she wasn’t going to wake that little wolf pup up or come across any unsuspected roommates-

Though with how barren this place looked on the inside, she really doubted he had much financial help, let alone a whole other person living here with him unless it was a pretty dire situation. Then again, she really wasn’t sure what to expect out of this man. He really didn’t even own enough of anything for her to lift from this place anyway.

What a bum. She thought as she slid through the crack in the bedroom door.

She sat there, crouched for a few moments while she got her bearings. He was snoring, a thin linen bedsheet pulled haphazardly across his sprawled body and that pup sleeping belly up beside him. He looked like an ordinary man, just tall and very well built- but she knew better than to just trust her eyes. He was a monster, a werewolf. Intelligent, powerful, terrifying. She’d seen werewolves tear soldiers and civilians apart, seen them turn little children into ribbons.

A sharp chill ran down her spine, her tail bristled and her ears went flat against her head. Her hand rested against a black leather sheath on her right side. She’d spent most of the day tracking down that enchanted silver dagger just for him, and she’d make sure to drive it straight into his beastial heart if anything ever went wrong between them.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t tempted to slit his throat right here and right now. He was another dangerous monster playing around with Masahir. It was only a matter of time, only a matter of when he’d turn against her sweet Tal, when he’d turn her into gore-confetti too.

Gods above protect her, why must Masahir play with fire in such ways? First that furless bastard Ji’aaj, now this actual furless bastard Lucien Lockwood. That girl never listened to her mother, headstrong and willful enough to only step back when something or someone snapped and she learned the hard way. The fuzzy feline shook her head softly. She wasn’t willing to let history repeat itself, but she knew how much it’d break Masa’s heart if she turned him into a newspaper headliner. She could already hear those heartbreaking sobs, and her stoney heart relented.

Instead she found herself doing something very fucking stupid.

She strode to his single nightstand and scooped up a glass of water he’d left sitting on it, and dumped it on his face. Lucien sputtered, bolting awake as she ordered him in a deathly hiss, “wake up, werewolf.”

From under his pillow he swung a long knife that the feline stepped back to avoid effortlessly. She was perfectly awake, and he was groggy and surprised. She had the element of ambush on her side as his yellow eyes adjusted to the dark, dim waking world.

“What do you want from me, why are you here?!” He demanded. It was clear he had yet to recognize the small dark figure against his wall.

“Isn’t it obvious, wolf? You are going to listen to this one.” His eyes lost focus on her for only a brief moment and she was gone again. The very next second her rasping voice sounded behind him, causing him to swing again in the dark, though he struck nothing.

“You have everything in the world to prove to this one, Lycan. Do you not recognize this one’s voice, or have you already forgotten about the beautiful woman you wanted to bed the other night?”

“Masahir?” Lucien’s tone and body language shifted, clearly confused as he tried to pinpoint his attacker. “What does she have to do with this, Assassin?”

“Ha! ‘Assassin,’ he says! Slow-claws, this one thinks! No, if Ra’tima-dro wanted this one dead, he would not have woken up, she promises.”

It dawned on his half-awake, panicked brain at that moment just who he was talking to. “You’re that cat-lady from the shop! I didn’t do anything wrong to your daughter, okay? You have my word.” His stomach turned, yet again he was facing up to a nightmare of a woman who’d plucked his secret from the air and could very well send him packing from Uruk should she decide to tell.

Ra’s coarse laugh made him fidget with the handle of his knife as he wiped the sleep from his face. “As if this one would take a man at his word! Ha! Maybe the lycan is good for one thing, jokes.”

“If you’re not here to kill me, then what do you want from me? I doubt you broke into my house in the middle of the night to ridicule me.” He felt a weight settle on the bed next to him, but when his eyes snapped to check she was nowhere to be found once more.

“This one thinks the dog is up for a challenge, if he wishes to keep seeing Ra’tima-dro’s sweet, precious Tal and not be forced to sleep rough outside of Uruk, no?”

He sighed and nodded.

“Good. This one has a mission to do, but Ra’tima-dro thinks she would appreciate the assistance and skills of a trained soldier. You will accompany her to the city of Karim, a few days from here, and you will prove yourself to her or you will be no more.”

~ * * * ~​

It didn’t take long for him to meet her in the shadows of the western gatehouse, dressed in his armor and wrapped in a cloak. The khajiiti woman was pleased to see that this time he wasn’t carrying that little puppy on his chest, because the last thing she wanted to deal with was babysitting some twerp of a mutt the entire time she was exploring.

They’d been making their way along the road for a few moments, the imposing walls of the city quickly receding on the horizon. The silence had been eating away at the soldier, the uncertainty the woman presented made him near unbearably antsy. He’d stare at her for moments at a time, trying his best to work the idea of her out in his head. Eventually his frustration and confusion came to a head and he sighed in annoyance.

“What?” Shot Ra from further up the road.

“Can you just tell me what we’re going to be doing? I don’t care for this cloak and dagger stuff.”

She chuckled, the sound whipped by the stiff breeze blowing along the sand flats. “Lucien is impatient, Ra’tima-dro sees. Tell her, what does Lucien think Ra does for a living?”

“You run that shop in town, and obviously something else more nefarious. I still think you’re an assassin.”

She hummed, pleased by his guesses. “Ra’tima-dro is a merchant lord.”

He studied her for a long time. What was she doing, trying to mess with him? He stopped, “is this some sort of a game to you?”

For the first time since they’d started their trek she paused to turn and look at him. Her eyes were wild, sharp like glittering splinters of winter ice. A smirk stretched across her black lips, “yes, it is, and this one will play along with her game if he is actually smarter than a dumb runt.”

He rolled his golden eyes as she turned around and kept walking, shrugging his broad shoulders. He didn’t know what to make of the cat-lady who was just as shifty as the sands around them. “It’s obvious you’re trying to manipulate me into helping you. You could have just asked, you know.”

“And this one thinks that Ra’tima-dro is stupid enough to just take a werewolf at his word alone? He has a lot to learn then.”

“I know you have me clocked. I’ve already told you I’m not a threat.”

“Ra’tima-dro will believe it once she sees it.” She dismissed his words and they walked on in silence. Ra was more than content enough to keep the conversation to a minimum for as long as possible.

Moments crept into hours as the sun rose in the sky. The scenery had transitioned from sandy prairies, to shrubland and even into wide open savannahs.

“Has this one ever visited the city of Karim?” The diminutive khajiiti woman was the first to break the silence in what felt like ages.

“No, I have not.”

She hm’d quickly in acknowledgement, studying the rugged cliffs far out ahead of them. “They say that it is at the center of this cloudless world.” She pointed at the crags, “out there. All water flows from under Karim. We will find a river and follow it back to its source, through the canyons, until we arrive.”

He wiped the sweat from his brow and licked his dry lips. “We should set up camp soon, at least until the sun goes down some.” He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t already starting to feel a bit sunburnt from the already blistering rays. He’d just gotten back from being lost in this unbearable wilderness, and here he was wandering around in it again, with an assassin who had every reason to want to stick him no less.

The wind whipped her robes back in gentle snaps. “Is the big bad wolf already tired of the desert heat? This one thought lycans had supernatural endurance. Certainly he can keep up with an old woman like Ra’tima-dro.”

“Of course I can. The military prepared me for days like today.” He said with a smile. This woman was acting like one of his old drill instructors at this point.

“Good.” She’d never broken her very brisk, near-jogging walk. Part of him wondered just exactly what this woman was. Were all Khajiit catfolk like this? Blunt and witty with an endurance to match his own?

The only sound passing between them for long periods was the thuds of Lucien’s heavy footsteps. And the wind. He’d noticed how eerily quiet she was at all times, like all her noises of movement had been hit by a mute switch.

“So you seem like someone who can handle themselves. Do you have any formal military training?” He probed the figurative waters.

“Interesting question; no Ra’tima-dro was not in any military service.”

He pursed his lips. “But you had formal training.”

“Ra’tima-dro has made no such claim. She is self-taught and sleek with her own natural born talents.”

“You must be one hell of a teacher, then.”

“Of course. Ra’tima-dro taught her sweet Tal everything she knows. Ra’tima-dro has trained many apprentices in the past.”

“Ah, so you were an instructor.”

“Hm. Again, not quite.” She smirked.

“Let me guess, ‘Merchant Lord’.”

She snorted, she could practically hear the air quotes he was putting on behind her. “Is this one the very first Khajiit the dog has met?”

“I’m not exactly a local.”

Her ears perked at that bit of information. So he was another one, pulled here from another world. How interesting. “Neither is this one. She wasn’t sure whether she should expect to find others like her in all these strange plains of oblivion, but the gods have an odd way of smiling upon us. No, not all Khajiit are invested in being merchants like this one, but we do enjoy how easy shiny things like gold and silver are on our eyes.”

Before he could respond, she decided to ask him a question. “What about Lucien, where is he from?”

“Argos, I hail from a Hyborian kingdom known as Argos. It was an unrivaled naval force with a strong merchant fleet.”

“What was Argos’ chief export?”

“Primarily ivory, copper, pearls, and slaves.” His voice turned down at the end, a clear tone of discomfort in his voice.

“And this one was in the navy?”

“Nay, I was in the army for my service.”

She gave a hum of acknowledgement and nodded her head. “This one hails from an ancient land called Elsweyr. It is a place of dusty badlands and humid looming jungles, and is blessed by the Topal Sea with sweet Ja’m’ath.”

“Ja-math?” He attempted, but the foreign word failed on his tongue, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”

“You would call it, ‘Moonsugar’. It is a cultural delicacy and very potently sweet. It looks like cyrodillic- common- sugar, but instead of the yellow-white of cane sugar, it refines naturally as pure white grains.”

He nodded, though he doubted she’d notice without looking back. “So, Khajiits like this moonsugar stuff a lot?”

“Yes, Slow-claws, we have quite a big sweet tooth. We put it in nearly everything, it is our spice of life. Ja’m’ath was created from the light of our lunar gods Jone and Jode after all. It is crystalized moonlight.”

He raised an eyebrow. Crystalized moonlight? He’d heard about the cabal of the Black Hand sorcerers and stygian priests of Set doing complicated rituals and long strings of blood magic, but he’d not seen any plant that produced a material like that. “Does it grow here?”

“Ah, finally, a quick thought from the wolf. That is one of the things Ra’tima-dro is interested in figuring out in Karim.”

Word count 2397/8000

The Golden Brick Road
Quest Giver: Babylonia/Gilgamesh
Quest Length: 8k
Quest Location: Mesa Roja
Quest Prerequisites: Be Masa
Quest Description: While Gilgamesh's glorious city benefits from the wealth of its king, they cannot yet sustain themselves. The Great King wants his people to become independent, and not need his charity. For that, a city needs to trade with its neighbors. Gilgamesh is offering a reward for any noble citizen that establishes and secures a profitable trade route with the great city of Karim.

Repeatable? N
Quest Reward: Standard. Additionally grants a level up in the faction upon other OOC actions.
 

Masahir N'air

[M] Arbiter of Love
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“How long have you been in the Crossroads?” Lucien was sitting in front of a small campfire, rations in hand and a cup of water by his crossed legs. Ra had only allowed them to stop for the night long after dusk had fallen away, only after they’d made the steady, slopping descent into the broad, rugged canyons and found a lazily flowing river.

“Five moons. If you are about to also ask how long this one has been living in Uruk, nearly five moons. Why does the wolf want to know this?” The she-cat knelt on her bedroll, grinding away at a collection of flowers and what smelled like coffee beans in her mortar and pestle. She’d poured the mix into a fine cheesecloth bag and doused the pouch in hot water. Now she was patiently waiting for a small cup of Bergama Warming Fire to steep.

“You’re the only one I’ve met since coming here that has been able to discern my curse. I was wondering if you had a history with wolves?”

Ra’tima-dro turned her icy eyes from the campfire and onto her hostage-turned-traveling companion. She studied him for several long, uncomfortable minutes as she discerned whether or not she should bother answering this ridiculous question. Eventually she stood and scoffed, “why yes, this one has a long and ugly history with wolves!”

In one slick movement she pulled the fastens on her armor and shoved the leather aside to show her grey flecked side. She ran her free hand upwards against the grain of her fur and revealed a triad of long, jagged pink scars running down her ribs.

Lucien winced. He didn’t know what exactly he was expecting by asking her that question, but it hadn’t quite been the switch flip of tone he’d just received. “Well... I walked into that one, didn’t I?”

She lowered her shirt, and reclipped her flanks. “This one will never forget it. All the pain and misery of werewolves living in Tamriel make them a curse. They are twisted beast-men of Hircine, the Hungry Cat. They only thirst for the thrill of the hunt.” She paused and sat once more, looking into the fire. Her voice was oddly still. “Ra’tima-dro might respect their power, if they actually had any real restraint. She respects them the same way ground-prey respects a wild fire sweeping through their meadows.”

The man in front of her grimaced, he recognized the steely way she gazed into the fire, recognized the dreadfully serious tone of her voice. He opened his mouth with an equally tight response, “I’m more than willing to prove to you that I’m not like that.”

Ra’tima retrieved her drink and took a long sip of it, feeling the energy pour back into her body. She sighed quietly, exasperatedly, “the wolf can speak until he is blue in the face, Ra’tima-dro will see it when she sees it, and will know. She prays that he is right about himself, for his sake.”

He grumbled softly and took another bite of his food. “What is it with you and your cryptic threats?”

“Ra’tima-dro is not cryptic, she is simply patient, believe it or not, dog.”

“Mhmm.” Was his skeptical response, earning himself a glare.

“Don’t believe her then, so be it. The dull dog will see her truth eventually.”

“If he makes it that far?” He ventured sardonically between bites.

“Yes. If he makes it that far.” She finished the rest of her drink in one go and stood, a visible shiver running down her lithe, petite form. The feline was quickly packing her bedroll back up, and yet Lucien was looking on in confusion.

“I thought we were schtopping for the night?” He said through a mouthful of rice, clearly having expected more time to rest.

“Oh, no no, dull claws. The sleek and silky Ra’tima-dro was only stopping to enjoy the night sky and a nice refreshment.” She began kicking dirt into the fire to smother it.

“Mornin’s in a few hours.” The lycan asserted, shielding his food while he scarfed it down.

“Yes, slow-claws, morning is in a few hours. Ra’tima-dro wishes to have a full day spent exploring the city, that is why we must leave now.” She paused as she stomped out the smoldering embers. “Besides, it will not be safe to sleep out here in the night. We must not stop for long, the desert holds many terrors in the dark sands and Ra’tima-dro is not very interested in meeting them.”

~ * * * ~​

“So what are we looking to accomplish in Karim? Is there a specific role you need me in?” The lycan arched his neck back to study the massive sandstone walls and gatehouse surrounding Mesa Roja’s capital city. Again he was trying his best to prize information out of his would-be captor as they slipped unnoticed into the crowd that ebbed and flowed from the desert metropolis.

The khajiiti woman had pulled a silvery mask down to conceal her face when travelers became more frequent on the road. She had rapidly grown tired of the double-takes and sideways curious glances, of small children asking their mom if the lady they’d just passed was really a cat-person. She rolled her eyes. At least Lucien passed in normal society without much hassle, that much she was thankful for.

“Ra’tima-dro is looking to establish trade between Karim and Uruk, by request of her gracious King Gilgamesh. She needs to explore the city, you will be her nose on the ground while her sharp ears listen to the shadows.”

He gave a wry chuckle. “A merchant lord in the shadows. We could start with one of the local taverns and see if we can’t shake loose some information.”

This earned him a smile from the khajiiti woman, though he couldn’t have known. “You,” she poked him in the chest with a single gloved finger, “can start with a local tavern. Ra’tima-dro will scout the city in her own way. This wolf has a communicator, no? Or did it get stolen from him as well?”

The man rifled through his satchel, “yes, of course I have one, see-” he withdrew a thin black rectangle and flashed it to her as proof, “here.”

The small woman was quick to sync their numbers and pass the phone back along with a pouch of gold pieces. “This one will message you when she has need. Oh, and don’t forget to get Ra’tima-dro a separate room at this local tavern, yes? Don’t get your things snatched tonight~” She patted him on the shoulder as she passed behind him, but as soon as she was out of sight from his yellow eyes, she’d vanished into thin air and left the lonely lycan standing in the middle of the street.

Well... it was time to find that tavern, he supposed.


~ * * * ~​


The diminutive khajiit was quick to clamber up a relatively tall tower in powerful bursts of freehanded parkour. It’d easily been at least an hour since she had gotten the last text from the so-called “good werewolf”. He gave her small updates on anything interesting that he came across in his time spent bar hopping.

A large part of her expected him to fool around getting wasted drunk and falling headlong into a brothel, instead of being any real help, but another part of her suspected otherwise. He’d seemed so earnest in his desire to prove his goodness and decency to her- but she’d heard that entire song and dance before from others time and time again and mostly been disappointed.

Her blue eyes scanned over the sweeping skyline of the city, contemplating its beauty and layout. The citizenry here preferred opulence and decadence. It was apparent from nearly every odd, end and angle of Karim, from the towering aqueducts to the carved tiles lining the edges of the waterways. Immaculate gardens adorned many rooftops, gardens she’d spent a fair amount of time snooping in and snatching any useful ingredients from. (She’d never admit to taking a nice, well deserved cat nap in one of the nicest ones she’d found.)

The satchel on her side grumbled softly, sounding like it was half-tempted to eject the last three lotus flower clippings she’d collected. She gave the neonate mimic a few solid scritches on it’s lid flap to the tune of pleased keening and knew she’d be giving it some well-earned treats later.

Or maybe some dumb pickpocket would try to stick their grimey digits in her satchel to pick her fat purse, and her little mimic would enjoy a five finger snack. She smirked at the thought, it was certainly a good deterrent with such crowd catching reactions, after all, thieves normally prized their beloved fingers.

She let out a harsh chuckle and pulled a sweet pastry from her obedient bag. There was nothing quite like hubris and irony, she thought as she began to munch on her sugary afternoon meal. Her ears perked sharply as a shady conversation between two thugs caught her attention.

“You heard about that missing Wakandan woman?” An older greying man was speaking to another, younger fellow.

“Inza Urabaza? They say she fled.”

The older man’s voice dropped into a softer mumble. “Well... I heard she was kidnapped by House Gerudo agents...”

Ra couldn’t help but lean in and tilt her head to listen in better. Gossip about aristocracy and government officials was her favorite flavor of hearsay. She munched gleefully on her sweet-cake while the conversation continued.

“What? That’s ridiculous!” Came the dark-haired one’s harshly whispered response.

“Shhh... It’s not- think about it. She’s been gone at least a day, if not two. That bougie gerudo yacht took off two days ago. I’m just saying- her house probably didn’t realize until the next day, or at least didn’t want to go public about it until yesterday.”

“Why doesn’t the House Wakanda just accuse House Gerudo then?” It was at this point the eavesdropping feline noticed the pungent notes of the young man’s cologne, unmistakably musky and floral at the same time. She scrunched her nose, it was good... in a rather up-front and strong way.

“Because, you idiot, they don’t want to start a full blown war between the houses!”

“No. Mister Blaine wouldn’t let a war like that happen, you know that. You know that.”

“Well maybe he was involved in helping her go ‘poof’. People call Rick a hero saver and all that jazz anyways.” The older man grumbled.

“Don’t just call him ‘Rick’, that’s disrespectful.”

“It’s his first name how is it disrespect-”

“You call the big boss Mister Rick Blaine or Mister Blaine.” The younger man fixed the collar of his shirt. “It’s a matter of respect, of principle. You get it Jens?”

Jens, who smelled like tobacco smoke, parchment and sweat, shook his head as if he were tsking before he conceded. It was a battle he knew he would not win with this devotee of Blaine. “Yes Keyon, I ‘get it’. Why’d you gotta go an’ bust my balls kid? You know he’s not that uptight, right?”

“Look, I just don’t want anyone catching any ideas thinkin’ we don’t like and respect ‘em. You don’t disrespect him, or else you stop waking up. Anyways, I gotta go and meet Rinaldo at Scar’s Booth. We got a shipment in today and we have to get it delivered.”

Ra’tima-dro leaned back against her perch. Rick Blaine, Mister Rick Blaine. It seemed he was the criminal kingpin of Karim’s infamous Underground, the man who made it all work like a well oiled machine and pulled the strings.

She scowled to herself. She had once been the Queen of Thieves, Lady of the Night, Nightingale of Noctra. Once, she had been a feared name, whispered in reverence and awe. She was a dreadful force that could easily descend upon an entire estate by herself and with little issue, a thief who could clear a mansion in less than a night and never get detected by its inhabitants.

At one time her reach could compel distant kingdoms to heed to her whims. She had been the one pulling the strings back in her home plane, before all this had happened, before she’d saddled herself with the responsibility of taking care of another person and owing them time and patience. The feline sighed softly and finished the last bite of her pastry.

She didn’t regret semi-adopting Masahir, but Ra’tima would be lying to say that she didn’t totally miss the thrill of heisting, or just exploring a city and people-watching. People tended to ogle her for being a cat when they saw her in this collection of worlds, like an oddity and novelty... But when she would get away, get up above them and wait, people could reveal so much of their sacred inner lives when they thought themselves secure in a tight dark alley, or on a balcony.

Ahkaan’s throaty chuckle echoed in her mind as a memory and she grimaced in pointed agony. She didn’t have time to deal with the frayed threads of her heart, she didn’t have time to sit and think about these things when life just kept throwing terrible curveballs at her constantly.

Ra’tima-dro stood in a single fluid movement. Her heart ached and she needed a remedy, a drink to quell her raw hurts. She needed something, anything to push away the resounding gong of her tired soul. Ra wanted nothing more at the moment than to bury her muzzle in a deep cup of spiced mead or firebrand wine. Her mind couldn’t help but flick to the idea of taking up that cocksure-Demetri’s offer.

He was certainly easy on her sharp eyes.



... And he didn’t act totally disgusted by the idea of bedding her.



He hadn’t treated her like an animal, at least not yet. Though she had remembered that he’d called her ‘kitty’ and ‘kitten’. Normally she hated being called variants of ‘cat’, because it tended to be followed with a threat to turn her into a rug or upholstery.


... Maybe she could make an exception for a handsome man like him if it helped to distract her stupid brain and heart for the night and wasn’t anything too insensitive.

She glanced down at her phone. She’d added his number days ago, but had yet to message it.

It’s not like he’d care that she wanted him as a distraction, anyways. Men like him moved from lover to lover, sometimes to avoid their aches, and sometimes just for the hell of it. She couldn’t tell which one he was yet, but had figured it was probably a bit of both. It was just going to be a fling, nothing more. Like he’d said, ‘full package, no strings attached’.



The khajiit sighed and slid her phone back into its holder without opening it.

She had a job to get done before she could play around getting drunk and (possibly) very well laid. Where’d that Keyon man say he was going to mess around with a delivery? Scar’s Booth?

Ra’tima-dro looked back down at the alleyway. The two men had moved on and gone separate ways already, and she would be a fool to not admit that she had yet to come across this ‘Scar’s Booth’ in her hours of exploration today.

At the very least, she knew where a pretty seedy looking dive bar was tucked away at. It only took her a few moments to nimbly make her way back down the tower and to street level. The sleek Ra’tima dropped to the ground with feline-exclusive grace and agility and quickly made her way towards the bar she’d spied earlier.

It didn’t take long for her to notice the rambunctious little dive, the sound of drunken caterwauling coming from inside was unavoidable even a block or two away. Something familiar tickled her ears but she was unable to place it. It only really became apparent when she was standing in the open doorway and spotted a crown of curly, messy dark brown hair and a pointed dark beard attached to the same man with silvery-blue eyes, sitting at the bar with some other woman decorating his free arm.

It seemed tonight would be Ra’tima’s lucky night.

She hadn’t exactly expected to stumble across Demetri Malius at the first dodgy hole-in-the-wall she tried that night. Perhaps if he was half as good as he claimed, his services and help would be greatly appreciated. ‘No strings attached’, she reminded herself with a soft sigh as she snaked her way barely noticed through the thrum of drunkards. The petite woman leaned against the bar-top next to the thief and ordered a particularly honey-sweet mead. She was careful to thread her tail around her waist to keep it out of the way of some of the more rowdy patrons, the last thing she wanted was some wasted asshole thinking it was a funny joke to yank her by the tail.

Demetri was distracted teasing a flustered barmaid who leaned hard into his coy charms, he was asking her lewd questions and doing so just loud enough so that the seats next to them might overhear. Ra narrowed her eyes, watching in silence through the eye-slits of her mask while she waited for her drink. She’d be the first to acknowledge that she hadn’t seen enough of the man in normal settings to really determine who or what he was as a person.

The mug clacked on the counter in front of her and she made shockingly quick work of it, tapping her gloved fingers on the bar to order another two rounds and slid the appropriate coinage across the wood surface, plus a nice tip. The bartender pocketed the money with a sly wink and a nod, and soon returned with her order.

The thief next to her had finished whatever drink he’d been holding and was making passes at asking the wench which one of them wanted to get a room for the night. The khajiit smirked under her mask and nudged his arm with her elbow, catching his hazy attention. He cocked a sharply arched eyebrow upon turning to see the masked figure to his right, clearly perplexed at how and when she’d gotten there.

“I like your style, have a round on me, yes?” She offered him the extra flagon. First person still felt so foreign on her tongue, but she figured it’d be amusing to practice on slow-clawed Demetri.

The rogue took the flagon rather willingly as he squinted, something was off about this, there was something about their voice that felt absurdly familiar but he couldn’t place it right away in his intoxicated brain fog. “Do I-” He hic’d softly, “I’m sorry but do I know you from- somewhere?”

Her grin widened, coy excitement seeped into her tone as warmth flooded her face. “Oh, I was once known by everyone. In fact, they’d call me Noctra’s Nightingale. Tell me, does this handsome man enjoy stories?”

He tilted his head as he considered who could be talking to him, but he heard it in how she spoke the word ‘this’ with such a high-’ie’ followed by a sharply hissed ‘s’. ‘Th’ease wan’ was what he was used to her saying. A grin as broad as hers lit up his face and he turned to face her. “Why? Does Miss pretty-kitty Ra’tima-dro have a story she wants to tell me?”

“Purrhaps. Perhaps she does have a story worth telling.” She chuckled and pulled herself up onto the bar next to him effortlessly, she hated needing to crane her neck to look up so much.

He leaned in towards her. “Maybe you can start with that cat mask. That part’a your assassin gear or somethem’ sweetcheeks?”

She reached under the lip of the mask and pulled the entire thing off in one go, revealing her speckled, fluffy face. Demetri certainly noticed her full head of long, thick raven-black box braids done up in some sort of knot behind her cranium.

Pretty kitty indeed, he couldn’t help but appreciate her strange, foreign features. He’d bedded other weirder alien babes in the past anyways... but he wasn’t quite sure he’d ever wanted to reach out and pet one of those chicks on the face like he was tempted to now.

“This one is amused that people always assume she is an assassin. She rather insists that they call her a proper khajiiti merchant-lord~” She laughed and took another big swig of her mead and found herself almost done with it as well. She was already feeling well buzzed by the time the third round arrived for them.

He threw back more of his mead, a giddiness building behind his belly button. This turn of events was already by and far more exciting than anything the poor wench he’d worked up for twenty minutes could give him. He wondered if he could get this stoic kitten all flustered now that he was in top shape, or if she’d maintain her cool like any time before. “I hope you’re not jus’ here to tease me darlin’~”

He earned a coy smirk, “oh, do not worry. Ra’tima-dro fully intends to claim the offer the sneak-thief made her.”

His face lit up as he waggled his devilish brows at her and snaked an arm around her waist to pull her closer, “oh yeah~? We can go ‘head and get a room if you’re feelin’ all frisky, kitten.”

She rolled her blue eyes, but leaned into the hands-on attention, especially when he copped a nice handful of her firm ass. It quickened his desire to discover that the petite feline was a short-stack serving up just as much juicy cake as that gorgeous desert rose in his DMs, Masahir.

The khajiiti woman held his chin in her dainty hand to focus him, “no, not yet sweet-claws. Ra’tima-dro has been busy all day and wishes to enjoy some of the night first... surely he can indulge her in that, yes?”

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Demetri Malius

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Demetri teetered for a moment while he thought upon the Khajiit’s words. He certainly felt in the mood to enjoy the night a bit more before enjoying the rest of it in the sheets.

“Bartender, ‘nother round for me and my new, sober, guest. I believe we have some catchin’ up t’do.”

The khajiiti woman seemed to smirk at him as the bartender giggled and poured their drinks. She coyly whipped her tail around his nose before he could pull the mug to his lips.

“Now now, this one should let silky Ra’tima-dro catch up for a moment before he finds himself too drunk to walk her to her room.”

The thief narrowed his eyes briefly before deciding that she did have a point. No need to rush to the floor if he was wanting to have a good time after. He straightened up on his stool and watched the khajiiti woman take a long sip of her mug. Each swallow allowed her to tilt the mug further, until she gave a satisfied sigh and set it back down on the counter she had sat on.

“Now that she has quenched her thirst, perhaps sweet-claws would like to indulge her on his most recent exploits between sips of ale, hm?”

Demetri gave a cockeyed look before waving to the bartender to pour another drink for the Khajiit. There was always a certain amount of respect earned for those that could hold their alcohol like that. As the next mug was poured, he figured he might as well give the khajiiti woman the spark to the conversation that she had requested.

“Well, if you hang around the shade as often as I might predict, you already know that I can’t share ev’ry detail, but if you really musht know,” he paused to give a fiendish smirk, “I believe this las’ mission definitely proved that I ‘aven’t lost a thing since bein’ stuck up in my old ship by a squad of women that I would- in no particular order- take a turn ‘n bed with.”

She was giving him a slight look but he continued unphased. “Certainly was a unique situation that I had not encountered before, though it gets close when you deal with the Gerudo house. Though I suppose you want the more recent details that you don’t already know about.” He ended the sentence with a large swig from his mug.

“Of course, Ra’tima-dro does enjoy when dull-claws gets straight to the point~”

The thief gave the Khajiit a chuckle before he finally cut the chase. “Well, given that we just got back from the mission yesterday, the item I managed to retrieve is still hot to the touch. Need to let it cool for a couple of days more before I decide to discover its worth.”

“Then it is good that this one spends her time in Uruk, where the heat is much more manageable, yes?”

Demetri gave a sideyed look while he took another sip of his drink.

“Persistent lil’ kitty, aren’t you?” He gave a soft burp and blew to the side. “Bartender, another round~?”

“This one requires another mug as well.” The khajiiti woman held her flagon up with a sly smirk, glancing at Demetri. “What, does this one not think that Ra’tima-dro can hold her liquor? He truly does not know what to expect from this one, does he?”

“You know,” he started as their drinks were filled once more. “I know that you’re playin’ me.” He immediately took a large swig, seeming to hold it for a moment before giving a sigh. “But you’re right~”

The feline seemed to simply be content with that answer as she took a much more humble sip from her flagon. Demetri held his tongue for a moment before speaking again.

“Seein’ that you seem too keen on getting these details from me tonight, and I hardly seem to know much about you, how about we come to some terms.” The thief swirled his mug a bit and stared down into it with one eye closed. “I know that am going to be shitfaced the moment I see the bottom of thish mug, so how ‘bout we start takin’ things back to your place. Maybe my lips will be a bit more loose in the cold air, an’ you can tell me about yourself in return.”

“So long as sugarclaws promises that she will not have to carry him, Ra’tima-dro believes she can oblige.”

Hearing her reply, Demetri dug into his pocket and tossed the gold he owed to the bartender, along with a tip. He gave a nod to her and raised his mug. “I’ll bring the cups back tomorrow in the morning, keep the extra gold for yourself.” The bartender smiled and waved the two goodbye while she cleaned up the counter.

Demetri felt the cold rush of the nighttime air sober him up slightly as he looked out into the streets of Karim. He felt a brush of fur slip past him, his eyes trailing behind the feline fiend that had followed him outside.

“Well, drunk-claws, will you be able to keep up with Ra’tima-dro if she takes the roofs, or will she find him falling in an alleyway?”

“I don’t know, but we can find out... try me.” He threw his arms to the side, letting his cloak flounder a bit before he set his hands on his waist. “Which direction we going?”

Ra’tima leaned and stretched a few times, preparing herself for the trip to her rented room. She crouched down before suddenly springing up and launching herself up the building, taking her hand and grabbing the ledge to flip herself over and onto the rooftop.

“Well, fuck me I guess,” he grumbled as he downed the rest of his drink and reached up with his arm, taking a shaky aim before launching his chains over to the same ledge that the feline had used to vault herself onto the roof. A quick running start allowed him to swing a bit from the anchored chain and wallrun on the tavern’s wall, keeping it tense as he sent out another chain at the larger building beside it. With the momentum he had built, he used the second chain to twist himself into a large arc and flip over in the air before landing, barely, onto the rooftop behind the Khajiit. Nearby, the wooden mug crashed against a dumpster.

“Ah, so this one has a way to keep up. Good, Ratima-dro hates to wait.”

The thief did not even have a chance to bow before the woman took off again. It was good that he had brought some medicinal aid for headaches in case of anything tonight. Watching her scale the building with such ease brought a tinge of jealousy to the thief. It was almost as if gravity had decided that it would not pull so much against her, allowing her to propel herself without much effort or struggle.

Instead, the man would have to give himself whiplash over and over until he could see a blur of greyish white with black spots, which proved difficult in the middle of the night. As the night turned into a melding of passing lights and distorted voices below them, Demetri recognized a part of the town they were in.

The thief flung himself off of a building and into a nearby alleyway. Ra’tima was quick to notice and dove after him, stopping at the edge of the building and staring down. Below her, the thief held fast above the ground, a chain from each arm extended out that allowed him to hang with his feet against the wall. The thief stared up at the shiny, lunar eyes that now glared down at him.

“This one was joking about falling into alleyways. She was wondering why she did not hear the clumsy thief hit the floor.”

“I felt like taking a pit stop, I seriously can’t tell which side is up right now.”

“So what does this one recommend, she told drunk-claws that she would not carry him home.”

“No need, there’s a spot down these stairs that has a little place where we can relax for a moment.”

“Ra’tima-dro sees no stairs in this filth-ridden alleyway.”

Demetri waggled his finger, which caused his chains to give and drop him to the floor. The thud caused him to groan, and by the time he managed to stand up, she was already staring up at him, unimpressed.

“This is the most clumsy she has seen dull-claws since she had to pour water on him.”

Demetri rolled his eyes as he approached the wall and began searching it with his hands. There was a sudden click, and the stone began to move below them, revealing a staircase.

“Ah, yes, hidden crypts and dank dungeons. Ra’tima-dro’s favorite place to take a quick nap.”

“Look, its jus’ a room with a fridge ‘n it. I need somethin’ that’s not alcohol in my system. It's barely midnight, I’m sure you can stay up past your bedtime for a bit before we head out again.”

The feline snorted before following him into the dark stairwell, her eyes easily making out the shapes below. Demetri hit a lever that seemed to close up the stone above, allowing them some privacy.

“See, now we a’tually have a chance to talk before we make it to your place and inevitably throw our clothes off the second we shut the door. Not that we can’t now, but I still need that water.”

The room was cramped and small, but was clearly meant to be a hideout for one person in the case of running from the law. There lay a small single-sized bed, a counter with a sink, a small fridge, and then a cramped toilet closet that Ra'tima was sure she did not want to open.

“Ah, this one has even less going for him than the guard, Lockwood.”

“Lockwood? Don’t know the guy, but in either case, this isn’t my actual place. Just a spot for emergencies.”

“And this is an emergency.”

“Yeah, I’m more dehydrated than a fish out of water and I’m supposed to be performing acrobatics like a…” He looked at Ra'tima. “Anyways, we can head back to your place after I gather my senses for a moment.”

She chuckled and prowled over to the twin bed in the corner, flopping down on it while she waited for him to ‘regain himself’. “Does this one have many hides like this in Karim?”

While she asked her question, the thief had grabbed the gallon of water in the fridge and poured himself a cup. “I, personally, haven’t made that many. Mine tend to be a bit more homely than this, but there’s a lot of people that make their own hideouts. Sometimes they last longer than the person who made them. But hey, it's free real estate.”

She scoffed, dropping into a chortle at the matter-of-fact approach he seemed to have to these things. “This one recently liberated a clutch of bandits of some prime real estate herself.”

The thief continued to quench his thirst. “Lemme guess, you lifted the deed that they had also lifted from the previous owners.”

“Oh, it’s almost like you do this for a living, sweetclaws~ Yes, and she also had the pleasure of striking an undesirable name from the census.”

The thief shrugged, “what can I say, I would make a great merchant lord. Though the heist I just came back from had something a bit more scandalous than a housing deed involved.”

“Aha, this one must surely tell! After all, this hide has no peering eyes or listening ears. No excuses for the secrecy.”

“You never let up, do you? Yes, yes, I did lots of illegal things for this mission, snuck onto a space cruiser and found my way to the prize that wasn’t even supposed to be there in the first place. Much better than a stack of cash I can tell you that much.”

“Ah, information. This one figures that the information you gathered can be used as blackmail?”

“Yes, oh wise merchant lord. The best of blackmail, the type that was already illegal in the first place. Or at least some of it.”

Ra'tima’s ears perked up slightly, her attention focused on the details as Demetri described them.

“Definitely some good stuff in there. Wouldn’t you know, I happened to snatch it from a Wakandan refugee fleeing with a couple of Gerudos. Not something you see every day. If it hadn’t been a mission I might have seen if I could make some arrangement of my own- if you catch my drift. I find it always better to get information that way, fun without getting your hands too dirty.”
 

Masahir N'air

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'Inza Urabaza? They say she fled. ... She’s been gone at least a day, if not two. That bougie gerudo yacht took off two days ago.'

Ra couldn't help her eyes widening as she connected the dots. So this was the same heist, same boat she was more than willing to bet. Her gold earrings clinked softly as she flicked her ear. "Inza Urabaza, the missing Wakandan woman. Yes, this one has already heard a little bit about your heist it seems~"

Demetri couldn't help but jolt in surprise at the sudden pop of a bottle uncorking behind him. Was she-? He turned, only to see that his fuzzy 'merchant-lord' was swilling down a very nice looking bottle of vintage. From where she'd located such an opulent looking bottle he had practically no clue. It seemed this woman was as full of secrets and oddities as he was. He couldn't help but smirk as he downed the last of his cold water, "ah, seems my reputation is starting to precede me 'gain already~"

He plodded across the room and sat on the bed next to her, shrugging and taking the neck of the bottle when she offered it to him. Dry, sweet, floral and... was that a bit of raspberry he tasted? “Good stuff,” he mumbled as he looked over the hand stamped sticker.

The khajiiti woman brushed the tip of her tail down the back of his arm and leaned into him, “this one was not lying to you when she said she deals in Uruk, far from Karim’s heat.” She’d guided him back with her subtle movements until she was leaning over him, her hips enticingly close and her muscular thighs pressed against him. “Ra’tima-dro would be more than willing to negotiate an agreeable deal with the cunning Demetri for access to this.”

“An agreeable deal, hm? I know we are already going to have fun tonight, so consider me curious to know how you plan to make that deal sweeter?” He grinned while he ran his hands across her thighs and gave them a squeeze.

“Ra’tima-dro is wise and sleek, she has good friends in high places, and can open many doors for you in Uruk as well, like certain legal immunities and pardons a thief would be interested in.” The feline gave a soft, playful chuff. “If he proves himself enough, he will have yet another sanctuary... A much better one than this, at least~” She sat back, running her hands down his chest and sides with a certain excited firmness to her touch before she took the bottle back.

Ra swigged another good mouthful and sat the wine down next to the bed. “And if that fails to impress him, Ra’tima-dro has plenty of coin to sway his opinion, or the ability to make problematic items disappear into the market for a small fee. ... Or perhaps,” she climbed onto his lap as he sat up a bit, eager to push her body along his. “Demetri would like something more long-term, a business agreement to work with the sleek and talented Ra’tima-dro if he will?” She nearly purred as she rocked against him through their clothes, his warm hands holding her hips as he gazed up at her with keen silver eyes.

“She would never swindle you, and you will find that working with this one is very lucrative, as long as he works as hard as he wags that silver tongue.”

Demetri’s grin seemed to widen with every word. He enjoyed the way she spoke and attempted to twirl him around her finger, gently pulling him in and telling him how sweet it all was. However, there had been one question on his mind that may come up in the future, so he might as well take a swing at saving himself later.

“Sounds lovely to me, but I do have a very simple request to add on to that. A business partnership is a great deal to shake on, but I do like to keep my options open. And one caveat for that is the ability to date your daughter as well.” He rolled his eyes a bit and sat back against the wall. “Otherwise, I believe we will have quite the mutually beneficial arrangement.”

She cocked an eyebrow at the audacity of the man, asking to have her Tal while she was sitting on his lap right now. The liquor was the only thing that stopped her emotional scowl from ever reaching her face. He really was a scoundrel, a gifted, mysterious and horny one, but a scoundrel none-the-less. The feline scoffed softly and patted his chest, “this one is not here to limit your masculine urges, varzeva.”

She already knew that Masa wouldn’t listen to a single thing she said. She already knew that the sensual woman would make short work of sneaking around with this blacker-that-night thief. Her Tal had barely paid her words any heed in terms of romance or relationship. “But if this sneak-thief harms her Tal, then Ra’tima-dro will hunt you to the edges of the Crossroads to right the wrong. This fact is non-negotiable.”

“Look, I’m not trying to do anything besides have some drinks at the bar, I’m a thief, not a kidnapper. I steal jewels and hearts only. As well as the occasional ledger.”

The khajiit didn’t seem to be as amused.

“Alright, listen, no need to go and pout at me because I brought up another lady in the… hideout. You are the one talking about business so I want to make sure my business and pleasure are squared away before I start sticking myself in places I shouldn’t be. Being that you didn’t outright refuse me, I’m sure I still have your interest…” He gave her a wink as he playfully prattled his fingers on her rear.

“This one notes his... uncouthness when under the influence of his drinks.” She smirked, her tail curling around his leg.

“Hey now, I don’t usually mingle my business with pleasure but that was before I found out you two were more than just some hot babes.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Are we good?”

“If he thinks her addendum is agreeable, then yes. Ra’tima-dro can see the value in Demetri’s merits, he is a good investment in her wise lunar eyes~” She paused, trailing her small hand up his jaw until she held his chin, her voice lowering into a hissing, excitedly playful whisper. “Usually khajiiti merchant lords celebrate a good business deal with a good night of partying and drinking and zuub-zuub~!”

There was just something about the way she downright purred that last set of sounds that absolutely made his blood rush, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft groan. It was abundantly clear what this so-called ‘shzuub-shzuub’ was, and he found he was very interested in whatever debauchery a decadent party like that could afford.

His fingers were quick to unbutton the silver buttons of her embroidered black vest, her deft ones unlaced the neckline of his shirt. His eager hands soon made circuits up and down her body through her silken blouse, occasionally stopping to tease the more sensitive places he’d noticed. The thief moved to adjust himself and was made inquisitive when his feline love interest climbed back off him in a single fluid movement.

“Not here, sweet-tail~” She plucked the wine from the floor and ‘staggered’ back as if for the sake of performance. She reached her gloved palm out to him and pulled him to his feet with a sly grin, “this one would prefer the comfort of her inn room when she indulges him. He has had long enough to sober up and hydrate, now come.”

“On command? How straight-forward of you darlin’ but I need a bit more to warm up with first~'' He earned a smack on the outside of his thigh with her tail as they ascended back up the stairs. She paused. He couldn’t tell what she was doing in the dark, and earned a quiet shushing when he opened his mouth to try and ask. A moment of silence passed and with a strange amount of familiarity the khajiit flawlessly located and pulled the lever to the outside world.

Quickly she ducked and pressed herself up against the sandstone wall outside, Demetri was more than able to follow suit and hide alongside her. He strained his ears, and his eyes darted rapidly from shadow to shadow as he tried to puzzle out just what she was suddenly acting stealthy for.

She answered him with a silent brush of her tail against his calf and an emotive hand gesture towards the opening of the alleyway. She held up two fingers, paused, then held up three before closing her fist and pointing her thumb back at them. The complex false brickwork door sealed shut before the thief even heard the shouts of guards and thudding of heavy boots. She held her hand back, as if to steady him; it was clear she wanted to see what drama was about to unfold.

She peaked her head out from behind their cover of a few crates and shady scaffolding. It wasn’t long before she pressed herself back up against the wall, and it was even shorter before an armored man came barreling down the alleyway with a dark haired woman in tow behind him. They were fleeing like bats out of hell from a trio of one-track-minded Karim guards of the imposing Gerudo variety.

They didn’t even pause. None of the five people rushing past had paid any attention to the drunk couple making out in a dingy alleyway.

It was only after the air had settled that the two lovers pulled away from each other. Demetri was the first to speak, and he sounded exceedingly confused by what they’d seen. “Was that the poverty stricken guard from your shop the other day?”

The Khajiiti woman let out an exasperated sigh and grabbed his wrist, “this one can tell you all about it in the morning, for now, she is tired of waiting and wants her sweet dessert.”


~ * * * ~


Ra’tima had been sure to take every chance to subtly flex her prowess to the thief, and now was no exception. She slid her lockpick into the keyhole and in a single movement popped the obedient lock open with speed unparalleled, even with the heady distraction of him grabbing handfuls of her ass and giving her soft ears playful nips in the hallway while she worked her magic.

If he was being honest, he was pretty damn impressed as she pulled him through the door by the front of his shirt.

The small woman pushed the door closed behind them and swiped her room key from the floor, pocketing the cold bronze into her satchel and relocking the latch. She slid her fingers under the leather strap and discarded the neonate mimic on the floor, pleased to see that the charming thief was already settling in and kicking his boots off.

Tonight had been a fun night thus far, and a giddy desire built in the pit of her intoxicated stomach, a fluttering that drove her crazy and urged her to leap upon him until they were both fully spent and the sun was beginning to peak over the edge of the disk.

How long has it been? He pulled at the lacing of her blouse and slid her vest down off her shoulders, letting it fold on the wooden floor. She undid the clasps of his black cloak, brushing it to the floor as well. The feline pulled a few pins from her hair and let her long braids cascade down her back.

How long had it actually been since she’d lain with a man and been even remotely satisfied? They’d both already peeled their leather gloves free and were working on the cool darkened leather of their respective armor. She couldn’t wait to feel his hands working over her tense body and gripping her tightly. Her slit pupils had dilated wide in her arousal. She hoped he lived up to his hot-shot talking. She would be sorely disappointed if he failed to live up to his own hype.

How long had it been since a lover didn’t treat her khajiiti nature as some hyper-exotic fetishization? Sure, he called her kitty and kitten, but he had hardly made that big of a deal about her felid qualities in all the time they’d spent, he wasn’t asking obnoxious and insensitive questions that made her feel like she was a total freak. Not that the opinions of others mattered much in the grand scheme of things for the diminutive woman, but it certainly helped her mood to not feel like an animal in society’s zoo or someone’s exotic pet.

The scent of that sweet wine on his breath tickled her nose, as did the piney, clean cologne on the hollow of his throat. Her whiskers tickled his neck as she teased his skin with her teeth. Their clothes were scattered all around them, strewn across the floor in the heat of that chaotic need burning inside them. She trailed her lips down his chest and abs, her claws dragging along his sides with just enough pressure to make his skin prickle before she dipped her fingers behind the waistband of his boxers and disrobed him entirely.

He certainly hadn’t been kidding about being equipped with a ‘full package’, she’d concede that much easily. The real question was if he knew how to actually use it, but she had a feeling from their time spent together thus far that it wouldn’t be an issue. She was high sprung and full of stress and tension, like a tightly wound vermin trap she knew that all she needed was the right touch. She took hold of him and began working him up, and after a moment wrapped the present he’d given her with a thin, slick transparent sheath.

She pushed him back onto the down-soft bed, quick to climb onto his lap. It was only when he looked down to help line them up that he noticed the addition and blinked a few times, “when did you put a condom on me?”

“Just a moment ago, why?”

He shrugged and she couldn’t help but smirk. Such a scoundrel, he already wanted all of her in such an intimate way, he was just as ravenous in his desire as she was. “Ra’tima-dro does not wish to tend to the seedlings of strangers in her field, surely the cunning thief understands.”

He grinned, pulling her slick warmth down on him with a groan, “normally people who go out looking for a good time are on the pill, you know~”

The pretty kitty leaned down, fighting to not gasp in pleasure- though the involuntary curl of her grip on his biceps (amongst her grip on other things) betrayed her need as she whispered lowly. “This one has not gone ‘looking for a night of fun’ in nearly two years.”

He was taken back a bit, but somehow even more determined and giddy for the long night ahead of them. “Ah, I didn't realize I had so much catching up to do. In that case... Do you happen to have a stamina potion or two?”

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Broly

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It had been less than twenty minutes since his feline companion had slinked off to do her own work within the city and Lucien was already lost. The lycan let out a pained sigh. The retired expeditionary soldier was rusty at navigating. He had managed to get his way through the desert, but even then, his recent luck had been just that...luck. He was painfully rusty at nearly everything the military taught him. Lucien wasn’t even sure his combat prowess was at its peak anymore. Not that he’d tell her that.

The lycan had been a squad leader responsible for the few soldiers under him. His time spent in the military expeditionary force had taught him a lot of things about exploring new regions, making maps, and learning new cities. Lucien took a moment to assess his surroundings. He was in an alleyway off the main road. Making his way back the wolf disappeared into the crowd of people bustling back and forth through Karim, ever wary of the Gerudo guards. He needed to find a tavern the two of them could use as a base of operations. After about an hour of wandering around he found one on Impilo Street, which was a side road that branched off from the main drag of Karim. Lucien paid in advance for two separate rooms, making sure to text Ra-tima informing her of his choice and where it was. With that accomplished he sat down for some breakfast and something to drink.

He had made sure to take a seat in the corner of the room so he could observe from afar. His lycan hearing was better than that of a human. For the most part nothing out of the ordinary was discussed. Typical conversations about the weather, how each party was doing, what they were eating, how one's family was, and this one gentleman who was afraid he had gotten his girlfriend pregnant. Lucien sighed. The text conversation with the “merchant lord” wasn’t helping and he was out of his element. Lucien had been a soldier. While he knew how to navigate a foreign city, he knew little about the world of merchants and coin. He disliked merchants. They had always treated him poorly. With a sigh he took another drink from his mug of orange juice.

It wasn’t until late into the afternoon after spending time wandering the marketplace and listening to merchants did the werewolf finally start to hear some rumblings. There was a bar here in Karim that had its own in-house brewery. The home-made ale they sold was the best in the city and this bar was the only place you could get it. An idea blossomed inside of Lucien’s mind. Maybe they could convince the owner of the bar to export the drink to Uruk. It didn’t take long for the werewolf to pass the idea along to his partner. Deciding to take initiative, Lucien set out to find the bar in question.

It wasn’t hard for the lycan to find what he was looking for. The Dusty Flagon. He could hear the sounds of the patronage from on the street. How he wished he could just get a drink himself and maybe text Masahir. Which reminded him. The lycan pulled out his newly purchased phone and fiddled with the passcode before tapping open the messenger section. Tapping away a short message he clicked send before moving to the alley to the side of the bar to see how long the line was to get in.

Gods. Around the block just for a place to sit at this venue.

That’s when he saw her. The woman who was going to make his visit to Karim an exciting mess, little did he know. Knelt down by one of the side doors and concealed by a rather large dumpster was a petite brunette woman fiddling with a set of lock picks.

Well that looks like trouble…

A pair of city guards turned the corner and headed down the alley ahead of him.

That looks worse!

For a reason that is still unknown to him, Lucien grabbed the woman by the arm and pulled her to her feet. Before she could speak he knocked her tools to the ground and, without thinking, took the attractive brunette in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. Tia had no idea why this stranger was kissing her, but as soon as she laid eyes on the guards passing them by she closed her eyes and returned the kiss, probing Lucien’s mouth with her tongue.

As soon as they were clear he quickly separated her from his person and held her at arm's length.

“Do you always go around kissing random women?” She said with a grin. “You could at least ask me my name first.”

Lucien backed up and scratched his head with a smile on his face.

“I figured you might not want to spend the night in jail for breaking and entering.” The lycan countered with a slight laugh.

Tia eyed the chiseled man before her with an intensity only comparable to Ra.

“I guess I should thank you then, even if you do owe me a drink now. I need to get back to picking this lock.”

“Want me to take a shot at it?” Lucien asked, eyeing the condition of the lock.

She must have been trying to get in for quite a while.

“I can handle it. If your lock picking is as good as your kissing, we may be here until nightfall.”

Ouch.

“May I at least get your name?” Lucien said, putting his back to the wall of the bar, keeping a lookout for more guards.

“Constastia. You can call me Tia though.” She replied, placing her lockpicks back into the door.

As the woman began fiddling with the lock once more the lycan looked her over. She was pretty. She came up to his chest in height, had brown hair that was pulled into a ponytail leaving bangs free to float about her face, and she looked like she took care of her appearance. A black ebony bow was slung across her back with a pair of daggers at her waist. What happened next made Lucien’s stomach twist with anxiety.

The door she had been trying to get into opened from the inside. Lucien groaned as two gerudo guards emerged from within the bar. The two armor clad women looked very unhappy at the sight of Tia. The lithe degenerate picked herself up off the ground and backed away from the door, her eyes momentarily darting to Lucien.

“We’re tired of waiting for you to get the lock open Tia, come along quietly and maybe we’ll let you out in a week or two.” One of the Gerudo women said as she brandished a pair of cuffs.

‘Erm. Run!” Tia took Lucien by the hand and pulled him along.

Before he could object they were both sprinting into the bustling square in front of the bar hoping to blend into the crowd.

“Stop!”

Both Tia and Lucien blew through the square and into the opposite alley. They both ran as fast as they could. The night life had just started to get into full swing with the arrival of the witching hour.

“Aren’t you supposed to be good at lock picking!?” Lucien said wildly as they rounded a corner in the alley and ducked into a small alcove.

“No. I’m not very good at it. I just wanted to steal the recipe for their ale.”

She was red in the face and slightly out of breath. Gripping his cloak she pulled him close and pressed her lips to his, once again flossing his teeth with her tongue. She finished and pulled away, leaving the lycan with a confused look on his face. What was this woman’s deal?

“C-can I help you?” He stammered. “Why do you keep kissing me!?”

“The thrill of the chase just makes me feel so alive!” Before she could continue two pairs of guards came around the corner.

“Move!” Lucien ordered.

They both took off running once more.

***​

The duo had finally gotten rid of the various groups of guards hunting them down. Lucien’s phone said they were on the northwestern side of the city by one of the roads that ran along the wall. Tia took a drink from a water skin on her waist and sat against the wall of the building they were next to, putting her hands on her knees.

“I have a safe house in the building next to this one.”

Lucien wiped the sweat from his brow and checked his gear to make sure that everything was still secure. She beckoned and with a deep breath he followed her to the door of her safehouse. Opening the door the two walked into the brightly lit room of what looked to be...a guard barracks.

“Hey! Hold it!” The guard captain shouted.

Two gerudo women had already closed the door. Lucien buried his face in the palm of his hand.

“I think we have the wrong building…” Tia said inquisitively, unfolding a small map.

As a blade came to rest at his throat, the werewolf raised both of his hands. This was going about as well as he was expecting. It didn’t take long for the two of them to be cuffed and escorted away to the Karim City Jail. It was just past one in the morning as both Tia and Lucien were escorted into a rather large building in the center of the city. One could only hope that Ra-tima hadn’t seen him being escorted through the streets by two pairs of guards.

The guard captain slid open their cell, which already had an occupant, and shoved both Tia and Lucien into it. The cell door slid shut behind the lycan and he sighed. His armor and equipment had been taken leaving him in the set of clothes he wore under his gear. Tia had seemed rather dejected at losing her bow. It must have been important to her. Moving to the single bench inside the jail cell Lucien sat down and withdrew his phone that he had hidden inside his shirt. Thumbing through the passcode he opened the messenger app. Tapping on the message conversation with Ra he sighed. Did he really need her help or could he handle this?

“Guard! How long are we going to be here?” Tia asked, leaning on the bars.

“Quiet! You’re here for at least a week. The Justicar is out of town.” One of the gerudo women replied.

It didn’t take long for their escort to leave and the room to be sealed behind them. The lights were cut blanketing the jail cell with shadow.

Wonderful.

1805/8000
 

Cho

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The sun was just dipping below the Karim skyline, painting the desert city in a palette of pastel reds and oranges. The bustling streets had died down a little, most of the city-goers were either in their homes or in restaurants or bars. Soft footfalls in the sand below alerted the creature, whose silhouette disrupted the Karim skyline, to the presence of the scheduled patrol of guards. It tracked them for a moment, making a quick mental note of their route and nodded in satisfaction as their movements aligned with the last patrol’s.

The footfalls faded with distance and the skulking shadow lowered itself from the roof to the nearest window, a line of rope and a hook around the building's chimney keeping it suspended. A small set of tools drifted from the pouch at its backside and wriggled their way in between the crack of the window. The tools, seemingly manipulated by the air around them, wrestled with the window’s latch for a moment before a soft click and the window swung inwards. The uninvited guest inched forwards and stepped in, furtively, and hopped down from the windowsill, trailed by the set of tools and a furry tail.

The interior of the building was dark, no torches or anything of the like to light the area. From what the intruder could tell, they’d entered into a bedroom and they were alone. A fancy four-poster dominated the room, flanked by a pair of bed stands and a huge chest of drawers opposite. It approached the chest of drawers and, with a laboured sigh, rummaged through them. Clothes were pulled from the drawers and tossed to the side with little regard. Eventually, the unmistakable rattle of jewelry emanated out from within.

The creature cocked a brow, there was jewelry atop the chest of drawers, so whatever was within must be far more precious. He unlatched the buckle of the satchel that hung at his side. An audible rush of air sounded in the room, not too unlike a vacuum's hungry gulping gasps of suction as the satchel gaped open. The thief greedily stuffed the jewelry into the satchel and closed its latch once again. He patted the satchel and turned for the door.

He left the bedroom behind and stepped out into a landing. He was practically in the middle, opposite a huge staircase sprawled out in front of him, leading to the floor below into what seemed like a wide entrance hall. He glanced from side to side and sighed, noting the spread of eight or so doors that lined the square landing in front of him. Even in the dark, the glint of gold and other precious metals was obvious, giving him pause.

The shade quietly chastised himself for falling prey to distractions, he’d already wasted time in the bedroom. He’d been meticulous in his preparations, scoping out the building for nearly a week prior. But to fall to distractions this soon was unacceptable. He inhaled a sharp, hissed breath and turned to the right. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he froze in place as a bone-chilling sound echoed around the landing. A muffled yawn followed by the rattling of a door handle beside him. A thin sliver of light shone under the crack of the door before illuminating the rest of the landing as the door opened.

The thief backed up a little and pushed himself into an alcove in the wall, in which stood a garish statue of a human-like figure. The gap was small, just barely big enough to allow the shadow to squeeze his way behind the statue. He sucked his gut in and threaded himself between the wall and the statue with a near silent groan.

Close..

The door closed shut and a woman passed by the statue, carrying a lantern that illuminated the entire landing. A mane of wild, red hair and dark skin identified her as a Gerudo. The weapon at her side further identified her as a guard of this estate. The distraction in the bedroom had cost him a couple of minutes. Had he not stopped to loot, he would’ve passed by that room without issue. He cursed himself inwardly, as he slid himself out from behind the statue. The guard descended the staircase, muttering to herself as she went, completely unaware of the lurking thief.

The shadow approached one of the doors — furthest on the right, a code tumbler on the frame beside the lock. He’d planned for this. He knocked on the door, heavily. A much louder, resounding thud echoed about the area.

“Open sesame..” the thief muttered as the locks clicked and the tumbler opened up. The door swung open quickly, slamming into the wall behind it. He stepped through the threshold, grabbed a chair from the desk beside the doorway and launched it at the window opposite the door. The chair smashed through the pane of glass and fell from the second story down to the inner courtyard of the estate. The intruder followed up and peered down into the courtyard. A pair of faces peered back at him before rushing back in doors.

The sound of multiple people running up the staircase brought his attention back inside. He turned from the window and with little more than a waft of his hand, his form began to flicker and shift. Replaced by the form of one of the Gerudo guards, the thief stood at the window once more, hanging “her” head out and pointing up to the roof. A pair of guards burst into the room, clocked the fake's attention and immediately stepped out onto the gently sloped roof.

“He went to the roof! He’s quick! Be careful!” The fake called after the real guards, his cadence a perfect copy of a Gerudo he’d spent some time following and studying. He turned to face the prize he sought only to be greeted by a trio of Gerudo, one of which stood in the doorway with her arms folded, staring daggers at the fake.

“Baroto. Your shift ended hours ago. Why are you here?” She asked, gesturing for the two other Gerudo to enter the room.

“I was in the area- I saw that creature on the roof.”

“Get out there, then, chase it down.”

“I can’t-” He gestured down to his leg, which he feigned being unable to put any weight on.

“Fine. Fine. Stay here then. We can’t risk this being a ruse.” The guard captain narrowed her eyes, staring the fake down for a moment, “Let me see your leg. It shouldn’t go untreated.”

“No no, it’s okay, really. Just a scratch.”

“Regardless, let me see it.” The guard reached out to grab ‘Baroto’ by the shoulder, but her hand slipped through the illusion and made contact with a considerably furrier shoulder. Without missing a beat, she clamped down on the thief’s shoulder and drew her sword, pointing it at his throat.

“What is this? Who are you?!”

“Hey- look- lets just calm down for a minute, eh?” He wafted his only hand from side to side and the illusion dropped, revealing his true form. Substantially shorter than the Gerudo, the thief’s pointed ears were the first thing the guard noticed, followed quickly by his feline features. Clusters of rosettes littered what visible brown-ish fur she could see, dozens of different patterns and sizes.

He gave a half grin, exposing his fangs briefly, “I’m sure you could all do with a catnap, huh?” A sprinkle of sand fell from a few inches above the guard captain’s head and her eyes lulled into the back of her head and she collapsed to the ground, along with the two other guards in the room, the Tabaxi’s spell taking quick effect. He reacted quickly — spotting his prize out of the corner of his eye as he spun around. A purple felt pouch on the desk that sat in the center of the room. Nothing else mattered. He made a run for the window and dove out of it, headed for the courtyard in the middle.

At least that’s what he intended.

His foot caught on the windowsill on the inside and he face-planted the sloped roof, almost instantly losing consciousness and slipping down into the courtyard with a dull thud.
 

Masahir N'air

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Faint milky-blue cigarette smoke curled through the cooling morning air in swirling loops lazier than the thief’s near-spectral silver eyes. The diminutive Khajiit laid curled up to his side, her cheek half-resting on his well toned shoulder as she studied the screen of her communicator with the slightest of scowls.

It amused him. Was the powerful felid ever fully relaxed? Had the entire night of bliss, rough housing and tangled limbs done much to chill her out? In his mind, Demetri was still replaying her look of pleasant shock at the unexpected, body shaking, dam-breaking rush he’d taken to giving her over and over again until his beard (and the sheets, he might add) had, quite literally, been soaked through. As far as he was concerned, tonight was going on a long list of amorous achievements that he used as well-earned bragging rights. He soon found himself playfully asking, "so, you relaxed yet sweetcheeks?"

Her icy eyes darted up from the screen and she smirked with a hint of wildness. She truly seemed to be a jaguaress in moments like this. "Perhaps." She hummed, almost a chuffing snort as she pressed her body against his flank in a languid roll. He’d figured the sound was the khajiit version of a murmured laugh, or even a noise of playful comfort. "Perhaps Ra'tima-dro would also like to have nights like this more often, sweet-one~"

Demetri couldn’t help but mirror her amused grin, her stamina was actually absurd and he aspired to be just as insatiable. She was hard to impress. A challenge, a puzzle to unlock and figure out just what made her tick. He supposed it would be astounding to fully ‘un-pent’ two entire years of repressed need in just a night alone... and the enticement for future rough-n-tumble aggressive fuck-sessions was more than enough of an allure to keep his physical interest, he’d easily admit to that fact for free.

Though he'd certainly need to either convince her of the joy that was modern medicine and the pill, or of his ability to interrupt. Condoms really weren't his style.

He took a long drag off his cigarette, ashing it against the edge of the wooden nightstand before blowing smoke from his mouth and nose. It made him feel like a magnificent scaled wyrm or drake to watch the grey-white clouds billow up towards the rafters.

Rarely did he meet someone who seriously managed to come as close to him in skill and mystery as she seemed to. It was clear from the battlefield of scars that her soft, silky fur hid that she had to have one hell of a story to tell. No one who moved like her had that many scars for no reason, but even while shitfaced he knew better than to ask on a ‘first date’... if one could classify their wildly passionate, night-spanning encounter as a “date”.

“So what business are you here in Karim on, my ‘merchant-lord’?” He drummed the fingers of his free hand across her arm. “Certainly you didn’t just come all this way to see me, did you~?”

He earned a full snorted exhale as she cut her screen off and rested her hand on his hairy chest. “Ra’tima-dro was sent to establish a trade route with Karim for Uruk. She was hoping to first get her quick-paws on some information. Which-”

In a single motion she pushed herself up so that she was straddling his hips. “-is why Demetri should remember to show her that black market ledger if he’s good for his word~”

He flicked the butt of his smoke into the ashtray and rested his hands on her thighs. “Well darling, haven’t I been good on my word thus far?”

The feline hummed in pleased agreement, stroking the length of his leg with her tail as her lithe fingers explored the planes of his abs. “Yes, he has been.”

“Then I don’t see a reason to start doubting me now~” He sat up, bringing her with him on his lap. “Scared of me running off?”

“She has dealt with quite a few charming, coy, rogues before. Some not as apparently honorable as this one wants her to believe he is.”

“Honorable and wanting to take a moment before jumping straight into business, but I can make an exception for today.” With a flick of his wrist he presented a small flash drive and twirled it around his fingers. “So, out of curiosity, where do you plan to head now that you have this information?”

The Khajiit was quick to pluck the thumb drive from her lover’s delightfully deft digits. “The thief wants to know this only for the sake of curiosity? Or is he asking as a potential business partner in the endeavor of the day?”

He gave a playful roll of his eyes, followed by an equally playful one from his hips. “You caught me. A little bit of column A, a lil’ bit of column B~ I may want to tag along for the ride- see what you get up to with the information.”

Ra smiled, tracing a pattern across his stomach with a single claw. She enjoyed watching his skin prickle with goosebumps from her touches. “It depends on what the information says, but... She was planning on finding a place called ‘Scar’s Booth’. She heard reliable whispers that this place is where less than legal shipments come in. ... Perhaps long-tailed Demetri knows something about this warehouse?”

He gave a soft huff as he pursed his lips, squinting his eyes and thinking for a moment. His head was already starting to get a bit fuzzy as the need for sleep began to cloud his thoughts. “Mmm, I have heard of a few warehouses. They mainly function as depots, I figure they move goods around to launder or smuggle them.”

“And this ‘Scar’ person?”

“Yeah, I have seen them listed on the bounty board a few times before, though he is never up for long. Probably has someone high up pulling strings for him, it would not surprise me- he’s apparently an ex-Plaineview operative, if you are as inclined to believe the gossip as I feel you are.”

“And why does Demetri figure that?”

“Saw some stuff about it when I grabbed the tip for my last gig Sweetheart. Gotta learn to trust your ‘business partners’.” His tricky fingers had begun to wander up her strong thighs as he spoke, giving her legs light squeezes. He would be lying to say he couldn’t appreciate how firm her control of situations (and his self) always seemed, how dominant she could be in expressing her desires, while simultaneously omitting her true motives. She had a lovely poker-face.

She snorted, looking down her muzzle at him. That hadn’t been what she was asking, and she was half-sure he was playing coy with her- but it wasn’t worth pushing. She knew he was suffering through a hungover he was likely to nurse for a good half of the day. “Ra’tima-dro’s trust is not so easy to earn, he will find. She has merely given him the chance to freely prove himself to her as a so-called ‘shadow-walker’, and earn his reputation back while making plenty of gold.”

“I am just as good of a thief and charlatan as I am skilled in the bed, and I am more than confident that I proved that point to you last night.” He winked and pulled her against him, almost as if to remind her of his ability to grab the reins of disadvantageous situations that he found himself in.

She gasped quietly, her body was still incredibly sensitive to the suggestion and memory, though that did little to dull her wit. “Oh, then Ra’tima-dro’s precious trust has infinite faith and nothing to fear from the silver-tongue with nothing to lose~”

His grin broke into a deep yawn and he covered his mouth from view. “Nothin’ to lose and ev’rythin’ to gain.” He put his hand down, “you’re not the only one with good ‘business’ sense, kitten- but...” He stretched his torso under her, “I am getting tired. Contrary to whatever unstoppable khajiit-lady you are, I do need some time and sleep... and probably food, to recover.”

She slunk from the bed, climbing off him so stealthily that it left him (only a little) shocked when she was across the room, fiddling with her- what’d she call that thing? A neonate mimic of holding? He pursed his lips together. The little damn thing had nearly eaten his nimble fingers several hours prior, and he for one, was endeared to his digits.

Ra, of course, would disagree that he’d ever been in any real danger. She’d assured him that she’d fed it recently (enough), and that she didn’t even want him touching her stuff anyways- she was more than capable of retrieving additional condoms or a stamina potion between rounds herself.

Plus the last thing for a smart thief to do would be to allow another sticky fingered heister to dig their grubby paws into what amounted to her stash. She didn’t want him acting all too familiar just yet.

“Yes tired-one, what is it?”

He blinked a few times. She’d caught him staring at her, noticed the gears of his sleepy brain turning away at something, though ‘what’ she couldn’t be certain of. For all she knew he could be dozing off and going sideways into a daydream, or he could be plotting some sprawling inevitability.

“I can show you that warehouse later on this afternoon.”

She smiled, her sharp canines flashed in the pale morning light, like she had a mouthful of exquisite daggers. “Sleek Ra’tima-dro looks forward to this afternoon then, sweet-claws~ He should let his man-body rest, she will leave her room key with him. Hopefully he isn’t compelled to steal her clothes while she is out, yes?”

He snorted at the absurdity of hijacking her way-too-small wardrobe, though he had little doubt that any silken gowns would have much trouble selling. “The only thing I’m going to steal is sleep, drink and breakfast to cure this hangover, in that order.”


~ * * * ~​


The humble scarlet of her robes blended seamlessly into the growing crowd of people who bustled through the streets in living thrums. She’d quickly found that while in Karim she had little true need to don her Mask of Rajhin while strolling on the ground. The desert metropolis, she’d been more than pleased to figure out, hosted a small but obvious population of cat-folk called Tabaxi. It had softened Karim’s natives to the occasional sight of feline features, dulled them to the shock of seeing a swaying cat tail trailing behind her.

It was a boon, she figured, to have a group so similar to her khajiiti kinfolk yet distinctly different. They were curious, but tended to flit from one thing to another, she’d seen enough of it while wandering the bazaars and markets. The constant picking up and putting down of small objects helped to hide her deft claws snatching an adapter from one booth, and a matching cord from another.

Thieves like her were the main reason she insisted on running a brick-and-mortar shop, instead of a booth or stall. Easier to keep track of who all was perusing her stocks and touching things, barring the unexpected shadow-walker like Malius, but she knew that their particular breed of criminal was few and far between. That, and he seemed amused enough by her and her group to not risk testing the waters just yet. She could appreciate the delicate balance they’d managed to strike with each other thus far.

She’d ducked into an alleyway and scaled vertically up a brick wall until the nimble woman found herself a secluded patch of roof away from prying eyes. She gave a few soft pets on the ‘leather’ flap of her bag before reaching in to pull her communicator free. She needed to see the dark, decaying rot of Karim’s blackest insides, she was more than willing to as she plugged the drive into the adapter she’d lifted. The digital document flooded onto her screen.

The first thing she noticed was the long list of names followed by prices.

Her scowl was unmistakable. Work-slaves sold into Plaineview service for usage at the edges of the disk, she bet. A few decades ago it would have twisted the pit of her stomach in rage to see this sort of evidence. Now she had more than just herself to worry about. Now she didn’t have the luxury of vanishing for weeks or months at a time to track information and targets. Even if she wanted to, she had more than just herself to take care of. She breathed out a soft sigh of resignation; she’d do nearly anything to rend a slaver from their soul, but she needed her focus to be cool, cold and calm, perfectly poised.

Next on the House Wakanda leger was sets of non-descript lump-payments. More than likely it was hush-money paid out to contacts, the names of which Ra’tima’s keen eyes were eagerly hungry to memorize. A few had distinctly gerudo-styled names... She’d seen the hulking, intimidating Karim guard and decided that it’d be best to leave those particular names until last in the event that she had to run the list for talkers.

Finally, her icy eyes settled on shipments, both incoming and out-going. Several incoming were listed for “sugar cane”. She snorted. Humans were incredibly similar no matter what universe she found herself thrown into. Nobody reasonably smuggled common cyrodilic sugar outside of true famine level emergencies, especially in a universe dominated by space-fairing giants of industry, refinement and easy-convenience like Kaalakiota Corp.

She couldn’t help but wonder just what this “sugar cane” was. Perhaps, illegal drugs? Cocaine? Or illicit alchemy ingredients, like powered wisp-wrappings or the expensive ground mammoth ivory she’d heard they could only harvest infrequently-at-best from those towering multi-tusked elephantine beasts of Kraw? Knowing how most smugglers tended to work, the sleek khajiit knew it could really be anything from drugs to crates of unmarked weapons and munitions. Or it could even just be moonsugar, she thought with a small smirk.

If only she could actually be that lucky.

Finding a hungry consumer and a supplier meant that someone had already done all the hard work of figuring out how and where to grow the bless’ed plant for her. The work burden of her vision would be eased in that case, but she knew better than to be hopeful to that level. She hadn’t heard or found much in the way of that delightfully crystallized moonlight in Uruk, even if that estate she’d heisted the deed out of was named after it.

She breathed deeply and stood, pocketing her communicator and her leger securely in the satchel at her hip and dove back into the alley.

It was time for her to make a visit to the city pound.


~ * * * ~​


“So... what you’re telling me is that you’re here to pay your boyfriend’s bail?”

It took all of Ra’s considerable will-power to not hiss aloud at the gerudo woman behind the reception counter of the jailhouse. “Bah, isozeva wafiit. He is not my boyfriend!”

“... What’s your relation to the detained then?” Her tone was nearly a command, daring her to to waste the woman’s time. The khajiit found herself rapidly losing patience with the dull-witted guard and increasingly tempted to take the challenge.

”Unfortunate business associate.” Came the feline’s short, deadpanned response. “Listen, I can not afford any more delays. Lockwood is the lead guard of my merchant caravan and we must depart soon. The deserts are dangerous, at least allow me to discuss bail with him before we leave.” The strange way that first-person sat on her tongue made her sound distinctly foreign from the normal accents in Karim.

If anything, the guard found herself believing the small tabaxian(?) woman’s story. She certainly didn’t sound like a native, besides, she was downright puny compared to all the other hulking, athletic gerudos patrolling the building. The diminutive cat looked like she would crumple like paper in a proper grapple. There wasn’t much harm in letting them talk; if any of them started drama, they’d get turned into a nice stain on the floor before anything much got out of hand.

With a grunt, the guard pressed a communicator attached to her chest and called for a coworker to show the khajiit to the correct cell. After a quick scan of a metal detector, she was led through the jail block.

Ra was careful to observe every detail they walked past, from the number and layout of doors all the way to the probable range and blind-spots of any camera she spotted. This place was pretty light on security, all things considered. She’d certainly been thrown into and broken out of much tighter locked prisons in the past. ... And it’s layout was little more than a simple L-shaped section of the larger courthouse. The khajiit supposed that it didn’t really need to be a labyrinth if the guards could rely on the sheer power of intimidation and warrior reputation.

“Ah, hey- this uh, isn’t what this looks like.” The dark haired lycan slid up to the bars of his jail cell as they approached his cage. He was housed in a space hosting four bunks, two of which- on opposing sides of the room- held sleeping criminals. One was a brunette woman snoring with her mouth open, the other, curled into a ball on the top cot, was a feline-man of sorts who found the most comfort in letting his tail dangle over the edge while he napped.

The small khajiiti woman raked the werewolf over with sharp, slitted eyes and his head drooped just a smidge. He knew that he’d fucked up, knew it long before he’d messaged her, even before he’d made it to the jail house. He knew he’d royally screwed his night when Tia had landed them smack dab in the middle of the Gerudo House Barracks.

He hadn’t realized that Constastia was so unlucky as a thief that she was on what amounted to a tired first-name basis with the whole of the guard. There was probably a welt on his forehead from the sheer amount of times he’d slapped himself with his palm in confusion, frustration and dread at the situation.

“First I pay for his food, his drink, and even his room at a very nice inn... and now he wants me to pay his bail too?” Her voice was low and sharp, rasping like sandpaper. “I do treat my business associates fairly but even I have my limits, Lockwood. Do you want to explain how you ended up in this cell?”

Satisfied that the diminutive woman would do nothing more than fuss over her ‘business associate’s’ reckless and stupid decision to help the notoriously slow lockpicker, the guard moved on to continue in her rounds.

“I already explained that last night after I got locked in here. Don’t tell me you’re gonna leave me in here with her for a week?”

Ra’s eyes shot back to the woman draped ungracefully across one of the bottom wall cots. She looked like she was sleeping something off. “Perhaps. Perhaps she will leave him in his kennel.” She jutted her chin in the direction of the woman, “who is this ‘her’?”

He let out a long sigh, seeming to roll his eyes. “Tia. Constastia.”

“Does she have a last name?”

“I didn’t catch it when-”

“When he was busy sprinting through the alleyways in the dead of night?” She interrupted quickly, a smirk flashing across her grey muzzle.

“I-... How did you know about that?” He was clearly caught off guard by how accurate her ‘guess’ was. She let out an amused chortle at his bewildered embarrassment.

“Silky, sleek Ra’tima-dro has eyes and ears everywhere, Lockwood. Do not forget that next time you decide to get ‘involved’ with a charlatan in a booze line.” Her voice dropped to a low whisper, the tone flipping to sound nearly... excited? “... This one hopes that it was worth it, no? Lucien said he would seek out leads. Ra’tima-dro wants to hear them.”

Why was it always crazy, wild women that caught him by such surprise and drug him all along on whatever nonsensical heisting, murderous, probably assassin-based detail they’d assigned themselves? He couldn’t get a reliable read on any of them besides Masahir, and until thirty seconds ago he’d been pretty worried about having shot his chance to continue seeing her.

“Well, I already told you about the lead I have for the alcohol.”

“Did this one actually manage to keep a bottle, or did the guards confiscate them all?”

“I uh, actually didn’t get a chance to get one-”

“Dullclaws.”

“But- buuut...” He paused, as if it would placate the feline. “I’ve been in here all night, the upside is that I’ve been able to chat up some of the other inmates.”

“And this is where his talk of leads comes in again, yes?”

“Yes. The other guy in our cell is another cat-khajiit-person like you.” Her ears pricked and he took it as permission to continue. “He’s real shifty just like you too. Said he was in for a looong time for assassinating the governor of Karim, but... I’m not sure how much I believ-”

“Hodoh!” She hissed in Ta’agra, “this one has heard nothing of a governor being killed last night! She thinks she would have noticed the entire city going up in arms, especially if they caught him.”

He put his hands up, as if in surrender, “I haven’t heard anything. As far as I know, the guards have been busy with me, and her.” He gestured back to the brunette with his thumb.

Ra’tima held her face in her hand and shook her head softly, her shifty eyes darting down the long hallway to keep watch. She pressed her muzzle through the gaps in the bars and lowered her voice further so that only he could hear. “Ra’tima-dro will be back for Lucien tonight, be prepared. Take note of the patrol times. If he thinks his associates are good enough to not get us caught, then perhaps they can come along. But- if he gets discovered, this one is leaving his sorry hide in prison to serve his time. Is she clear, dog?”

“Crystal.” He murmured gruffly. Behind him Constastia mumbled, shifting in her sleep as if to rouse and causing him to cast a glance back. That girl was absolutely wild, he didn’t want her chaotic energy crashing into this conversation- he didn’t think he’d be able to ever live it down with Ra. Speaking of the feline, he swiveled his gaze back around to look at her and-

Wait- where the hell had she gone??



~ * * * ~​



The blistering sun had risen to its full zenith and begun its even-paced descent towards the horizon. Far below the streets were alive with chatter and music and the beleaguered groaning of wagon axles as they lurched over the cobbled sandstone pathways. The sizzle of street food was just as noticeable as the whining keens of children begging for sweets and toys.

The stoic Khajiiti woman sat, curled in the deep shadow of a roof-garden and deathly still.

Karim was a beautiful city. An exquisite one, if her well-travelled opinion meant anything. All day long she’d been amused by the idle chatter in variant city squares, especially around that decorated, bougie tavern that’d caught her attention; The Dusty Flagon. It had seemed that Lockwood hadn’t been pulling her tail when he’d said that the line was wrapped around the building.

Except she’d actually managed to slip inside, cut in line and snag herself a few bottles, unlike the clumsy wolf. She suppressed her chuckle, silence still reigned her form- but she couldn’t help but imagine how awkward he’d been on whatever dinner-date he had gone off on with her Masahir that night.

That girl always bet on losing dogs. The feline figured it was just part of Masa’s nature to be drawn to the downtrodden, the broken, the weeping and wounded. Her Tal was a bleeding heart in so many ways, but she’d never lost that bittersweet edge; she was not naïve to the charms and allure of others, of their quick words and quicker plots.

Ra found herself hoping that the incompetent werewolf was little more than a passing fancy for Masahir. Hoping that the damage done to her Tal’s heart could mend well, even if she herself doubted that possibility. She knew all too well of the idle, listless emptiness that plagued her adopted daughter’s soul, the ravenous desire that whispered that usefulness was the only valid purpose to existence. A cracked vase seeking to hold the tears and sweat of lovers and losers alike.


Anything to feel something.


Anything at all to feel an Oblivion-damned thing.


The slightest of scuffs- perhaps leather or heavy hemp- sounded against the plastered roof and her fingers curled around the dagger hidden on her side instinctually- though she remained otherwise motionless with her eyes shut. Only the sharpest eyes would find her buried in the shadows as she was.


“... Are you taking a nap up here?”


She cracked an eye open at the familiar voice. Interesting that he’d found her and had barely made a sound in doing so. He’d been gone by the time she’d gotten back to her inn room at mid-morning, in classic, properly roguish fashion. “Bright moons guide you, sharp-claws.”

Demetri was squatting in front of her in his full set of blackened leather, studying her with eager and bemused silver eyes. He’d thought he found her sleeping for once.

“This one was not napping.”

He gave a soft snort. “Sure thing, Kitten. You were all curled up.”

She stared up at him. His face was partially covered by a black linen hood, setting his glittering eyes in deep shadow. “Do all thieves of Karim enjoy taking naps in roof-gardens?”

“No. Only the best ones.” He’d earned a smirk at the coy flattery.

“She was simply being comfortable in the shadows while she listened, varzeva.” She sat up some and stretched, rolling her shoulders. “Unlike Malius, Ra’tima-dro does not need slumber to function. She does like listening to the sounds of the beautiful city of Karim, however.”

The thief couldn’t help but grin. How lovely of her to have remembered his last name after all these months. Though he still wasn’t fully convinced that he hadn’t interrupted her during her little cat nap, he leaned on the half-wall of the garden behind them, “heard anything interesting yet?”

Without looking, Ra pointed towards the city center. “Ra’tima-dro will be busy with more than just sweet-tail tonight, she thinks.” She snorted, “Scar’s Booth; a tavern she has plans for; and... ugh.” The feline sighed.

“What? Is day drinking a bad thing where you are from?”

“No. It has just been a long time since she jailbroke a caged bird.”

“Hold on, excuse me?” His arched brows furrowed and the smirk quickly faded from his expression. Jailbreaking hadn’t quite been on the agenda she’d mentioned at all.

She studied him from her spot on the ground and flicked her tail sharply. “What?”

“Who exactly are you breaking out of jail? Don’t tell me my baffled drunken eyes were correct last night.”

She rubbed her circular eyebrows. “Ziss, yes. She needs to fetch Lockwood from the City Jail. He came with her, so he must leave with her.”

Demetri laughed out loud, earning a look of displeasure as he utterly disrupted the calm silence of their little rooftop get-away. “So that was him with the woman in the alleyway last night! That is absurd! Tell me, what did he do to earn the ire of the gerudos? What, was he getting handsy with that babe in public?”

Ra’tima snorted and pulled herself up to sit on the top of the half-wall he leaned on. She only enjoyed looking up at men in private rooms, and only because in the moment it was hot that they were taller than her.

“He said he ‘got involved with a charlatan’. ... Can you believe that Lockwood asked this one to pay his bail?!” She scoffed, waving a dainty hand in the air. “Ra’tima-dro paid for his food and lodging, which he didn’t even use last night. Pah... and he has the gall to ask her for bail. Paah.”

“He is certainly ballsy. Did that ‘charlatan’ happen to have a name? I might know of them.”

“Con-stahnt'sia.” The name was difficult for her, coming out a lot more hissed than she originally intended. Imperials and their hoity toity complicated names. Demetri seemed to understand well enough, regardless.

“... That chick that’s always in and out of jail?”

Ra shrugged with both shoulders. “This one doesn’t know enough about Karim to recognize small-time, incompetently notorious individuals from just a first name and glance, varzeva. But yes. There was a dark-haired, fair-skinned Imperial woman put up in the cell with him.”

Demetri was quiet in his thoughts, so she continued. “Does Karim have a governor?”

“Huh? Oh, no. Karim is run by the three houses. Queen Ramonda of House Wakanda handles domestic and diplomatic affairs.”

“Was a Queen assassinated last night?” Her questions were deadpanned, as if she knew she was asking for what had clearly obvious answers.

He leaned towards her and blew a little kiss, a grin spreading back across his mouth. “Well, only if you think I sent you to the afterlife last night darling~” He winked.

She rolled her eyes, but he caught the slight curl of her black lips, her begrudged smile at his amorous antics. She pushed his face away gently and brushed her tail under his chin. “This one has a lot of work to do if she wants to call herself a Queen again, sutazeva walami~ but she will take his gilded compliments like coins.”

“Again?” He couldn’t help but ask out of humor.

“Oh yes, again.” Her fangs flashed in a smile. “Ra’tima-dro was once the queen of many people and things. She worked day and night to ensure the survival of her people and outsmarted many dastardly foes in all her sleek cunning. She will tell you the story one day, thief.”

“I look forward to it.” He couldn’t say that he strictly believed her incredulous words, but he found himself curious none-the-less. Her sense of humor made the dramatism of being played like-a-fiddle for-a-fool fun at the very least, he’d admit. He liked playing along with her little game.

“Ra has a question for quick-claws.” He cocked his head in acknowledgement. “What all is Demetri wanting to participate in? She assumes he will want something for his troubles, yes? He will find that Ra’tima-dro does not allow herself to have debts owed. What is his price?”

How shrewd of her. He inspected the fine edge of his jet black cloak before looking back at her. “I already agreed to show you to the warehouse. I am certain such a regal and talented merchant-lord like yourself can handle whatever the Dusty Flagon throws your way.”

”Khajiiti merchant-lord.” She corrected, much to his bemusement. “And what of the prison break- or is he still worried the guard will recognize him as the mutinied pirate captain?”

He rolled his eyes, a slight scowl on the edges of his lips. “Space-pirate, the aesthetic is completely different.” She looked him up and down once and it didn’t escape him that she was making some sort of judgement call in that witty cat brain of hers.

“... Let us just say that as a thief, I like staying out of jail, especially ones guarded by gerudos. They are not exactly something to sneeze at, sugar.”

The feline hopped down from the wall and strolled to the edge of the building, glancing over the edge. “She has taken down far bigger and stronger opponents. Ra’tima-dro is not worried about gerudo women.”

She turned to cast one last look at him, “besides, she has already taken the liberty of scouting the jailhouse. It is minimal, shaped like an ‘L’ and part of the lower courthouse. Ra has broken into and out of many jails and prisons of all sorts in the past, she only said that it had been a while. Sweet-claws remembers how they got into her room last night, no?”

She gave a soft, purred hum and dropped from the roof as if she were taking a step down from the curve. She vanished in the snap of her inky black cape as it flourished in the air. She was ready to prowl. She was ready to show off, and above all else she was ready to feel alive again on the heist.

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Broly

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More than thirty minutes had passed since his “merchant lord” partner had paid him a visit in jail. It was his own fault. He had been stupid enough to think Constastia was someone who needed saving. Had he left her to her own devices, she’d be in here without him and he could be assisting with whatever Ratima needed of him. With a loud yawn, Tia rolled off her cot and to the floor. She shot straight up, hair a mess, wide eyed. Rubbing her eyes, she extended her arms above her head and stretched languidly. Lucien was thumbing through his phone messages when the brunette crawled her way over to him.

“Sleep okay?” The lycan said, without taking his eyes off the messages from Masa.

“Not really. I’d sleep better after a good dicking down.” She slunk across the floor, doing her best at an alluring cat-crawl.

Lucien raised his eyebrow and shot her a look. “Do you listen to yourself talk?”

“I never listen to anything. I mean...wait! Yes! What? Don’t you sleep better after sex?”

“That’s not even the point…” He reeled back as she began to undo her shirt.

“What are you doing!?” Lucien said in a low, hushed voice.

In the blink of an eye she now had his phone and was thumbing through its contents.

“How did you- ... Give that back!” The lycan moved to take it from her, but she skillfully slid away on her butt.

“Who’s this Masahir lady? Is she your girlfriend? Is she prettier than me?” Constastia’s gaze was bouncing between the phone and the annoyed man in front of her.

“She’s a love interest and I’m not answering that!” Lucien snatched the phone back from her hands which made the woman jump.

“So she is prettier than me!” The woman said in plain distress.

“I never said-”

“How could you do this to me!? I thought what we had was special!” Tia buried her face into her hands, the sounds of sobbing coming from her veiled face.

“You’re the first woman to land me in jail. I’ll give you that.” Lucien wasn’t sure what to make of her.

The obvious fake sobbing turned into cackling as Tia lowered her hands revealing a toothy grin.

The lycan reeled back, slightly alarmed at the quick change in emotion. A feeling welled up in the man’s stomach. A familiar feeling that usually meant he was about to be stabbed. Constastia buttoned her shirt up again, her eyes closed, a solemn look on her face.

“Well you had your chance to ravage me. It’s gone. Poof.” She crinkled up an invisible piece of paper and threw it over her shoulder.

“Trust me. It’s better this way. I barely know anything about you.” Lucien relaxed a bit and leaned back against his corner of the cell.

“What about that other chick? She seemed pretty amourous with you- you know a lot about her?”

Damn. It.

She had a point. He just didn’t feel the same way about Tia as he did when he looked at Masahir. There was something about that desert rose that set his heart ablaze with desire at just the thought of her beautiful smile, or her breathless laughter. “Look, Masa’s just different, okay? It’s not really any of your business anyway.”

Tia pouted and squinted at him, clearly unhappy about being stonewalled. “Uhuh, that’s why your message history goes back one day?”

“I just got that phone!”

“You don’t even have a contact picture for her!”

Not yet.

“Oh my goodness that’s besides the point- woman, please!”

“Please what~? I’ll please you~”

He stiffened, and not in the way she was intending. He grimaced at the brunette, “you really are unhinged, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Her smirk widened and she wiggled her shoulders in-time with her eyebrows, as if to suggest the idea of her crack-pot instability had appeal.

“Great.” He grumbled to himself. His luck with women really was piss-ass awful.

“So did that ‘merchant-lord’ you mentioned last night talk bail with you, or are we cell buddies for the next week~?” She winked at him and blew him a kiss that he made sure to dodge; he could practically hear it smack into the wall beside his head.
The lycan let out a long sigh and thought over his words. This woman was a loose cannon. Did he really want her tagging along with him and that intimidating feline? He felt uncomfortable leaving her in jail on principle, and now was one hell of a time to figure out risk aversion if there ever was a time for it. “Are you capable of staying out of jail for more than a week if I get you out, or are you going to end up back in here within the day if you get out?”

“Look...what you saw earlier doesn’t happen that often. I’ve recently switched professions and I’m kinda struggling to get started.”

“What did you used to do?” Lucien asked, meeting her gaze which had turned semi serious.

“Ah! I was an assassin for this organization called the Dark Brotherhood.” She said with a wicked grin.

“Aren’t assassins supposed to keep that information secret? I thought they were all... cloak and daggers, that sort of stuff.”

“Oh. Well most people I tell end up dead shortly thereafter.” She winked again, blowing him another kiss.

He swatted the air in front of his face as if it’d actually defend him from her paramour. “Charmed. Should I consider that a threat? You’re not much of one in this cell.”

Tia’s eyes widened and she pursed her lips. “So you’re a soldier!? Great!”

He squinted, “huh?” came his exasperated, sighed response. “How’d you figure that one?”

”It’s evident in the way you carry yourself. You’ve either been in the military or you know how to handle a combat situation. I have an eye for clocking people who can defend themselves.”

“I joined when I was sixteen and was honorably discharged at twenty-four.”

“Ah, an eight year contract. How old are you now?”

“... Do you always pry so much with people you’ve basically just met?”

“Only the ones that rush to kiss me in alleyways~!”

“Okay, look Tia- I don’t normally do stuff like that.”

“And that’s why I thought we had something so special...”

He groaned and rolled his eyes. He really had to work on his Knight-in-shining-armor compulsion to save ‘damsels in distress’. First Imogen out in the desert gulping all of his water down and trying to sell him out into death... Now this crazy jester of a woman, Constastia.

“What made you change careers?” Lucien asked, which made the woman stop cackling at herself just long enough to meet his gaze.

“When you’re the best at something, sometimes it gets boring. So watch your step around me. You may die!” She grinned and chomped her teeth.

Lucien cringed, socially wincing. “If you’re bored then you’ll love who you’re going to meet tonight.”

Tia’s eyes widened along with her smirk. “Oh~? Am I finally going to meet your-”

“For the love of Mitra, no!” He interrupted as she pointed below his belt line. He couldn’t help but close and cross his legs. “You are the most persistent woman I have ever met.”

“C’mon. You don’t even have to wear a condom.”

He shot her an absolutely incredulous stare, bringing his hand to his chest to point at himself. “Do I look like I want kids with coo-coo-kachu!?”

Tia laughed. “Don’t insult me. I’m on birth control. I eat it like candy. Plus, I exercise. I’m tight as all oblivion.”

Lucien facepalmed. “And I should trust you why? You’re the reason I’m in here, in case you forgot, Constastia.” Nothing he could say or do would dissuade this woman. She was biting at the bit for some sort of romp.

“Me? Forget? Never. Also, I don’t care who you are. Lying about birth control is a dick move. Though you’re right. I’ve missed like four days at this point.”

“You’re unbelievable.” The lycan thumbed his phone screen once more only to blink and find it gone. Again.

Before he could react Tia was lifting her shirt and taking a selfie. “That’s a good one!” She chuckled, scrolling through his photos. He felt his eye twitch. She really needed to stop taking his phone and rifling through it. He went to take his phone back, but found his hand being slapped away. She was already taking another picture of herself with her shirt hoisted.

“Would you please give me my phone back!”

“Mmmmm- No.” A wicked grin spread across her features.
Lucien was now on his feet and determined to get his phone back. She was prancing around the cell with her shirt hoisted up above her breasts. As the lycan approached her she made an audible ‘eep!”

“Stay back or I'll send a topless picture to your lady crush!” She held the phone above her head in an attempt to keep it away from the approaching werewolf, but he was much taller than her.

Grabbing her free arm he yanked her towards him, sending the phone to the floor, an audible ‘sent message’ tone the only thing anyone could hear. Lucien scrambled to pick his phone up and push Tia away from him with his free hand. He thumbed through the various lewd pictures she had taken and opened his messages. She had sent one text message to Masahir with a topless photo attached with the tagline “Check these out!”

His heart sank to the bottom of his stomach as Masa quickly responded with several relatively confused but gentle messages. Well, at least she was understanding and wasn’t rearing to bite his head off for all his social critical failings as of recent. He couldn’t help but glare down at Constastia. Before she could say or do anything else, he struck her firmly in the crook of her neck with a well placed strike and watched as she crumpled into unconsciousness. With a sigh he caught her and placed the snoring woman back on her bed.

The lycan had just turned around when he noticed that something was off.

The feline was awake, sitting with his tawny brown legs hanging over the edge of the top bunk. His face was cloaked in shadows from this angle, his lunar eyes peering down at the werewolf.

The tabaxi’s spotted tail flicked with curiosity. “Now that she’s asleep, we can talk about that escape you have planned for later, eh?”

Lucien tensed. He hadn’t heard this feline talk too much besides the yarns he’d spun at the beginning of the night about ‘assassinating the Governor of Karim’ or whatever other horseshit it’d been. “What about it?”

“I want in, obviously. No one just plans an entire jailbreak in half a day unless they’re good, hm~?” He leaned into the hushed whisper.

The ex-soldier sighed.



It was always something.

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Demetri Malius

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Demetri needed no reminder of the feline’s abilities the previous night, which started with a nauseating amount of movement that he was still feeling the headache from. Without the weight of alcohol on his body and mind, he quickly followed her off the edge of the garden, keenly keeping track of the feline through the darkness and expertly managing his footing.

Soft shadows danced the rooftops as the duo swept through the streets, shades of the night that stretched across the windows and doors with silent ease. Even the sharpest ears would have trouble hearing the light rustling of cloth and leather, or the subtle hiss of the thief’s blade granting him the acrobatic movement to match the khajiit’s.

Their journey flowed like a sharp dance, staying just near enough to each other to be able to know their direction, but diving in and out of cover and out of sight enough to leave some mystery to where they could be. They both dared the other to take another sketchy leap, or to stray further from the shadows. The secrets they held as nearly complete strangers to each other gave something to be wanted, and with each passing glance, it grew stronger.

It seemed as only moments passed when they arrived at the warehouse, taking position above while each hanging from an apartment balcony. They scanned the area, taking note of the traffic of both passersby and guards. They met on top of the warehouse, next to a well concealed latch most likely used for maintenance.

“Well, is this one going to take the lead or will Ra’tima-dro have to explore the warehouse herself?” The khajiit motioned to the latch.

“What, pretty kitty is worried she is going to get lost in the warehouse?” He gave a cheeky grin.

“Of course not,” she retorted with a snort. “But this one did agree to show her the warehouse, did he not?”

“I suppose I can get the door open, but you get the pleasure of going first. I’m not going to do all the legwork for you, sugar~” He gave a shrug before pulling out his lockpicking set and began to work, taking only a few seconds to sound the satisfying click of the lock.

“Fine, but this one gets to play his part in the jailbreak. Ra’tima-dro has already done the scouting for you, she is sure you can do the rest.” She teased back before hopping down into the building.

The thief rolled his eyes before jumping in after, landing softly on the concrete floor and dusting himself off. The khajiiti woman had already begun to run off and sneak behind one of the racks where a worker had just set down a shipment.

Quick and efficient.

Demetri skipped forward and ducked behind as well, glancing at the feline as she stared from the shadows, analyzing the movement’s behind the shelves and racks of materials and goods.

She would move in an instant, taking off from her hide to the next, and Demetri followed just as quickly. The merchant lord took notice and began taking riskier dashes and hugged tighter corners. Demetri could spot the smirk on her face even in the darker shadows of the warehouse. He accepted the challenge and continued his chase, thinking himself an easy match until, well, she simply walked out into the open.

The thief gawked as the workers simply did not notice her, without even the slightest hint of any magic or trickery, the short and furry merchant simply strolling past them all to reach the other end of a hallway.

Now that is just cheating. Narrowed eyes scanned for some source of the trick she just pulled. Some veil of sight or sound that kept the workers from even glancing in her direction.

Nothing.

He cursed under his breath. She would have to reveal what she did later. For now, he supposed it was his turn to show his own spark that he added to thieving

With wispy motions of his fingers, he channeled his magic around him, focusing on the senses of the workers. It was not a trick he pulled often, for reasons he did not disclose very willingly. Still, if she wanted a show, she would get one.

Demetri sprung up from the shadows and boldly walked out into the large aisle, spreading his arms and taking a deep breath. There was a certain freedom to his illusion, being so out of reach while simultaneously as far as can be. The eyes of the workers shone along with their bodies, a shimmering veil that caressed their minds and told them what he wanted them to hear.

The thief wandered over to a crate full of whiskey, grabbed a bottle, and took a swig, before handing it to one of the workers, who looked puzzled for a moment before setting it back in the crate with a nod.

Ra’tima-dro watched with a sense of intrigue and sass at the man’s brash display of ability. He certainly was quite the catch. Whatever magic he was pulling was impressive..

...so long as he did not pull the veil on her.

It seemed, almost intrinsically, the thief had known this, and excluded her from the facade that the others had experienced. As rare as it was for him to use his ability, it was far rarer for him to show it off to somebody else. It helped bloom a sense of pride in himself, as well as some freedom to be able to share it with someone he found might be just as skilled as he.

Once he grouped back up in the shadows with the merchant lord, Demetri gave a wink and a kiss. “Now, were we going to just play games, or did we want to head straight to the office and find that ledger? Don’t think that I haven’t noticed you’ve been taking the long way around.” With a grin he waved his hand and dispelled the effect on the workers, waiting for the feline’s next move.
 

Masahir N'air

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She couldn’t help but smirk at her partner in crime. What luck that they’d found him as a stowaway months ago; every passing moment spent around him helped to reveal just who he was to the astute feline. Ra brushed her tail against him in affirmation, but remained perfectly silent as she moved further into the warehouse.

It had been such a long time since she’d met up with a thief who could, mostly, hold their own against her and actually keep up. Maybe she was playing games... Oh, who was she kidding? She was certainly playing games with him just like he played with her. Each encounter had her wanting to unfold him like one of those complicated dwemer puzzle rings and figure out more of him.

Especially now, after having seen that shimmering, glimmering veil of illusion shining on those workers.

Her mind flicked through the faces, names and voices of the varying illusionists she’d met in all her journeys. They were all tricksters and deviants, if she was being honest in her reflections. Nearly all the illusion users she’d met had enjoyed playing around with their magic, for pranks or more nefarious means or both at once. She wondered how far his trickery could and would go, if he were as much an actor as the members of the House of Reveries. The way this newest thief so confidently wove his magics and strolled through the open was nothing to sneeze at, and it's inherent invasiveness unsettled some part of the small woman ever-so-slightly.

Ra’tima had a fairly basic understanding of the principles of the schools of illusion and destruction magics, alteration had escaped her- too much reading and mental gymnastics- and conjuration... Well, she had to confess that a disappearing blade made everything quicker and cleaner for her labors in the name of the Dread Father and Mafala, eternal Night Mother.

Ra hated to admit that the finer points of arcane study had eluded her the entire length of her life thus-far. It was almost too embarrassing to even consider hiring a mentor or tutor, she just felt so out of her depth with long droning passages and complicated diagrams and normally just ended up with a headache all her own.

It seemed like Demetri Malius would be the root cause of her headaches going forward. She couldn’t just be left completely unprepared if he was anything like shifty Jakarn, a half-elven Breton man who’d swindled and double-crossed like it was his bread and water, and had liked to call himself a ‘master thief’.... A master thief even though she’d broken him out of jail or a bad spot far more often than most others she’d run across in her explorations of Tamriel. He'd only stolen her time and patience, but he had usually more than made up for it over a few drinks, some intrigue and a night behind locked doors.

... She was already watching herself fall into the same patterns as she had so many times prior. Jakarn. Razum-dar. Fennorian. Elam. Teldryn. Brynjolf. Akhaan. It was blindingly clear that she seemed to have a pretty distinct aesthetic-type just from her more memorable 'rogue-with-benefits' type relationships over the years.

She paused in front of the office door and held up a finger to the thief and motioned for him to wait as she was careful to listen for any shuffling from within.

It seemed that lady luck had heard her prayers earlier on the roof.

The feline studied the lock for a moment, withdrawing her pick and popping the lock open as if it’d never been locked in the first place. The shadow of a man trailing behind her was quick to dart into the room following her.

The Overseer’s office was devoid of it’s occupant, and pretty nice looking, even compared to the rest of the well organized warehouse. Either they were dealing with a gaudy and stupid crime lord with opulent tastes, or they were going to be pissing off a very competent and capable crime lord who didn’t have a need to care about modesty.

Logically she should have been hoping for a fat greedy smuggler-merchant who’d easily sway under pressure, but she found herself almost wanting the thrill of snatching information from a cutthroat ex-economic-hitman. Ra’tima-dro almost felt a pity for not having met the man she was about to wickedly wound, if only because she wondered how interesting his reaction to the discovery of his missing ledger would be. Would he explode in rage, or would he panic with fear?

It didn’t matter, the khajiiti woman knew that they wouldn’t be staying anywhere near long enough to find out.

Demetri made himself useful listening at the door as Ra stepped up to the desk and set upon locating the records she desired. The quick khajiit scanned across the headers of several documents; correspondence between warehouses, bills- oh, payroll- she made sure to study that page.

It seemed this warehouse really was black market, they handled everything in physical note and bill. She supposed it made it harder to lose info to outside competitors if one needed to get into the actual building itself, made it a bit harder to forge copies too. Too bad she wasn’t interested in forging anything tonight, Ra was only concerned with the original mint.

The crafty feline slid the desk drawers open, swiping the dosh and curious gilded trinkets she came across. She was very pleased to find a small notebook containing a list of up-to-date caravan routes, schedules and cargo manifests- they could have lucrative personal use, or she could sell it out to a bandit couple she happened to have been shadowing lately and make a lovely profit.

A week’s worth of lost work would certainly fuck over this ex-Plaineview spook, but not to an unrecoverable degree. That was what lifting the leger would do. If he lacked spare copies, this Scar would be hard pressed to back up his wealth with records. Her blue eyes darted up to meet her partner-in-crime’s steely ones and she smirked. With a single sharp claw she prized the false bottom of one drawer open and swiped her well-earned prize.

Baan Dar rewarded the clever and the sleek, after all, and Ra’tima-dro felt she fit those descriptors well in the moment as she slipped the book into her satchel.

Demetri found himself wondering just what this crafty woman was going to get into with all of these legers she was collecting. He couldn’t help but try to puzzle her out from her mannerisms- she had a sort of chaotic spark, a more subtle lean towards mischief that lent her a strange warmth amongst the tundra of emotion she’d shown before. She was quick, deathly efficient and, quite frankly, pretty damn absurd. To match her- or was it to impress her? Maybe it was both- he’d dipped into his magic, no small feat.

Ra turned to the window and beckoned him with a flick of her spotted grey tail as she slid the lattice work pane to the side. In a blink she’d already climbed up and onto the roof, where he found her already in the process of throwing herself onto the next one in a flourish of acrobatics. The cool desert winds blew with a particular chill even all the way up here, rekindling a bit of the pep in his step as he chased after her in the dark.

He was more than content to simply follow behind her, he’d easily admit that the view from this angle was lovely after all. She seemed the type to enjoy the chase anyways, if he had to hazard a bet.

They had stopped on a lavish balcony in the middle of the city as the Khajiiti merchant lord gazed out over the moonlit rooftops of Karim and regathered her baring. Well, she had been regaining her baring before she’d started plucking errant shinies from their places on the tea tables and garden boxes. He couldn’t help but note that her lithe fingers seemed to intrinsically know what objects had value and which lacked it.

The way he saw her calculate honestly reminded him of that illiterate little green bug-eyed kobold he’d hired on some months back to help keep track of their coffers and stocks; Veeki. The small... lizard-thing had a way with quantities and currency that consistently proved both pleasing and vexing to his boss. Deme couldn’t hide a thing from Veeki if it involved money leaving his accounts or pockets, and the thief wasn’t much in the business of being scolded or interrogated over his particular spending habits by a nosy crew all too often.

“We still heading to the jail now, darling?” He teased in a low voice as she pocketed an exquisite six set of polished ivory playing dice along with their matching lacquered wooden die-cup. He wondered if she happened to be a gambling woman. Dice, or Cards?

She flicked her ear and tail at the same time as he spoke. She looked over her shoulder to see him leaning against the white marble railing on the shaded side of a large manicured potted hedge. Her eyes glinted white as they caught the moonlight and made her look like a downright specter or night terror. If he was a normal man, he might have been terrified to run across her in an alley or see those white disks leering in the dark recesses of his home at night.


He wasn’t a normal man though.


“Yes, we are, sharp-claws."


And she wasn’t a normal woman. She wasn’t even a normal khajiit if she was being honest.





But there was no need to discuss something like that. He hadn’t earned the right to that particular secret of her’s yet. She’d need more than just a night of passion and a night of work to give him those details.

“Why?” She questioned back.

He shrugged his shoulders, clearly amused, “I just noticed that miss pretty kitty likes collecting her sparkling shinies is all~”

Ra’tima snorted softly, “do good thieves in your homeland walk past defenseless treasures?” He smirked and shook his head no- of course a good thief snatched unguarded fortunes- and so she continued her whisper, “the Baandari find what is lost, trade what is found, and leave behind what has no purpose, remember this Demetri.”

His arched eyebrows raised slightly, then furrowed just as softly. She’d given him new information, but he hardly knew the context it fell into. The Bahn’dhari? She was Khajiit, so he figured it must’ve been her original kingdom allegiance, clan or house. Or maybe it was just whatever previous circle of shady individuals she’d ran with in the past. Demetri still knew woefully little of her past, but took a small bit of solace in that fact being a two way street as well.

She seemed to have noticed him pause to think and preemptively answered his future question, “this one’s clan, but different from the way that you are a ‘Malius’.”

It only gave him more questions but he nodded. He’d have to ask more later on when they weren’t just relaxing on a bougie balcony. “I would be doing the same thing if I had a bag of holding that ate anything that tried to get into it, so, I figured I should just leave it to you~”

She chortled as she secured the pygmy mimic to her side, throwing her legs over the marble railing. “Aww, it’s almost like he’s letting her have his cut, what a smart way to poor Ra’tima-daro’s sweet heart~”

“Hey now, that is not exactly what I-” The slippery fiend jumped down to a lower roof and again fled into the night, leaving him talking to himself for a split second before he was once more chasing her. The lights and sounds of the city blurred around them as restaurants began to close their kitchens and lobbies for the night, and the remaining revelers flocked to the yellow lights of still-open taverns like moths to the flames.

They came to a sudden stop at the edge of a large city square, the City Courthouse and Karim’s Jail were located across it, at the far end with their front entrances lit. The diminutive woman pulled her communicator out and checked the time.

22:43:26

Twenty-two forty-three. Lights out was in approximately seventeen minutes. They were likely doing a quick round of roll call currently, if Ra had to assume. She turned to her companion. “How familiar is sharp-claws with Karim City Jail?”

“Gratefully not very, all things considered.” He leaned against a chimney and crossed his arms. “Like I said earlier, I am not all too keen on being inside of prisons if I can help it. You said you scouted it earlier, what is your plan?”

Ra slid her phone back into its holster and made sure it was latched in tight before responding. “The city jail is actually very light on security. This one thinks they rely on the gerudo reputation to help keep the peace without using up too many resources, probably some corrupt official wanting to cut corners to save on a budget and line their pockets with the extra jah... Money.”

She leaned up on the same chimney stack as him and continued, talking with her hands, tail and mouth, “they have a camera at the reception desk and at the outside corner of the bend of the ‘L’. The one in the corner doesn’t seem to move, it has a blind spot right underneath it, though the outer wall is lined with cells. At the far end of the hall is an access door that leads to the maintenance hall of the courthouse.”

“The courthouse is opulent, and the judge is away for a little less than a week. It has been locked tight but that is not an issue for sleek Ra’tima-dro. Here, would he like to see the blueprints for the layout?”

“You lifted blueprints while scouting it?” He cocked a villainous eyebrow at that casual reveal.

“Ra has her ways~” She handed him a rolled up tube of parchment, the layout printed perfectly across it, labels and all. The Khajiit had taken the liberty of marking areas on it that afternoon in the garden, the cameras were in red, patrol points were in purple and the map even featured a list of guard shift times next to the legend at the bottom.

“Lights-out is in about fifteen minutes, at twenty-three hundred hours. The cell doors can still be opened manually with pick or key, though this one would probably recommend the key or the security system instead, just to avoid triggering any tampering alarms. She admits that she did not get a chance to inspect the locks closely.”

“And wherever do you think that key would be?”

“If we are still lucky? In a safe locker in the security office behind the booking area that Ra’tima-dro can open in a flash. If we are unlucky, it will be on the warden’s hip, if she is on duty during tonight’s shift. Call it a hunch from experience with wardens in cushy prisons, but they don’t normally work the graveyard shift. Ra’tima-dro does not think the warden will be an issue. She thinks the warden will want to enjoy sleeping in her warm bed tonight, barring alarms going off.”

She continued as he soaked in the details on the map. “Shift change is officially at twenty-three fifteen if they run on time. The jail was quiet this morning when she visited, Noctra willing it has stayed that way and they will be on schedule, no?”

“Karim city jail deals with a lot of trouble, you know that right?”

“Then it should be interesting, sweet-one~ Pray for the best, plan for the worst and bet you end up somewhere in the middle.” She laughed before blowing a kiss at him.

She was definitely a gambling woman all the way through.

“Dice, or cards?”

“Both, why? Is sharp-claws a gambling man?”

“I may be interested in making a fun little bet.”

Her ears perked with curiosity. She enjoyed casual bets. “Ra’tima-dro would like to hear this ‘fun little bet’ from the silver tongue then~”

“Well since you seem so confident about this jailbreak being nothing but smooth sailing, why don’t we bet on it, hm? As talented as we both are, I have actual experience sneaking past gerudos. I do not think it will be so easy.”

“And what does the sneak-thief want from her if he wins?”

He gave a small, innocent and nonchalant shrug. “Oh, nothing much really. Just one of your aforementioned ‘infamous’ stories darling~”

She studied him for a second in the dark, light or no light made zero difference, she could see his face as plain as day. She stuck a small fuzzy hand out, “fine, and if she wins then she wants to hear one of his stories.”

They shook on it, each equally confident in their predictions as the Khajiit took the time to hide her face fully once more.




It was hardly going to be that easy though. For all of Ra’s scouting and planning, there had been one rogue agent that she’d failed to factor in: an agent of pure and total chaos when they wanted to be- which, arguably, was every waking moment in the damn day if Lucien or Fish had anything to say about it.

The khajiiti merchant lord had not planned for Constastia Lachipter.
 

Demetri Malius

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The thief eyed the blueprints of the jail and paid close attention to the details Ra’tima gave him about the guard patrols. Sure, it seemed like an easy in, easy out plan. Get in, disable the alarms, and then get everyone out while the guards change shifts. However, Demetri knew that there were always unexpected variables that always muddied up a good heist, or jailbreak, in this case.

“Well, where does Demetri believe we should head to next? He did say that he would take the lead.” She teased him, daring him to go ahead and charge into whatever plan he had manifested for the night.

“Of course, I’m sure you can keep up.” The thief smiled before diving off the rooftop and over to the jail, staying on top of the building while searching the darkness for his entrance. A softly whirring fan sat on top of a wide vent that led into the building’s air system, an easy entry point for Demetri.

“Now darling, be sure not to get your fur snagged, I know these places can get a bit cramped.” The rogue gave a playful remark, to which the khajiit simply replied with a raised brow.

“See you inside~” Demetri waved before sinking into the shadow and slipping into the air duct, slithering around the vents until popping out of the slits of the security room. Quietly, he materialized from the shadows and…

Ra’tima had already managed to beat him here and knock out the guard.

“Perhaps this one should be slow-claws, for Ra’tima-dro does not have time to crawl through vents.”

Demetri shook his head in wonder at the feline, pausing to process what had just happened, glancing to the sleeping gerudo that lay beside the rather large chair in front of a wide display of cameras. Switches lined the wall, with a few buttons on the desk.

“I thought I was supposed to take the lead?”

“Ra’tima-dro wants to ensure there are no complications, she thought she might lend a hand.”

“Thanks.” He spoke with narrowed eyes. He knew it was not that she believed him incompetent, but it seemed that she wanted to show off a bit more as well. Teleporting inside was not something that he thought she could do, especially so effortlessly. This kitty definitely had a lot of tricks up her sleeve.

“Anyways, let’s get down to it, so which section are they in?”

“This one last saw Lockwood and his companions in sector A of the jail. Minimal security, simple preventative measures.”

Demetri glanced over the many camera displays before finally seeing the familiar guard from the shop. He seemed to be arguing with the woman in his cell, along with another cat-like person over by the door. She seemed to terribly and seductively bend over and attempt to pick the lock.

“What was that you said about the locks on those doors?”

WARNING! LOCKPICKING DETECTED IN SECTOR A: CELL 9.

Great, at least he won the bet. He watched as a large herd of guards nonchalantly began to walk over to the sector.

The thief glanced down in the corner of the screen and checked the time.

23:08

Oh, so not only were the guards that were heading off shift still around, but most likely the ones that were just coming in as well. There would be way too much heat around that sector during the breakout, they needed a distraction.

Perhaps they could pretend to be the distraction.

With a few switch flips and the press of a button, the thief set up and executed a rather bold move. The display showed all of the doors from sector D, the most troublesome sector of the jail, and unlocked all of the doors. He held his hand to his throat and used his other to activate the intercom, channeling magic to his voice.

“Attention! Do not respond to Sector A, it is a distraction. The alarms have been disabled and there has been a jailbreak in Sector D, all guards on duty report to secure the prisoners!”

He let his finger off the button and looked over at Ra’tima, who seemed less than amused.

“Constastia.” She hissed her name with spiteful ease this time.

“I told you, never bet on a perfect job.”

Their exchange was interrupted by the rather soft beep from behind the thick door that led into the security room, before it wooshed open and revealed a rather concerned gerudo.

“What is going on over-”

She paused and stared at the two intruders and down to the knocked out security guard.

“Hey, don’t worry, it’s exactly what it looks like.” Demetri smirked before powering off the system.

Without a second breath, the gerudo burst forward and attempted to slam Demetri into the wall, narrowly missing when he dove under her legs and shot his chains to the doorframe. Ra’tima dashed for the door and avoided a grappling strike from the gerudo, making her way out as Demetri flung himself along behind her.

“So now that you have so miraculously won our bet, how do you plan to get out of here?”

“Diligently.”

They raced down the hall and into the barracks of the jail, which happened to be empty with all of the guards rushing to secure the sector they’d just unleashed. Both of them grabbed the nearest locker and heaved it over and dropped it in front of the door they’d come in from. A moment later, the gerudo warden was already slamming against it, slowly pushing the locker out of position.

They wasted no time, exiting the barracks and quickly rushing down the halls and peeping corners, allowing squads of guards to pass as they hung to each shadow. Finally they reached Sector A and began searching for their companions.

“I’ve almost got it, okay, just let me get it!”

“Get your ass out of the way!”

“Maybe I would work faster if you stuck your face in it!”

The duo arrived only to find the three still in their cell, with Lucien and Tia bickering over the door lock.

“Oh, hey, Ra’tima. Look it wasn’t my idea to-” Lucien immediately began to try to explain the situation.

Demetri and Ra’tima seemed to almost ignore his pleas as they stared at the fiddling wench.

“You know, maybe I should have just unlocked the doors here at Sector A as well.” The thief pondered at how the girl had not managed to get out yet.

“Pah. Allow this one.” The feline waved her hands and shooed Tia away from the lock, before inserting her lockpick and prying it open in one swift flick.

“You really have to show me that trick sometime.” Demetri quipped.

“There are no tricks, sweet-claws, only skills. She is sure you can catch up in time.”

Demetri rolled his eyes as the door swung open. Cries from the other cells began to rise up as they realized that their escape could be that close at hand as well.

“Perhaps the rest of you can send payment for us to visit again. No freebies~” Demetri waggled his finger towards the other prisoners. Curses and pouts came from them before they settled down. Most were only in here for a week at maximum anyways.

“I almost had it too, I loosened it up for you.” The brunette woman started.

“You managed to jam the lock in the opposite direction! This one had to fix it before opening it.”

Tia stayed silent and simply pouted with her arms crossed.

“If we all don’t mind, I would like to do a lot less talking and a lot more escaping.” Fish spoke up, a bit tired of hearing all of the banter.

“He’s right, we must leave. Lockwood.” Ra’tima reached into her bag and tossed a cloak over to Lucien.

“What is this supposed to do, I’m not cold!”

“It’s enchanted, dull-claws. Softens your heavy footsteps and makes your rear less visible to the guards.”

“Oh.” Lucien threw it over himself and nodded.

The five of them quickly made their way to the nearest exit, before another alarm went off. It seemed the system had come back up, with the cameras now reactivated and sending a live feed. The five of them rushed to the door as a metal barricade stretched across it.

LOCKDOWN INITIATED. ALL EXITS HAVE BEEN SEALED.

Oh course, when it rains, it pours.

Demetri spun on his heels and thought for a moment. There was no way that they would be able to sneak all five of them out with all the exits locked. The only way out from here would be the front of the jail, which was likely past all of the cameras and guards.

That is unless they had the override key.

“Hold the fort for a moment, I’ll be right back.”

“And what does sweet-claws have in mind?” Ra’tima asked inquisitively, she was curious how the man would get them out of this situation.

“Let’s just say I forgot to pick up something on the way out of that office.” With a grin he pried the cover off of another air vent and slipped inside in his shadow form.


It wasn’t long before he popped out by the security room again, materializing in his normal form in front of the gerudo warden waiting for him.

“You think you are going to be able to get past me this time, you are mistaken.”

The gerudo stood firm in front of the rebooted system, holding an electrified baton. They stood silent for a moment before both spurring into action, the gerudo swinging with their baton while Demetri unsheathed his dagger deflected it away, leaping to the side and flattening himself against the wall.

Another strike came and slammed above him as he ducked and slid over to the switches. Before he could change any, a kick from the Gerudo sent the security office chair into him, forcing him to retreat back and allow the gerudo to come between him and the switches.

The gerudo brought an elbow forward and successfully landed it on the thief’s chest, pressing him against the wall.

“Nowhere to go now.”

Demetri smirked as he held up the keycard he managed to pick out of her pocket while being grappled. With his other hand he shot the handle of the gerudo’s baton and pulled against her final swing, redirecting it back into the hand she held him up with. The shock forced her to let go of the thief and drop to a knee, and by the time she had recovered and looked up, he was gone.

They hadn’t been waiting long before Demetri came back, looking a little more roughed up than when he had left, but this time holding a keycard in his hand. With a nonchalant walk he strolled up to the reader and swiped the card, disabling the lockdown on the door and watched as the steel latches retracted back into the doorframe.

Demetri winked before tossing the card to one of the cell inmates.

“Keep this for good luck~” He spoke before following everyone outside.

“Now, we are probably gonna want to lay low, I know this spot outside of town that we can relax at before heading on the road. We have about five minutes before local authorities arrive to see what happened and they tend to have a bit more tech on hand, so let’s get going!”
 

Cho

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“Hold the fort for a moment, I’ll be right back.”

“Mh. On that note. I’ll be back in a minute as well.” Fish piped up with a fanged grin.

“And where will you go?” Ra’tima-dro interjected, her blue eyes narrowing sharply at the other feline.

“I gotta get my stuff.. I need my reagents. And my cloak. It’s a whole ensemble. Really sets the aesthetic, you know?” He went on to elaborate but was cut short by a clawed finger jabbed into the air.

“Understood. Make it quick.”

“Don’t suppose any of you carry any bat fur, pitch or a lil’ bit of coal, do ya?” He waited a moment, glancing between the assorted group, “No? Nobody? Yeah, I really gotta get my shit.”

The Tabaxi fussed a bit, readjusted his tunic and clicked his fingers. Two things happened; his appearance shifted to that of a Gerudo guard and secondly, a seemingly spectral hand formed in place of the Thief’s missing arm and meshed perfectly with the illusory disguise.

“Be back soon.” The Tabaxi spoke, but the voice was not his own. His voice rang out in a feminine timbre, a perfect imitation of one of the Gerudo guards.

He adjusted his posture and gait, opting to straighten his back and walk with his chin jutted out as opposed to his usual slink. He walked with a practiced facade of knowing where he was supposed to be going, when in reality, he was absolutely clueless. Every twist and turn was a complete guess, but he knew what he needed. He picked up his pace as a pair of guards burst into view. They gave the trickster a brief glance as they sprinted past, back in the direction of the cell block he’d just been sprung from.

He spun around a corner and was immediately faced with three options. A staircase, an office or a double door just beyond the stairs. He assumed the door led outside and the office looked a little like a reception of sorts; a glass screen separated the entrance hallway from the office. The process of elimination assured him that his gear wasn’t going to be behind the door or in the office, so he sprinted up the stairs, his footsteps were uncharacteristically — for a Gerudo at least — quiet. Deciding to skip the last few stairs, Fish turned to face the banister on the floor above and leapt, gracefully, up and over the wooden beams.

Fish glanced about the floor he found himself on. Open plan, a few desks dotted about and a few more doors off to the sides. Some of the doors looked particularly uninteresting, the desks were unoccupied. One door caught his eye, however. A door in the back, lined with locks and seemingly reinforced. Oddly, the most obviously welcoming door to the thief’s eyes, he approached and flexed his spectral fist.

“Knock knock..” He practically purred as he knocked on the reinforced door.

Knock Knock

No louder than usual, but seemingly carried on the wind, two echoing knocks rang about the prison and the immediate, surrounding area. Each lock on the door clicked in turn and the door swung inwards, revealing a series of shelves all lined with boxes, which were labelled and apparently sorted in a specific order. The Tabaxi rushed in and pushed the door closed behind him with a strained grunt, it was heavier than expected.

Fish glanced around quickly, figuring out the organisational system of the evidence room he found himself in. It didn’t take long, as he turned and spotted his satchel on a desk alongside a few other odds and ends. The thief muttered idly as he threw his cloak over himself, allowing it to settle within the illusory form he’d conjured. Cautiously, he retrieved his satchel and unlatched the embroidered flap. An apprehensive grimace spread across his face as he placed a hand within the satchel and thought really hard about the item he wanted to find. He pulled his hand free of the bag and, to his delight, he found he was holding a glass orb, filled with perpetually moving smoke. Fish breathed a sigh of relief and stuffed the orb back into the satchel, closed the flap on his satchel, fastened the latch and slung it over his shoulder.

He gave the rest of the items on this desk a brief, cursory glance and grumbled when he spotted something that’d been mentioned over and over and over the night before.. While he was trying to sleep. A bow belonging to that loud mouthed woman.

“Urgh..” He groaned, allowed, head thrown backward in exasperation. The cat looped his arm through the bow and grabbed a couple of other bits. He turned to leave before a shiver ran down his spine, as if someone had run a finger down the back of his neck, his fur standing on end for a moment. A sign. He’d dealt with something similar numerous times before. This was Beshaba reaching out. He spun on heel and rushed over to the nearest shelving unit. He rifled through each of the boxes in turn before retrieving one item; a familiar purple pouch. He stuffed it in his pocket and bolted for the door. He heaved it open, dashed across the room to the nearest window and, rather unceremoniously, threw himself out of it. This time, however, there were no mishaps as he hit the ground on his feet and continued running to catch up with the group who elected to leave the building, rather than wait a little longer for the feline.

“Fuckers..” He snorted a wry laugh.
 

Masahir N'air

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Ra’tima scoffed as she rolled her eyes, her expression hidden behind her silvery Rajhin mask. She cared little if the tabaxian man came with them or not, and it was hardly her business if he managed to squander his escape and got recaptured. Fish in the River was not her concern in her jailbreak, but she knew he would be a welcome addition, if he stayed alive and stuck around for a while. Her goal in the Karim City Jail was to get in and break Lucien out, if only because she had technically kidnapped him into the ordeal. She was pressingly aware that she had no real moral obligation towards him, a monstrous werewolf. In fact, she was half-tempted to reason that it was more of an ethical dilemma to allow him to return to Uruk, and not leave him in the normally- when they weren’t being ambushed by a pair of twin shadows- capable hands of the Karim guard.

Had the two sleek thieves not intervened, he would most likely be looking at an even more extended sentencing for an attempted escape. No doubt the guards would have caught all three of them otherwise... But they could not punish him if they could not find him, after all. Ra chuckled audibly as they dipped into a dark alleyway, and caught the shadowy thief tilting his head to eye her.

“What are you laughing about, kitten?” His puzzled whisper tickled her ear as he moved to keep pace at her side, his coy smirk evident in his tone. He couldn’t lie, his blood was still racing from the hectic rush of their unconventional heist.

“She was just thinking, maybe Lockwood should buy a lottery ticket.” She punctuated her amusement with a nonchalant shrug and a flick of her grey tail. The lycan grimaced in the back, knowing that the disapproving snark was sure to begin.

“Yes, first me covering his outstanding tab in your shop and now us both rescuing him, how fortunate~” The rogue returned with a murmuring chortle.

“Hey, you’re the man who-” Lucien started, before being talked over by the khajiit.

“She has never seen such a lucky dog.” She almost spat the word. “However,” the feline’s tone turned incredibly sharp as she shot a glance back at the brunette woman, “Ra’tima-dro has also never seen such an unlucky thief.”

“Hm, Constantia?” Demetri asked in amused rhetoric.

”Yes.” Ra hissed.

Tia butted in from the back when she heard her name. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, dude.”

The diminutive khajiiti woman started, incredulous at how the imperial lacked self-awareness to such a degree. “Hmm, let her think: how did you manage to jam the lock in the opposite direction? That should not have been possible with that model of lock, and yet somehow against all better odds you still managed to royally screw it.”

Tia leaned over towards her ex-cellmate, who naturally shied away for fear of the crackpot brunette trying to get handsy feelsy on him again. “Who’s this crabby cat lady, Lucien? Your bitchy boss or naggy nanny or somethin’?”

He didn’t even get to respond before Ra’tima cut in with a pointed laugh, “and who are you, Constantia? Some ring-tailed whore this dog picked up on the street?”

“Look here lady, he kissed me first! I was just trying to break into that popular tavern when suddenly- there’s this tall glass of cold water sucking-face with me! Imagine my surprise when he went in for a ‘round two’!”

“I was trying to save you from the guards, woman.” Finally Lucien got a word in edgewise.

“Oh and a fat lot of luck that did us, huh hotshot?” Tia quipped.​

“Well at least I tried something, it’s not my fault you’re so awful at picking locks that the guards are on a first name basis with you!”​

Demetri and Ra’tima exchanged a cockeyed look with each other as the two fugitives continued back and forth. “They are like a married couple already, yes suta-varzeva~?”​

“Oh now you’re just exaggerating!”​

The thief smirked. “Aye.”

“It would have been faster and less noisy for you to just unbolt the damn doorknob!”

“How long until we get to this hideout?”

“I almost had that lock, for your information sir studly.”

“Eh, perhaps five or ten minutes if it was just us, keeping to the back alleys... With those two in tow it might be a twenty minute walk. Why?” Demetri inquired, unphased by the bickering going on behind them.​

“Sir stuh- oh, no you did not. You are the least aware woman I’ve met in a while.”​

“She was thinking of making that stop at the Dusty Flagon.” Ra replied.

“Maybe that’s why you like me so much, huh?”​

“Need to make an ale run, sweetheart~?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”​

“Hmm, more like a withdrawal.” The merchant lord mused.

“It means that I’m just an innocent young woman that you’re taking advantage of~”

“Taking advantage of- huh???”

“The law is going to be swarming through the popular areas of the city soon, looking for people matching our descriptions-”

Tia flashed the wolf an unhinged grin. “Yes, I’m just totally helpless out here on the streets~”​

“- The Wakandan’s CCTV systems are no joke, and I doubt the cameras will be blind, even to you, darling.”

Ra dipped her head in a nod, her mask catching the moonlight in a glint as they passed into another shaded alleyway. “She should be quick then, yes? She will return in only a moment.”

"A 'moment', or a 'minute'?" Demetri teased the merchant. Knowing her propensity for luck and surprises, he wouldn't put it past the sleek feline to set speed records. He only earned a soft chuff followed by:

"He can time her with his stopwatch if he is so concerned and curious."

He rolled his eyes, "you are not going to leave me alone in-charge of those two, are you sweetheart?" But when his steely grey irises settled back onto where she'd been beside him, she was nowhere to be found. The thief couldn't help but scowl half-heartedly as he pulled his phone out and set a timer; she called it skill, he considered it some sort of hijinks or passive magic with the way she vanished with such little effort.

Behind him Tweedledee and Tweedle-dumb were still whining over pointless semantics. He would be lying to say he found the absurdity of the argument between them to be boring, but the constant back and forth was starting to wear on his patience.

"Hey, you two: can it for a little bit unless you want half the city to know where we are at." The two rowdy fugitives quieted down as he addressed them, as there was a pointed sense in his words.

"Who are you, anyway?" Lucien ventured, much quieter now. "Besides a low-down rogue."

"Well, I am your savior tonight, of course, dear guard." The thief smarmed coyly, not bothering to look back at the man. He knew they would follow him, they would have to be complete idiots to fall behind tonight.

Lucien scowled, huffing deeply and audibly as he crossed his muscular arms. "What is it with all you cutthroats and your slippery non-answers?"

"Do not take it personally, Guard, it is just part of the trade. You do not make it long if you flap your loose lips to law enforcement, which..." Demetri's gaze landed on the guard, looking him up and down before the thief rolled his silver eyes again. "Anyway, we are going to have to cut across this plaza."

"I'm not in the guard anymore, for your information, thief."

"Oh, color me surprised." The rogue snarked as he pressed himself against the wall at the opening of the alley and checked for enforcement. "So what is your deal then, are you out here trying to become a merchant-lord too? Or did you get fired for getting handsy with civilians in Uruk as well?"

Constantia giggled from the back as the lycan's face blushed scarlet. The duo followed the career criminal into the open, trying to seem as natural as possible. Demetri's ease in playing his role was noticeable next to Lucien's awkward glancing around. "Why would I tell you, scoundrel?"

Malius turned to cast a look on the man, sweeping his black cloak back in a graceful motion. "Hm, I prefer 'dashingly handsome rapscallion', personally. And hmm, let me think; you need me, and because I have already proven myself to be a friend, have I not, Lockwood? I paid your tab and then some, and even broke you free of your horrific bondage. As a ‘low-down’ criminal, I had hoped that you would understand my mark’ed disdain for jailhouses, but here you are: still being so cruel to me."

Tia couldn't keep her eyes off the rogue, completely captivated by his charisma and smooth talking. She just loved hearing him speak, the grain of his voice drew her in and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was his charm or her utterly bankrupt thirst. "Oh Lucien, I knew you were just a total bully. How could you be so rude to him?"

"Ugh, I should have never kissed you, Tia." The lycan rolled his eyes dismissively.

"What's your name, my dashingly handsome rapscallion~?" The imperial woman skipped forward as if the wolf’s words held no weight, trying to catch a glimpse of Demetri’s face as they walked. When she failed she instead caught his forearm in her hand, pushing her chest against his upper arm.

Demetri smirked behind his mask. This infamous 'Constantia Lachipter' had the energy of a reveler, and she seemed desperately parched for masculine attention. He was sure he could spin her up for a night of fun. He stepped back from his newest groupie and gestured to himself as if he were a prized display, "Demetri Malius, also known as 'The Shadow', for your pleasure, sweetheart."

"Well, unlike the rude man behind me, I would love to repay the favor of saving us from those prickly gerudos. They really don't know how to have fun."

The Shadow chuckled, leaning in just enough to entice the woman, "I would not assume such so quickly... but, I am certainly not opposed to a bit of gratitude~"

Lockwood nearly rolled his eyes out of his skull at the nonsense display happening in front of him. This Demetri Malius fellow was a charmer alright, and he'd run across charming, smarmy pretty boys before. They were a dime a dozen, this one just appeared to have half decent skills to back up all his hot air. He figured he should warn the rogue from walking into this particular trap for his show of ‘gratitude. "I wouldn't take her up on that proposition, rogue."

Tia shot him quite the look, as if she were trying to stab him with just her stare alone.

"And why not? Do not tell me that you are regretful of scorning her attention only now that the chance has passed you by~" The bravado in the criminal’s voice nearly put the soldier off of his act of kindness.

"Yeah hunk! You snooze, you lose!" She stuck her tongue out at him, as if her attitude would now suddenly dissuade him.

"She, uh, admitted to me that she's been missing her pills."

The thief paused for a moment, taken aback by the information as he processed it. "Which pills, the looney pills or the pink pills?"

"Uhm... both, probably? I mean, does she seem like she takes any prescribed pills normally? Why do you think I keep turning her down? I’m not a gambling man, but I’d be more than willing to bet that she’s also the type to jab holes in condoms."

Tia pouted as they passed into the next alley, her chance at a night of inhibitionless fun quickly slipping through her fingers.​

"I'm right here, I can hear you two!"

“I only kissed her, and now look, she won’t leave me alone.

"Hm..." Demetri turned away from the brunette to face the soldier, clasping the brick house of a man on the shoulder firmly. "I knew your honesty and integrity would come in handy eventually, guard. I appreciate the tip about the trap."

"And what trap is that, Shadow?" Ra’tima-dro materialized from a patch of darkness behind the two men, the Tabaxian from earlier in tow. "Surely he would not hide important information from her."

The rogue spun on his heel to greet the diminutive feline fiend. She was starting to make a habit out of sneaking up on him, and he was loath to have his collar yanked outside of rough bedroom fun. In a single motion he adjusted his phone in his pocket, stopping the timer for her ‘record-attempt’. "The trap that Constantia has anything real to offer. You weren't spying on us, were you, kitten?"

Ra smiled under her mask at the question. "Pah, it was not hard to hear the bickering halfway across the city, so she would not go so far as to call it 'spying'. As for Constantia, Demetri will learn that it is wise to listen to Ra'tima-dro's words. ... Fish, you have something for your ex-cellmates, yes?"

The tabaxi rogue pulled his hood closer around his face against the cold breeze and stretched his paw out, offering up a finely crafted ebony bow. Tia seemed to instantly light up, the moping evaporating from her expression.

"My bow! Oh divines bless your kind heart..." She took her weapon and studied it as if she were surprised to ever see it again. "You didn't happen to snag my-"

Fish unslung a full matching quiver from his back and tossed it to her. "You better be as good of a shot as you talked back in that cell. Don't make me regret grabbing your shit over the more valuable treasures in the evidence lockup." The tawny brown feline glanced at Lucien next, stripping a sand-colored satchel from his shoulder and handing it off to the man. “You said this bag was your's, yeah?”

The lycan flipped open the flap of the bag and checked its contents, a grin spreading across his face as he trailed behind the two de facto leaders of the group.

Up front the khajiiti woman brushed her tail against the shadowy rogue as they continued their odyssey to the aforementioned ‘safehouse’ outside of Karim. “Silky Ra’tima sees that the two misfits were not too difficult to handle.”

“Nothing that my years of experience captaining a crew failed to prepare me for. They both like to whine like alley-” he caught himself, “-like petulant brats.”

“Like alley cats, Demetri?” She let out a rasping chortle. “There is a distinction between Khajiit and domestic cats, as well as wild big cats. Is it not normally a compliment to be told that one swims 'like a fish' or flies 'like a bird'? We adore our very distant relatives, it is only when bitter men and mer treat us as less-than that we see the comparisons to animals and pets as an insult.” She was still trying to puzzle out the meaning of this new word, ‘petulant’. It sounded close to pestilence, and drew to mind the awful scent of miasmic disease and rot. She shook her head, as if it would clear her mind of the smell of that memory.

"Mer?" He asked.

"Elves. Like the Dutomer we encountered in Neo-Nippur on the ice moon Inverxe."

Demetri nodded. Curiosity temporarily satisfied, he changed the subject. “So did you get what you were looking for at the tavern?”

She blinked a few times, “yes, she did. This sleek shadow would be most pleased with her as well.”

“Oh~?”

She clucked her tongue, softly tsking at him before her playful tone teased him. “He will have to wait until we get to this ‘safehouse’ he promised. She hopes it is more impressive than the one this sneak-thief showed her to last night.”

He huffed indignantly at her ribbing, but ultimately played along. “Yes yes darling, I assure you that it is far more spacious and comfortable than that hole-in-the-wall. Again, you had me doing drunken pirouettes across the rooftops, I just needed to stop for some water.”

Her pride kept her at making guesses, this time about that word ‘pure-o-ettes’. She assumed that it had to be some form of aerial acrobatics from the context of his drunken parkouring. “This one’s drunken chase was...” She paused to think for a moment, and the thief leaned in just a bit, curious but skeptical to hear her thoughts about him. “She found it amusing~” She chuckled in a rasp. “She knows how drunk he was, but he still managed to keep up with her.”

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as they came to a stop at the base of the city walls, next to a small grated accessway. Water from Karim's central spring rushed through the bars with little hesitation. “Hopefully now that you have gotten to see me in action, you will trust that I can keep pace with you in multiple regards, kitten.”​
 

Masahir N'air

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The rogue took a moment to study the lock of the vertical grate, barely dropping to one knee when the Tabaxian tag-along tapped him on the shoulder. Demetri tilted his head up at the felid to peer at him from under the lip of his hood, “yes? What do you need?”

“Allow me?” Fish murred, gesturing with his single hand at the lock his metallic-sheened eyes were fixated on. The rogue couldn’t help but eye the one-handed tabaxi curiously before giving a sharp nod and moving back. If the man wanted to show off his talents, Malius was content to sit back and observe.

Fish brought his spectral paw up to the relatively paltry security measure, and with a near sing-song glee called out, “knock, knock~” A distant echoing pair of knocks rang, as if coming from deep in the accessways, before the lock snapped open with a distinctive pop and landed in the tabaxi’s palm.

The two arcane tricksters exchanged smirks. “I see that everyone has a few tricks up their sleeves.” Demetri mused as he swung the grate open and gestured inside. Fish in the River and Lucien where quick to duck and make their way in, but Constantia fidgeted a bit, seemingly nervous.

“There aren’t goblins down there, are there?”

Demetri cocked a brow at her as he smiled behind his mask. “Do not worry sweetheart, I hear that they do not bite too hard if you are good at entertaining them.”

She laughed uncomfortably, scratching the back of her head. “Oh well, that’s good because I’ve been working on this comedy routine and-”

“Constantia, get in the tunnel!” Ra hissed, her tone dripping with impatience.

“Yes ma’am!” The imperial woman nearly banged her forehead in her haste to follow the orders, quickly climbing in after her cellmates. The two thieves were fast behind the woman, bringing up the rear of the group this time.

“Fish,” Ra called out in the dark, “his feline eyes can see in the dark, yes?”

“Aye, of course.” He couldn’t help but grin as she recognized one of his innate talents.

“Then he will lead at the front.”

The tabaxian nearly frowned at a responsibility being put on him, but he figured that was the price of skill and reputation. He made his way to the front of the group, brushing gently past Lockwood and expertly avoiding contact with the unhinged brunette in the claustrophobic tunnels.

In the back Ra adjusted to the darkness, her pupils dilating wide as Demetri fussed with fixing how his cloak had settled on his shoulders. She slid her metallic Rajhin mask off of her face and deposited it into her satchel before slinking forward. “She did not expect to be slinking through sewers tonight, five-claws.”

He joined her, pulling the thin black neck gaiter down to reveal the lower half of his face, now that they were off the streets and away from cameras. “Hm, I did not realize filth could stick to someone as ‘sleek’ as you. ”

She paused abruptly, staring at the rogue who continued a few more steps before turning to look back at her. He brushed his bangs from his eyes, “what, it is just a water way, not actually a sewer.” Demetri studied her carefully, wary of her sudden silence. “What is the matter sweetheart? I thought sleek was a compliment for your kind.”

“Is he fucking with her?” Her tone was incredulous, but his words were awfully, achingly familiar to her ears.

He chuckled softly, “I mean, we did~ I had hoped that you would remember last night, sweetheart, or was it so euphoric that I made you black out~?”

She rolled her eyes, her lips pressing into that characteristically unamused thin line- but he picked out how the corners of her mouth fought to not smirk. “Oh, how could she forget.” Ra deadpanned.

“Is that a good tone, or a bad tone, coming from you?”

She stayed silent for a few seconds before moving up to the man. Her dainty hand patted his cheek as she finally grinned back at him. “He worries too much~ Though she does admit,” she leaned in, her whiskers tickling his neck and jaw as she whispered, “her desires are not fully satisfied from just one night.”

Demetri hummed, a devilish grin lighting up his features in the darkness, giving him a sinister visage as he brushed his index finger under her chin. “You are quite an insatiable little kitten, yes~? There is always time for more passion later tonight~” He leaned down, meaning to give her a playful kiss, but she twirled away from him like a choreographed dancer, slipping forward in the gloom. He couldn’t help but smile, enjoying how she seemed to pull him along at her own pace with her coy motions and sweet words.

“At this ‘safehouse’, with all of those ruffians~? He has no shame~” She whispered from the shadows, the amusement clear in her purred lilt.

“It has walls, and privacy, I assure you.” Demetri rolled his eyes as he followed her without hesitation. The rogue could feel her moving through the ink, and he made sure to keep tabs on her, lest she continue to reinforce her cutthroat habit of trying to sneak up on him. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was yet another of her challenging little games she’d taken to playing with him.

“She will believe it when she sees it, sweet-one. She also can not help but hope that with Constantia in tow, the place has plenty of booze to deal with the headache as well.” They trudged through the damp, cobbled passages, their hushed voices travelling only a few feet before ebbing away into the ambience.

“Then I suspect that you would be pleased by the arrangement I have, but oh— your continued doubt. How it wounds me so gravely, my dear~” He clutched at his chest and staggered dramatically.

“Oh, is he hurt by her words~? Maybe she assumed wrong about him then~?” Her silky tail materialized to brush against his bearded jaw.

“The wise khajiiti merchant-lord, admitting her wrong-doing? Pray tell.” He sassed from under his hood as he caught her spotted tail, gently keeping her in place but not enough to yank her by any means.

“Perhaps she had assumed his heart was stained nearly as black as her own.”

He hummed softly, his consideration for her words only a passing excuse to maintain his practiced composure as he let go of her tail. “And what made you assume that about me, darling~?”

Ra’tima-dro chuckled, and it was her turn to flaunt her sinister aesthetic. “In her experience, very few end up in this trade because they dreamed of being a footpad as a child.”

He gave a sly shrug of his shoulders. “Eh, who knows. Maybe I did dream of stealing my way to vast fortunes as a clever little kid.”

“Stealing and heisting for pure fun and not due to circumstance and necessity~?” She clucked her tongue, tsking him in jest for his seeming lack of morality. “Then indeed, his heart is stained as inky black as hers, suta-varzeva~”

Before he could manage a smarmy quip, Lucien’s voice echoed down the corridor from a dozen-and-a half yards ahead.

“-- Maybe I should have let you jump on his dick then, maybe then you’d finally be leaving me alone!”

The khajiit shook her head, her judgement suddenly very real and very palpable as she visibly cringed at how obnoxious the two tag-along humans were being. “Ugh, she regrets bringing Lockwood along. He has been nothing but tangles and burrs in her fur.”

“You know, you never did tell me why Lockwood is here in Karim with you this morning. A big, dumb, bumbling ex-guard does not really suit your style.”

“Ha, and she doubts he would be stupid enough believe the phrase ‘hired muscle’, no?”

“Sorry sweetheart, you would have to be a lot more convincing for a lie that blatant~”

She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “She would not bother to lie to sharp-claws in such a disrespectful way, anyway. No, she will tell him the truth, but first-” She grabbed his arm and pulled him into a hidden alcove, “she needed a bit more privacy. The dog has sharp ears.”

“This was not quite what I had in mind for our first time trying Seven Minutes in Heaven together, but go for it kitten.”

She rolled her eyes and smacked his chest with the back of her hand, glaring up at him fiercely. “This is deadly serious, Malius. Pay close attention-” he blinked, and found a dagger uncomfortably close to his face in the cramped alcove, “- or you might get hurt. Does she have his full attention now?”

“You would not add another scar to my pretty face, would you sweetheart?” He craned his neck back, getting a better look at the polished blade.

“No, she would not damage his most valuable asset.”

Demetri cocked a villainous eyebrow at her for the somewhat backhanded compliment he had managed to walk into. “Then what is it?”

“She purchased this dagger specifically for dealing with Lockwood, just in case. Would he like to inspect it?” She stepped back from him, giving him room enough to lower his arms and move around. The thief took the blade in both palms and eyed it keenly. Silver in metal and ebony wood in hilt. Superb craftsmanship. It was an exquisite and utterly wicked instrument of death.

He turned the finely crafted blade of woe in his hands. “A silver dagger, what is he, some sort of magical fey creature?”

Ra’tima plucked the weapon from his grasp, twirling it around her fingers in a flash of finesse before sheathing it flawlessly. “Ah, sharp-claws almost guessed it. He is a very dangerous magical creature, but Ra’tima-dro thinks that is putting it too nicely through, and prefers the more direct description of werewolf.”

“Ah... I did not realize that you were being so literal this whole time. I thought the whole ‘dog’ moniker was because he used to be a guard. When did he quit, by the way? He was still in the service when I visited a few days ago.”

“He quit? She was unaware, but it is besides the point.”

The thief smirked, “what exactly is the point, darling? I am achingly curious to know why you brought a werewolf along for a heist, of all people. Did I not leave you with my number, or do you just enjoy wounding my pride~?”

“She didn’t bring him along for any heists, dull-claws. You remember how he met her Tal in the shop that day?”

“Yes, I do.”

“He came back after closing and took her out for a date-”

“Oh, you did not... Do you drag all her boyfriends off like this?”

“No, no varzeva, she does not make a habit of kidnapping Masahir’s boy-toys normally.” Demetri scoffed at the absurdity, but let her continue. “But she could not trust leaving him alone in the city with her when he knows where she lives. He is a beast, Demetri. A monster. The only reason she does not kill him on the spot is because she knows that Masahir would question too much.”

“So, what... You kidnapped him into a nice inn room and he still managed to get arrested? I fail to understand what your plan with him was.”

“Sweet-claws... Ra’tima-dro is a khajiit.” Her words sounded oddly like an accepted admittance.

An accepted admittance that he was having trouble fully parsing, and not just for the sake of coyness. “And?”

“Aaaand, her people have been denied entrance into many cities and taverns and inns for as long as she, or any of her clan-mothers, can remember.”

“So you needed a face to pass behind.”

“Lucien, she hoped, as a big and intimidating guard, would make a good mask. Keep him in sight and on a short leash. She gave him all the talking points, and besides; she only wanted him to try some mead at the Dusty Flagon and see if they were interested in exporting to Uruk. Really she couldn’t have given him an easier task, but... She was not expecting him to instantly get tangled up with the first idiot he saw on the streets.”

“Why bother?”

“She wanted to see if he could prove that he was the ‘good lycan’ he kept begging and pleading for her to believe that he was.”

“And Karim was a safe testing ground.”

“Yes, varzeva. She knows she could end him here in Karim and it might take weeks before they even manage to tie his corpse back to his name or residency in Uruk.”

“You took him to a far off city, let him get in trouble with the guard... I mean, why not just let him stay in prison if you dislike the man so much? It would be a perfect excuse.”

“Where do you think he would go after they let him out? This one does not want a werewolf with a vendetta after her tail.”

The trickster-shadow couldn’t help but notice just how pragmatic she was willing to be. “Your ‘Merchant-Lord’ title continues to surprise me, even now sweetheart.”

“Ra’tima-dro is a khajiiti merchant-lord.” The feline corrected as she stepped back out into the passageway and made to catch up with the group.

Demetri trailed close behind her, the sass apparent in his tone. “You know, you keep correcting me on that.”

“Then maybe he should get the hint.” She quipped back.

“Aw, I wish I could, but sadly I lack a depth of context on ‘khajiiti merchant-lords’ outside of you, sugar. What is it, a specific brand of merchant-lord or something?”

The feline hummed softly, amused by his stab in the dark. “She guesses he could say that. He remembers what she said about the Baandari, yes?” He gave a curt nod, so she continued, “Now imagine a wealthy crime lord using that... how does one say it... feel-o-so-fee? as guidance.”

“Ah, so, you are more of a Baandari Merchant-Lord then?”

“She likes that. Sure.”

The khajiit was clearly in a good mood, so he figured he could try and press his luck a bit more for answers and information. “And when did the assassin training come in, I wonder~?”

“When charming but nosy silver-tongues started asking too many questions without answering any of the ones she asked them.” Her thinly veiled and snarked threat did not escape the attentive man.

Damn, so close and yet still so far. It only made him want to know all the more strongly when she withheld the tidbits he was especially curious about. “Consider the hint ‘gotten’, then, sweetheart.”

Ra'tima couldn't help but smirk at his answer- at least the man could read the writing on the walls and knew when poking at her for information wasn't going to work. He was wise to know when to leave well enough alone, smart even.

They were almost upon the jailhouse trio, covering the distance with little issue when the khajiiti woman stopped and held her hand up to Demetri's chest. "Has he noticed anything different? Any sounds?"

What, another guessing game? He wanted to ask. He was half sure she was messing with him, and fully certain that she was seriously expecting an answer, so he strained his ears in the darkness- if only to humor the skeptical woman.

He heard the trickling rush of cool water below the grating under their feet, then the sharp plit-plotting of droplets striking the damp, mossy cobbled floors next to them. Next he noticed the soft fluttering of the drafty air brushing past them in what almost sounded like huffed flaps. The Shadow glanced up at his feline companion, wondering why exactly she wanted him to pick out odd sounding things when they were both aware that her ears were just as sharp as her blades.

"I hear nothing but the water beneath our feet and the whispering draft brushing past. Why, have your ears gone dull with age, kitten? Or do you need ear holes cut in that fancy hood of yours?" He couldn't stop himself from ribbing her in a jested whisper.

"Oh, smart and dumb, she wasn't expecting that combination from him after the jailbreak." She whispered back sardonically. The rogue smacked his lips. This woman gave as good as she got, no doubts there.

"Do you ask me these things just to set me up for your own amusement~?"

"Hm, no. Not always." She waggled her tail tip, "but she couldn't help but notice what he failed to."

"Oh, please do tell, wise one."

"What did he not hear, just now? She will give him a hint, she has already complained about it tonight."

She watched his expression shift as what she meant suddenly dawned on him. "The jailbirds have gone silent."

"Aye, sleek one. They are no longer squawking, and she wonders why." Her curiosity was punctuated by the flick of her tail, beckoning him to follow. It didn’t sound like trouble to the feline, and the situation was hardly prickling her whiskers with urgency. Unless, that was, something mysterious had ambushed and silently kidnapped their gaggle of giggle-shits while they discussed Lucien’s Hircine-bent nature- but she doubted something so absurd would have happened already.

They were only about a stone’s throw away from the hushed mumblings of the group, rounding the bend of an intersection in the corridors, when suddenly Demetri found himself being gripped by the edges of his hood, hard. The terrified, pale face of Tia stared up at him wide-eyed, her knuckles were tensed white in their death grip of his garb as she yanked him closer.

“Augh, what is it??” He managed in his surprise. The woman had nearly bowled him over, if not for his impeccable skill in footing and balance. And now her cloying hands were crumpling the fine, starched fabric of his cloak and making him look far more rumpled in front of everyone than he wanted. He prayed that it was an emergency eliciting this reaction, and not some bombastic idiotic nonsense-

“You said you were just joking about the goblins, right??!”

“What? I never said that I was joking about that.” He sneered at the brunette, catching her wrists in each hand and prizing her free of his clothes with a pointed glare that Ra’tima recognized as utter disdain. As he pried her off, she attempted to latch onto his wrists in turn, as if he was the only life raft around for miles and her hands were made entirely of gorilla glue. “Please, get off of me, darling. I prefer a hands-off approach outside of the bedroom.”

The smoky grey khajiit watched the antic unfolding in front of her with increasing levels of impatience. A few seconds ticked by and her willingness to stand around had already completely ran out. She strode forward, catching the center of the woman’s chest with the base of her palm in a quick jab. It was just hard enough to knock the wind out of Tia and maybe even snap some sense into that thick skull of hers. “He said hands off. Don’t you listen to anything at all, gutterling?”

Tia instantly recoiled and stumbled back a few feet as she let go of the shadowy man, mainly surprised by how fast she’d been thumped in the chest. The Whispering Claw style. She’d never seen a khajiit who could move so quickly in all her days, but the surprise did little to soothe the dull ache spreading on her sternum.

Demetri ran his gloved fingers down the outer length of his hood, straightening out what wrinkles he could. His piercing eyes darted up to Ra and he dipped his head in grateful acknowledgement. “Yeah, thanks.”

“What were you two doing dicking around back there, eh? Getting a little frisky in the tunnels?” The brown tabaxi chortled from a dozen feet down the hall. He was already loving the attitude of this ‘Ra’tima-dro’ woman. At this point, he’d pay good money for the entertainment of watching that idiot imperial get smacked around more.

“Ah, yes, because cold, dank, damp cobble tunnels are great for one’s hands, knees or back.” The petite khajiiti snarked, her whispers coming in rasped hisses. “What in Oblivion is going on?”

Lucien piped in now, “Tia swears she heard goblins on the other side of this wall, and she won’t calm down.”

“Bloody hell,” Fish rolled his eyes, “she won’t listen to any good reasoning at all.”

The conversation paused, and it rapidly dawned on her that everyone was watching her, and waiting for her input. “And what do they want Ra to do about goblins on the other side of some wall? Just stay quiet and keep moving so we can get out of here quicker. Unlike some people, she would like to relax sometime tonight.”

Constantia had fully recovered her breath by now, but still stood bent over in the middle of the floor with her hands braced on her knees as she stared down the passageway. “Uhm... miss ma’am..?”

“What?”

“What is the flavor of fear?”

Demetri was half-shocked that the khajiit didn’t snap her own neck with how fast she spun to face Tia, a harsh whisper demanding that the woman repeat herself. He couldn’t stop himself from watching in keen interest, unsure as to if Tia was just rambling more nonsense. Ra’s reaction had left him eager to find out: her shoulders and back were tensed, and her tail whipped to the side. The rogue couldn’t help but admire how dangerous she came across when she meant business.

“I asked: what is the flavor of fear?”

Ra’tima-dro studied Constantia Lachipter, raking her icy eyes across the braced woman as she contemplated if she should answer, if she should reveal that aspect of herself to someone like the brunette. She spat a hiss at her fellow assassin. “... Sublime, my sister. What is the color of the night?”

“I fucking knew it.” Tia exclaimed under her breath as she fully stood. “I fuckin’ knew it... when you hit me with that Whispering Claw. ... Sanguine, my sister.”

The feline felt a certain un-sublime flavor when the imperial called her ‘sister’, though she let the feeling roll off her, like water on a duck’s back. Constantia was undeniably a sister-in-order, and Ra had to acknowledge it.

The Shadow eyed the feline woman, running his tongue over his lips and wetting them in anticipation- like a man thirsting for his ale- over the cant he’d just heard. Ra could at least respect that he was unflinching when she stared back at him.

“Well I definitely do not know that one. Are you planning on teaching it to me, kitten, or do I have to join a special club for it~?”

Her expression softened as she raised an eyebrow at him, “you want to join the Dark Brotherhood, varzeva? Pah, his heart really would be as black as hers then~” She brushed past the group and made her way to the front, leading the group as Fish fell to the back.

Demetri chuckled, trailing close behind her like his namesake, “what, is that where all the khajiiti merchant lords go to meet up?”

“Ha-ha sharp-claws, but no. It is an order of assassins devoted to carrying out the dark Clan-Mother Mafala’s bidding, and the worship of Sithis, the Dread-Father. You can join if you'd like... but she would warn him that it requires a price too heavy for most."

“Allow me to guess: a blood price?”

“Yes, sharp-one. A life for a life, to prove you are capable.”

If he was put off by her admittance to being a member of a homicidal death cult, he didn’t show it past a charming smirk. “I think that I will stick to picking pockets for now, darling.”

The group fell silent as they moved through the tunnels, save for Demetri’s murmurs of guidance when they came across a split in the path, and the faint sounds of desperate scratching and scampering that came from inside the walls. Several minutes had passed before the Shadow whispered something other than directions to the khajiit.

“You know, goblin nests are usually stacked with all sorts of valuable loot.” The sounds coming from the other side of the walls were unmistakable to the entire party now.

“And they are equally filthy and smelly.” Ra’tima couldn’t help but wonder if he’d intentionally lead them closer to the nest as an excuse to loot it.

“Scared of getting your fur wet in the bath later, kitten?”

“They are also far more packed than the warehouse floor. So yes, Ra’tima-dro would love to hear his plan for raiding it without alerting the swarm.”

“Goblins are as stupid as they are rancid. It is past nightfall, so most of their capable warriors will have left to go hunting and raiding for the night. I will slip in, masquerading as one of them, and they will be none-the-wiser that I am in their midst.”

“Ah, she remembers when she did the same to the Shadowsilk Goblins. It was not a fun experience, they are crafty little monsters.” She glanced behind her, at the trio, then back to the sneak-thief. “What about them? Lockwood’s armor jangles and Constantia is shaking like a leaf in the gale.”

“I do not need all of them to come along, just you.”

“And there is not a possibility of doing this when we have less baggage?”

“The valuables might be gone, or a patrol may return if we wait too long. Time is of the essence here, darling, and I assure you that we can make quick work of it.” He continued his compelling whispers as she took a moment to think it over. “Plus... It would be a lovely bonus pay out as well, and a wise, sleek merchant such as yourself would never pass up such an easy deal, would you sweetheart?”

Ra’tima grinned at him as he worked her up, his silky words tickling her ears with their goading possibility. She knew he was playing her, but the honest truth was that he was spot on. “Fine,” she purred, “she will come along with her shadow on this little heist-date, since he insists, but– she does not think it will be so easy.”

“Oh~? Are you doubting me after everything tonight?”

She hummed, devilishly amused with what she was about to offer as she moved in closer to him. “No, in fact she is taking a page from his tome since he actually managed to teach her something new tonight. She is interested in making another bet with him.”

He leaned in towards her, bringing their faces closer together before he smarmed at her with a cocksure attitude. “You already owe me for the jailbreak, and I thought you did not ‘allow yourself to have debts owed’. I warn you dear, I will collect my just-dues with remaining interest.”

“If he is so sure that it will be a fast job, why does it sound like he is lacking the confidence to take an easy victory from her, then? She thought he enjoyed winning, so what is it to him if she makes a risky gamble for her own thrills.”

He narrowed his silver eyes at her as he worked to gauge her intent in his mind, and it was the most dangerous and serious she’d seen him look that night. “Fine, I will show you just how quickly I can work. What is your wager?”

“Same as before, if she wins, she wishes to hear one of his stories. If he wins, well, she will let him keep her cut of the pay day. Irresistible, yes?” She offered her hand.

“Aw, I am flattered that you think my stories are worth so much. I guess I will take all the easy wins tonight then~” He stuck his hand out to shake hers, then gestured at the intersection, pointing to a western branch as he turned to address the group, primarily his fellow trickster, Fish. “Through that tunnel, turn at the second left, then turn again at the fifth right and don’t stop going straight until you hit the exit grate. A half-mile outside of town there is a tavern called Lolomi’s Tankard; tell her that The Shadow sent you.”

The Tabaxi studied the thiefly duet carefully, his tail swishing as he picked his words. “Eh, I think I would prefer to be in on the bloody action, not babysitting these two obnoxious fuckers behind me, yeah Shadow?”

Demetri scoffed before chuckling. “Somebody has got to do it, and it certainly beats doing it in that jail cell we broke you out of, does it not? Besides, once you get there you will finally get all of the warm mead you can afford, and a nice private room to relax in.”

Fish flattened his ears and flicked his tail sharply, clearly displeased about being cut out of the action and all of the possible shiny loot- but when Ra’tima failed to contradict her partner-in-crime, the tabaxi decided it wasn’t worth the argument. He could tell from a mile away that getting her involved wouldn’t be enjoyable, and waved his paw dismissively before striding past them. “Fine then,” he scoffed with a dramatic roll of his eyes, “greedy bastards. Come on Jailbirds, hurry your arses up. I’d like to get out of this slimy fuckin’ tunnel sometime tonight, and enjoy a bloody drink!”

Lucien was the first to follow the tabaxi, eager to get this entire ordeal done and over with. He wanted space to finally be alone, and was going on two days without proper sleep. The rehydrated prison food they’d served him in the jailhouse had put him off eating. Oh, and he still hadn’t actually enjoyed a drink since his date with Masahir at Brio’s.

Constantia followed behind the towering guard, but her gaze hadn’t faltered from the diminutive khajiiti woman since they’d exchanged the dark brotherhood’s cant. Her doey brown eyes bored into Ra’s icy ones as she passed her, and she whispered, “good night, cat mommy~”

Ra’tima grimaced in clear disgust at the imperial brunette and exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Demetri. Soon the group disappeared around the corner, and Ra finally blurted out an incredulous whisper, “this sleek shadow really flirts with women like her?”

The rogue rolled his eyes and moved down the opposite corridor from the fugitives, listening for more scratching or the grumbled murmurs of the greedy goblins they stalked tonight. “It is all part of the charm, darling. Shocking to you, I know, but sometimes I actually enjoy having an easy time.”

“An easy time~? Where is the fun in that, she wonders? No, she agrees that he is a shadow of Sangiin.”

“Sangiin?”

“He who lusts without purpose, and cares only for the pleasures of flesh.”

“Did you just call me a manwhore?” He grinned wolfishly, amused by her blunt sense of humor.

“No, she did not. That implies that he gets paid for it, not that he pays others.”

“I did not pay you, sugar~”

She rasped a chuckle. “No, because he was the one who made a deal with her~

He shrugged, brushing his pitch-black cloak back behind his shoulders like a long cape and spinning on his heel to face her while he walked backwards. His whisper was still playful in its lilt as he raised his hands. “What can I say darling, nothing is for free and everything has its price. I think the fun we had last night was worth being splashed with some cold water.”

Ra watched eagerly as once more tendrils of magic coiled upwards from Demetri’s deft fingers as he waggled them and blew her a sly kiss. The spell danced with a prismatic glee as the rogue passed his hands in front of himself, and his form melded before her eyes. She cocked an eyebrow, staring at the now goblinoid thief with a mixed expression.

“What?” His altered voice matched his appearance all too well, coming out as a ghastly hissing growl.

She stuck her tongue out at him, squinting her eyes shut as she laughed softly. “This one must admit that she finds him far more fragrant as a human.”

He batted his yellow-green hand dismissively at her mocking teases. “Hurry up and hide in the shadows already, woman. I have a bet to win.”​
 

Demetri Malius

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The newly crafted goblin guise perfectly matched up against the real creatures he approached, both were jingling pouches of items stolen from the previous raid.

“Been looking for yas. Supposed to tell you to give your cut to the clan.”

“What are you talking about, this is from yesterday! We already gave our cut.”

“Not my fault that you got missed in the count, maybe just toss a few shinies my way and I’ll make sure they correct it?”

The grumbling goblins gave each other a passing glance before reaching in and pulling out their least wanted silver chain or ring. Nothing too valuable, but it was more than pocket change.

As Demetri counted the goods, another voice came from down the tunnel. Another goblin seemed to be calling out, until heading down the tunnel their way.

“Alright, time to pay your cuts. No exceptions, and don’t try to squeeze out of it. You lot, you’re next.” A taller goblin with odd looking spectacle type glasses began to stare them all down. His eyes settled on Demetri, seeing right through his visage and seeing his blue eyes staring back at him.

“Trying to sneak off with hiding a personal slave now? You could at least pick one better looking.” They began to jot down a note as the goblin trio looked around confused. Demetri bagan to slowly back up, unsure of what was happening before him.

“Now don’t let him get away. That would be an extra fine!” The goblin duo seemed even more confused.

“They just collected our cut like you are doing! He’s a goblin... ain’t he?”

Demetri turned to dash away as he and the tax collector’s eyes both widened at the realization.

“Illusion! Cheat! Liar! Get the human who is playing tricks on our eyes!” The little creature shrieked, stirring the remaining members of the nest to action.

The rogue began rushing down the tunnels in his haste to escape, soon turning a corner to find Ra’tima waiting.

“What was that you said about a heist being too perfect?” She mused.

“Look woman, you can hassle me later, I don’t plan on fighting my way out of goblin tunnels. Lucky bastard.” He began to dart down the next turn, with the Khajiiti woman following close behind.

“And an unlucky thief, he would benefit from praying to the moons every so often.” She teased him as she passed him and sped ahead.

He scoffed softly before hurrying down the next tunnel that led them out the exit he had pointed out. At least once they reached outside, they wouldn’t have to worry too much. Though the goblins would know the tunnels more than they did, they also wouldn’t make too much of an effort for what little he managed to take from them.

They quickly shut the gate and found themselves back with the group, who’d paused for a moment to try and gather their barings when the duet charged up behind them.

Fish chuckled. “I suppose we’re all having a shitty off-day. I don’t plan to give it another chance though, I’m done playing around with the mistress of bloody fate tonight. Where is this tavern you spoke of?”

Demetri caught his breath. “Just a little bit down the road, less than a mile. You are not able to see it over the hills.”

“Do I need to babysit you as well, Shadow?” Fish mocked.

“How was I supposed to know that the actual tax collector goblin would show up with glasses of truesight?”

Ra’tima seemed to answer the question rather blithely for a woman who had outran him in his escape. “Easy enough to guess if they know how to spot a cheat. Being this close to the city they must have access to rarer trinkets and curiosities.”

Demetri waved her off as dismissively as he could muster. “Yeah, I tried to show off and it backfired. Bite me.”

“Careful sugar-tail, this one just might.”

“Saucy, Cat Mommy, but I do want to relax a bit, it’s a little cold out here, alone, at night.” Tia piped up before clinging to Lucien, as if he would bother sparing her the body heat.

“Alright, I’m leaving. Coming or not.” Lucien quickly hopped out of their ditch and began the small trek to the tavern. It didn’t take long for the others to follow.

They were met in front of the tavern by a towering Gerudo staring down at a single member of the group.

“Demetri.”

“Heyyy, Lolomi, you got my text! How’s the tavern?”

“Been great, plenty of business. How’s getting back to me on those drinks?”

“The ones I promised to get you or the ones I promised I’d pay for?”

She glared and leaned over him. It took a split second for him to procure his newly looted silver with a wide grin.

“What do you know, that’s exactly why I came!”

She huffed and grabbed the silver before nodding to the rest of the group. “So long as you don’t leave me hanging like he does occasionally, you’re welcome to get a room. I don’t do tabs.” She glanced at Demetri. “Anymore.”

His wide grin showed until they entered the building and he gave a sigh. Ra’tima was first to quip, “Such a heartbreaker you are, failing to deliver on a promise?”

“Look, I said we could go a couple rounds, and I was about dead after the first one, didn’t think the whole size difference thing through. I may have slipped out the window while they were grabbing another towel.”

Fish chuckled. “Truly a shadow of the night.”

Demetri grumbled a moment before they began to spread out in the tavern, only for everyone to immediately line up at the bar.

The towering gerudo crossed her arms, staring at the group. “One of those days eh, well, make sure you pay up.”

Each of the party members scrounged around for the little coin they could manage, except for Ra’tima, who had not just paid a debt nor been busted out of jail. Once everyone had a full cup, they could all finally relax.

“Are we sure they aren’t going to come out to check this place out? It isn’t that hidden.” Lucien seemed a bit cautious.

“It’s the goblin tunnels that really sell the place. Send enough guards this way and they come back to a raided town. They listen out for us, even if they don’t mean to.” Lolomi gave a wide smile, counting her coin before placing it in a compartment under the bar. Fortunately, none of the thieves present were willing to push any luck with the person that was providing them shelter from the law.

“So, I heard something about betting stories.” Fish murred towards the other two bespoke thieves. “Since I was barred from participating, am I allowed to at least listen to those that lost?” The tabaxian trickster questioned. “Or should I piss right off?”

Demetri shook his head. “Did not mean to exclude you that much from it, Fish, was it? Was just a little something between me and her. Tavern’s tend to be the best place to tell stories, but how about taking a moment in our rooms first? I need to be a bit free from all this armor to really stretch my legs out.”

“Fuck if I care, not like I was carrying much besides my materials anyways.”

Ra’tima leaned over to tease her shady business partner. “Let this one guess, the Shadow wants to split a room?”

Demetri lowered his voice, being sure to not gain the attention of the tavern keeper who stood at the other end of the bar polishing glasses for the group’s future drinks. “Saves my lower half from being sore in the morning.”

Chuckled came from cat and human alike at Demetri’s antics. Ra’tima waved down Lolomi and paid for their room, standing to go change before whispering in the thief’s ear. “This one said nothing about saving him~ She expects just as much attention for her hospitality.”

He responded with a grin before chasing her up the stairs and into the room. It was well lit, with a queen-sized bed and a nightstand, as well as a small closet and bathroom. Plenty of room for them to undress.

“So, when does her handsome shadow wish to deliver his payment?”

Demetri gave her a surprised look. “Eager already? I suppose we can have some fun if we are quick, we are just changing, after all. Just need to add a little something before putting our clothes back on.”

“If he is so skillful then we will have no problems finishing up quickly~”

Demetri slunk around her and pulled at a few strings that held up some of her armor, working to slide it off of her body. “Then allow me to start us off~”

***​

By the time Tia had hit the end of her third drink, Lucien and Fish had just begun on their second.

“The clumsy wench, she does have a liver, right?” Fish tilted his head, feigning concern.

“I am not sure what she has, but I really don’t want any of it.”

Lolomi sat her elbow in between the two men and gave them a wink. “Let me know if you want to have some fun with a woman who can really show you around.”

Lucien smiled meekly, while Fish responded bluntly. “Don’t gerudos usually not like to do anything with most males of any race?”

“If I was like normal gerudos, I would not have a hideaway tavern outside of Karim~”

“Fair point.”

“We’ll uh, let you know.” Lucien blinked. He could feel the wear on his body, he would not be able to handle even the small frame of Tia right now if he tried.

“Give it a few drinks little guy, you’ll come around. Got a few stamina potions in stock if that’s what you are concerned about-”

“Finally, some time to relax!” Their conversation was interrupted as Mr. Malius himself came down the stairs and joined them at the bar. Ra’tima was right behind him, looking rather pleased with herself in her inky black robes.

Lolomi leaned in. “Some guys just can’t handle it, but you two are definitely tougher than him!”

They both noted the gerudos gusto and hoped that if anything, her words might have at least some sense of merit.


Demetri raised his mug. “Another round of drinks, with the last bit of cash I have today.”

Lolomi put down two ales in front of Demetri. “This is all you can get.“

“Everyone to their own!” He exclaimed and then turned to Ra. “Well, darling, given the order of which we lost I believe you are first to give your story. I am sure that you have plenty of interesting ones to tell~” He gave her a slight nudge.
 

Masahir N'air

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The diminutive khajiiti woman eyed the thief and smirked, clearly in a good mood as she leaned forward and snatched the extra pint of ale in front of the rogue. She downed the first half before putting it down and blowing him a sly kiss. “Hm, and what type of story does this sleek shadow want to hear? Her entire life has been a keenly interesting journey, surely he must help her to narrow down the options~”

He smirked with a half-chuckled exhale, studying the way she leaned in towards him and ran a lithe hand through her long braids. Everything from how she held those ticklish white whiskers, to the size of her pupils and even the slight positioning of her ears were all subtle cues to her mood, her true intentions in the conversation... He just had to figure out what their nuances meant in conjunction with each other first. “Why not tell me the story of how you became this aforementioned ‘infamous Queen’, hm sugar~?”

Ra’s playful demeanor faltered for a second as she raised a jet black eyebrow at him, an expression he couldn’t help but mischievously mimic, as if to question her back in equal measure. The merchant gave a scoff, dismissively swishing her spotted tail. “No. That is a very long story, one that he has not earned in full... yet. And she thinks it is a story that can only be told in full.”

Now it was his turn to falter, his silver eyes narrowing with a tinge of darkness as he tossed his messy bangs from his face. “Well, I am still expecting a story then, regardless, kitten. A deal is a deal, and were you not just chastising me for ‘breaking promises’~?”

“Pah, she did not deny this goblin interloper all of her stories, just that one in particular. Would he like to share the intimate details of the most recent dagger in his back?” She snorted, batting her hand before he could even manage an answer- rhetoric or not, she felt she’d made her point.

“If he wants to hear a story about a Queen, she can give him a story about one. He should not get his cloak in a twist.” They both rolled their eyes at each other, before she stuck her pink tongue out at him. “Surely a story of secret agents, intrigue and regicide will suffice for her picky shadow, yes?”

Demetri took her new offer as the opportunity to seize back his second tankard from it’s spot at her arm and swill it down. The rogue sat the wooden mug down on the bartop with a sharp clack and smirked smugly at the feline. “Yes darling, I think that does sound acceptable.”

Her ears laid back against her head as she squinted at him, her grin and twitching tail freely betraying any serious threat display as her fangs poked from under her lips. “Good, but first she must finish some business arrangements before getting too much more comfortable. Excuse her.”

“Uhuh, just do not keep me waiting all night, I am not always a patient man~”

She’d already made her way over to the tabaxian man, gently rapping on the top of his shoulder to claim his attention. He quirked a rounded brow at her, “yes ma’am?”

“This one has an entry level job for him, if he finds himself interested. Simple work, nice pay.” She beckoned him away from the bar, to a more secluded part of the tavern, but one that was by no means outstanding. “She can even offer him lodging, if he finds himself sleeping rough in Uruk.”

Fish couldn’t help but snicker softly as he followed along. Deals and propositions like this always had some sort of strings attached. “Sounds pretty interesting, but what’s the catch?”

Ra’tima smiled, her black robes twirled as she spun to face him directly, poking him in the middle of his chest with a single digit. “Fish in the River must simply follow her rules when he works for her or in her backyard. He follows her rules, and she can open many doors for him and make sure his pockets are always pleasantly heavy. Break them? Well,” She clasped his shoulder, brushing dust from his sleeve. “Fish would be wise to not cross her. Gold and shelter always talk, and Ra’tima-dro always takes care of her own. Irresistible, yes?”

He only contemplated it for about roughly half a second before nodding, “aye, and what is this ‘employment opportunity’ you are offering me?”

Ra reached into her satchel and withdrew a lacquered wooden scroll case, sealed firmly against any nefarious attempts at tampering. “Tomorrow, after he has finished resting, he will take this package to Uruk, and deliver it to the woman working behind the counter at the Golden Sands.

He will greet this woman with the phrase, ‘I hear it will be cold out in Uruk tonight’- She will remark about the weather, and finally he must reply, ‘it is good weather for moon-gazing, too’.

Fish nodded, listening keenly to her whispered instructions on this new cant.

“She will know that Ra’tima-dro has sent you. She will tell him the rules, and he would be wise to listen and step carefully. She is a rose with a crown of sharp thorns, and very important to yours truly. Silky-furred Fish understands her point, yes?”

“Aye, but uhm, what about this pay you mentioned~?” He leaned in. He was more than happy to do it for the lodging alone, everything else was a sweeter bonus. “I could certainly use the extra motivation.”

“Fish will soon find his ‘motivation’ at the business end of her dagger, yes? He will be paid in full once the scroll is in the hands of the Golden Sands.” She flashed him a few glinting, glimmering platinum coins in the palm of her hand- then snapped them away with the finesse of a street magician. “She is good for it, do not worry- but consider it an assurance. She is not going to pay him before he puts in the proper work. Let his lack of funds be all the motivation he needs.”

Fish snorted softly, but ultimately conceded. Ra’tima was too seasoned, too experienced in dealing with coy, sly tricksters and down-low silver tongues. Shaking her down with a pity story or intimidation simply would not work against the small, steely jaguaress. “Alright, fine. I’ll deliver your bloody scroll to Uruk then, yeah?”

Ra’tima-dro took but a second to stick her paw out, making sure it was the correct hand for him to gasp with his one remaining physical one. With a smile she pulled back, spinning him back around towards the bar by his shoulders and giving him a little push. “Now that business is done, why doesn’t this one return to enjoying his night at the bar~?” Came her rasped coo from behind.

When Fish turned back to eye the woman, he found that she was already gone, making herself at home next to the ‘Shadow’. The tabaxian was about to laugh when he felt like something on his person was off, wrong from the way it was before. His brows furrowed. Had she pickpocketed him for his amazing amounts of pocket lint? He was quick to check and make sure the small purple pouch was still in his possession, sighing with relief when he located it- but he’d also found something that made him take pause.

A small coin purse, and judging from the weight of it, it was just enough for him to have his own brand of fun at the bottom of his cup tonight. A wicked smirk pulled across his black lips as his lithe-clawed fingers now brushed against that lacquered wooden scroll case, tucked smugly in his travel bag. Oh, the she-lion was good alright, reverse pickpocketing him like this, and he couldn’t wait to see the full depths of just how good she was.​

~ * * * ~​

Inside of the sealed scroll case are several important documents, mostly addressed to various people in bureaucratic positions of authority within Uruk. The most important ones thusly include:

1.) A letter meant to be mailed back to Uruk’s embassy worker in Karim, a supposed ‘PJ’ from Ra’tima’s limited research and time spent listening into Babylonia’s conquest of Dante’s Abyss. This letter appears to be signed by both Ra’tima-dro and a single ‘Abil-ilishu’(the esteemed owner of ‘The Dusty Flagon’), and it decrees mutual interest in exporting crates of a fast selling honeyed mead from Karim to Uruk, along with importing a craft moonsugar wine from Uruk to Karim. The standard trade and commerce form is completely filled out, signed and sealed, ready for processing. It is remarkably perfect for a document filled out in a dark office room.

2.) The enclosed ‘commerce fees’ all civilian trade agreements are subject to under House Wakanda of Karim and The Treasury of Uruk, amount given in standard Mesa Rojan gold and platinum pieces.

3.) A sealed inquiry to King Gilgamesh’s steward, seeking an update on the status of the property Ra’tima-dro was working to close on. In the inquiry, she is politely asking if there is any way to speed up the process so she could get to work remodeling the place. She also has taken the time to ask if the King is enjoying her last gift, a small but ornate box of moonsugar. Again, she hastens, he should use it sparingly; ‘Only a pinch at a time’ is what she has written as her advice.

14,151 + 1,078
15,229/8,000

Quest Finished, hopefully it's good enough to pass, lmao. I should remark that Lucien officially dropped from the quest, so it's only my word counts that matters.​
 
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